#carrion project

[missingcarrion]

carrion //ch10 tomorrow

tw/cw : alcohol, transphobia

notes aasimar is pookie i love him

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978 @neapolitantoebeans

masterlist

-

Seated around a table, Shepherd finds himself amongst a few of the Institute’s greatest minds. Across from him sits Aasimar, who looks almost bored, and he flicks tiny paper balls at another who seems annoyed but attempts to keep her composure. She grows increasingly more and more upset with him, however.

The others ignore them, and largely they ignore him too which is something that still feels odd to him. But he tries not to think on it too hard. They were called into this meeting for a reason. Whatever that reason is.

“Can someone get it to stop flicking things at me,” the woman seethes, and her badge reveals her to be Lucille Greenwich, interim head of the defense department. “Could we not find another feasible replacement for the Doctor instead of using this … miscreant?”

Aasimar snorts, and it perturbs Shepherd how casual he is. She has just insulted him, reduced him down to an ‘it’, an object, inhuman. And yet, he laughs! He almost takes pleasure in it.

“Please, you and I both know I’m not going anywhere,” he leans back, letting out a low hiss of discomfort with the position change before hes back to smiling. “You’ll have to try much harder to get me out of here.”

“How about I strangle you?”

“Mm, I might like that, but not from you. I’m in a bit of an exclusive… relationship of sorts.” He waves his hand and laughs at the way Lucille almost chokes.

Shepherd flushes and his eyes widen ever so slightly. Is that… Does Aasimar speak of them? Is this dating? Too many questions barrel through him and there just isn’t the time to ask. Luckily, the meeting commences when the boss walks in. No name comes up when Shepherd looks at him, nor does he wear a badge. A strategic move, maybe, but he’s not sure.

“That’s enough, you two,” he says, and Shepherd notices the woman straighten out, “how is it that you are in charge of defense and yet, you let little Aasimar get on your nerves so easily. And Aasimar, you ought to know better. We are here for a reason, your petty squabbles will get you no further.”

“Of course, boss man,” Aasimar bows his head slowly, “I was merely having a bit of harmless fun while we wait. No harm no foul.”

Shepherd can’t help but stare at Aasimar. He seems almost entirely relaxed, like he knows he can’t be punished for his behavior. And for a moment, their gazes meet, and Aasimar smiles. He looks so… beautiful, with a smile like that.

“I see our latest project is up and running,” the man interrupts Shepherd’s thoughts, eyeing him like some slab of fresh meat on a table, “good, good, has he been trained in combat yet?”

Aasimar shifts, uncomfortably, the smile dropping from his face. “I don’t see why he must be trained to fight. He was designed to help people, right?”

Shepherd remains silent – the look on Aasimar’s face tells him it’s pertinent that he remain quiet, the perfect example of a well behaved weapon. But he’s curious, is this man the creator of the Institute?

“He will only help those loyal to the Institute,” he said, his tone almost grim, yet calculative, “and punish those who stand against us. Simple. Why do you think we made him as big as he is? He’s designed for power and domination.”

“Ah, Aasimar only mourns not having him as a plaything for his lab,” another jests, the head of communications, but Shepherd quickly deems him unimportant. “He loves having toys to play with. Or fuck. Whatever works for him, really.”

The table laughs, but Aasimar does not. He shrinks in his seat, gaze casted downwards. He is… ashamed. It takes everything in Shepherd to sit quietly, to pretend not to care that they had objectified him and hurt Aasimar’s feelings all in one fell swoop, but there’s anger boiling inside of him. Anger that’s festered since the day he’d woken up.

“He provides better results than you, Edwards,” the Boss narrows his eyes, silencing their laughter in an instant, “who is it that’s provided alternatives to fixing the smog in the southlands? Who is it that’s returned the extinct flora of the eons past to us? Certainly not you. The Doctor is a more trustworthy guardian of Shepherd than you.”

“You’d truly trust a weapon bioengineered for warfare with… with her?” The air in the room goes still.

Her? Shepherd thinks, Aasimar is not…. His mind trails off, there had been peculiar scars on Aasi’s chest, but nothing out of the ordinary, not really anyway. But her? That just isn’t right – the slip of Lucille’s tongue has Aasimar standing abruptly, wobbling on his feet.

