#But I cannot cull them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedreeva · 4 months ago

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i have an odd animal husbandry question you seem like you might know the answer to, your comment about stan reminded me - ive been thinking about getting into backyard chickens for a couple years and the thing that makes me hesitate most is hard culling. im confident in my ability to put down an animal thats sick, or infirm, or for food, but for like, temperament? or for poor egg layers? just sticks on me for some reason. i think it would feel like telling them theyre not a good enough chicken for me. how to you process this part of animal husbandry?

This will be a little long, so bear with me.

If you want to keep use animals (animals bred for a purpose, to be used for a purpose instead of kept as a companion), you gotta get good with the idea that they are here for you under the agreement that you will only keep them as long as you need to. When you take them on, you are agreeing that you will release them to whatever their next life holds for them as soon as you do not need (or they've completed) their service. Maybe for some people that's just release to the biological cycle of life, for others maybe there's an eternal rest, for others maybe it's reincarnation. For soft culling that's just moving to the next household. Whatever it is, you are allowing them to pass to it in as humane a way as you can, and ultimately it is the single greatest kindness and gratitude you can show to them, to give them proper care while they are here and allow them to end with little to no pain- something animals outside of our care rarely get. You are thanking them for their service, and letting them go. Worth does not even begin to factor into it.

It is not easy to take a life. It is NEVER easy, regardless of reason, regardless of excuse, regardless of anything. It is ALWAYS heavy, and it will always hurt you. And it should. I am grateful for the weight of taking a life, because it reminds me that it is serious, and reminds me to take the production of life seriously, because at some point any life I cause to come into existence via breeding animals will have to end.

On top of that, some things ARE heath related that do not seem health related. Aggression in domestic animals IS A HEALTH ISSUE. A cock is aggressive because he is stressed about intruders, containment, mating threats, resource guarding, etc. Even with the best of care this can be true, and unfortunately for you both, this means the animal is not suited for domestic keeping. The same goes for animals (in any stripe of use, but particularly private care) that display repetitive stress behaviors from normal, proper captive care (for example, mice that are food chewing are stressed and should be culled from lines where possible because they are not having a good time). You are doing them a disservice to keep them in a stressful situation you cannot change because of their biology. It has nothing to do with not being good enough for you, and everything to do with producing/keeping animals that do not experience that stress in captive care and releasing the rest from duty because they will not be okay in any captive care.

For some issues (poor egg laying, for example) you CAN pet-home culls instead of hard culling. It's harder to do, you will spend time finding people who just want pets that don't intend to breed or don't care, but it can be done. However!! Is the bird just slow at producing eggs because her genetics say that's how fast eggs get produced, or is she producing slowly because there's a health problem that isn't immediately evident? Is her ovary damaged, is her reproductive tract infected, does she have a disorder that prevents her from processing food correctly so she can't get what she needs to produce eggs as fast as normal? Are you setting the bird up for failure (and someone else for heartbreak/money troubles) sending them to a pet home? Is it something which could lead to pain/suffering down the road if she's allowed to continue? Hard to say without spending a lot of money. Are you willing to risk your reputation, if someone takes a surprise illness/genetic issue down the road badly ("Oh THAT breeder sold me a sick/unhealthy bird/bird with bad genetics"), and compromise your ability to find homes for healthy birds down the road?

You are okay with culling a bird for food- there's nothing that says you cannot eat the bad temperaments, the poor egg layers, the one with genetic issues, and so on. And if you can tell early enough that you, personally, can't make use of the meat, there are plenty of folks with other animals that would LOVE feed for those animals. Take yourself down to a local reptile expo, grab the business cards for a few people who have big snake babies (retics, burmese, anaconda, redtail boa, even BP) that say they'd be interested in taking culls, OR look up local bird of prey rescues in your area (or reptile rescues or big cat rescues if there are any) and ask if they'd be interested in culls. There is ALWAYS someone that can use what you can't/won't. You may have to jump through some hoops to donate to some kinds of rescues (health testing for example), but it's an option you can look into if you want to combat the feelings you're talking about.

As a last note- and I am saying this gently and holding your face in both hands: do not anthropomorphize animals in reality.

In YOUR eyes, you are culling them an illness or an injury or for food or for temperament or for poor quality or or or---- it does not matter to the animal why you are culling them. A death is a death, to them. They are here, and then a thing happens, and they are no longer. They do not understand life or death or afterlife or reincarnation or that they are here for a purpose or not a purpose or literally anything you as a human might impose upon them in your head. They live while they are alive, and then they are not. They do not "want to live" in the "avoid death" sense because they do not necessarily understand "death" as a future concept. Instincts that have worked well to preserve life have been encoded in their DNA to one degree or another, they can and do respond to avoid pain, but with little exception (like... maybe elephants and dolphins and a crows and a few others), it's unlikely that they understand the connection between doing those things and being alive/avoiding death.

So while TO YOU it may feel like telling the bird they are not good enough, and TO ME it feels like allowing the bird to move on in peace... the bird doesn't know either way, and honestly the reason hardly matters. It is alive in the present, and one way or another it will not be alive someday, and you are responsible for making sure that the one way under your control is so peaceful or quick that the bird hardly knows it is no longer alive. The bird doesn't care about (and cannot understand) the why of their death, any more than they understand their pain/stress and how it relates medical assistance; it's why animals often freak out, refuse meds, etc. They don't hate the vet or the car or the carrier or anything- they just simply don't understand human stuff and react according to instincts/what they do understand. If you treat an animal like the animal it IS rather than the person you imagine it to be, you will find yourself with a lot better relationship with them during life, and be able to frame their passing a bit better later on.

#it's not an odd question actually #it's not even the first time I've been asked questions like this #It's a topic a LOT of people will not face head on #or talk about in louder than a whisper #but death is arguably the most important part of animal husbandry to talk frankly and openly about #asks #animal death for ts #culling #hard culling #chickens

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linkspooky · 7 months ago

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YUTA WAS ALWAYS SELFISH

I was originally going to make this post the week the big twist with Yuta in Gojo's body happened, because of the massive subversion that it was. It was the kind of twist that made you question if everything you ever knew about the character was wrong. Namely, Yuta one of the most empathic sorcerers we see in the series - the character who seems to lack the selfishness of the other sorcerers that make up jujutsu society. The kid who fights with the literal power of love.

Was Yuta a monster to begin with and we just didn't see?

So ignore the clickbaity tagline, Yuta is one of my favorite characters I'm not going to start calling him a terrible person. Rather that Yuta is dismissed as a soft kid or a wifeguy, when he's actually more cunning and cutthroat than anyone gives him credit for.

If a sorcerer is nothing more than a con-artist, then if the talent for trickery he displayed in the Sukuna fight is anything to go by Yuta is a true sorcerer down to his bones. Yuta turning Gojo's body into a puppet seems like a massive twist, and almost out of character for Yuta who was so devoted to Gojo.

His earlier fight in the culling game even seemed to hint that Yuta was too soft and he didn't truly have the attitude to fight someone like Ryomen Sukuna who was the embodiment of a calamity.

These panels seemed like a prophecy that Yuta was doomed to fall short against Sukuna. That he could never live up to his title as the next Satoru Gojo, because unlike Gojo and Sukuna who can stand on the top alone Yuta clings to his loved ones.

Sukuna got to where he is by rejecting love. Sukuna is Sukuna because he's never needed anyone to satisfy him. So how can Yuta who needs to be surrounded by his loved ones at all time to validate him and tell him it's okay for him to be alive even compete?

However, even in JJK zero Yuta's love is questioned on whether or not it's as selfless and "pure" as it seems. To begin with, Maki calls him out early on for attracting bullies by playing the victim a lot. He pretends to be a good and innocent person put upon by his circumstances and bullies when really he doesn't want to help himself. Instead of standing up to the bullies he's always let Rika protect him and then condemned her for being a monster. He's let Rika take the blame for all the destruction, even though Rika is HIS cursed technique, created by HIS emotions, and is protecting him.

Yuta doesn't make any attempt to try to learn to control Rika, or even work with her, he just shrivels away in fear.

"You act like a good person, but it feels fake..." Yuta has always adopted the facade of a good person. He seems soft, socially anxious and withdrawn, even after he gains confidence as a sorcerer those traits don't go away because they're a part of his outward persona. Jung divides the psyche into two parts, the persona a mask that faces the world the parts of yourself that come out in your social interaction with people and then there's the shadow your repressed personality.

Yuta's shadow is a literal monster that declares her love for him and then expresses that love by violently destroying everything around him.

