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justblades · 19 days ago

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hypothesis — anaxa x fem! reader

IN WHICH, your research study piques anaxa’s interest, inducing him to trap you into a collaboration to achieve the end you both desire

TAGS, MDNI. dub con, university setting, drugged sex, mind fuck, not proofread.

Applause rises from the crowd in front, the expressions painted on the majority’s faces are one of shared joy - it was a moment of delight and fulfillment, as marvelous minds clashed and melded with one another to craft such a significant research. Your group stands proud while the research panel awards you the trophy and certificate, hereby marking a significant milestone; the batch shall continue to tread the endless pursuit of wisdom and knowledge after the graduation.

The previous proud grins of some gradually curl upside down, catching your attention as you whip your head to your members’ direction. You pick up from the beads of tears streaming down their cheeks, the other attempting to bite down his threatening sobs, it was when it finally dawned on you: you truly have made it. The sleepless nights of stress and pressure indeed bore fruition.

After what felt like an eternity of suspense and excitement, the emcee then reads her closing spiel, formally announcing the end of the event. The big day comes to an end, loud cheers of the batch naturally follow, resounding all throughout the grove.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans, as it unties the already woven threads of triumph, letting it all loose as the scrutiny of the meticulous professor lands upon you. Seeds of doubt and confusion were sowed in the depths of your heart as you receive a bizarre call, “Professor Anaxa has queries about your research.”

Standing before you now is the infamous blasphemer of a teacher, whose mind is unbridled of moral restraints for the sake of knowledge. Expectedly, as a scholar, that trait of his was highly condemned and yet you find a part of you justifying his actions whenever you come across such wild rumors.

His fingertips slowly glide past the corners of the hardbound pages, skimming through the context of the rigorous part of your thesis: the methodology. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, this time, twice more as Anaxa slides in his pen to mark the part he was focusing on. Subsequently, he hums and looks at you with anticipation.

Slightest hint of disapproval emanates from his stare, to which the professor tries to coat as confusion to test your resolve. “If I’m not mistaken, you were the assigned leader of your thesis, no?” His voice stern as ever, you immediately respond. “Yes, sir.”

Dating back, you never happened to have a class taught by Anaxa. It was just a one time occurrence when you were able to witness how the cogs of his bright mind function when he stood as an adjudicator for a debate event held by the academy, to which he successfully cracks down the fallacies made by the opposing team with just mere questions, with the purpose of catching them by their own words, akin to a fish biting the bait and digging its own grave.

If anything, you knew him more through rumors and gossip, as the last you heard about was him expressing an opinion that scholars who are hellbent on gaining newfound knowledge shall be willing to bend the arrows of their moral compass to achieve such an end. Naturally, his school of thought anchoring on this expression was heavily criticized for the main reasons of ethics and confidentiality in the field of academics.

“Entitled ‘Efficacy of Specialized Alchemy through the Lens of Genetic Modification’ . . . Interesting. But the theoretical framework and methodology do not align.” He states, slate hue fixating on you. “If you were to study the efficacy of a particular object, you’d normally employ a design that encompasses both the quantitative and qualitative nature of the data to be derived, yet you stuck with one that adheres more to the latter. Care to explain how you came up with this process?”

Your brows furrow, bewilderment sits on your facial expression. The rationale of the methodology is already stated in the same paragraph for that question - why was he asking things that are obvious?

“Professor Anaxa—“

“Please refer to me as Anaxagoras.”

“Sir, as expressed in the introductory text, to determine efficacy, qualitative data shall provide an in-depth understanding of the subject, to name the factors that cannot be determined by merely recognizing patterns and trends. It tends to have a nuanced nature as it doesn’t just describe the leverages of the topic, its drawbacks shall also be determined in order to establish possible interventions for its improvement and to ensure your hypothesis is approved.”

“—Additionally, our thesis hinges on the concept of genetic modification with the main focus of improving our five senses, to be able to heighten them at our own volition as we see fit to be utilized according to the circumstance we are in.”

Anaxa pays close attention to your gestures as your hands tend to move on their own, a habit you happened to develop as you hone your dissertation all throughout these years. “However, our paper just touches upon the efficacy, not the practical application of specialized alchemy.”

“And? What are the results?”

Your jaw widens out of disbelief, as if the answers he was looking for cannot be found in the book. The longer this supposed questioning drags on, the more toll it took on you. Regardless, respect shall be shown, so you backtrack the results of your study. “The majority of the respondents strayed from describing the concept as something that can be done right, but rather, for them, it’s an insult to the human life. The quantitative data geared more to it being an impractical method to improve one’s capabilities, which was further supported by the verbatim cited in the presentation part of the chapter.” You recite, breaking off eye contact with Anaxa, head hung low facing the ground. Your fists balled, a bittersweet mood washes over you, recalling the summary of the data you gathered from the respondents.

“And let me guess, you were disappointed with the results.” With one sentence, you look back up at him, this time, more puzzled than before. A question arises, how did he know?

He slightly tilts his head and waves his hand in the air, “It is truly a shame to realize that these people, supposedly seeking wisdom, are the same ones who will never get to quench this thirst as they are held back by their morals. If we do not change up our methods, do you think it will yield different results each time?” His words had weight on them, not seemingly just blank questions one would typically ask in a thesis defense. The whole exchange becomes all the more confusing.

“I suppose you already have an idea where I’m getting at.” The teal haired drops his finality, and like a last puzzle piece falling into its right place by pure coincidence, you were able to see the bigger picture Anaxa prepared for you.

Alignment stems from shared vision, branching into different methodologies cultivated through revisions to obtain an answer from your assumptions. As Anaxa skimmed through your thesis, it was undoubted that he was able to relate your justification with his school of thought. The two of you were willing to tiptoe on the boundary lines of ethics in research - because if not, how will we be able to procure knowledge if sacrifices were not to be made?

“I understand, sir.” It was when you approved of his invitation that the green curls of smoke in the laboratory started to become more visible, carrying minuscule pigments of shimmer as rays of light spill in the littlest crooks of the room. “Wh—“

You were cut off as Anaxa takes steps towards you while you stepped further away from him. A loud thud echoes in the vicinity as you find yourself trapped between Anaxa’s looming aura and his master desk. The sage’s tattooed hand then brushes softly on your supple skin. Starting from your collarbone, making his way up to your neck, “I employed modifications on my genes to test my assumption - but I couldn’t activate those out of my own volition. To determine the efficacy of something, its participant should be willing. Am I right?”

As if you were at a standstill in time, your breathing hitches the longer his skin is in contact with yours. His fingers were rough, some had dry patches, as expected of a practical researcher. Yet the warmth he exudes from his touch feels foreign, a driving force that makes your stomach churn with a whirlpool of mixed emotions.

“Let’s start off with sense of sight. Close your eyes.” Your chest rises and falls, heartbeat pacing faster in each minute. “Sir—“ Unexpectedly, you follow suit to his command, shutting your eyes. Your brows knit even further, wanting to protest against this method but the words you intend to verbalize die down on your tongue in an instant.

How did he manage to make you follow suit to his command? What else did he incorporate to the component?

Darkness graces your eyes, another chilling sensation rides on your skin. It felt hot, but the second it trails away into another direction, it leaves an icy feeling, lingering.

Thousands of thoughts surface in your mind and none of them were of composure. You were astonished, confused, wanting to beg for more time to adjust but here you are being immediately toyed in Anaxa’s palms. As if acting out of desperation to break free from this predicament, a new pseudo dimension forms, to which faint lines of everything around you could be discerned, each having its distinct color.

The surroundings were pitch black, yet every object in the space had its own different hue, the lines materializing as you try to get used to this awakening. Trying to make out of whatever was happening in front of you, with enough focus, you could envision the sage leaving ephemeral licks on your skin, particularly on the back of your hand. Your jaw falls agape to which Anaxa quickly notices, the corners of his lips then tug into a boastful smirk.

It’s as if he had already put two and two together that he realized your sense of sight indeed improved, incomparable to that of a mere human’s.

“Second. Sense of hearing.” As soon as he announces his next step, he prods into your mouth with the same tattooed hand, inserting his index and middle fingers to explore your cavern of warmth. Your stomach turns as Anaxa toys with your tongue, not leaving enough space for you to breathe nor have sufficient time to process everything.

As this act unfolds, you suddenly begin to hear your saliva being mushed with his fingertips, your mouth making slick noises inside, to which you could do nothing but leave mumbles of puzzlement. “A . . . Naxa.” Every splash of the liquids inside reverberate inside your head, which further affirms Anaxa’s assumptions.

After what felt like eternity, you could finally peel your eyes open and see the view unravel before you, Anaxa being a mere hair’s breadth from your face, goosebumps rake your spine. Up close, his brows are knitted in expectation, eyes somewhat heavy-lidded in which excitement gleams from his slate monochromatic iris. With one swift movement, he stops fiddling with your tongue, taking his digits out, leaving a small trail of saliva connecting your lips to his fingertips.

“My patience is wearing thin.” He expresses, wiping away the smeared saliva from the margins of your lips with his gloved hand. Dumbfounded, you could do nothing but just lie in wait to what he’s supposed to do next. “Let’s amp up our methodology. We’ll be testing the remaining three senses simultaneously. I hope you can bear with it.”

Suddenly, your clothes dissipate into thin air, the fibers curling into little burnt cinders until they’re void of anything. “Anaxa—“ he proceeds to fervently crash his lips into yours, a surprising tang of sweetness cracks on your tastebuds. Your stature wobbles and threatens to fall, but the male had already anticipated that as he supports your weight with an arm slithered on your waist. He aids in maintaining your balance, but it was only a mere second that you were able to think straight when his free hand toys with your inner region.

With little effort, your arousal coats his fingers, muddling his skin’s red markings with a cloud white color, your scent inevitably wafts inside the laboratory. Anaxa inhales deeply, taking in everything all at once that is unfolding. Nonetheless, he proceeds, inserting his fingers into your pussy.