“I’m not a her, Lucille. I have been here for almost ten years, you know that. Call me that again and I’ll tear your spine out through your mouth.” His fists clench, trembling with white-knuckle rage.  

“That is enough. I trust him with far more than you think,” the Boss hisses, “Aasimar, why don’t you… meander about the town? Take it with you. He needs more… freedoms if the project is to work.”

Aasimar’s wrath doesn’t waver easy, and he nods through gritted teeth. “Shepherd, come.”

The members of the meeting mean little to Shepherd as he stands, carefully maneuvering himself past the seated members, hoping their gazes see nothing beyond the shell he wants them to see. He follows behind Aasimar, head down as he ducks beneath doorways too small for his largeness.

“Aasi,” he says, softly, pulling them into a hallway, tucked away from the main hall, “Aasi, what did she mean? Why did she say that?”

“It’s not – it’s not true!” Aasimar hisses, his tone laced with despair, “I’m not a girl, I – I’m not. I – I promise!”

Shepherd blinks and he stops, brows furrowed in confusion and worry. “Aasimar, of course you’re not a girl. What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Aasimar wears a look of despair like he had become accustomed to it, but the look of confusion morphs his face, like he’s not used to the blissful ignorance. “You don’t… You don’t know? But…. Didn’t Oleander talk about it, in his notes? Why I have my scars?”

“Hm? No, he only talked of your experiments, your kindness when you’d help him. Occasionally the notes on your favorite things, like that flower you want to bring back? The blue nemophila? He never mentioned anything about scars, though. Are… are you okay? Were they… bad scars?”

“No, they’re… they’re good scars,” Aasimar nods slowly, arms wrapped around his chest tightly, as if protecting himself. “These scars make me happy, very happy.”

“Then does it really matter why you have them? Truthfully, I don’t understand, you’re happy, you aren’t hurting anyone. What does it matter?” Shepherd huffs loudly and casts a look over his shoulder. “Lucille is a bitter woman, I think. Perhaps jealous she did not get ownership of me like you have.”

“I don’t own you, Shep. You are your own person, I’m just your temporary guardian until they’ve decided your capable of being on your own.” Aasimar recoils, hands slowly dropping to his side. “I… it’s not like I don’t trust you to share why I have them, I just… it’s not easy for me to talk about it.”

“Don’t feel like you have to tell me, Aasi. I just… I was worried, in there. You looked so hurt and angry. It was different than the other times you’ve been angry.” He shrugs, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. “But anyway, who was that boss guy?”

“Oh, Andersfellen? He’s the founder of the Institute. Started it when he was young, cryogenically froze himself until his plans came to fruition, and then woke up to become a ruler from Hell,” Aasimar casts his gaze aside, “he collected a few favors and now we’re all stuck here, like slaves. You’ll do good to keep the robot persona up around him. He won’t hesitate to put you down if he sees one sliver of humanity from you.”

“Is everyone here so… against my existence?” Shepherd purses his lips, brows furrowed. If the world is so cruel, why create him at all?

“The Institute doesn’t care about anything other than itself, it’s a remnant of a society long gone, or at least we had hoped it was long gone.” Aasimar glances around them, to make sure there was no one around. “But there are others that are similar to you, maybe not exactly. But we’d have to go deeper into the Under city for that, and I don’t know. It’s … it’s not like our previous outing.”

“I can handle it.” He says, even though he’s not actually sure that he can, but he wants to try. There’s a whole world out there, one he longs to see.

Aasimar makes a face, before he relents. “You’re lucky you’re sweet, I wouldn’t take Hannah to any of the places I normally hang out at. She’s not as…. Willing to try new things.”

This piques Shepherd’s interest and he tilts his head. “Earlier, she said you were avoidant to change. But… Is she avoidant of it too?”

“We’re all avoidant to change, Shepherd. We get comfortable in what we have, we don’t imagine how different the world could be.” He says, eyes shifting but then he smiles. “But, change can be good sometimes. It brought you here.”

“It brought me back you mean.” He replies bitterly, and the anger in his tone surprised him.