Yes, Rika initially contained the soul of someone else but Rika the curse was created by his technique, her power corresponds to his emotions, she comes from his shadow, and even after the real Rika passes on the Shikigami RIKA still remains completely under Yuta's control. Rika is Yuta, the embodiment of his twisted definition of love that would curse his loved ones to keep them by his side forever because he can't live without them. All of Rika's insane possessiveness? That's Yuta's too. Rika's violent overprotectiveness? That's Yuta.

How poetic is it really that Yuta and Rika are so codependent that Yuta's shadow, the other half of his personality is literally RIKA. Yuta cannot exist without love, and without someone too love, he's so terrified of being alone that he cursed Rika and then turned her corpse into a puppet after death. He uses his loved one as a weapon to fight his enemies.

If you think about it for more than five minutes Yuta's cursed technique and Rika has some seriously messed up implications, but it's hard too because as messed up as Yuta's love is it's still genuine.

Love is a curse, but in 236 Nanami speculates that sometimes curses can save people too, just like how Jujutsu Sorcerers use curses to fight and protect others.

So Yuta's love is a screaming, raging, overprotective monster, but it's also what give shim the motivation to fight ofr others. Yuta's love is a curse, but curses can save people too.

Yuta on the other hand isn't aware of his own darker nature most of the time.

The big twist in Jujutsu kaisen Zero is that just as Maki accused him of from the beginning, Yuta was playing the victim all along. He acted like Rika cursed him with her dying breath, but Yuta was the one who cursed her because he couldn't bear to live without her.

However, even this apology is a bit telling of Yuta's self-centered nature. He immediately turns everything into his fault and starts beating himself up over it. He doesn't look at anyone else's perspectives or that other people had a role to play. He deliberately ignores Rika's feelings on the past few years, which Rika is quick to point out for him.

This scene has a parallel later where Yuta ultimately, only thinks about himself first and foremost. In spite of wanting so badly to be surrounded by his loved ones, it's more about him loving them, and less about their feelings for him.

After all he's completely willing to commit a double suicide with Rika to protect his friends, ignoring the fact Rika doesn't want him to pass on just yet, and Maki, Inumaki and Panda wouldn't want him to disappear either. This scene has a direct parallel a year later in the fight against Sukuna when Yuta gives up his body.

Maki almost breaks character from her usual culling game arcs stoicity to fight and argue with Yuta to stop him form doing this, and Rika who one year earlier told Yuta to live a long life so she wouldn't have to see him on the other side so soon is reduced to screaming and sobbing while holding his dead body.

Yuta loves people, or at least he feels an intense amount of love for people, but he can be as self-centered as the other sorcerers we see in the story. Geto even points this out right away, that Yuta is selfish, that he's seeking self-affirmation first and foremost. He needs other people's approval, their love, to feel like he deserves to exist. He'll do anything to earn that love, and once he has it he'll do anything to protect it but it's ultimately for himself.

It manifests in Yuta's technique itself copy, which first and foremost requires Yuta to consume parts of his loved ones that can never be healed if he wants to keep their copied technique. Yuta gets stronger by literally eating his loved ones. We have canon confirmation that Yuta fed part of Inumaki's severed arm to Rika.

Yuta's cursed technique is to emulate the strengths of all of his loved ones copying them and making them a part of his oqn technique, because Yuta will take any shape and form in order to be loved. It's also the perfect technique for fighting as a part of a group, because someone like Sukuna will naturally assume that Yuta's technique STEALS instead of COPYING so he'll forget that the original still retains their technique.

Yuta's not only selfish and has a very selfish, overprotective love for others, but it's those exact qualities that make him an effective sorcerer strong in the area that Gojo is the weakest. Group coordination.

Gojo is in his element when he's alone, but Yuta is so codependent that he literally cannot exist unless other people are looking at him. His strength comes from the things he copies and takes from his friend, and he turned his loved one into a puppet to fight others. Is it really that surprising that this kid would willingly use Gojo's body as a weapon after death when that's literally what he did to Rika.

How telling is it that like Yuta learned that Rika was cursed by him, went so far to exorcise her spirit, and then after finally letting go after her spirit passed on he made a second Shikigami named Rika a few months later made out of the small remnants of cursed energy that Rika left behind as a gift after passing on. The dude is not over Rika, he's like, Geto and Gojo levels of not over Rika.

Yuta's cursed technique being the literal weaponization of his love and his loved ones makes him the best character for group coordination in the entire series. Yuta even adopts apsects of hakari's persona when making his plans against Sukuna since he decides to gamble at several key points in the plan.

Several of the key moments in the fight are all Yuta's plans, with some collaboration from Angel. He makes several bets too like Hakari would. The first being going to finish Kenjaku by himself and using both Todo and Takaba in conjunction to trick him. The second is the bet that he'd be able to make it back in time to rejoin the fight in case Higuruma's plan fail.

It was Yuta who let his own domain barrier down on purpose to let Sukuna think he had the victory so he would let his guard down and make it easy for Maki to ambush him. Something that also required perfect coordination between Yuta and Maki working in tandem with one another.

Yuta set up Hana to do one large jacob's ladder when Sukuna least expected it because he knew Sukuna would forget that his technique is COPY and not steal. He also made the biggest bluff which was leading Sukuna to believe that he fed Rika his last finger.

These aren't just good bluffs, they require near perfect coordination with your allies and taking several chances on them. Nobara might not have even woken up so the last finger / resonance Gambit was perhaps the biggest gamble. Maki and Yuta had to coordinate with each other well so Maki would be there when Yuta dropped the barrier. Yuta needed Takaba a relatively new and inexperienced sorcerer to survive against the threat that was Kenjaku, and he needed all of his allies to stay alive while he was prioritizing Kenjaku.

These are all plans Satoru Gojo would never have been able to pull off, because Gojo only ever relies on himself. If Yuta and Hakari had intervened in the Gojo and Sukuna fight then he would not have been able to go all out, whereas Yuta REQUIRES people collaborating with him in order TO GO ALL OUT.

This is Yuta. This is his strength. Yuta is nothing without love, so he takes on the forms of the people he loves and takes things from the people he loves in order to gain the power to protect him. Yuta copies everything from the people he loves, so is it really that much of a surprise that he'd become a monster just like Gojo.

In some ways, Geto and Yuuta were the same. Geto was too sincere. To someone like him, the reality that the world of sorcerers presented to him was just too cruel. ’…that in a world like this, I couldn’t be truly happy from the bottom of my heart.’ To live for the purpose of being yourself. And for that goal, Geto could only continue to pursue his twisted dream, drowning himself in the curse that lies in the gap between ideal and reality.

Love is a weapon for Yuta. Just like his curse technique can take any form, so does Yuta's love, and so does Yuta himself. Love always wins, and in order to do so Yuta will take any shape necessary, no matter how twisted.

Love is the worst curse of them all, and Yuta will become the worst monster of them all if it means protecting his love ones.

#jjk meta #yuta okkotsu #maki zenin #gojo satoru #yutamaki #rika #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory

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mina-org · 2 months ago

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୨୧Monster concept

୨୧captain price, gaz, ghost, & johnny as monsters

୨୧ word count: 1000

୨୧Warnings: monster fucking not smut tho, implied in gaz n soap, yandere themes &tropes, dark romance, mentions to death, dying and bones

୨୧captain price as a hunter

୨୧ inspired by Herne the hunter, tw for suicide if you read the original tale but I won’t be mentioning it.

୨୧ The tales of prices’ woods were conflicting; some groundskeepers thrived, the sweetest fruits grown and the harvests would be consistently good for half centuries, than others who didn't survive a night, starved during winters, seemingly promising harvest would be found rotten at the last moment. In every tale however, no one leaves.

୨୧ Price is as old as the land he protects, he’s shed his antlers more time then he can remember and though he loves his eternal chase through the forest but his affection for human has waned after these years. However, there's a shiny new groundskeeper moving in and he always finds some enjoyment from them, whether it's from working with them or working against them, price always has fun.

୨୧ Lucky for you, price has deemed you a mortal he likes, you don't exploit his land, you end the culls on badgers and the needless fox hunt, you don’t take too much. Price adores your company, so he gives you gifts, the sweetest fruits you never planted, fruits you had never seen before, you had heard tales of the new world having such bounties you should've known it would’ve come at a price. The next time you try to go to town, the forest is endless, by dusk you arrive back at your cottage, an otherworldly being waiting for you.

୨୧ Ghost as a werewolf

୨୧ Six men, six of the village’s best hunters had been dragged out their home to the woods, only their bones remind at the tree line, like the creature was mocking the them. You had found a few scattering your herb garden, you did not tell the town, afraid of their accusations. You were already an albatross of sorts, bringing it up would only bring misfortune on you and your garden, the councilmen were always so quick to point fingers. You had warned them if the over hunting continued nature would return the favour but you had been laughed off the stand.