Caught off guard, he thrusts in and out, your walls taking the shape of his long, slender fingers. At the same time, your tongue twirls in rhythm with his, the sweet taste gradually enveloping the cranny of your mouth.

It all felt messy, as if Anaxa’s actions override one another, making everything far more overwhelming than it is prima facie. Your mind was lost, yet your body basks in the foreign sensation, pleasure emerging as you feel you were nearing your satisfaction. The male’s gloved fingers wrap around your neck after and breaks the deep kiss, “Are you ready?” He queries, taking a quick glance at your seeping cunt and trail back up to your eyes with a surprising longing gaze in them.

A second passes by, he undoes the buckles of his belt, letting everything loose as he strokes his own erection, wrapping his coated fingers around himself. You eagerly watch at every movement he does, a tantalizing view to etch in the deepest part of your memory. As he deems himself fit, he rubs his tip on your entrance, the position possibly adding up to the struggle.

His breath drops, feeling a short wave of satisfaction once he gets a taste of your slicked pussy. “Time to prove my hypothesis was right.” Anaxa rams inside you, your walls enveloping around his girth as he struggles to keep himself still. “Anaxa . . !” His tangled thoughts were abruptly cut off as he hears your plea, spiraling into an abyss of pleasure as an intense gaze locks his eye with yours.

“Spit.” He orders, a vague one in which you cannot crack immediately. A breathy moan bubbles from his throat subsequently, a rare occurrence of Anaxa showing vulnerability. Regardless, he expounds. “Gather an appropriate amount of your saliva.” As if obedience was coded into your personality, you purse your lips together. “Let it trickle down your chest.”

You follow suit to his command, slightly parting your mouth open, leaving just enough space for it to stream down your dewed skin, leaving such a sticky feeling. The professor wastes no time as his hands glide up to your tits, fingers fidgeting with your perked nipples, lubricating them with your own spit. He traps the buds within his calloused fingertips as you grant him the most lewd noises you’ve ever made in the entirety of your life.

Anaxa wasn’t the type of person to hunger for indulgences like this. But upon witnessing a remarkable sight right in front of him, impulse rush in as he digs into your mounds as well, the tip of his tongue caressing your nipples.

“It’s too warm . . sweet . . and hot.” Mindless musings come undone the margins of your lips, making the sage’s libido hike even more. Additionally, these testaments of yours reinforce the data he supplied in his test drive journal for this study, another victorious feat for him it appears. “Very good.”

He simpers, starting the momentum of his thrusts to your body, nice and slow in the beginning yet with such intensity and impact in each push. Naughty noises echo inside, along the gibberish you’ve been rambling for a while which were descriptions of the changes occurring in your body. Anaxa encourages it, playing along as if he was able to comprehend your barely coherent sentences.

“Sir, I . . . feel like I’m being suffocated.” You yelp, first time among your endless prattles he was able to understand something, your hips grinding along Anaxa’s dick as he fills you to the brim. You look down and see how easy it was for him to prod into your folds, the very entrance curling around the base of his cock with such longing and excitement. “You’re doing great.” He manages to say in between thrusts and hefty breaths, “What else?”

Anaxa’s praises reverberate in your head, like a badge of excellence as he sees you worthy to be his research partner and that in itself is a privilege. Gradually, the male’s pent up sexual frustration reaches its end as strings of cum sprawl out, Anaxa withdraws just in time. A searing heat of temptation pools inside your body, thoughts clouded with nothing but pure carnal desire instilled by the sage.

“If . . If you’re willing to . . as well, I’d be honored to do more of these with you.”

#hsr anaxa #anaxagoras #honkai star rail anaxa #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa x reader #anaxa x reader smut #hsr x reader smut #amphoreus x reader #amphoreus #hsr amphoreus #x reader

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dropsnectar · 8 months ago

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Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART THREE

This is a longer part than the rest, but its all necessary dialogue so it should be fine. More fluffy and romance than smut, BUT!! Their will be smut in the next section! I know I said this will only be 4 parts, but it may actually be more like 5 or 6. Anyway, hope you like!

So. You were starting to learn that using large batches of magic back to back weren't ideal for a young witch's health. It seemed like you might have overdone it, as when you woke you found you had been asleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So. If you were going to do magic, it looked like you were going to have to pace yourself, or perhaps use LESS magic.

You put yourself to learning more about witchcraft. The thing was, your grandmother's books didn't really go into the basics, and as witches were so rare, information was hard to find. Of course, the internet was full of supposed witch spells, or frameworks, but it was like throwing dice. Some spells didn't work. Some spells took up WAY too much energy. Some were just… fine? But not what you needed.

Next you checked out forum sites. Maybe you could find a community through that way? But all you found were psychics and tarot readers. Nice people, but not what you needed.

Whelp. Maybe you needed to look at the issue differently. The environment used to be a beautiful, thriving area. What had changed between now and then? In order to understand a magic ecosystem, you had to understand ecosystems. So, for the rest of the week you busied yourself with ecology study. It was turning out that this project you had adopted on a whim would need a lot more time and breadth of knowledge then you originally thought.

***

When you met with Rena, under Lyith’s friendly gaze, you found that the magic you had cast hadn't waned at all. The flowers had grown beautifully and continued to give magic nectar that created the best honey. Rena was beside herself. “The elders of the hive say they haven't had honey of this quality since they were children! You are really onto something here, little one.”

Rena had now gotten in the habit of calling you little one. Sure, as a Bee-man she was slightly taller than you, but not by much. Also the constant fluttering and floating didn't help.

“You've been given permission to test your magic on our other gardens as well. As long as we are careful and continue with caution!” Rena babbled. You gave her a small smile and felt Lyiths arm on your shoulder. He laid his head on your other shoulder, leaning his fuzzy head against yours.

“Whats wrong?”

You wiggled a little. “I'm just having a hard time brainstorming how to do this. I know I said I'd help you guys, but I might not be able to use as much magic as last time. To be honest, I don't really know much about my mana and my limits…” you explained your situation. Expecting there to be disappointment, you were surprised to find none.

“I can’t help but think… How long will this last? One spell isn’t going to cut it for that long. I want to create something that will last for you guys, but that might take a while… and doing just this took all the mana I had. I want to do better. But I don’t want to hurt myself either, especially when I don’t know how this could affect my health in the long run…” The bee-men seemed to be catching on.

“Of course, little one. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself.”

Lyith also popped up, his voice almost in your ear.

“Us Bee-men also have something like mana. Our magic is not never ending. We would have fixed this situation ourselves if it was.”

Rena reached forward and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “We don't have to do anything today. We can commence whenever you'd like. Our flowers have spread out beautifully and even this is enough.”

You frowned.

“I may have to do this every spring. Or even redo it in the summer…”

“You don’t owe us anything. You are trying your best to do us a kindness. And our hive knows and sees that. We are beyond grateful to you… Its… We’ve needed…We are truly grateful.” His expression fell at the mention of his hive, his antennas drooping. Rena moved forward and held Lyith, a sad expression on her own face.

There was a pause in conversation that grew somewhat awkward.

How do I make this better? You tried to brainstorm, but only one thing came to mind.

You went over and gave the both of them a big bear hug. It was a tense one, but you tried to adjust your emotions, instead concentrating on how fond you had grown of the two. You tried to shout it as loud as you could through your brain at them.

This seemed to break the spell, as Rena started to laugh. Lyith looked at you affectionately.

“I know we haven't known each other long, but I just want to say, you can count on me. If you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I'll listen.”

Rena and Lyith hummed in response, returning your group hug with a long squeeze.

Long hugs. The favorite actions of a Bee-men.

After some quiet reassurances, the two of you decided to idle while the two foraged on the edge of the Wood. You walked with them and asked them as many questions you could think of. How old were they? Were they able to do other magics? You had thought Bee-men to be isolated. How come they knew so much about human culture?

Lyith was the one who answered you most of the time. It seemed that bee-man typically lived double the life of a human, with Rena and Lyith being about 45, and 51, Lyith being the oldest. They were in the same season of life as you though!

Bee-man could do some other magics(they didn't go much into what), but they specialized in making their magical honey, which fortified the health and wellbeing of a Bee-men.

They didn’t say it outright but it seemed like the dip in magic had affected the nutrition of their food source. They kept their own bees and shared honey, but it still wasn't enough, so they had ventured out into human society to buy fruit when it was necessary. They also did trade with neighboring beast-men, the Wolfmen being happy to share their fruit for their Bee’s wax waste. I

“What exactly do you guys do for fun though?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lyith smiled. “Late night flying is fun.”

Rena snorted. “You mean late night spying. Lyith has a habit of looking through people's windows.”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at Rena. “If they did not want to be seen they would have drawn the curtains. It's not strange, I am just curious about human life is all.”

Rena reached forward and pinched Lyiths nose. “Poor thing. So bored he must make mischief.”

You looked at Lyith with surprise. His big eyes grew in concern and he pouted at you.

“You are not going to tease me too are you? I promise, I never see anything scandalous. I'm a good little bee.” He fluttered his eyes at you.

You giggled and pushed his shoulder.

“As long as you're not spying on me I guess it's harmless.”

Lyiths expression shifted to one of his dopey smiles. It always surprised you how innocent he could look despite his size. Was it maybe…

“So… I may have read that you guys are telepathic right?”

Renas face changed into a smirk.

“Yes, and?”

“ Well, have you guys ever… used your powers on me?”

Rena snorted. Lyith gave you an unreadable expression. “We Bee-man are very particular about sharing our heads outside of our hives. But no. We haven't done anything to you if that's what you meant…”

Oh. He was pouting now.

“No! Thats not what I meant! I just… i feel so comfortable around you guys it's almost supernatural. I just. Idk. Wanted to know. Please I didn't mean anything by it!”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at you and Rena continued to seem amused. You felt helpless and got a bit upset with yourself. You did your best to calm yourself down but you were upset. You had so few friends here and you were afraid you blew it. A wave of loneliness swept through you.