“No, you’re not Oleander. You’ll never be him, and that’s the point. You shouldn’t be him. I don’t want you to be him, and you shouldn’t ever want to be like him,” Aasimar looks at him, as if this may be the single most important thing he’s ever been told. “But anyway, let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”

—

            Shepherd does not strike Aasimar as a club goer, but he leans back in the booth, legs parted, and his head cocked to the side like this was a second home to him. The thrum of the music and the cool-toned lights highlight him perfectly. But Aasimar only holds his attention for a few moments before others in the club call towards him. They dance, but glowing from their bodies are metallic parts, some more than others. They’re all not completely human either, pieced together by metal.

            This must’ve been what Aasi had meant – others like him existing. They’re like him, made of metal, and maybe he’s not made of real flesh like him, but there’s some comfort in their similarities.

            He turns to look at Aasimar, catching him mid sip of his Pink Whitney vodka, he looks exceptionally relaxed, and Shepherd has to restrain from scanning his body to see if he’s drunk. He’s not really sure if Aasimar getting drunk here is safe.

            “Do you come here often?” Shepherd asks quietly, eyeing the pristine glass, “the bartender seemed to know you.”

            “I come here every Friday,” Aasimar tilts his head, tracing the rim of his glass, “want a sip? It isn’t a necessity for you, but they gave you taste buds, right?”

            Shepherd gulps and eyes the glass before he nods, “may I?”

            Aasimar shifts the glass, pushing it towards Shepherd and he cocks his head to the side, “so, what do you think of this darling outing of ours?”

            There’s a quiet pause as Shepherd brings the glass to his lips, taking a small, unsure sip. It tastes bitter yet sweet all at once, with a citrus tang to it.

“This is… very nice. I didn’t expect to see others that were…. Similar to me.” Shepherd furrows his brows and he hums, “this is really good, do you get this often?”

“Plenty of people are mostly metal nowadays, gang fights, violence, the Institute, people lose limbs all the time. Some do it because it’s cool.” Aasimar glances at the people dancing on the floor, “sometimes. Other times I’ll get a mimosa, or something heavier depending on mood. You’re welcome to have as much of it as you’d like.”

Shepherd quiets and he watches Aasimar, “Aasi, what are we? Earlier, you said you were in an exclusive relationship. Did that… mean us?”

“I… yes, I did,” he tilts his head slowly, brows furrowed, “what do you want us to be, Shepherd? I want to do this on your terms, it only seems right.”

He thinks. Aasimar’s existence had brought him so much, helped him understand things he hadn’t really fully grasped yet. Being with him felt as natural as existing, and maybe Hannah was right. Maybe Shepherd might only adore him because of how integral he was to Shepherd’s discovering humanity, but… he’d rather have Aasimar, regardless of what it meant.

“I want,” he pauses and licks his lips, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Aasimar hums and leans his head back, grinning, “yeah, I like the sound of that, Shep. My boyfriend. My sweet, big, perfect boyfriend.”

“You’re drunk,” Shepherd shies away, averting his gaze as his body heats up a few degrees, “should we get going back to the Institute? Hopefully walk it off before we make it there?”

“Mm, I’ve got a place, might be nice to spend the night outside of the Institute for once, if… you’re willing to try that, that is. New surroundings and all that.” He smiles lazily and downs the rest of his Pink Whitney. “What do you say, lovely boyfriend of mine?”

Shepherd snorts, “yeah, we can go. But I’ll feel better if I carry you. You don’t… look all there.”

Aasimar slow blinks and he grins, “piggyback? I’ll be good, promise.”

“Whatever you want, Aasi,” he snorts, and stands, offering a hand to him.

[missingcarrion]

Aasimar !!

-

Bit of a spoiler for what happens to him but I think he looks just as handsome as always ! Thank you for taking the time to draw him <3 he's currently my brain worm and he is NOT paying rent

a commission for @missingcarrion !!!

thank you so much for the honors to draw your oc! this one was really fun ^w^

[psuedox]

i forgot i have tumblr

[variousqueerthings]

been reading a lot of clive barker recently and find him to be incredibly whimsical, life-affirming, and wondrous so I decided to read his ya series "abarat" which as it turns out isn't finished, so we're waiting at a point of utter despair for the most part, rip to the kids (that being said I do wish I'd known of it when I was a kid, no matter how frustrated by the wait I might have been)

anyway, do think I will write a little fanfic that nobody is going to read of christopher carrion and finnegan hob working through their mutual realisation that they were both being used by princess boa (meanwhile she's shooting finger guns at them, love her, love how she fucked up not one but two incredibly powerful silly boys, love that she just loves being bad, it appears to be her whole raison d`etre), and then they make out or smthin, unclear