୨୧ The new butcher was strange. He frequented your shop, trading you meat for your supply of wolfsbane, smelled of wet dog and seemingly had no clothes that fit him. His scent lingers, haunts your shop, sticks your person and invades your home. Even when he’s not there, you wake to his smell, like he's skulking, leering through your walls. He gives you first pick though along with any tallow and of course bones.

୨୧ More and more people go missing, you cannot walk to the forest without stumbling over bones. The council calls a meeting, the wolf has started picking off the councilmen leading their once icy oblivion turning into paranoia ready to burn their own once again. lucky for them a butcher was eager to step in and he stuck out. So strange compared to the overs but he demanded attention, barking plans and orders. Impressive really a true wolf in sheep’s clothing, humans will believe anything but the truth.

୨୧ Soap as nessie

୨୧ You had seen the monster once as a child, now with a shiny new camera and degree in film, you'd prove nessie was no hoax or farce but a real creature haunting the loch, lurking beneath the water. It’s practically deserted, not surprising, snow so heavy the roads are blocked, no one enters, no one leaves. Just you and a groundskeeper? Or was he a fisherman? It didn’t matter, but he did indulge you.

୨୧ a week goes by and nothing. No tail, no head, no body, not until the last night, well supposedly the last night. A hump had showed up, and you had caught it on camera, it was tantalising, so close, like you could feel the scales beneath your fingertips. You couldn't let this slip away. You would grasp on to this, even if it was just a hump. So you extended the trip, luckily enough, Johnny, who turned out to be a nessie fanatic too, had a cabin nearby and helped you with his own theories, even suggesting camera angles and how the species may work as a whole, though the population and how the creature breeds or is seemingly immortal is still unknown.

.୨୧ An extra week, turns into months and you finally have enough footage. You're so thankful to Johnny and accredit so much to him, you’ve grown so close to him and you leaving brings a sadness over the cabin, though Johnny is eager to push the rain clouds away, throwing you a bonfire goodbye party, though its still just the two of you. The fire burns bright and long into the night as a full moon rises to its apex and Johnny shares a secret with how the species reproduces.

୨୧ gaz as a siren

୨୧ who knew collecting seashells would be your fatal mistake. Looking out you see a body submerged, with a sort of incandescence you’ve never seen before and rush over playing the good, pure prey gaz so often found himself indulging in when sailors and fishermen were just too much work, plus you smelt so much sweeter.

୨୧ “s/o” A melodic whisper calls you forward, closer and closer, and gaz realises he’s found himself a treasure, his very own pearl. No longer prey, a mate. Gaz’s cave had been feeling lonely of late, after what's the point of having such a bounty with no mate to enjoy it with. The lovelorn melancholy also radiates off you in waves and gaz recognises it and he’ll fix that for his treasure.

୨୧ You feel his tail twitch beneath you as he sits you on his lap on the shore. He feels assured once you're stunned to silence, staring at the way his tail scales glistens and shimmer under the bright noon. You follow his scales up his body until you met his golden eyes, missing the razor sharp teeth hidden behind his pretty lips. The same plush lips soon press against your pulse, “pretty pearl, give yourself to me.” you can only nod, in the presence of the almost celestial being, completely ensnared.

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tinydefector · 7 months ago

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Marine centre 4 - Merformers AU

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of reproduction

Masterlist

Sorry this chapter too so long. But woo it's done now

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The ocean is rather calm as the marine team's boat sits out on the water. Only three people are currently on the boat running water samples while the other move around the reef. Among the coral's shimmering archways, Bluestreak weaves his way around and flicks his fins every now and then as the anxiety builds up in him, keeping a safe distance from the human, yet unable to tear his eyes away from their form gliding through the deep.

They wield strange devices to harvest the venomous terrors plaguing the reef. Bluestreak shudders as he watches them drive the sharp spear through another, to imagine their number of them that his favourite little softie had already harvested.

They continue to spear the Lionfish, shoving the dead ones into the container in their hand. Bubbles drift up from their scuba tank as they continue around the reef, paying little attention to the Oceanides stalking them around the reef even as they hear the melodic songs of them.

Bluestreak flits warily in the human's wake, fins twitching uneasily. He watches as they spear yet another "firefish," Joining him, Skywarp chitters confusedly. "Why do they insist on stalking the venomed beasts? Their spines could pierce their tough hides they wear"

Nearby, Smokescreen emits an amused burble. "More likely they're satisfying some peculiar breed of bloodlust. Soft-shelled as they are, perhaps watching others hunt is their way of proving they are a reliable mate." Observing the ease and care they take each time they dispatch another venomous fish. Onslaught slowly makes his way closer to watch alongside them. slowly forms a different hypothesis. "Listen - when the hunting is done, all the carcasses will be sealed in that floating can they drag. Their goal isn't to kill at all, but clearing the reef of them, they are dangerous fish?"

Skywarp clicks thoughtfully. "The fire-fishes have been devouring the small fish the pods rely on, and if they touch us it isn't fun, I remember my first time getting stuck by them. If the two-leggers cull them en masse..."

Bluestreak swims closer to the human, eyes still hyper focused on them in worry. It's only when the reef sharks begin emerging it makes the group go on guard, the sharks never hassle them, it was an unspoken instinct between the species. Sharks respected the Oceanides And vise versa but they were still weary when it came to their soft skin.

At the sharks' approach, unease ripples through Bluestreak's frame he cannot suppress a fin flare of warning at the aquatic creatures as they flank his favourite human. Joining him, Ironhide rumbles a deep threat as Smokescreen hovers close, The sharks are eager to steal the spread lionfish from the human darting off with the stolen goods.

Bluestreak flares his fins in an alarmed snarl as one bold shark snatches a speared lionfish right from the human's grasp. Rushing forward, he lets out an aggressive hiss at the opportunistic predator.

The other Oceanides rumble uneasily behind him, fins flared as Skywarp and Smokescreen ready themselves to fend off the shark if they became blood hungry. The scent of the fish did make many of the Mers hungry themself for said fish they knew better than to eat it, there were certain Fish they couldn't eat and Lionfish were one.

Still, seeing the human now empty-handed after the shark's theft made them sad, the human had claimed the prize fairly and the opertunical hunters stole it. The shark circles around, seeming to be looking for more and waiting for the human to spear another.

The human pays the little mind even rubs one of the slower sharks heads before moving on to find more of the invasive fish to spear. The pod watches in stunned silence as the human continues their work, calmly rubbing the snouts of inquisitive sharks that drift too close in search of handouts. Even Bluestreak is taken aback by the fearless ease with which they handle the predators.

When one overeager beast almost knocks the astray, they simply grasp its snout and spin the shark aside with surprising strength. Smokescreen cracks up at the startled look on its face as it circles away. Rodimus swims nearer, curiosity overriding past unease. "How does one so unarmored interact with them, im aware sharks aren't malicious, but even now they are more interested in the fish when they could easily rip them apart if they worked together."

Skywarp nudges the human gently, which earns a slight nudge back and a shake of their head. "Careful, small one “ But watching them return unbothered to the task at hand.

The human nearly yelps as a set of oceanside arms wrap around them, their head snaps to see the mer who is now tugging insistently towards the boat. "You must get out of the water now! The sharks have grown too bold - they may mistake you for prey if you linger among them."

The others crowd close, chirping with concern. Rodimus splashes sharply at another shark.

The human struggles fruitlessly against Bluestreak's strong grip. He lets out an anxious trill.

Skywarp and Smokescreen flank him as they basically pull the human up to the surface.

A puzzled look forms on the other humans faces as they basically dump their feeder back onto the boat before diving back into the water leaving the humans stunned. They scramble in alarm.

________

"What was that!!" Dale yells one, rushing to help them sit up. "What happened, are you hurt?"

They waved him off, catching their breath with a rueful laugh. "I'm fine, fine - just had an underwater escort insisting I clear out posthaste. Seems the Oceanides decided the sharks were getting too bold for comfort today."

They peer back over the side of the boat at the cluster of curious merfolk treading water nearby. Angelfish chitters anxiously, fins flickering again. The group exchange thoughtful looks, having witnessed firsthand the merfolk's intelligence and family-like bonds with a human. Nathan shrugs. "Well, can't argue with the locals when they say the surf's getting a little lively for comfort. Guess it's time we wrapped up for today too."

“Hey Quin, when you have a second. Have a question for you, I know you know more about the Oceanides than most of us do.” they call out to the marine Scientist. while emptying the disposal container of lionfish. Quin turned at the sound of her name, pushing sweat-slicked hair from her eyes as she watched the Oceanides paddle slowly around the boat. "Have you noticed the decline in the oceanide pups?”

"Yes, I've definitely noticed concerning trends," she replied, expression furrowing with concern. "Pup counts and viability are way down across the board. Water quality is fine, and prey availability is high, not to mention we are out here often doing clean up, the ocean seems to not be the issue."