Lyith was watching you the whole time, before sighing. “All will be forgiven if you give us some of those fruit tarts you made yesterday.”

You looked at him, shocked.

“I thought you said you didn't spy on me!”

“I wasn't spying, I just happened to be foraging by the window, and smelled something amazing. It was all incidental.”

“There's sugar in the crust. Won’t your tummy get upset?”

He just smiled. Rena laughed. “He named his price. For offending us, we must get fruit tarts.”

Finally feeling better, the three of you walked(they let you walk!!!) Back to your home. You served them up your tarts, when finally the questions started coming about you. Why did you move here? Do you have any siblings? What were you like as a child?

This went on until dinner time, at which point you decided to shoo your new friends away. “ I'll be back to do the flowers tomorrow. We… we will see what I can do.” You admitted. The two of them smiled at you, hugging you tight for a good three minutes. They always lingered, nuzzling your face and hair, as if they were getting a whiff of you. You could smell their own perfume and tried not to think too much. Their goodbyes always felt so intimate.

Rena decided to pepper your face in kisses before they left. Lyith just rolled his eyes at her. When they drew apart you felt empty, like some piece of you was going with them.

***

As always, Lyith picked you up that morning. This time, you made sure to bring a scarf and hat, alongside emergency snacks in your bag. Where he was taking you next was a little longer of a trip, a whole ten minutes to the usual six. That was a long time when you were hurtling through the air.

You were surprised to drop into a small crowd. There were ten Bee-men present besides Rena, who seemed to be communicating silently with them. The air was full of bee noises; humming, purring, the fluttering of wings. The air smelled amazingly fresh, floral and syrupy. It was an odd smell, but it seemed to put you at ease somehow. And maybe a bit peckish.

A Beeman a whole foot and a half taller then Rena fluttered towards you. They bowed, of which you awkwardly returned before they reached forward and took your hand gently. Lyith started,

“This is Elder Bisou. He is the eldest of our hive. He is showing you respect.”

Elder Bisou smiled at you. “Little Witch, I welcome you to our territory. My human is a bit… unused. Please receive our thanks for your efforts.” He took your hand and leaned down so that it met his temple. You could feel the rush of his magic, like your mind was a fish bowl and he was putting a gentle hand on the glass. You could feel his warmth, his deep gratitude through it.

Your back straightened and you felt water prick your eyelids. You gave him a slow nod, becoming acutely aware just how serious this whole situation actually was. Rena and Lyith had been dancing around it, but the Bee-men must be slowly starving to death. That was the only explanation for the depths of what you had felt.

“I will do my best.” Was all you could reply.

Lyith, acting as your translator, took you to each Bee-men he could and introduced you. It seemed that some of the elders, as well as some of those who had free time had come to watch the “little witch” work. Most took your hand gently, and sent you a ghost of what their emotions were. There was a sort of film around the emotions, a barrier of sorts. Whether this was on purpose so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed, or just how their telepathy worked, you couldn't tell.

You did your best to not let your nerves get to you as you dissected the sections of the field where you would be doing your experiments. You didn’t know how these particular flowers would take to your spell, so it was still best to be cautious. The bee-men looked on with interest.

You did your chants in a loud booming fashion, and channeled in as elegant a fashion as you could. Like always, the magic came, and the spell did its work. These flowers were different, like rainbow colored lavender. Rather than letting the magic gush through you, you let it gently trickle out, pacing yourself. When the deeds were done, you still felt sore, and you still held a headache in your temple, but there was no nausea, so growth!

Once you were done with your work, there was a large excited buzzing throughout the forest. There was clapping, dancing, stomping of feet, pumping of many hands, whoops from Rena and Lyith. One Bee, a worker named Aidenn held a small wooden instrument in his hands and started to play. This triggered a chorus from the Bee-men. There was a harmonizing among the crowd and they started to circle each other, laughing and dancing. A circle of flying, spinning Bee-men formed.

Rena grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto her shoulder before joining in the circle of the dance. You giggled as you spun, feeling the giddiness in the air like it was laughing gas. That same pressure filled your mind and a part of your heart started to soar. It was intimate, but not stifling and you loved feeling so close to everyone.

You lifted your hands and, feeling in the spirit, decided to hum along. At some point Rena had taken you in her arms and held you close as they continued to fly in a circle, spinning and perrying, and switching. It was similar to square dancing, where there was a pattern to it.

At one point, the tune changed and Lyith swooped down from above and grabbed you out of Rena’s arms. She snorted at him but let it happen, joining hands with another passing Bee-men. When Lyith gathered you in his arms, he cradled you as close as possible, surprising you. One hand was gripping firmly around your waist and the other crushing you to him. He landed on the ground, and the rest of the bee-men followed, causing something of a ballroom dance.

“You did wonderfully today.” He breathed in your ear, causing them to redden. You pulled yourself back a bit to see his face and he was looking at you with such pride and affection it felt like a weight crushing your chest. You moved your hands from his shoulders to reach his own hands. You were shaky, but you wanted to return his feelings somehow. His palms were soft.

This caused him to laugh, a purring sort of trill coming from his throat. You couldn’t help a silly grin form on your face.

“I’m glad you came to my garden.” Was all you could think to say.

He looked at you, with those big black eyes, then reached forward and kissed you on the lips. It was only a peck, but you could feel his joy through it.

Something complex within you, a mix of happiness, excitement, hope, all of your feelings rose up into your throat. Unable to find the words to express yourself, you took all of those big heavy emotions, wrapped them all up together and kissed him back, right there, in the middle of your makeshift dance floor.

When you pulled away Lyith looked shocked, his bottom lip hanging open. Adorable as usual.

Rena hollered from the otherside of the gathering, sending out a big whoop. There was laughter, buzzing and an echoing whoop from some of the younger bee-men. Elder Bisou made some clicking sounds, but the sides of his mouth were slightly upturned.

It occurred to you then that you were in the middle of a group of very telepathic monster people. Your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment and you pulled away from Lyith a bit. Your shoes suddenly became very interesting.

Lyith eventually turned your chin back up to face him. He held a small peaceful smile, before bumping his forehead to yours. He didn’t share his emotions but the affection was still there.

After you grew too tired to dance, you took a seat under a tree, munching on a granola bar. Another one of the Bee-men, a younger drone named Haven, made his way to sit next to you.

“I don’t know if it was mentioned, but honey production has picked up enormously since you agreed to help us. I haven’t felt this great in… well ever! Thank you little witch!”

“I’m not little, but thank you for saying so.” You were starting to get a bit lightheaded now, and not from the dancing. It was possible that some of the symptoms of mana sickness were surfacing a little late.

“You are strong! That is true! Even elder Bisou has said he hasn’t met a human or beastman with mana like yours!” Haven turned his voice down to a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret, “Your magic smells so much like flowers, really, its a huge blessing! In fact, I would eat you up if I could!” He laughed as if he had made a joke. He sighed and looked up dreamily at the sky. “Alas, I am saving myself for when we find our queen.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to fend off imaginary suitors.

You wrinkled your nose. “Queen? You don’t have a queen? Isn’t that super bad for bees, I mean bee-men?”

Heaven tilted his head at you, reminding you of Lyith.

“Of course. That's why we are all so small and weak.” You stared at him in shock. He put up his hands. “We are doing well though! It's been 20 years since our queen died but we are still here! Oh! There is a hive up north! Any day now, one of their queens' daughters might descend and bless us! Or.. Or we--”

“Little One! You seem like you're getting sick!” Rena Descended from above and put a hand to your forehead.

“You are far too warm! Haven, mind if I take her out of your wings?”

Heaven looked up at Rena, his face a mask of confusion. He eventually gave in though and stood up.

“I should check on Elder Bisou! He might need something!” His voice was flat, obviously fake, but he ran away- flew away with gusto.

Rena took your face into her hands, tilting your head back and forth. Your lightheadedness turned full on dizzy. Rena’s face screwed up in an annoyed expression.

“You overdid it. And after that whole speech about not knowing your limits too..” She gently put a hand on your back and picked you up princess style. You would have been embarrassed, if your brain was functioning properly. Instead your gaze fixed on Rena’s beautiful iridescent wings. The lights were so lovely and they helped ground you. Honestly, everything about Rena was lovely. Well, maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was rough around the edges. A tease and a know it all. But she doted on you so, it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Your gaze shifted from her wings to her lovely nose, pretty sharp for a bee-men.

Rena started conversing with Lyith about you, pointing her jaw and humming. Huh. Rena was actually incredibly attractive. You had known that before. Maybe it was something about how dizzy everything was. The last time you had felt this way she had been kissing you, her textured tongue pushing nectar down your thoat-

“Little One”

Your mind immediately focused. She was using a demanding tone.

“Lyith will take you home. Next time, we will only do one spell at a time.” She leaned forward and placed her cool lips to the side of your mouth. Making you blush. Well your face was already heated so you would have blushed. “I will see you again soon. Rest.” And she was off.

You were in Lyith’s arms again. A place you were starting to get comfortable in. He stared at you for a moment, his lips pursed, then sighed loudly. He held your gaze for a moment.

“I do not like this habit you are forming. You will not get sick again, understand?”

You nodded at him, mind hazy. Sleepy. You were sleepy.

You didn’t register the fly home, only that the coolness felt nice. You were carried from the porch, into the living room, up the stairs, and laid on your bed. You were covered in warm, delicious blankets.

You never saw Lyith leave before you passed out. Probably because he tucked himself in right beside you, the cool air washing over both of you from the open bedroom window.

Part Four

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #bee hybrid #bee hybrids #bee hybrid × reader #bee hybrids x reader #monster romance #bee monster #monster fluff #fluff

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coldalbion · 7 months ago

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Not Flirting

This is NOT FLIRTING.

The very fact that the media say "flirting" is indicative of the fact that the cultural ideas we have around value, improvement, morality, ability and functionality are *rooted* in a a framework which is ableist and eugenic in nature.