[praisethelamps]

I have an UTAU WIP for Patreon that I'm gonna post today, but I'm rly trying to figure out something art or writing related to post, too 🤔

[knuppitalism-with-ue]

In the depth of the central lake the floor of this enormous body of water gets next to no light from the surface. Here a drastically different ecosystem thrives. We call it the worm zone, for it's diversity of large worms that lives of the carrion from above, bacterial lawns and small living prey items. Many species down here are endemic, but certain species are making migrations to the surface at night or visit on deep dives.

On Lemuria

Lemuria is a new spec evo project for and by the #paleostream community. Like the Atlantis project beforehand it deals with a fictional piece of land in 3 phases. Lemuria is an already existent concept that was invented before the recognition of plate tectonics to explain certain distribution patterns of animals and plants. In our case Lemuria is a continent consisting of India and Madagascar. We speculate how animals and plants would evolve if these two would never separate. This has MANY consequences. And the further we progress through time the more natural history will change. Phase one deals with the Cretaceous, when things are still rather "normal".

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

The Oriental Blue Clearwing Moth: these moths were regarded as a "lost species" for more than 130 years, until they were finally sighted again in 2013

For more than 130 years, the Oriental blue clearwing moth (Heterosphecia tawonoides) was known only from a single, badly damaged specimen that was collected in Sumatra in 1887. There were no recorded sightings of this species again until 2013, when entomologist Dr. Marta Skowron Volponi unexpectedly found the moths feeding on salt deposits that had accumulated along the riverbanks in Malaysia's lowland rainforest.

These moths were observed by researchers again in 2016 and 2017, and research indicates that the moths are actually bee-mimics, as they mimic the appearance, sound, behavior, and flight patterns of local bees. Their fuzzy, bright blue appearance might seem a little out of place for a bee-mimic, but those features do appear in several different bee species throughout Southeast Asia.

When the moths are in flight, they bear a particularly strong resemblance to the bees of the genus Thyreus (i.e. cuckoo bees, otherwise known as cloak-and-dagger bees), several of which are also bright blue, with banded markings, dark blue wings, fuzzy legs, and smooth, rounded antennae. The physical resemblance is compounded by the acoustic and behavioral mimicry that occurs when the moths are in flight.

Cloak-and-Dagger Bees: the image at the top shows an Indo-Malayan cloak-and-dagger bee (Thyreus novaehollandiae) in a sleeping position, holding itself upright with its mandibles clamped onto a twig, while the image at the bottom shows a Himalayan cloak-and-dagger bee (T. himalayensis) resting in the same position

The moths also engage in "mud-puddling" among the various bees that congregate along the riverbanks; mud-puddling is the process whereby an insect (usually a bee or a butterfly) draws nutrients from the fluids found in puddles, wet sand, decaying plant matter, carrion, animal waste, sweat, tears, and/or blood. According to researchers, the Oriental blue clearwing moth was the only lepidopteran that was seen mud-puddling among the local bees.

Dr. Skowron Volponi commented on the unusual appearance and behavior of these moths:

You think about moths and you envision a grey, hairy insect that is attracted to light. But this species is dramatically different—it is beautiful, shiny blue in sunlight and it comes out during the day; and it is a master of disguise, mimicking bees on multiple levels and even hanging out with them. The Oriental blue clearwing is just two centimeters in size, but there are so many fascinating things about them and so much more we hope to learn.

This species is still incredibly vulnerable, as it faces threats like deforestation, pollution, and climate change. The president of Global Wildlife Conservation, which is an organization that seeks to rediscover "lost species," added:

After learning about this incredible rediscovery, we hope that tourists visiting Taman Negara National Park and picnicking on the riverbanks—the home of these beautiful clearwing moths—will remember to tread lightly and to take their trash out of the park with them. We also recommend that Americans learn about palm oil production, which is one of the primary causes of deforestation in Malaysia.