She dusted the dried salt from her hands as they began moving and rearranging equipment on the boat. Nathan speaks up next. "Have you observed any oddities in local fishery populations or kelp forests? Any algal blooms poisoning shellfish? The web is intricately complex - pull one thread, and the whole thing unravels." He calls back while testing another water sample for alkaline readings.

“nope, they seem weary of the Lionfish, but they don't tend to eat stuff outside their diet, plus the fish we also provide they aren't hungry.” they call back. A sigh escaped Quin's lips as gulls wheeled and cried overhead. "We may need to consider more active intervention strategies if declines continue, potentially captive breeding..." The doctor's expression showed her distaste for such options but willingness if needed.

The health of the oceanides was her life's passion. She would move heaven and earth to protect them. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who has noticed, but yea, I'm worried so far we only have three little Bumblebee, on our records as a surviving pup. I'm starting to get worried over them. I know you told me to not get too involved but after nursing that little pup for so long I'm just worried" they explain, most of them understand, watching what was an endangered species struggle always hit hard.

Quin nodded understandingly, resting a comforting hand on their shoulder. " There's no shame in wanting to help, that's what our job is," she assured them. Her gaze grew keen as she studied the ocean thoughtfully. "One pup surviving is indeed troubling. They lack genetic diversity and resilience in such small, fragmented groups."

Turning back to them, she continued. "Have you noticed any rivalries or attacks between pods? Food shortages driving abnormal aggression could further endanger the young."

"Big blue and the Meg had a scuffle but so far you have handled it. But most of the pods have been quiet. But other than that nothing else." They go quiet for a moment "I think you might have to take me off feeding them, i think I'm getting too attached to Bee, don't want him to think humans are safe god i don't think i could live with myself if something happened to him because he is to used to humans " they finally admit.

"I care for them alot, they are beautiful creatures, but... I don't want the pup to think I'm one of them. I know Bee was the first Oceanide pup to ever be in care to humans, fuck it feels almost unreal. I'm just glad we were able to save one of the pups" They exclaim while leaning back against the boat as Dale moves about. "That you and Quin were able to save even one pup is a miracle, don't sell yourself short." He calls out.

Quin smiled gently as she prepared samples for analysis. "I was just the one to organise the care plan you did all the work during those weeks. And i'm sure if Big blue Didnt want you near the baby it would be very clear"

The sound of whistles and thrills bounce off the water as movement under the waves catches their attention. It was the oceanides, Magic and Firefin checking to see what they were up to. "Looks like we have company" Nathan chuckles as two large Mers come into view followed by Angelfish and Smokey.

Quin's eyes lit up at the sight of the approaching pods. Even after years of study, the beauty and majesty of the oceanides never failed to awe her. "Looks like our work had an audience today," she chuckled.

As the oceanides circled with graceful movements, zipping playful figure eights around them, she turned a smiling sidelong glance. "See how they come to check our movements? Such intelligence, thriving without reliance on humans."

" they are so intelligent, have you seen how they talk to each other?" They ask. Quin chuckled knowingly. " I have, their communications are far more nuanced than we once presumed. Visual cues, echolocation, even tactile gestures, honestly they seem so human in aspects." She shook her head in amazed wonder.

"To think, once we saw them as little more than beasts. Now their societies, cultures, and deeply personal relations astound me constantly." More thrills and calls come as Angelfish who basically halls himself partially onto the boat. Eyes wide as he calls again at his favourite humn gills and fins flaring as he calls.

"Yes, yes hello Angelfish, no, no don't you crawl onto the boat" they tried to shoo the Oceanide off earning a laugh from. The others. "Someone's certainly taken a shine to you!" she noted with amusement. "He likely sees you as another of his pod after your care of the pup. What an honour" she hums in astonishment

As Angelfish places down a few select corals, shells and pebbles it has the others watching eagerly, enjoying the study of the interaction. "An exchange of gifts, is it?" she noted with a smile looking at the diver. “It seems those Oceanides are very taken with you, we might have to see how they continue to interact, it's the first time we have had such experiences between them and ourselves. They seem to trust and care for you” he informs.

______________

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#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #mtmte #transformers x reader #merformers #mermaid au #merman #mermaid

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orangeave · 10 months ago

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all the places light does not touch

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

words: 4.2k

orange speaks: final part to the great war (part one | part two). damn, it's been a hot minute, huh? apologies for the wait, but i hope y'all will enjoy this last installment.

Gravesoil clings to Wednesday’s nail beds, a desperate plea scratching against her vocal cords that she will never admit to beyond this moment. You are mumbling to yourself, a language she’s never heard of slicing through the quiet; the mother tongue of the beast that lingers in places she cannot reach nor see. Wild, bloodshot eyes survey the empty space in front of you and veins crowd underneath your lashes. There’s a pause before you hunch over, hands reaching up to grasp tightly at your head and –

Wings ripple out of tearing flesh, blood soaking the floor underneath her former lover’s feet. An ominous, onyx liquid takes over the whites of your eyes, dripping slowly down the apple of your cheeks and leaving dark tear tracks in their wake that trail pass a shuddering throat.

How foolish she was to forget what lays dormant beneath your skin, waiting to unleash itself upon the world. Control was hard fought and just barely won after each battle, a traumatic fear for the possibility of a blood-curdling outcome hardening the usual soft color of your gaze.

Wednesday had always been there to placate the darker side of you but times were different now. The consequences of her wrongdoings were forming; in the shape of elongating teeth, in downy feathers expanding to three-times the length of your arm span, and in horns spiralling to reach the sky above them.

You were horrifyingly marvellous.

Gone is the fear from before, an innately evil force hunkering down to take its place. Tendrils of hellfire coat your skin in a blaze of heat that Wednesday can starkly feel, wraiths rising from the puddles of crimson ichor that is still shedding and staining ghoulish flesh. A sinister grin warps your features into a gruesome mosaic and she is wary of the scheming tug to your lips.

“Do you feel it?” You rasp, multiple layers of cadence making your voice echo and overlap into something otherworldly. Wednesday’s brows pinch, a frown of incomprehension downturning the corner of her lips. “The inevitable culling of this night, can you feel it?”

“Enough. You’re talking nonsense.” She sneers.

A shiver caresses the curve of her spine when you sigh solemnly in return, the ground trembling beneath your feet as you glide closer to her. Your left hand lifts and fingertips that resemble claws leave behind rivers of blood as you skim her jawline, thumb tucking into her jugular before the entirety of the extremity encloses around her throat.

The touch is light, there’s no weight in the action but Wednesday chokes all the same. A primal instinct of survival urges her to fight the hold because while running has never been in Wednesday’s repertoire, the need for bodily autonomy will always remain. Personal space is sacred when the world longs to claim and taint everything she’s ever come to own.

Nero; a first companion forcibly taken by the will of another.

Tyler; a first kiss lost to the lips of a monster.

You; a first something she’s afraid to name with an end she’s yet to come to terms with.

Each one is a death with its own cause and reaction but they all drive her further away into solitude, into a body built too big for her bones.

There’s a light within her that flickers and spiders which crawl from crevices dug into ivory calcium, seeking the warmth that it offers – it never lasts, they scurry with every faltering glow and Wednesday is left with the echo of an ancestor, of a destiny meant to be spent alone.

Be it by her hand or someone else’s, the truth of her fate lingers.

Still, the scraps from the before she seldom acknowledges; when words meant to burn were just measly thoughts to create distance and a twin heart still laid next to hers, where a sense of forever was yet to fade and hope, however gross the negligence of it was, was able to reach even the unlit corners of her, craves to forget – just for a moment – that this is who she has to be.

For everyone’s sake but most especially yours, Wednesday scatters those scraps until they exist in locations that are inaccessible, even to herself, and no one suffers more for it than she does. So, as she swallows back the bile of her desires, her tongue is sour with bitterness and syllables formulate an acrid speech that tries to chase away the taste of all that she wants but cannot have.

“All I detect is your feeble minded attempt to frighten me. You’re a bleeding heart, Tesoro, we both know you’re too soft to follow through with your meagre threats. You never were tenacious enough to do what was needed to keep me, this is no different.”

Regret is immediate; acid does not eliminate bitterness, it only serves to make the taste resonate deeper until she’s choking on the foul filth of an inescapable death. The true difference between you, she realizes, is that she’s not capable of being selfless without leaving scars on the ones she’s trying to shelter and that your way of being selfless only leaves you with more.

A thick smog of shadows gather in the atmosphere, sharpening your features and maniacal laughter washes over the cusps of Wednesday’s eardrums. Her pulse jumps and she just knows that you felt it because your grip on her throat tightens at last, unapologetic nails becoming a barbed wire necklace that itches to splay her tendons for the world to witness.