Fundamentally, the idea that there are "good genes" and "bad genes" is saying there are "good" forms of embodymindedness and "bad" forms, and that we should remove or reduce the bad and increase the good.

This is biopolitics which is at the root of 19th, 20th and 21st century processes and horrors, and is not *just* racist, but is one of the major ORIGINS of racism as it manifests today, as well as a wellspring of sexism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, colonialism and capitalism.

We are enmeshed in the world eugenics and its proponents thought up, and wrought. It is so prevalent beneath the surface of how we relate to the world in terms of growth, progress, science etc, that we are like fish swimming in it.

This IS NOT JUST TRUMP. This is the ongoing pandemic, the manfacture of debility in marginalised populations for the benefit of those at the levers of power. This is the dismissal of Appalachian lives and folks in rural areas as low-intelligence inbred hicks who "should have known"/"should have moved" in the face of hurricanes. This the way standardised testing structures education on pass fail and grade curves. On and on, with countless more manifestations and iterations.

**We live in a eugenicised society.**

One that frames who should be improved, and how, on the basis of trajectories which begin by evalulating a being on how much it conforms to a certain set of criteria. We never ask where those criteria come from. We never consider that the liberal humanist agenda might also create folks who *don't fit*, in order to mark those who do.

We should. We should ask ourselves where "the human" even comes from.

[ID :A screenshot from The Guardian's liveblog coverage of the US Election, which reads: "Flirting with eugenics, Trump says: ‘We got a lot of bad genes in our country right now’ In an interview earlier today with conservative broadcaster Hugh Hewitt, Donald Trump used terminology associated with eugenics to attack migrants. The remark came as the former president discussed the alleged harm done by new arrivals to the United States, saying many were “murderers”. “Now, a murderer, it’s in their genes,” Trump continued. “And we got a lot of bad genes in our country right now.” It was language similar to the beliefs of eugenics, which emerged in the late 19th century and held that human ills could be combatted through selective breeding. The theory is today regarded as both inaccurate and racist."]

#ableism #disability #eugenics #cripkult #us politics #cripple punk #queer #crip punk

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milkfordragons · 2 months ago

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Can you elaborate on Will's abilities? You talked about how you don't think he is actually empathetic, but does have a vivid imagination. What do you think is actually happening inside his mind in regards to his true abilities?

I believe Will has a vivid imagination, that can be related to schizophrenia, which to me, is his real diagnosis, although I like to have a triple analysis of media, a psychological one, a mythopoetic one, and a spiritual one.

One of the most apparent indicators of schizophrenia is Will’s persistent hallucinations, which continue even after he heals of his encephalitis. While it could have initially triggered his altered perception, the recovery would not account for the continuation of his visual and auditory distortions. This aligns with schizophrenia’s diagnostic criteria, which include hallucinations as a core symptom (on the DSM-5). Patients can experience vivid, intrusive imagery, sometimes linked to paranoia or delusions, much like Will’s hallucinations of the Stagman, antlers, and the general grotesque imagery he sees throughout the show. Will’s speech is often cryptic, metaphor-laden, and elusive, which are characteristics that align with disorganized thought processes, a hallmark of schizophrenia. In clinical settings, metaphorical speech and tangential thinking can be signs of thought disorder, where a patient’s way of expressing ideas becomes abstract to the point of incoherence (except for his soulmate haha). While Will's speech remains articulate, it is often detached from conventional logic, reinforcing the idea that his mind does not process reality in a linear way. Social withdrawal is another key symptom of schizophrenia, manifesting in Will’s isolation and discomfort in social settings. He has obvious difficulty forming and maintaining genuine relationships outside of his dogs, and even his romantic or friendly connections seem strained, distant, or transactional. His paranoia, especially his inability to trust those around him, further aligns with schizophrenia’s symptomatology.

While Will is portrayed as a reluctant hero, there is an underlying grandiosity to his belief that he is uniquely capable of understanding killers ("do you have anyone that does this better unbroken than I do broken?", "I save people", "I'm the best you got"). This may be less an extraordinary gift and more a delusional framework, very common in schizophrenia, where individuals believe they have special insight or purpose. Many patients develop messianic or chosen-one complexes, convinced they possess abilities that set them apart. Will’s belief that he is uniquely “good,” because he "can't help but empathize with killers", despite constantly aligning himself with violence, is an example of this cognitive dissonance. Will’s perception of reality is very unstable. He sees things that aren’t there, purposefully dismisses red flags to fit his narrative, and frequently doubts his own experiences. Schizophrenic individuals often experience derealization, where their environment feels surreal or distorted, leading to a constant questioning of what is real. This explains Will’s struggle with discerning his own actions versus his visions, as well as his deep-rooted confusion regarding his identity. Will experiences moments where he seems to lose control, of course before it could be attributed to encephalitis, but he also experiences the same in season three, after returning to investigate Dolarhyde. These episodes are reminiscent of psychotic breaks. While these moments are sometimes framed as deep immersion into his empathic abilities, they more closely resemble dissociation, which is a common phenomenon in schizophrenia, where a patient’s mind detaches from linear time and perception. The fall might also be one of them since I, personally, do not believe it was a literal fall. But wouldn't they know he was schizophrenic since he had plenty of tests and exams? Schizophrenia is notoriously difficult to diagnose, especially in individuals who can mask their symptoms well. Many high-functioning patients manipulate their surroundings, consciously or unconsciously, to avoid detection. Will's ability to function in his professional life, despite clear signs of psychosis, may contribute to his lack of diagnosis. Also, the series presents his symptoms through the lens of empathy, which allows his psychotic episodes to be misinterpreted as intuitive rather than pathological. Another point is that schizophrenia isn't necessarily something that is evident since birth, it can also be triggered by trauma if the individual has the tendencies. "Mythopoetically", I like to see Will's arc and the entire show as an acceptance of sexuality. And spiritually, I believe Will is the Yin, the Great Illusion, the Lunar/"Feminine" principle. Which I talked about in previous essays.

#milk for anons #musings #hannibal lecter #hannigram #nbc hannibal #will graham #meta #hannibal analysis #hannibal meta #analysis #essay

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thefearandnow · 2 years ago

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So with Oppenheimer coming out tomorrow, I feel a certain level of responsibility to share some important resources for people to understand more about the context of the Manhattan Project. Because for my family, it’s not just a piece of history but an ongoing struggle that’s colonized and irradiated generations of New Mexicans’ lives and altered our identity forever. Not only has the legacy of the Manhattan Project continued to harm and displace Indigenous and Hispanic people but it’s only getting bigger: Biden recently tasked the Los Alamos National Lab facility to create 30 more plutonium pits (the core of a nuclear warhead) by 2026. So this is a list of articles, podcasts and books to check out to hear the real stories of the local people living with this unique legacy that’s often overlooked.

This is simply the latest mainstream interest in the Oppenheimer story and it always ALWAYS silences the trauma of the brown people the US government took advantage of to make their death star. I might see the movie, I honestly might not. I’m not trying to judge anyone for seeing what I’m sure will be an entertaining piece of art. I just want y’all to leave the theater knowing that this story goes beyond what’s on the screen and touches real people’s lives: people whose whole families died of multiple cancers from radiation from the Trinity test, people who’s ancestral lands were poisoned, people who never came back from their job because of deadly work conditions. This is our story too.

The first and best place to learn more about this history and how to support those still resisting is to follow Tewa Women United. They’ve assembled an incredible list of resources from the people who’ve been fighting this fight the longest.

https://tewawomenunited.org/2023/07/oppenheimer-and-the-other-side-of-the-story

The writer Alicia Inez Guzman is currently writing a series about the nuclear industrial complex in New Mexico, its history and cultural impacts being felt today.

https://searchlightnm.org/my-nuclear-family/

https://searchlightnm.org/the-abcs-of-a-nuclear-education/

https://searchlightnm.org/plutonium-by-degrees/

Danielle Prokop at Source NM is an excellent reporter (and friend) who has been covering activists fighting for Downwinder status from the federal government. They’re hoping that the success of Oppenheimer will bring new attention to their cause.

https://sourcenm.com/2023/07/19/anger-hope-for-nm-downwinders/

https://sourcenm.com/2022/01/27/new-mexico-downwinders-demand-recognition-justice/

One often ignored side of the Manhattan Project story that’s personal for me is that the government illegally seized the land that the lab facilities eventually were built on. Before 1942, it was homesteading land for ranchers for more than 30 families (my grandpa’s side of the family was one). But when the location was decided, the government evicted the residents, bought their land for peanuts and used their cattle for target practice. Descendants of the homesteaders later sued and eventually did get compensated for their treatment (though many say it was far below what they were owed)

https://www.hcn.org/issues/175/5654

Myrriah Gomez is an incredible scholar in this field, working as a historian, cultural anthropologist and activist using a framework of “nuclear colonialism” to foreground the Manhattan Project. Her book Nuclear Nuevo Mexico is an amazing collection of oral stories and archival record that positions New Mexico’s era of nuclear colonialism in the context of its Spanish and American eras of colonialism. A must read for anyone who’s made it this far.

https://uapress.arizona.edu/book/nuclear-nuevo-mexico

There isn’t a ton of podcasts about this (yet 👀) but recently the Washington Post’s podcast Field Trip did an episode about White Sands National Monument. The story is a beautifully written and sound designed piece that spotlights the Downwinder activists and also a discovery of Indigenous living in the Trinity test area going back thousands of years. I was blown away by it.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/podcasts/field-trip/white-sands-national-park/

#oppenheimer #oppenheimer movie #barbenheimer #manhattan project #new mexico #los alamos #I never do posts like this #but I felt compelled #theres just so much like nuclear worship going on right now

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dronebiscuitbat · 7 months ago

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Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 95)

The addition of a second, third and forth pod meant that the frame of the escape shuttle was finally beginning to take place, aluminum and titanium wrapped around in a welded cylinder and thrusters mounted at the back to push it out of Copper-9s atmosphere.