Sources & More Info:

Phys.org: Bee-Mimicking Clearwing Moth Buzzes Back to Life After 130 Years

Mongabay News: Moth Rediscovered in Malaysia Mimics Appearance and Behavior of Bees to Escape Predators

Journal of Tropical Conservation Science: Lost Species of Bee-Mimicking Clearwing Moth, H. tawonoides, Rediscovered in Peninsular Malaysia's Primary Rainforest

Frontiers in Zoology: Southeast Asian Clearwing Moths Buzz like their Model Bees

Royal Society Publishing: Moving like a Model - mimicry of hymenopteran flight trajectories by clearwing moths of Southeast Asian rainforests

Medium: Rediscovery in a Glint of Blue

re:wild.org: The "Search for Lost Species" Project

[pengold]

More Carrion AU from @polarspaz !!

I was working on this a while ago but was hating my rendering, but now I render differently and I think it looks a lot better now! Also, I added neck scratches cuz I feel like he picks his skin...totally not projecting 👀

(also there is a hidden Batman, see if you can find him)

[bad12amcomic]

Carrion

My piece for the 2024 @mcytblraufest ! It was a pretty weird experience writing my own script and having someone else work off of my work, instead of the other way around, but was pretty enlightening!

Do check out my partner for this event @pancho-pinto and the fic they wrote! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57947521/chapters/147513718

Extra concept work under the cut!

Alternate patterns!

And the boys :D

[missingcarrion]

carrion//ch6 skin and bone

heh this was 7 pages

tag list: @tapioca-milktea1978 @neapolitantoebeans

masterlist

-

There’s something distinctly wrong when Shepherd awakens from his sleep. It is still night, and his room is empty. He can move, there’s nothing keeping him from sitting up, yet something is wrong. The shadows that haunt the corners of his room feel like people, it feels like Clare is in here again. It feels like he’s hopeless – hopeless and like someone is sitting on his chest, suffocating him.

            Shepherd can’t put a name to the suffering, but it’s his and he fucking hates it. It’s like a burning, searing pain that splits from his head, down to his knees, rending him as useless in the confines of his mind as he is in the real world.

            A broken, fractured cry escapes his lips. Something is so very wrong. Things flash in his mind – more memories, hands of flesh replace the hands of synthetic skin. A heart thrums within him, instead of a deadened, constant hum of fans and components. He feels human, with hot breath leaving his lips. But something shatters this vision – this hallucination – and he’s sitting on the harsh, cold floor of his room. Desolate and alone.

            Who am I?

                        WHO FUCKING AM  I??????????

            None of this is real, none of him is real. But something in him says he is real, realer than the cold of his floor and the longing in his chest. He is real. Despite it all, he is real.

            Shepherd finds himself wandering the halls, bare feed padding against the cruel flooring as he searches for something – someone. His mind is addled, ruined with thoughts. He sees people, so many. Faces, doctors, scientists. People he thinks he recognizes but the memories are blurry, like they’ve been tampered with.

            A peculiar door stands out to him. It’s far away from his room, furthest from most of the staff dorm rooms, but… this one holds more than just a bedroom. Access to a private laboratory, amongst other things. Shepherd doesn’t need to look at the name on the door to know the person who lives here. Aasimar. It’s curious that in his state, in the addled mind of a man trapped in a body, he finds himself seeking the fascinating little scientist. And yet… he’s here, hand suspended against the door, like he can’t figure out if he wants to knock or not. It’s so late…. It’s so late, so late it’s almost early, but after a moment of hesitation, he knocks. It takes several minutes, standing outside feeling like an idiot, before the door opens.

            Aasimar feels exceptionally smaller when he opens the door, wearing something more casual than his usual eccentric attire. He looks… sweet, wearing his sweatpants and tshirt with what he assumes is a cat on it and an interesting set of gold rimmed glasses. His hair is in a long, mussed braid. He envies the length of his hair, how it reaches to his knees. It looks beautiful on him. Everything looks good on him.

            “… S – Shepherd?” Aasimar blinks and rubs his eyes, like he’d been halfway to sleep if not for working on something. “What are you doing at this hour? Is everything okay?”

He stands rigid, brows furrowed as he finds particular interest in the floor. “I… something is wrong with me, Aasimar. I just – I know it.”