“Oh, Mulsa, that’s where you’re wrong.” You tsk with condescension. “Everything is different. I’m finally who I was always meant to be, existing outside of the fear that plagued me, and it’s all thanks to you. I have embraced my destiny, can you say the same?”

Mockery drips from your words and her reality suddenly shifts as she finds herself in a castle that assembles itself with a swish of your wrist. It reigns beautifully decrepit in nature; rotten beams of wood rib the frame, moss rests in divots of cracking stone, and moonlight glints through openings in the ceiling. You casually lean against a gothic throne of skulls that no one sits upon and Wednesday transforms into a court jester, in the presence of a lowly regent who pretends that they do not pull all of the strings behind the scenes.

“How long do you think you’ll last in this kingdom of solitude, Wednesday? Who else will you hurt in your quest for knowledge? And do the answers you find at the end of it all outweigh the expense others have to pay to get you there?” Your voice rumbles, ricocheting off stone walls before striking her exactly where you know it will hurt most.

Color touches her skin for the first time, anger and humiliation mingling to create a red sheen on pale flesh. It’s a sort of wickedness she never thought you to be capable of but perhaps she should have seen it coming.

“None of that is relevant.” She whispers harshly.

“Isn’t it? Am I not the cataclysm of your choices? Is this not me paying your dues?” Massive charcoal wings beat; once, twice, three times – they propel you upward, high into the air and tree bark horns tilt your jaw back with their weight. Specks of blood rain down from the force, painting the surrounding layout maroon, dousing Wednesday in turn. You bare your arms outward, showcasing your new form to an audience of one.

Crisp, off-white linen hugs the muscles of your torso while the sleeves furl at each elbow. Three buttons are undone, revealing a prominent collarbone and a smooth expanse of skin. Dark beige slacks loosely clutch to long legs – one slightly bent at the knee, toeing the edge of the other as you hover in place. You are all neutral tones with monochromatic undercurrents, eyes drowning in a void of black reeking of judgement, and vibrancy is lost to a death by her own hands.

Wednesday licks her lips, catching droplets of metallic liquid on her tongue. Stagnancy overrules the scent of trees in the foreground and there is no reprieve as she suffocates on nothing but the truth. Her resolve is crumbling; you may not be a ruler of this kingdom but you do have an undeniable deathgrip on her heartstrings. If you were anyone else, that fact would be revolting.

“Unless,” a pause. “Maybe this is what you wanted. You always did love everything dark and twisted.”

Slowly, you descend in front of her and there’s a soft click as the heels of your dress shoes settle down. Dust kicks up into the air, your wings breezing along the floor, and you wordlessly take four shallow strides around her. You come to stand behind her, breath fanning over the sensitive stretch of her neck. She can see you no longer but just your presence in itself is taunting.

There’s a brush of fingertips against her back, nudging her forward and before long she arrives at a set of steps. You shove her up them; the action makes her stumble and her balance is lost to the last stair. She falls into the vacant throne, which she now realizes belongs to her. Twin knees scrape the edge, making her body twist to relieve the pain and sit properly.

Indignation rises to the surface at the mistreatment and Wednesday tries to swallow it, to keep away words that will only perpetuate this discourse, but it’s fruitless. “My proclivities aren’t your concern. Up to this point, every decision you have made has been solely yours. I am not to blame for your indiscretions.”

“Perhaps.” You nod, standing resolutely at the incline up to the throne she sits upon. “Truly, I’m not here for placations or reasonings. You are partially correct in assuming that this,” your hand waves around your form, “is not the inner workings of your… machinations.”

“Then why? What is this macabre display for?” Wednesday interrupts.

None of it makes sense; how easily you forfeit your earlier claims.

“Because, in the end, this was never for you.” You start, something dark creeping along your legs. It rises to dwarf your already tall stature and features are slow to form but when they do, they are wholly monstrous and deeply unsettling. There is absolutely nothing in this world that compares and warning bells screech a dizzying spell of the danger to come should Wednesday choose to misstep in its presence.

Exaggerating steps loosen the hold it has on you, materializing into translucent flesh, and your body is distorted to her as the being stands in front of you. An arm raises, travelling up to your chest, and stuttering in wicked glee before plunging in. You gasp loudly, figure hunching over, and the being forces you straight with its free hand at your shoulder. With a dramatic flair, it rips its fingers out and they do not come back empty.

Without care or regard, the beast walks away from you, and the sight that greets Wednesday grips her with terror. The facade of power fades to nothing and you are left human but skeletal. Wings, horns, the black void; they’re all gone, and exhaustion coats your dull eyes, your knees buckling to the floor. Falling forward, your shoulders rise, head ducking low as nailbeds of blood trace the cracking stone of the floor. Convulsions attack your spine, driving a body of bones further into the ground.

“A distraction,” The beast rumbles in glee, an olden accent curling over its words. “To pull you away from the truth.” A bleeding, bruising heart rests in its palm; dark blotches covering the organ and Wednesday finds it disconcerting the way they pulsate, widening with each heavy breath you shudder. “We finally understand now; love is a weakness. For children who still play with toy soldiers, dreaming of the day they will change the world. It’s quite humorous, don’t you think?”

And there, right then, despite your best efforts to play it off as something else, Wednesday finally sees the evil for what it truly is: self-preservation. It is protection, disguising itself as rage. It is guardianship, shouldering all that you cannot and turning it into power. It is the heart in a beast’s hand, with a cage that moulds along its edges that wills itself not to break any further.

Red teeth gleam up at her, a grotesque smile staring straight through her, and dissuading her attention from the creature next to you. “I never wanted to change the world, Wednesday, not really anyway. But I did want you – not just the good parts but also the pieces of you that raged in contempt. I wanted the entirety of you: your doubt, your fear, your selfishness; the thousand-yard stare, the tempered soul, the frostbitten heart. I wanted the girl who despised even the thought of love.”

“No.” Wednesday utters except it’s too quiet, caught in her throat.

“God, Wednesday, I wanted it all – everything you were willing to part with and nothing more. Yet, you turned your back on us and you didn't even have the decency to give me a valid reason why. I deserved better than a half-assed excuse as to why it had to end. But it’s okay. Blame is a two-way street and I was wrong too. I pushed and ignored every warning sign, dancing along boundaries and fed into your suspicions without a need to prove myself to be on your side.”

“No.” She tries again.

(Still not enough, still on the cusp of- of-.)

“And I guess, this is all to say that we both had a choice and perhaps we chose wrong, though maybe the cards were always stacked against us. Now here we are, forcing each other to relieve it all over again, and it’s time to put an end to this. We finally get to have what we tried to cheat each other out of. You finally get to be free and I finally get to say goodb-.”

“No!” The single word rips and tears and mutilates her throat in the effort to leave the confines of her voice box. All her life Wednesday has been toeing the line between devastation and freedom, a weak grip on her inhibitions, always viscerally trying to prove something or another. Until a sick sense of clarity washes over what this all means; one more loss, one more all alone, one final nail in the coffin.

A death to rewrite all the others.

Falling in love with you was like falling asleep, gradually then all at once, because it crept along the edges of her vision until it was too late and despite her aversion to it, it was warm. And the days that followed were everything she thought herself to be incapable of; the quiet nights, the sound of rustling sheets as she wrote pages upon pages on her typewriter, the dulcet tones of you humming along to vibrating strings, the laughter without reservation, the eyes full of a home made just for her, the hands that held her softly in the dark.

And then, of course, the self-sabotage set in. Her wants and desires took a backseat to make room for fear, and somewhere in the midst, the ease of your love made way for her doubt and she swears you both lost something that day. The person she became to combat her loss of control isn’t something she’s proud of but maybe… maybe this is the part where she pleads with you to understand. Where she lays everything on the line; all her misgivings and the lies she tries to tell herself to circumvent all that she does not understand.

When your eyes cut across her own, you look at her like you know, and the uncaged beast only laughs as your features close themselves off from her once more. The vulnerability seeps out, draining from trembling, bloodsoaked fingers, and replacing itself with indifference before Wednesday even has the chance to rearrange her thoughts into coherency. The pleas building in her throat die, falling into the void of every other thing she’s left unsaid.

How repulsive.

Wednesday’s jaw clenches at her own inadequacy, teeth clicking in time with her shallow breaths. Hands of ice grasp tightly at each other while she tries to reform the truth she’s been meaning to say. It’s time, she attempts to coax herself. No longer will she bow to her lesser qualms.

Enough is enough.

“You were wrong.”

A feigned grace pulls her from the throne, rising up and carrying her down the steps that will lead her to you. Firm resolve weights each footfall to the stone beneath Wednesday, laying the groundwork for an outcome that doesn’t end with ties severed indefinitely. A disgusting amount of trepidation still lingers menacingly, but not for prior reasons. It washes over her because she knows that if she doesn't get this right and you walk away from her once again, it will be for the last time.