It was mounted on steel scaffolding, facing the sky in all it's patchworked glory as worker drones dotted around it welding peices together and double- triple checking that everything was done to the best of their ability.

There could be no test flights or second chances- this had to work first time.

Along with the framework of the shuttle came month 5 of Uzi's pregnancy, along with N's birthday.

Which was today.

N was now officially twenty years old- an adult by everyone's standards and solidly out of the ‘almost adult’ limbo he'd been stuck in a couple years.

N fought vehemently against any sort of party for his big day, preferring that focus remained on the construction effort, he could celebrate when they were in space… safe.

That… may have had something to do with how possessive he'd been over Uzi lately… he couldn't bare to patrol too far from her, his sweeps getting into tighter and tighter circles.

He'd felt territorial around her since… well, since she'd gotten pregnant. But now it felt like all his sensors were dialed up to eleven at all times, alert to every little sound, movement, change in the air.

Like his entire body was in constant anticipation, waiting for… something.

Knowing J was still out there wasn't helping, every nerve in his body alight as he paced on all fours on the roof of the building that inhabited their nest- which they had both been spending much, much more time in since the baby started moving.

He wasn't the only one exhibiting this pacing, expecting behavior either, Uzi was doing much of the same, though slightly differently- in the form of collecting everything even remotely warm and soft and piling it in the nest and then obsessively rearranging the inside over and over again.

She was still working on the ship, sure. Her blueprints were the ones being used for it's construction, she was in the workshop every single day to either plan the next expedition for another pod, or to work on welding the frame together herself. But the second the work was done it's like they were both taken over by the urge to just… pace.

V was also struggling to contain her baser instincts, though in a different way- she was bringing food up into the nest, most of the time a scavenged limb or head (that did always end up eaten or drunk in it's entirety after everyone else was asleep) and fighting back the desire to pull Uzi into a session of grooming and preening that they would both find embarrassing.

Thad and Lizzy were less affected- Though both took up the habit of escorting Uzi everywhere she went like a pair of especially loyal gaurd dogs. Though now they were sleeping in the nest less and less, N was starting to urge them to sleep at home instead, keeping the nest occupied by three the majority of the time.

Which, finally, brought us to this very moment- V out on patrol/hunting for spare parts while Uzi took a break from adjusting every aspect of the nest to try and get her kit to play.

The incident at the playdate had Tera quiet, silently playing with her bat plushie, only chirping softly every so often instead of the rapid fire happy trilling Uzi was used to.

Considering it had been over a week since- Uzi was starting to get worried.

So she picked Tera up by the scruff of her onesie with her teeth and sat her in her lap, where the toddler just continued quietly playing, head angled to where her mother couldn't see her face.

“Tera.” Uzi called softly, and the solver kitten stopped, shoulders scrunched and bat held close to her chest as she still refused to look directly at her.

Uzi sighed.

“It was an accident baby bat, Daddy and I know you didn't mean to.” at this, Tera finally looked up, wriggling to get into her mother's arm.

“Sad.” Tera mumbled adding distressed warbles along with it, eyeslights knitted in an expression of contemplation that a toddler of her age simply shouldn't be capable of.

“He wa’scared-” She kept going, working the more complex words out of her mouth tentatively, struggling, but not as much as before. “-Of me.”

Uzi felt her core squeeze uncomfortably, threatening to unleash misdirected anger on a toddler she'd only met once.

“Why?” Tera asked, making Uzi blink, for starters, Tera was less then a year old and already asking introspective questions- something that she absolutely should not have the processing power for yet. But;

She really didn't like the direction the conversations was going.

“Oh… Jellybean.” Uzi lent down to hug her daughter, squeezing her tight before pulling away and putting a hand on the toddlers tiny head.

“We're… different from the other workers. We all are, Mommy, Daddy, Auntie V. We have different needs, and sometimes-” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “-sometimes people won't understand that.”

Tera took a moment to think about it, a loading circle appearing on her visor before she looked back up.

“That's mean.” She said, a very familiar glare written all over her face.

“Yeah. Some people will be, that's how people are. But there will be ones who will put in the effort to understand you. If you let them.” Uzi smiled reassuringly, her tail coming free to rest beside Tera as extra comfort.

Tera's attention went over to it, the tail cocking it's head as Tera cocked her own, she put both hands on it, thinking hard.

She nodded slowly. “Otay.”

“You wanna play with my tail…?” Uzi asked gently, snapping her tail playfully at her daughter; making her squeal in delight.

“Yah!”

Uzi grinned as her kit seemed to slowly regain her usual energy, biting and nipping and pouncing on the semi-indepentant head of her tail, trilling happily; her core whirred in delight.

Thump.

And here came the birthday boy.

N pulled back the sheet covering the entrance and crawled inside, stretching like a cat before flopping near Uzi lazily, grumbling.

“Find anything?” She asked, reaching down to tangle her fingers in his tousled hair, his tail wagged happily and his core began to rumble with the sounds of his contentment.

“No. Just more flesh.” He mumbled, lifting his head up slightly.

“How close?”

He paused for a moment.

“Too close, it's uh- it's moving faster then we predicted. I think the more there is, the faster it spreads.”

Uzi sighed.

“We have less time then we thought then… we still need a couple more thrusters, fuel… we're not even close to done.”

“I know.” N replied.

A tense silence filled the nest.

“I'll tell dad tomorrow… the sun's almost up.”

“What's the plan then…?” N almost smiled, admiring the way she did always seem to have a plan.

“We're just going to have to work on crunch time. I'll start working on the guts of the ship this week, we still need a way to recharge while in space.”

“We also need a place to go…we can't just wander aimlessly.”

“I know. I've been looking at old files from the bunker, there's an old satellite hub that might give us a idea of where to go.”

The air got more tense, heavy as lead and just as toxic for their health.

“Let's… try not to think about it.” Uzi said after a moment of feeling the dread creep up her back.

“I think that's what we're all doing…” N replied softly, tail hanging low.

“Happy Birthday.” Uzi near whispered, placing a kiss in his head that made his tail wiggle all over the place.

“Mm. Kinda not the best time to celebrate huh?” He admits, sitting up curl into her shoulder.

“Well…”

“We could always celebrate privately.” N's visor flushed, his tail kinked up straight before coming to curl around his mate, a playful chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Oh?” He hummed. Watching his kit wear herself out playing with Uzi's tail.

“Once she gets tired we can…” She whispered something in his audial that made him blush harder, but then he laughed before whispering something else into hers, which made her blush a shade of impressive violet, in response, he nibbled up her neck and a giggle bubbled out of her throat.

When he pulled back, they nuzzled each other's faces, sparks fluttering between them as he whispered the the words “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She replied, connecting them in a slow, passionate kiss that N ended up sighing into, stress evaporating off him like it was never there.

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #oil is thicker then blood #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #tera doorman #i feel like this is lower quality then usual but I couldn't tell you why #gonna be transparent- this fic is about to fully kick into its final gear #n and uzi

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humantea · 2 months ago

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It's really interesting how Gnostic, and specifically Ophitic, The Locked Tomb is.

To briefly rush through their beliefs (as filtered through the works of their detractors) the Ophites were a gnostic sect that placed special significance on the serpent as a liberating force, giving humanity the knowledge and understanding to free themselves from a tyrannical false demiurge. This demiurge, Ialdabaoth, had been born from the Aeon Sophia's fall into the terrestrial world and only had a small fraction of their Light, which was in turn only a small fraction of the larger light of Bythus, the true god. Ialdabaoth would declare himself god and would create seven Archons, powerful servants to help him shape and control the world, and an eighth son Nous, a being of knowledge who is sometimes tied to the serpent (also called Samael). Eventually Ialdabaoth and his Archons would create Adam and Eve as shows of their power over whom they would rule, but Sophia, hoping to regain the Light she had lost in creating Ialdabaoth and to free these new beings from her son, used the serpent to tempt Eve into knowledge and free humans from the demiurge. There are many different accounts of what the serpent was. Some say it was Nous, turned against its father by Sophia, others say Sophia herself was the serpent, and others say the serpent was a different creature altogether. Whatever the case is, the serpent succeeded and Eve, Adam, and the serpent itself were cast out of Eden.

Now, back to The Locked Tomb. John Gaius is a tyrant who calls himself a god, and he rules (or ruled) with the aid of 8 of his creations. Seven of his Lyctors remained loyal to him for quite some time, but Anastasia, the necromancer paired with the cavalier Samael, did not become a full Lyctor and instead sought deeper knowledge. John's power comes from Alecto, a powerful being who, despite creating him in the first place, now seeks to destroy him.

The connections should be obvious here. John is Ialdabaoth, Alecto is Sophia, the Lyctors are the Archons, and Anastasia is Nous. One can easily see how Harrow and Gideon make up Eve and Adam within this framework, but that leaves the question of who the serpent is.

Fittingly, there are three figures that fill this role. Anastasia, Alecto, and Wake all take part in the events that lead to Harrow's access to the tomb and her temptation away from John's Lyctoral faith. Anastasia was the one to first test the boundaries of John's claims surrounding Lysis and began the house traditions that would lead to Harrow's entry to the tomb. Alecto was obviously the subject of Harrow's temptation; she is the figure that fills Harrow's thoughts and who promises her god's death. Wake, who leads The Blood of Eden, an organization whose name, and John's description of it's origins via the quote "How sharper than the serpent’s tooth", directly tie it to the serpent, works to unseal the tomb through Gideon, allowing for Harrow's temptation.

The Locked tomb then fulfills the beginning of the Ophitic cosmogony, and it will be interesting to see how/if it will continue to parallel it.

One thing that I didn't find a great place to add in the ramble above is that, in Ophitic beliefs, Christ and Jesus are two separate entities, one a spiritual Aeon and the other a physical scholar of gnosis. Ophites believed that it was through a perfect fusion of these two beings that Jesus Christ was created and was able to perform miracles.