A pause, and then Aasimar steps aside, head nodding in a way that tells Shepherd to come inside. “Talk and I will listen.”

“A – Are you sure? Weren’t you sleeping? I wouldn’t…. I couldn’t bother you …” Shepherd feels embarrassed, and shame costs the insides of his body, like even his own components know better than to come crying to some scientist at the first sight of something odd. But… Aasimar is safe, at least as far as the people who don’t want to hurt him goes.

“You came all this way. To see me no less, I’m not going to turn you away, Shepherd. I don’t sleep very well, or often at all when I do. Your company is welcome.” The smile on his face, although tired, is genuine, so Shepherd takes the tentative steps forward.

His room is expensive. Probably the largest one in the compound, but most of the room is occupied by tanks full of aquatic animals, save for one that’s more of a pool, with nothing in it. The lab must be in an offshoot of the main room, but there’s a bed in one corner, rather simple and neat, like it’s never really been used. There are books and other things thrown about, but what catches his attention are notes on quantum physics and engineering. Something about technology advancements. Aasimar must be exceptionally smart, smarter than anyone has given him credit for.

On the other side is a seating area, not really a living room, but it has a couch and a bean bag and a TV, but Shepherd isn’t even really sure if anyone who lives on the compound watches it.

As if sensing Shepherd’s gaze, Aasimar starts tidying up, shoving his books and notes elsewhere. Out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“You have a pretty room.” He says, instead, focusing the conversation onto something else for his comfort. “Very blue. I like your fishes.”

Aasimar snorts, “thank you, you are very kind. But we are not here to talk about me. Something’s bothering you.”

“I had another vision…. Memory? It… it was violent. I felt… I felt alive, like I had a heart and I could breathe, but it was hurting.” Shepherd watches him, looking for something, anything that could help him.

“Sit,” Aasimar pulls him close, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. He sits on the other end, head tilted. “Do you know what might’ve caused this episode? This … human memory must’ve stemmed from something.,.”

“I was dreaming,” he murmurs, gaze averted to the colorful fish in the tanks, “I was thinking of you, which I guess isn’t really dreaming. But I was thinking of how kind you’ve been, even if you didn’t have to be. It’s the only thing I can do to not think about what happened. I — I wish I was human, like you, maybe I’d – maybe I’d understand everything better.”

“I’m sorry,” Aasimar sighs, and looks at him, golden eyes mapping out every detail. “You know, I’m not human either. Technically, I’m classified as humanoid, like you, but even my insides are inhuman. But fitting in is overrated, Shepherd. Sometimes even we don’t understand things, but that’s how we learn.”

“But why would – why would Clare hurt me? She… she did something to me, broke my mind. I can’t – I tried to sleep but it felt like I was right back in that moment. She ruined me, Aasimar,” Shepherd hisses, his throat tightening with a sorrow that settles deep into every crevice of his mind. “I don’t get it. Why me? Why do I have to hurt for others to succeed?”

Aasimar is oddly quiet, his face solemn. It’s an uncomfortable look on a man as bright as him, but there’s a familiarity in the way he looks at him, like he understands. He shifts forward, sitting himself beside Shepherd now, and he reaches and holds his hand.

Shepherd’s getting spoiled with handholding and hand touching, with touches of comfort. They shouldn’t make him feel good, it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. He desires to be seen, to be heard in the way that only Aasimar seems to understand.

“Those questions won’t help you,” he says, quietly, fingers hooking around Shepherd’s, careful of his claws, “ask yourself what can be done to ensure no one ever hurts you again. Ask yourself what you can do to make yourself unafraid again.”

“I – I don’t know, Aasi,” he whispers, shaking his head, “I was not designed for this. I was designed to help to – to guide people.”

“Be kind to yourself, Shepherd. You were thrust into this world, into this life, with fleeting memories of a time we aren’t yet sure of,” Aasimar gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “what you were designed for and your purpose are two separate things, sweet one. Your purpose is what you want it to be. What do you want, Shepherd?”

He pauses, brows furrowed in concentration. He braces himself, as if worried about the repercussions of what he’s about to say, “I don’t want to help people. I want to be me, whatever that means.”

Aasimar hums and he leans his head back, smiling, “It can mean whatever you want it to. I do have an idea, though. Would you like to venture outside with me? The stars should be out still – if you’d like to go and see them.”