As she reaches you, the beast rears up into the space between you, your heart ducking out of sight with a single movement. Up close, Wednesday can see the second the previous glee renders itself obsolete, paving the way for rage to form in its stead. Translucence melds into mortal flesh in an instant, further providing a barrier to you and it’s features constantly flicker; sweeping into each other, refusing to commit to a lone one.

All of it is a warning: for you may have never been able to truly hurt her, but this beast holds no such inhibitions. And yet, Wednesday ignores it, skirting around the form with a brief flicker of eye contact. Rolling coals follow the movement, a sneer deepening the gouges at the corners of it’s mouth. Heat steadily rises at her back when she kneels before you, gaining in temperature, and a hearth set ablaze licks the skin of Wednesday’s nape, until sweat lines her hairline.

“Before,” Wednesdays continues despite the duality of the cold shell holding your gaze captive and the heat at her back, her fingertips fluttering around your body but never settling. “You said you’d never be good enough for me.” A scowl crawls into her features, disdain vaguely clinging to her words. “You were wrong.”

Confusion briefly overcomes the frost but it’s not enough. You flinch with every syllable, as if her words still burn; like your flesh is a step away from igniting and she’s dousing you in lighter fluid. A battlefield sprawls before her, all of her own making, and each word is a precarious mark upon the earth, hidden with landmines Wednesday tries to sidestep.

Wednesday thinks this might be part of her destiny that Goody forgot to mention – truth be told, self-loathing is akin to starvation; the hunger pains force you to eat yourself from the inside out until nothing remains. Perhaps that’s the most tragic intricacy of her fate, to commit atrocities for the sake of others' preservation, and to suffer all the more for it. Now, trying to find the medium between the two banks entirely on her willingness to push aside everything she’s ever thought to know about herself.

As Wednesday gazes upon you; you with the sunrise in your eyes and the red candle wax burning lips, she clings to the notion that it isn’t the dying that scares her, but the insurmountable loneliness that follows in the wake of your departure. It is hollow and damning because you are attempting to leave, in more ways than one, and she is running out of options that will force you to stay.

Longing breaches through the whisper of her words, “You were too much, in all the soft ways I desire to detest. Too good, too simple; too easy to love. And so, I wanted-” Wednesday’s breath falters, fingers folding to tear at the lines of each palm. “I wanted to make you pay, for forcing these ugly emotions upon me. I never wished to feel the juvenile propensity to need you, in all the foul ways weaker beings fall victim to. Yet, it is those feelings that beg of me to forfeit this charade, because, for however seldom I say it, I do love you.”

Finally, Wednesday reaches for your hand, knuckles scraping along the stone to slot her fingers between your own. “I’m in love with you, and it is all-consuming, vile, and entirely effortless. I may not know how it will end, but I believe there exists a place out there built just for the two of us; one that is otherworldly, and beautiful, and so, so alive. Destiny be damned.”

Wednesday watches as your eyes crawl the length of her face, an unreadable expression marring the expanse of your features. A shudder partly pulls your body away from her, a heavy exhale escaping your lips. She can’t tell whether her words were well received as you hunch your knees under your chin, cradling your elbows around the edges of your calves. Just as she goes to continue, desperation clinging to the fraying ends of her sanity, your free palm craters the ground beneath you.

Long forgotten wraiths spiral into view and confusion tears her form upwards onto her feet, unwittingly losing the grip she has on you. They begin to chase her and the ground beneath her feet zooms out of focus as she tries to get away. They’re faster, upon Wednesday in mere seconds, and then she’s falling, falling, falling, and for a long moment nothing comes up to catch her.

Yet again, the scenery of the throne room changes and she stumbles to her knees in a foreign land.

Grass bunches up between her fingers, wet and coarse, and a graveyard looms before her. Each tombstone lining the distance is marked with a name, cementing every loss she’s ever faced; not just of people, but places and emotions too. A beat passes before you appear at her side, steps away from an open casket set six feet in the ground. When she shuffles up to unsteady feet, the body within it looks suspiciously like you.

Your voice carries on the wind, circling her as you murmur, “What if you’re wrong?”

There’s a slew of answers on the tip of Wednesday’s tongue, but most fall short, never quite encompassing what she truly wants to say. One, though, rises above the rest, so simple it makes her want to scoff. Instead, she pushes the sound down, and in the midst of the words that follow, a part of her realizes that she’s finally learning; understanding. There are things in the world that you need not fight, nor feelings that are too childish to accept. Some things are just simple; easy.

“But what if I’m right?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday sees you sway slightly in place, her words – honest at last – completely sinking in. With a noticeable limp stuttering your footsteps, you gradually move in front of her. The tips of your dress shoes scratch along the edges of her own boots as you eliminate every ounce of Wednesday’s personal space, your arm rising up in her peripheral vision. Hesitation faults the movement, and she recognizes the doubt for what it is: a fear she never meant to place within you; of her reaction, of her motives, of her.

With time, she promises to herself to put all of her wrongs right, but for now, she gently latches onto your wrist, bringing your hand down to rest on the underside of her jaw. Your eyes flash with recognition before your forehead descends upon hers, a shaky breath exhaling against her lips that sounds like an okay. Suddenly boneless, your body sags, shoulders loosening as your other arm reaches around the small of her back, tugging her into you.

You hold onto Wednesday tighter than she ever had the audacity to covet her desires and she cannot deny the sense of home that follows.

Without fear, her feet lift up, gaining a slight height advantage to place a lingering kiss atop your head, but a figure drifts into focus before her eyes can close. The beast faintly shimmers behind the tombstone with your name on it that fades, a neutral expression on it’s face. It watches Wednesday closely, eyes of coal simmering into ash as it takes in your figure so entwined with her own. Your heart still resides in it’s palm, but even from here, Wednesday can gauge how loosely it’s grip is. A nod of a head and a quirk of lips beckons her, once last time, to take in another truth.

Love has many faces, and seldom are they seen clearly.

Your heart finds its way back to its home as the beast settles, slowly descending in height, and it’s features melt into a vaguely familiar countenance. It is you, but aged, with laugh lines marking the corners of your eyes, and a nostalgic smile at the cusp of your lips. And it is an echo, of both your and her future, teetering on the edge of a forever that will soon be fully earned.

( – there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

but then you learn to become the light, and all the dark places shine.)

#jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams

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kiame-sama · 1 month ago

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Soooo... which creatures are genderfluid? I know nymphs are since they're a-gendered, but if I'm not mistaken, and I might be, I believe you said that merfolk can also switch genders? I assume it's a much longer process, but fish tend to switch over to whatever gender is lacking at the moment, so I figured that merfolk are also the same. But are there any others?

ALSO! Do you plan on drawing the phantom blot monster thingies from the overblots? I'm curious as to what you'd make them look like, but honestly it sounds like a lot of work, so no pressure.

Warnings: logistics, world building, blot world building, phantoms in the HAE, gender fluidity, gender swapping, genderless choices, basically as the ask states,

~~~~

Answering the last question first;

I'm not drawing phantoms from the Overblots in the same sense as canon, because there Phantoms that result from Overblotting in the HAE AU are what happens when they are past the point of no return and have fully become feral. I don't know if I want to draw them, but I welcome others to draw their interpretation of them. Turning into a Phantom is part of why the guys are left so affected after their Overblots, because all of that blot stays in their body instead of becoming a Phantom outside of them. Blot in high quantities is like a parasite that needs to be treated over long periods of time. The more this 'parasite' is fed by intense negative emotion, the more they become a Phantom. Those that are feral for too long eventually reach a state of no return whey they become a full Phantom that can no longer be saved. These are no longer themselves after they fully turn. They are dangers to everyone and will attack indiscriminately- like the Rabies of our world- and they can only be culled at that point, not saved. These are the kinds of creatures Clay hunts along with Poachers.

~~~~

Nymph- of course- are all able to swap their gender as they please and get very possesive of their choices involving gender.

Harpies and Sirens are able to swap as they age, though it becomes more difficult to make that swap as they age since it is dependent on hormones.

Dragons can switch gender at will though it does take a lot of concentration and magic.

Some merfolk species can, but not all of them. Cephalopod merfolk cannot change gender. Eel merfolk can. Many abyssal merfolk cannot switch genders.

Some Naga can swap genders but don't often have the need to do so.

#kiame-sama #humans are extinct twst au

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infiniteorangethethird · 4 months ago

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Every time I see a description of autistics and their routines, esp ones aimed to make allistics understand better, I feel like my experiences as an actually autistic person are completely misrepresented by it. And it's entirely possible that it's just me always finding posts that weren't meant for me specifically, but I've never found anyone talk abt autistic routines and be like "yep, that's me, that's how routines feel to me".