DOESN'T THAT SOUND FAMILIAR??

GRAND LYSIS???

#tlt #the locked tomb #don't mind me #just rambling about the gnostic elements of tlt like a madwoman

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rjzimmerman · 3 months ago

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Excerpt from this story from Earth Island Journal:

As you read this, new executive orders are being signed, and old protections are being dismantled. Many of the frameworks and institutions of our aging democracy — more specifically, our representative republic — are being tested to the point of fraying or dissolution. We are being engulfed by a far-right dehumanizing government at all levels — executive, legislative, judicial.

While some progressive organizers and activists continue with “business as usual,” others are gripped with the question “What do we do now?” The truth is stark: We know the new president won by a slim 1.5 percent margin, with 19 million fewer voters participating compared to four years ago. We also hold that even though this was no MAGA mandate, it underscores a hard reality: Progressives lost the national election because there simply aren’t enough mobilized like-minded people overall.

We didn’t get here overnight, or even in the past four years. A lack of effective relationship and solidarity building across class, color, gender, religious beliefs, sexuality, age, ability, culture and more is part of the problem. Another is the lack of alternative political parties that we can recognize as representing us — our values, our needs, our world view — to inspire us to engage. In short: No mandate, low engagement and the system is broken!

Simply, we can’t do the same things as before because what we’ve done wasn’t enough. Living in these “interesting” times, it bears remembering that in crisis there is also opportunity.

We find ourselves in a closing space — our inclusive civil society under attack. There is an element of claustrophobia bearing down upon those of us who identify as progressive, social justice-minded, democracy advocates.

What does a closing civil society look like? Literally, our options are increasingly limited. We may be told how to behave, how to dress, who we can associate with, what we can say and even what we can or cannot do with our own bodies. Personal choices may narrow as community organizations are threatened with lawsuits and economic sanctions — or they may be outlawed entirely, as freedom of expression, access to education and literature and the right to protest are curtailed.

How does authoritarianism show up? Authoritarianism often manifests through the actions of an autocrat or a small group (oligarchy) desperate to maintain control over their population. Tactics like mass disinformation or fake news, along with scapegoating — blaming and dehumanizing and othering specific groups — are used to strike fear and justify restrictions on freedom of speech, association and personal autonomy. Disregard for the rule of law becomes routine, targeting free press and public institutions, paving the way for corruption and political retaliation. Courts are co-opted, and authorities use surveillance, imprisonment and violent repression to enforce compliance, or silence dissent. In such environments, an open and thriving civil society becomes little more than a distant dream.

In the U.S., an extreme storyline for 2025 could land with the military being deployed to crush a people power movement — or enforce unpopular policies, such as mass deportations, even though national law generally limits the military taking action against its own citizens.

How do we prevent this? Fortunately, history offers lessons from those who’ve faced — and defeated — authoritarian regimes. Their victories remind us that change is possible, even in the most oppressive circumstances.

#trump #resistance #environmental activism #climate activism

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visualratatosk · 2 years ago

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Collective memories

You may have come across Semioticapocalypse, a blog I started—frightening to consider how long ago it was, — that became essentially the origin of the «Collective Memories» (CM). Both Semioticapocalypse and the CM project emerged primarily from my longstanding love for black-and-white photography, which later evolved into an interest in its history and theory. Secondly, thу new enterprise owes much to the staggering and mesmerizing impact that the Cambrian explosion in the world of generative models has had (and continues to have) on me, particularly when it comes to diffusion models, generating images visual or textual inputs as well as from various combinations of thereof.

The term "collective memory" denotes the aggregate of memories, knowledge, and data that a social group holds, which is intrinsically linked to the group's identity. The term "collective memory" in English and its French counterpart "la mémoire collective" emerged in the latter half of the 19th century. Maurice Halbwachs, a philosopher and sociologist, further developed this concept in his 1925 work, «Les cadres sociaux de la mémoire» (eng. text). Both expansive and intimate social collectives can create, disseminate, and inherit collective memory.

Contrary to the term "collective memory," which is somewhat ambiguously defined yet generally accepted, the notion of "collective memories" is inherently problematic. Memories are the results of the individual acts of recollection, making the idea of "collective memories" paradoxical. Сontemporary diffusion models utilize vast amounts of often unidentified data, including historical and personal old photographs, vintage postcards, and other kinds of publicly circulating images. These models may be seen as involved in the prompts-driven singular acts of remembrance, producing images that paradoxically represent "collective memories," something otherwise unfeasible and ultimately, non-existent.

The visual works published here and elsewhere on this blog were created using Midjourney. Each of them comes as the result of finding optimal (for lack of a better world) combined text/image prompt through exhaustive search a. k. a. generate-and-test method; the process is apparently as labor-intensive as it is time-consuming. The major part of the works belongs within the "Collective Memories" framework. In addition to visuals there will be eventually / hopefully a p2p publication or two.

Past works that align with the CM project in terms of both concept and style, even if not published as such, can be found on Behance. Then there's Instagram (crowв there is kind of thin but I'm set on daily updates). Last but not least, there are sporadic posts on Facebook, in designated groups only, — primarily 'MJ Official' (weekly or so) and another nice one here (occasionally). In case you would like (for whatever reason) to buy NFT or two, it can be arranged via Makers Place: drop me a line.

#midjourney #ai #ai art #ai generated #generative #generative art #retro style #neurophotography #promptography #disturbing #weird #hybrids #collective memories #memory studies #surreal #public history #vintage style

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selfcestmovies · 1 year ago

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Natasha Romanoff didn't bat her eye at experimental new tech – it was part of the job, after all. So when the SHIELD labrats asked her to test-drive a new holographic simulation... "Why the hell not," was her quick and quippy reply. It was an early developmental prototype of a platform called the Framework, designed by some young SHIELD recruit as a consequence-free space for training simulations.

Seemed innocent enough to give it a whirl.

And again, for Nat, when the training went off the rails and she found herself trapped in an unstable simulated reality... she wasn't surprised. The techs in the surface world would bring her back eventually – all she had to do was stay sane in this troublesome virtual world in the meantime.

As the system continued to glitch out and threw new bugs her way, she was surprised to realize that not all of them were dangerous. When the program duplicated her, that's when she raised her first eyebrow. Now, having been tripled, Nat started to worry.

Although these other Nat simulations seemed pretty laid back, despite her initial concerns. And trapped in a room with three of her, all eager to pass the time... Natasha found herselves game for another type of... experiment.

* * * * *

I was really happy with my first Nat attempt – Love, Natasha – but couldn't help but do more for our girl. I wanted to really give her Avengers-era character a chance to shine 😈.

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biblioflyer · 4 months ago

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Nosferatu (2024) takes its Occultism at least as seriously as it’s cinematography.

Exhuming the Spiritual Assumptions

Spoilers ahead (naturally)

One of my guilty pleasures is The Exorcist Files podcast. I don’t really buy into its extremely Catholic spiritual warfare worldview. I am at least a little bit skeptical about the veracity of the stories being recounted. I am both Scully and Mulder on the occult. I find it endlessly fascinating and am very much willing to engage with believers seriously and respectfully but try as I might to develop any sort of consistent religious or spiritual practice, in my core I just don’t exist in the demon haunted world. I believe there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy but it’s all so very ineffable to me instead of inerrant.

Right off the bat (or as Matt Berry would say: BAT!) that leads me to my first complication, caveat, and interpretation. Namely that the very heavily Catholic informed worldview of the Nosferatu setting may just be the framework that the characters are using to understand what is happening. This being a variation on The Dracula tale more or less played straight, the audience also would tend to bring that assumption with them. However! I think the role of Willem Dafoe’s character is to push back on the reflexive assumption that capital E Evil exists as a supernatural force therefore Christianity is empirically correct.

Nosferatu weaves around a couple of assumptions largely by neither proving nor disproving them. The trope of a Vampire being repelled by the cross for instance is never tested. The people living in proximity to Orlok’s castle clearly believe this but for all we know they are only situationally free of his power because he has no specific desire to hurt them. Same with hallowed ground. The priests and nuns believe Orlok cannot threaten them but is it beyond question that Orlok actually wants to finish off Thomas?

A couple of recurring themes in demonology are legalism and the need for witnesses. Orlok covets Ellen but his mind has become fixated on dissolving her marriage to Thomas and her willingly giving herself over to Orlok. For the most part the Abrahamic religions treat evil as something that must be chosen. A good many millennia of spilled ink, schisms, and even spilled blood has centered around the question of what it really means to choose and the definition of informed consent. For Orlok’s purposes Ellen seems not to have had sufficient agency to properly choose as a legal child in her society but he could court her until she came of age to be legally and metaphysically responsible for her choices. Alternately it’s possible age was irrelevant and he instead simply lacked the means to bring her to him or go to her until he established a connection with an occultist who had the resources to arrange everything.

Regardless, to some degree Ellen must have agency but Orlok can leverage her by threatening her loved ones including Thomas. Once he escaped the castle, Thomas was more useful as leverage alive and given the belief of the exorcists that Orlok still had influence over Thomas, Orlok may even have subtly pushed him to return home to make it easier for Orlok to locate Ellen if she continued to reject his overtures and collected herself enough to shut out Orlok as she had up until Thomas’ departure. Orlok certainly didn’t put a lot of effort into ensuring that Thomas was really dead and one interpretation of Thomas’s experiences with the exorcists is that Orlok would have been aware that Thomas was alive and could track him down in the material world if he really wanted to badly enough.

Evil’s Prime Directive: Likes, Shares, Subscribes

Which does bring me to witnesses. In Christian demonology specifically while Evil hates Creation generally and Humans in particular, destruction and ruin for its own sake is rarely a primary goal. So while Orlok as an alleged disciple of Belial in life and probable demon incarnated into a body (more on that later) desires to reap Ellen’s soul and brings along an army of plague rats for good measure, there is no point to any of this without survivors to bear witness.

Destroying isn’t enough though, the true objective is to get people to doubt the existence of a just and loving God. According to some like Father Martins of Exorcist Files fame, through a lot of hand waving the real real objective, as dictated by an all powerful God, is to use Evil to remind people that little sins lead to mortal sins and thus they should stay on the straight and narrow and remain under the protection of God.

This is where my inner Crowley would say “And you call me the bad guy!” while Aziraphale throws up his hands and says “It’s ineffable but it must be good, because God is good.” Which is how the formerly henotheistic Israelites and their descendants wind up quietly reintroducing dualism into their monotheism by retconning most of their God’s more wrathful deeds as having actually been the fault of a certain ex-prosecutor turned eldritch terrorist and his gang of personified concepts of wickedness and a few pagan gods who got laid off when their pantheons underwent consolidation and “right sizing.”

Ahem. Sorry. I’m being cheeky, I actually think it’s all very interesting and as a consequence I lose patience with people who don’t understand the history of their beliefs but not because I want to refute them but because how is it not fascinating?

So since Evil’s prime directive is to have someone acknowledge how cool and awesome it is, Orlok wouldn’t view Thomas as a loose end. If Orlok doesn’t need to kill Thomas, then Thomas would be in some sense an accidental missionary. While the Romani hunt vampires and try to warn unwary travelers, their apparent willingness to try to, if not mollify then bait, vampires is useful. Their belief in a supernatural evil and the specific customs they have developed to protect themselves also separate the Romani from more “sophisticated” people whose lack of direct contact with monsters and overt magic cultivates a sense of superiority over superstitious peasants. The maintenance of plausible deniability is also a practice attributed to Evil.

Up to this point I’ve tended to describe Orlok in largely stereotypical demonic terms. The reason being that Orlok presents very different in many respects from more traditional representations of Dracula and even the more bestial depictions of vampires. Orlok himself identifies as “an appetite” when Ellen questions whether he is even capable of love. You are free to read melancholy into this if it suits you to humanize Orlok. I myself view him as a being with very little humanity and is more of a set of base urges with the ability to develop somewhat sophisticated plans to serve those urges but there is little to nothing about him that is able to stray too far from his hungers.

There’s one other scene where I think you could argue Orlok shows a bit of humanity and it’s perversely when he’s being maximally petty. That being when he insists on being addressed as My Lord. As an alleged disciple of Belial, this has a metaphorical meaning and a literal meaning. Belial is an example of one of those concepts that got personified over time as subsequent generations translated the original texts and added their own flourishes. Originally Belial was a description. A slur even. It meant to be worthless. So Orlok in pledging himself to Belial has in some sense given himself a cosmic demotion when his earthly rank was count. Which he would have almost certainly thought was also a divine mantle.

Being a vampire seems like the sort of thing that might seem like a promotion but there’s a lot of suffering that comes with it. More so than the classic Stoker or Anne Rice version. For starters to the extent he is even still the same person, he’s Damned with a capital D and that is portrayed as sucking a lot in the Abrahamic framework. Just the knowledge that they can never be in Heaven or in the presence of God is supposed to be a torment but that tends to get deemphasized because it’s not as relatable a motive for wanting to ruin the world when the audience is flesh and blood and maybe asks uncomfortable questions about global floods and why have a fruit bearing tree if you don’t want people to snack.

So let’s remember why Vampirism sucks in other ways:

There’s an argument to be had about whether he’s a damned ghost haunting his body that hungers for blood as a condition of his continued existence: the feasting upon blood and his other comorbidities being the burdens he must accept for extended life. Life beyond death in an embodied state for humans being a fundamentally unnatural state and thus requiring sacrifice to maintain the equilibrium of nature. So he makes periodic blood sacrifices and in doing so, is alienated from society still further as if being a literal corpse that cannot abide the sun was insufficient.

My own feeling is that the glimpses of Orlok the person may just be the semi petrified remains of the memories in that body, a body being used by an avatar of the Deadly Sin of Gluttony. The vacated body of a former disciple of Belial being a compromised vessel but one that allows more exercise of power over the natural world by virtue of being so alienated from the natural world and obligated by its hungers and nature to confine its activities to a fairly limited range: it can do almost anything it wants towards spreading terror and ruin but can’t take a night off to enjoy a play.

This entity likely being a demon and not being capable of appreciating art or beauty for its own sake. Orlok or the entity wearing his bones didn’t fall in with the wrong crowd and vaguely saunter downward. Traditionally Abrahamic demonology doesn’t allow for demons who are merely just kind of bratty and ask too many questions, blurry lines between good and evil tend to invite a return to henotheism or, gasp, polytheism. A thing other Christians have been accusing those who pray to Saints of for centuries. This is not me implying Catholics are polytheistic mind you, I don’t have any stake in delegitimizing Catholicism and even if I did, treating polytheism as a slur wouldn’t be the hill I’d die on.

A Chronicle of a Dim World but Not Necessarily Pure Darkness

I did say though that I think Christianity was possibly not empirically correct in Nosferatu but rather the framework that everyone involved was interpreting things through. Everyone except Von Franz. Okay I’m just going to refer to him as Willem Dafoe from this point on because he’s such a Willem Dafoe character. He doesn’t automatically assume Ellen is crazy nor does he blame her for anything. His comment about how she could have been a priestess of Isis in another age I think is very revealing about where he draws his ethical lines. I think it’s implicit that he doesn’t think it’s Ellen’s fault a malevolent presence latched onto her when she seemed to have a natural gift for walking the spirit realm in dreams but absent any tutelage or cultural context for managing this ability.

By the Christian paradigm, Ellen has messed up big time and probably irredeemably. Traditionally it’s not good to have dissolved your marriage and pledged yourself to a demonic being whom you then perform a pseudo sex act with. The Abrahamic religions, as traditionally practiced, aren’t very sex positive when it comes to women nor is there much of a concept of spectrums of consent and coercion invalidating sexual and spiritual relations. Traditionally practiced is a phrase doing a lot of work and oversimplifying a lot when it comes to thousands of years and billions of practitioners. Norms obviously varied quite a lot across eras and regions.

Dafoe taking up her cat and staring into the dawn though is rich in hopeful symbolism. Cats got a bit of a bad rep in certain periods due to their tendency to be looked upon fondly by pagans. On the other hand, they were often looked upon fondly by pagans. They’re often portrayed as wise and associated with magic. Plus, and this matters in the context of a plague spread by rats, they eat vermin. If the bodies are piling up, stray cats are on the side of the angels doing their part for humanity one meal at a time.

Given how much Ellen adored her cat, one could say perhaps it’s invested with a measure of spiritual power and is more than just a symbolic surrogate for Ellen. Regardless, I think the context points to Ellen’s sacrifice being both literal and metaphysical. She sacrificed her life and also nullified her sins too. So Van Hellsing, I mean Von Franz may be visually representing a spiritual intercession where Ellen has been snatched away from the Pit.

To get a little Gnostic, Willem Dafoe may be basking in the light of knowledge. He’s seen behind the veil, made testable assumptions, and proven them. Ellen is being taken up to Heaven, Orlok is back in Hell, and Hermes Trismegistus is proud of his star pupil. Although this is truly Ellen’s tale and Ellen’s victory while Willem Dafoe believed in her and kept the well intentioned white knights from getting everyone killed by interfering with an unorthodox solution they’d no doubt object to on the basis that it was super icky. Although in their defense, I consider myself a pretty enlightened 21st century man but I’d probably try to talk my partner out of it and be a bit of a pest if she told me we needed to get divorced so she could shag a demon to death to save not just my life but the lives of untold thousands.

In the finest tradition of horror heroines, Ellen was a hard woman making hard choices and in sacrificing herself she took a groomer demon of pestilence and hunger with her.

And maybe, just maybe I’ve over complicated all of this and it’s just a metaphor for how bad women have it with online dating where the astral plane is the apps and Orlok is a creepy dude who becomes obsessed after an underage girl is nice to him once.

Epilogue: Again, with all due respect to the character, this would have been my humble suggestion for a hidden bonus track on the soundtrack.

#nosferatu #nosferatu spoilers #nosferatu 2024 #occult #demonology #amateur theology #vampires #analysis #willem dafoe #lily rose depp #count orlok

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txttletale · 2 years ago

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So I'm a leftist because I can plainly see that capitalism sucks, but I have a really hard time pinning down what I think we should replace it with because I have "agrees with the last theory I read" disease. (Or, more embarrassingly, "agrees with the last Post I read.")

Something I've been wondering about recently is what's the point of planning and arguing over what happens after the revolution anyway? The chances of a successful worker's revolution in my lifetime, let alone the next few decades, feels vanishingly small. The preconditions just feel so far away.