It sometimes feels like that even the most well-meaning of posts or articles or whatever boil down to the idea that, at the end of the day, an autistic person's routine doesn't serve any "real" purpose. That routines are just what we got used to over time, and as such they bring us familiarity and comfort, but beyond that familiarity and comfort they are senseless and pointless. That you should respect an autistic person's routine (so long as it's not harming anyone) - despite it being obviously nonsense.

And to be clear, I don't think there's anything wrong with routines "just" for the sake of familiarity and comfort, and I do agree that you should respect ppl's boundaries even if they don't make sense to you. This isn't the problem. My issue is that every time I take a look at my own routines, I could take each and every part of it and tell you exactly what specific purpose it serves and why it cannot be removed without serious negative consequences.

For example. I tend to eat at the same times every day, because my body sucks at telling me properly when I'm hungry and sticking to time instead of bodily sensations allows me to ensure I eat properly. I always go through my morning routine the same way because "morning routine" is a lot easier to remember than remembering each and every element of getting ready, individually, every morning. I take the same route to work every time because paying attention to my surroundings is extremely taxing, and walking the familiar path lets me turn off my mind and let my instincts instead of conscious decisions direct me.

And this perspective changes why I might be upset about changes in routine as well. It's not just upsetting because it's unfamiliar and scary, it's upsetting because the consequences can be downright painful. If I don't eat on time I might forget to eat at all and could end up in a too-hungry-to-eat spiral that can take days to escape. If my morning routine is messed with I am almost certain to forget at least one step of it, which, depending on the step, can mess with my entire rest of the day (for instance, forgetting to pack my bottle and not being able to drink as a result).

So much of the advice I see floating around regarding these routines seems to be of the belief that they don't actually stem from anything besides habit, and as such the negative reaction to deviation from these routines is purely emotional (and irrational). Even in the better cases that don't just outright dismiss this emotional reaction as something to be ignored, there's still this undertone that the emotional reaction can be culled and autistic ppl can be taught how to be more adaptable and how to let go of these routines, by showing them how to handle the emotional reaction better.

And while I don't necessarily think this is bad advice (it can be really helpful esp as an autistic person to figure out ways to step outside your already rather small comfort zone, so advice like this is actually greatly appreciated), but I really wish there was more acknowledgement of routines that are based on more physical and practical stuff and can't be changed with determination and patience alone. That sometimes the emotional reaction is completely rational and justified, and that some routines can't really be changed without facing some incredibly negative consequences.

#inspired by a couple thoughts i had recently #with new year's eve coming up #i've even had ppl dismiss my concerns over smth #bc of course i would be worried abt it cuz it's change #and autistic ppl don't like change #as if my concerns weren't completely valid on their own #autism #autistic #actually autistic #neurodivergent #actually neurodivergent

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weepingtalecowboy · 3 months ago

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People forgot that link definitely worked for his wanted poster

Fanfic prompt : After cadence of Hyrule joined the legend campaign as a hero of legends game

I like to think that legend is as close to being perceived as a threat or demon as a person could possibly be

Like link to the past had all the knights get brainwashed into believing that link was a threat who took the princess

And many people proceeded to headcanon that legend and the knights never really worked it out again and the knights still want to get his bounty

But I like to think that his bounty is justified by the end of link to the past

Because killing every single knight and doing a genocide is outright encouraged in link to the past (I was playing the game like a monstrous child because the knights were mad annoying lol )

Not killing at least ten knights is basically impossible

Would be more accurate to say that legend went and stabbed absolutely every single knight in self defense (or not … I was outright knight hunting the little dudes because it is fun to fight them , diabolical child I was )

But it is very likely that Baby legend massacred most of them as a lil baby in at least SOME cold blood

And instead of them being still brainwashed by the spell they instead just hate him for killing every other knight he saw

Like they probably have horror stories without end

Like what other explanation would the citizens and knights have for link other then being some sort of monster or demon with the appearance of a child

(Like with all the Knights link killed probably some had families or friends who were very much afraid of link and enraged at his deeds)

And the princess just forced them to leave him alone because he “saved” her as if all the murder never happened but she probably cannot do much over the fact that legend did cull half the population of knights and therefore killed the relatives of a lot of families

(We really need to accept that legend is canonically a killer even if it was mostly in self defense )

Then the kid just went into hiding because he was busy with the oracle games and link's awakening in other countries

And then hytopia happens as well but they probably don’t know that link is a serial killer who has a very expensive bounty

Link between worlds ends up at least a few years since link's murder spree and the royal family probably did their hardest to cover up the damage he created and the only logical explanation for why he can just return would be that he just kinda got lucky with bribery accepting neighbors lol

And that he wasn’t interacting to much with people

Honestly like to think that the knights were afraid of him even as they interacted with him in the game as a follow up

Ravio was unaware his counterpart was THIS trigger happy for quite a while

Would be hilarious if he heard rumors about the “incident” that link caused and didn’t take it seriously

They went different ways but know that link is back in Hyrule and also once again in the public eye the people probably quickly rallied up a witch hunt while the royal family really didn’t want to be involved with it anymore because they already did a big thing by pulling strings to get link to have some protection

Any more and they risk the people turning onto them

They get him in a bad spot and he just proceeded to jump into a lake and mermaid away

That probably convinced them that he really was some sort of monster

Rumors grew into a new sort of madness

Then cadence of Hyrule happens and everyone not dancing is asleep anyway in that game except some villages

Cadence probably had no clue about it as well because she was from a different world

But now link straight up can respawn and therefore execution would be a whole different kind of trauma for the knights and angry citizens

Like the royal family probably couldn’t keep it hidden any longer and had to go give the okay at some point (outlawing link is like the easiest way they can get this one under control)

Link gets executed then awkwardly has to escape and nobody was capable of stopping the rumors that link is some sort of demon anymore

Turning into a living sea monster seems unrealistic

But surviving getting executed several times probably tipped the scales over and he got officially into a mess since then

Then linked universe happens as well and legend gets a family out of it

Until they end up in his hyrule and realize why exactly legend is a bitter lime slice of a hylian

He kinda did stuff and is now an outlaw

But also heaviest breathing ever when the chain hears people talking about the time legend got burned at a literal stake yet still is alive

Playing never have I ever with him probably is nightmare fuel

What was he doing to be this much of a cryptic creature that people are genuinely afraid of him

Warriors probably slept with one eye open the day he realized that legend hunted the knights like some sort of eldritch demon when they were hunting him lol

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shangyang · 3 months ago

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is this a safe space to talk about my biggest gripe with arcane viktor's character arc? fair warning, this might get long.

the biggest thing (to me) that stands out about machine herald (og league viktor) is that his change from viktor, jayce's partner, to viktor, the machine herald of zaun, stems from this loss of respect and recognition, coupled with the realization that the people who he has held in high esteem have never seen him as their equals. not even the man he once called his partner. we can chalk up this inequality to a lot of things, but for the machine herald, it's very VERY clearly tied to two things that are integral to who he is, and therefore things he cannot necessarily change without radical action: his disability, and his status as a zaunite.

therefore, it makes sense to me that in league, what viktor does is a response to the one thing he CAN change: himself, and by extension, his disability. this is what the glorious evolution is - viktor, in his mind, is attempting to level the playing field by any and all means necessary. if being disabled is a contributing factor - IN HIS MIND - to being denied what he is owed, then viktor must erase that "critical weakness" from himself to evolve into someone who will not only command said respect, but take it by any means necessary.

this is, to put it plainly, eugenics. it's eugenics. there's no other way to really frame it, because what viktor is doing, in attempting to "evolve" himself and the people he helps beyond what he and piltover's hypercapitalist oligarchy percieves as their "deficiencies", is technically culling what a ruling class would deem as "undesirably qualities" from the population. and that's the literal definition of eugenics.

but what does this have to do with arcane viktor? well, what i think is important to note about machine herald viktor, is that a great majority of his actions, after being exiled from piltover, can be read within the lens of him taking piltover's oppressive mindset regarding abled bodies, respect, and fear, and applying it to both himself and zaun.

from my understanding of league events, mh viktor goes to extremes in reaction to what he percieves as massive slights against himself, his personhood, and his status as someone worthy of respect (and therefore someone worthy as being seen as a person), in league. that's why when jayce refuses to defend him against stanwick, and when viktor is cast out from piltover after leaving to do what he viewed was not only his duty as someone from zaun - helping victims of the factorywood explosion - but also piltover's duty to zaun, as their overseers (and oppressors), it calls into question the idea that he was ever a "person" in piltover to begin with. the guiding principle here is this: if you cannot command respect, or are not given respect/regard amongst those you view as your peers, then you're not a person to them, or at least your personhood must therefore exist subservient to theirs, because we respect those who we view as being on, at minimum, equal standing with us.