Is there really value in committing to a specific ideology right now, or is it sufficient to say the anarchist future and the ML future (and even, like, the DemSoc future) sound better than what we have now, and require many of the same preconditions, so let's work towards those shared goals now and figure out what comes after in a few decades when the groundwork is actually laid?

i agree with you that i don't think a genuine revolutionary situation will arise (at least, not in the imperial core) within our lifetimes. i also agree that there is a meaningful degree to which the theoretical differences between marxist-leninists & anarchists are far enough from being present and pressing concerns that they should in almost all cases be working together and employing similar tactics and action.

however, i do think there is a value to having an ideological framework: it keeps you consistent. if your ideology is vague and empty, you're liable to (intentional or unintentional) opportunism--you will fill in the gaps or approach new ideas with the default positions, the ones that require the least divergence from hegemonic cultural norms and values.

that sounds a bit ideological-jargony so i'll phrase it another way: if you grow up in a [joker voice] society, you're going to grow up with a lot of assumptions! like, 'cops reduce crime', for example. and if you don't have an underlying theory of capitalist society and how it functions, then it's entirely possible to realize (through experience or analysis) that capitalism is bad and that our society is inherently unjust, but continue thinking 'cops reduce crime' because that's just the default cultural position you grew up with. these two things are pretty impossible to reconcile, right--because of course the actual purpose of cops is to enforce private property rights and maintain the capitalist system of economic relations--but if you don't have a full theoretical framework of capitalism & society that you can use to analyse things, that incoherence is very easy to let slip by!

i also want to say that while i think that anarchists & marxist-leninists (and all other revolutionary) communists share common goals and functionally very similar political projects for our forseeable lifetime, there is a meaningful difference between these two and the 'demsocs' you mentioned. not an uncrossable gulf by any means in terms of working together and forging political alliances--but the steps one takes to agitate and organize the working class in anticipation of a future revolutionary situation, however distant, are imo very functionally different to the steps one takes to advocate for social reform within liberal legislatures. rosa luxemburg put it well when she said there is nothing reformist about supporting trade unions, welfare legislation, as a vehicle for revolutionary class struggle--but when you take these things as ends themselves, i.e., as viable methods for resolving the contradictions of capitalism, you become unable to use them as such a vehicle.

but, yeah. tldr; i think it is far from the most important thing (the most important thing is to be a principled anti-capitalist & anti-imperialist--these are the two litmus tests for whom i can consider a political ally), but it is useful to have an underlying political framework rather than a collection of individual positions, because the latter can lead to contradictory and self-defeating worldviews and political programs

#ask

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meltedbrains · 3 months ago

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Tara - a unified scooby?

Btvs goes out of its way to talk about Buffy, Giles, Xander and Willow as a team, 'the scoobies'. Even before season 4 makes it explicit: Buffy is the strength, Giles is the head, Xander the heart and Willow is spirit. Throughout the series Buffy relies on them for emotional and practical support based on these roles (and she continually provides physical strength for them).

But where does this leave anyone else? How can new people fit into this group and contribute without stepping on the toes of the originals?

These extras normally provide conflict for one or more of the scooby gang. Angel has the ups and downs of a first relationship before becoming the big bad of season 2 and then estranged exes who never got closure. Likewise the other romantic relationships (Oz, Anya, Riley, etc.) also provide conflict both internal to the relationship and, through their actions, external conflict for the scooby gang to solve (e.g. running around as a werewolf).

Dawn and Joyce create the typical family conflict of responsibilities, the trials and tribulations of sharing a living space, and the struggles of growing up. As Tumblr user babygirlgiles put it Dawn also represents Buffy's innocence, something that Buffy strives to protect but ultimately loses over the course of season 5, both through the key/Glory plotline and the death of Joyce.

So how does Tara fit in to this framework? She definitely falls into the category of helpful romantic partner, creating and solving conflict in turn. But in season 6 I feel she really steps into her own. S6 is a low point for the scoobies as a whole: Buffy is trying to reconcile with living in a world she finds unbearable and a mission she already completed; Xander is grappling with what marriage means and how to navigate adult relationships; Willow is fighting addiction and how that brings out the worst in her and Giles is facing up to his own over-protective nature and whether he can leave Buffy to stand on her own.

Grappling with their own internal conflict (or just plain absent) the scooby gang are unable to rely on each other; they withhold their feelings, lying to each other and themselves. There's a reason it's one of the more controversial seasons.

Buffy confides in Tara about her relationship with Spike. Tara is her proxy for the scooby gang, able to counsel and console; running magical tests on Buffy's resurrection, comforting her at her lowest, and taking care of Dawn when she can't.

Luckily this doesn't come out if nowhere, in 'The Body' Tara is able to comfort Buffy with her own experience at a time when Buffy is robotically going through the motions and the rest of her friends are grieving Joyce in their own way.

For the most part Tara has already gone through her character arc. She escaped her abusive, gaslighting family, found love and friendship, lost and regained her mind, and set boundaries with Willow over her misuse of magic (while saving the world along the way, but who hasn't done that?).

Because of this stability and maturity Tara is able to slip into the roles of the Scoobies as needed. Able to be the heart when Xander can't see past his own problems, the spirit when Willow is seeking more and more dangerous magics, the mind when Giles returns to the UK. Crucially she is also an outsider, by being removed from the group (post break-up with Willow) there is a semblance of patient-doctor confidentiality. She is already established as someone Buffy can rely on for emotional support (as of S5) but now (in S6) she is insulated from the pity of her close friends: emotional support without the strings.

Btvs is about Buffy's growth as a person, from scared child ("I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die.") to young adult ("You're just a girl." "That's what I keep saying."). As she grows she learns to manage her responsibility by S7 she is no longer struggling with her mission in the world, and in a sense she no longer needs the Scoobies ("And at some point, someone has to draw the line and that is always going to be me."). Buffy has outgrown Giles, Xander and Willow, she still loves them and they still work with and rely on each other but she no longer needs them in the way she once did (this is one of the central conflicts of S7 and their relationships but that's another story).

This independence can be traced back to Tara in S6, the season where Buffy is unwilling and unable to connect with and rely on her friends, her usual support system. The system breaks down and Buffy comes to rely on Tara, because of this (and Tara's death) Buffy becomes independent relying on herself instead of the scoobies. No longer leading by committee, leading from the front (admittedly with an iron fist).

Tara's ability to be all aspects of the Scoobies (mind, heart, spirit) translates to Buffy, she learns from her and becomes an independent adult.

#buffy the vampire slayer #Btvs #buffy summers #tara maclay #Brainedmelts

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amayaonly1 · 5 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 3

About: Genji and Eminem started collaborating on a song in the studio, blending their creative energies to refine lyrics and beats. As the subdued hum of the equipment and looping basslines set the mood, their occasional banter and mutual respect shine, revealing a dynamic partnership. Together, they created a song brimming with potential, leaving Genji eager for what the next day would bring.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The studio wasn't buzzing with its usual chaotic energy tonight. Instead, it carried a subdued hum, a gentle rhythm that pulsed in sync with the faint glow of the control panel lights. The air was tinged with a slight metallic tang from the equipment, and the muffled thump of basslines created an almost hypnotic undercurrent. Genji's looping beat filled the space like a heartbeat, steady and persistent, weaving Walter Egan's "Hot Summer Nights" into a nostalgic, airy backdrop that lingered in the corners of the room.

She picked the song for its unique blend of breezy optimism and an undercurrent of sharp melancholy — an unusual juxtaposition that immediately caught her attention. To her, it wasn't just a song or a sample; it was a living, breathing framework. The layers of the track spoke to her as if they're puzzle pieces, ready to be assembled a new creation. This was how Genji's always worked. She didn't just hear the music; she saw it and instinctively knew where it could lead. In her mind, every beat had a place, every note a purpose.

She sat cross-legged in her chair, one hand fiddling with a blue Pilot Frixion, the other tapping on the scribbled pages of her notebook. Across the table, Eminem was hunched over his own notepad, his pen tapping against its edge. The scratching of lyrics on paper punctuated the rhythm as he muttered under his breath, words half-formed and fleeting.

"So, I'm thinking," he began, tapping the notepad. "We start with something simple but in-your-face. Like, 'Guess who? D'you miss me?'. I think it sets the tone without overcomplicating it."

Genji raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. "Not bad, but I think we can make it punch harder. Maybe you can hit that line with a little more sass? Like it's more of a dare than a question."

"Yeah, I can work with that," he responded, immediately scribbling her suggestion down.

The rhythm of collaboration continued, with him throwing out concepts and her tweaking them into sharper edges. He flipped to a fresh page, leaning into his next thought. "I want the second verse to be wild, something ridiculous but catchy. Maybe I throw in a line about the Kardashians or something."

Genji leaned forward with an unmistakable mischievous glint in her eye. "Why not? Maybe something over-the-top but funny, like '"'Damn, I think Kim Kardashian's a man.'"

The rapper paused, then let out an amused chuckle. "You're ridiculous."

"But you're writing it down, aren't you?" she quipped, nodding his notepad.

"Guilty," he admitted, grinning as he wrote it into the verse. "'She stomped him just 'cause he asked to put his hands…' Yeah, that flows."

"What about the Lindsay line?" Genji suggested, crossing her arms while watching him refine the previous line. "Do you think we should make it a bit punchier, like 'Samantha's a two, you're practically a ten'?"

Eminem tilted his head, testing the rhythm under his breath. "Yeah, I see it. That works." He jotted it down, but shortly before glancing her way with a subtle smirk. "Not bad, Gen. I can see why Dre's always hyping you up."

"Say it like you mean it," she teased.

Hours passed in this cadence, with Eminem crafting and spitting verses to the track, and Genji fine-tuning them. Her suggestions weren't frequent, but they always landed, often improving his initial drafts into something sharper, funnier, or more poignant. Between lines, he occasionally glanced her way, gauging her reactions as if testing the waters. "What about this?" he'd ask, and she'd either nod or offer a sharp, yet insightful tweak that nudged the lyrics closer to brilliance. It was a subtle dance of egos and expertise, a quiet respect between two artists who understood and acknowledged each other's strengths.

Genji leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead as she exhaled slowly. "Alright, I think we've hit a good stride. I can see the song starting to come together."

Eminem smirked but didn't lift his pen. "That your polite way of saying you're calling it a day?"

"Honest is more like it." She stood, gathering her things. "Besides, don't you always clock out early? Studio's like your nine-to-five, I heard."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You know me too well."

"Exactly why I’m reminding you," she quipped, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pausing at the door. "We'll pick this up tomorrow?"

“Yeah, for sure.” He looked up, the faintest hint of a smile softening his usually intense expression. "We're close."

She nodded, stepping into the hallway. The cool air brushed against her face, grounding her. The quiet outside contrasted sharply with the studio's charged atmosphere. As the door clicked shut behind her, she thought about the music they'd pieced together tonight. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was alive, thrumming with potential.

Genji exhaled deeply, fishing her phone from her bag as she walked toward the exit. The work would continue tomorrow. But for now, she let herself rest for the moment, knowing that tomorrow would bring more music, more ideas, and more possibilities.

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem fluff #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader

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