so that's an integral part of viktor's character - including the fact that the reason his actions must be viewed as misguided and ultimately insanely unethical, is because he's taking his oppressors views and reflecting them onto himself and his fellow opressed populace - a sort of internalized opression - so naturally, his actions therefore cannot be to the overall benefit of himself nor zaun. viktor's glorious evolution is, in some part - no matter how large or small, done in an attempt to negociate a place for himself within piltover's elite. if he cannot have their respect through conventional, by-the-book means (going through the academy), then viktor will have their fear.

to me, this is backed up by the fact that in jayce's path of champions game, if you (as jayce) choose to accept the machine herald's proposal, viktor goes on to present blitzcrank to all of piltover during the innovator's competition, and he makes specific note that he was "not expecting the crowds to embrace [his] work so readily," something which seems to bring him a measure of comfort, if not joy.

so we can distill viktor's arc within league into a pretty simple equation: viktor attempts to make it within piltovan society through the conventional route -> is denigrated and denied via core traits deemed undesirable by piltovan society -> internalizes and overcorrects on a massive scale. (via robot eugenics.) a key throughline in all of this is that these actions are taken, not only in pursuit of viktor's own, ultimate desire to reclaim a sense of personhood and power, but also - in SOME WAY - in retaliation for the real oppression zaun has faced for the near entirety of its existence.

there's definitely a debate to be had regarding how actually altruistic the machine herald is. i would say the answer is, well, not very, but it IS important to note that the machine herald's actions and the way he operations within zaun can be viewed as having the intent to, in some way, provide (what viktor views) to be an essential service to his community. the fact that this percieved essential service occasionally involves overwriting people's free will is...well...not great. remember, guys, free will is good! and important! please do not attempt to cut a man's ability to respond to fear from his mind.

but, okay. i've done a whole lot of talking about the machine herald's arc. what does this have to do with viktor?

my biggest gripe with viktor's character arc in arcane is twofold:

one, it removes the impact and influence of community from his actions. we have to remember, that the big incident that forces viktor from piltover long enough for stanwick to steal his invention is a chemical spill in the factorywoods. viktor specifically chooses to leave piltover behind in order to provide essential aid to his community. he is helping in a rescue effort, and in the wake of a massive disaster within his community, providing both medical aid and what is likely essential assistance, considering viktor's own, highly specialized capabilities as a doctor and a scientist.

(i know the doctor thing is debatable - there's this awesome post here by @clevercorvidae about how viktor in arcane definitely does not fucking understand how evolution and biology works, and you should definitely read it, it lays everything out super clearly and intelligently!)

but secondly, in having the hexcore be the primary impetus for viktor's flight from piltover, and his turn toward the glorious evolution, what arcane does is create an imbalance in viktor's character arc. whose respect is viktor now chasing? whose personhood is he seeking to affirm? you can make the argument, certainly, that the arcane herald, and viktor's decision to become such is still, in some way, a version of league viktor's transformation into the machine herald, but i'm going to be very honest - it's a weak fascimile of that transformation at best.

viktor does not choose to become the arcane herald after he realizes that the people of piltover - including his own partner - do not actually respect him, his contributions to their way of life, or even his personhood. viktor doesn't even decide to undergo the transformation after jayce destroys the commune viktor has created in zaun. in arcane, viktor decides to take that leap after jayce rejects him in the council room.

VIKTOR: Let us do this again, as partners. JAYCE: My partner died in this room.

the scene where viktor fully submits to the transformation - bidding goodbye to the specter of sky in the astral realm - only happens AFTER jayce issues this rejection. you could argue that this is meant to argue the moment where giopara (og league jayce) destroys the crystal the machine herald has been using to keep several, presumed dead, people alive. but they're not necessarily analogous: by the point in time that conflict occurs between giopara and the machine herald, they're already solidly enemies. it's a two-way sort of animosity. neither harbor any hope of getting the other to "see their side," and there are certainly no olive branches extended and summarily rejected.

so what does this mean for viktor's character arc? in my opinion, what this does is upset viktor's original role within league. i'm sure someone else can explain this better than i will, but bear with me.

when league's story was first being drip-fed to us, at the very start of the game's service, early champions gave the player base a feel for the specific themes, aesthetics, and quirks that were going to form the characterizing basis for each region. for example, characters like warwick and singed were the earliest zaun champions to be released, and so set the tone for the kind of stories that would be told in that region. however, jayce and viktor are amongst the earliest champions from the regions of piltover and zaun, whose stories are, in a very integral way, linked to one another. sure, warwick and singed have ties to one another - lore relevant ones at that. but jayce and viktor's stories are some of the earliest to really start to go in depth regarding the deep animosity and inequality that exists between the sister cities.

as i see it, viktor's role, within the greater narrative league is trying to weave, is to make a bit of a point: here is a failed example of unity between piltover and zaun. viktor and jayce's failed relationship in league stands as this great testament to the reasons why a peaceful, equal coexistence has not, and perhaps cannot be brokered between piltover and zaun. equal is the key word here. and maybe peaceful, too. but my point still stands.

arcane, admittedly, has a terrible habit of defanging the very real conflicts it attempts to tackle. you'll notice that a terrible amount of time is spent trying to ensure piltover doesn't come out looking like the ultimate villains of the series. (spoiler alert: piltover is definitely the fucking villain of arcane. no matter how you slice or dice it, it is, and it will always be.) but in order to do this, what arcane must do is completely isolate the majority of its zaunite characters from community with other zaunites. there's a reason you never saw viktor or ekko interact, beyond the final fight. there's a reason why all the zaunite main cast: ekko, jinx, sevika, vi, and viktor - must all operate in these semi-loner positions, lest they come across as being too invested in the well being of their community, and therefore cast too much of a light on the truth of the plight zaun is facing.

sevika and ekko are, of course, extremely interested in building community. but ekko is never really seen with his firelights in a meaningful way: we do not really know any of them, nor ekko's attachments to them. sevika, similarly, spends much of the show working alongisde the quote-unquote villain of season one, silco, in what amounts to little more as a watchdog position. furthermore, her efforts to create community in season two must be mediated through jinx, who notably has no real interest in political revolution, aside from how it might suit her own means (whether those are getting back at vi, or honoring silco in her own way).

arcane's strange handling of viktor's transformation into the machine herald - the arcane herald, now - through the manipulations of the hexcore and the Arcane, exist primarily to draw your eye away from the fact that there was another - more compelling - reason for viktor to go down this path.

not corruption. community. a desire for respect. a desire to truly be respected in piltover, no matter the cost. what viktor's character, at it's best, does is hold a mirror up to piltover. through his actions and his motivations, we see the ways in which piltover's strictly upheld heirarchies have failed not only the people of zaun, but also the people of piltover.

certainly, we see this in a way in arcane. jayce's speech at the very end, where he tells viktor that he is beautiful, imperfections and all, is very literally pointing toward viktor's internalized ableism. but the source of that internalized ableism is never something the show seems particularly interested in explictly exploring. certainly, the animators have left us crumbs and clues: they're there in the way salo - a councilor of piltover - isn't even afforded the dignity of a ramp when he's confined to a wheelchair, and the way viktor's name is never even on the hexgate blueprints. (which the kiramman family are responsible for archiving and keeping, by the way! funny how that works...)

but the show is afraid to say the truth out loud. it's afraid to really confront the root cause of almost every single one of the characters' problems: that being the harshly stratified system of haves and have-nots that piltover continues to enforce with an iron fist. instead, arcane forgoes a serious conversation about that - which is, in my mind, to be had through the medium of viktor and his character arc - for something easier. "more metaphorical." the hexcore corrupts. the arcane corrupts. internalized self hatred corrupts, but perhaps you had better not look too deeply into who placed that seed of self-hatred within you to begin with, or else the questions bloom into uncomfortable answers.

i don't know. it's not to say that i disliked how arcane ended, or where viktor was for the majority of season two. he's my favorite character! i love him dearly. i love the show dearly, faults and all. but as someone who does really love the original machine herald lore, with all its conflicting implications about the nature of piltover and the truth of its ownership over zaun, to take this route with viktor's arc in arcane is upsetting. there had to have been a way to keep the magic angle, while staying true to that commentary on systems of oppression and the mirrors those systems create of themselves that is core (to me) to viktor's character in league.

but i guess we'll never know.

#arcane #viktor #machine herald #viktor arcane #arcane analysis #league of legends #shut up ren #oh my GOD i am so sorry this is so long.#to be really honest guys i'm not sure how coherent it is toward the end but if there are any questions #(if anyone...reads this...)#i'm more than happy to elaborate.#even further.#because i yapped a lot here.#whoops.

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