“Yes!” Shepherd nods quickly, his mournful feelings disappearing to make way for his excitement. “Please? Can we go now?”

Aasimar laughs and his hand withdraws from Shepherd’s, “let me go change into something else, then we can go.”

—

            Shepherd follows eagerly behind, wishing they were holding hands still, but following nonetheless. Excitement blinds him – it’s happening, it’s really, truly happening! The stars are just beyond his reach, getting closer and closer with each hurried step. It feels big to see something so small.

            The doors to leave are right there, but he falters, pausing. What if it’s not what he expects? What if it’s all just some big sham and he’s left wanting a freedom he’ll never get?

            “Shep? Are you alright?” Aasimar looks at him, brows furrowed.

            “I – I’m scared, Aasi. I don’t… I don’t know,” he looks down, biting his lip, “what if it’s just… another prison? Another place to never be free from. What if it’s just as bad or… or worse?”

            “Shepherd,” he whispers and steps closer, “it could be, I won’t lie to you, but it could also be better. You could see things that will make you long for more, you would certainly have more out there than you do here. And besides, you’ll have me. You won’t be alone.”

            This is enough. It is enough. Aasimar’s words of comfort are enough to reassure him, to get him to resume walking towards the door, and even if he’s still nervous, still utterly terrified. Shepherd must be brace, and when Aasimar offers his hand, he’s more that ecstatic to take it. Comfort is found here.

            When they step outside, everything changes. Nothing will ever be as it was before the moment his body passes the threshold. His eyes linger on the green plants, and the asphalt, but then, when Aasimar tugs his hand, his gaze shifts.

            A million little lights sparkle and dance across the midnight sky – they smile down at him. It feels like… It feels like he’s finally free, a weight has been lifted from his chest, and he can finally breathe. The air feels right against his skin.

            “Those are the stars?” He asks, voice hoarse, and he grips Aasimar’s hand tightly.

            “Yeah, that’s them,” he nods, and through Shepherd’s peripherals, he sees the man smile from ear to ear practically. “The smile suits you, Shep. I’m glad I got to see it.”

            He bits his bottom lip and shifts his gaze, flattered and a bit embarrassed. “They’re so much prettier than I ever thought they’d be. I want… I wish my room had a hole in the ceiling so I can watch them…”

            “Hm, well, we have all night to watch them tonight, and maybe we can make it our thing. I don’t… I don’t get out that often anyway, it’ll be good for the both of us I think,” Aasimar grins and tugs him forward, “let’s go, we’re not out here entirely for pleasure. There are some things I want to teach you.”

            “Self defense?” He peers at him curiously, lips pursed. “I don’t know… I don’t – I don’t want to hurt people.”

            “Self defense isn’t because you want to cause harm, it’s to protect yourself from those that do.” Aasimar shakes his head slowly. “Your love for stars is charming. What draws you to them?”

            Shepherd shrugs, “you were born knowing the stars. I was made knowing only their shadows. You got to see them every day of your life, but today… you’ve made a difference. Thank you, Aasimar.”

            “This is the bare minimum, Shepherd. You are worth the moon and the stars beyond, this is just the beginning.” He says, and for a moment Shepherd is struck by a feeling of awe and inspiration.

            “You deserve everything, too.” Shepherd whispers, and Aasimar looks away, shaking his head slowly.

            “I am not the person deserving of such words, Shep,” he snorts, a bit of self deprecation, “I am not a good person. I’m not deserving of your praise, but… thank you, anyway. You are kind as always.”

            Shepherd grabs his hand, forcing him to stop moving. “What do you mean? What would make you unworthy of the same kindness that you show me?”

            “You only know the part of me I let you see – it’s that simple, Shepherd. I work at the Institute, for all that it’s worth. Good people don’t subject themselves to that,” Aasimar looks up at him, brows furrowed, “anyway, let’s just go, alright?”

            Shepherd quiets, though his gaze lingers on Aasimar a worrying amount. His friend was suffering from something he isn’t really sure of, but he sees the way Aasimar gets quiet and almost makes himself small. He doesn’t want to just leave it there – he wants to understand why he’s upset, to comfort him the way he’d comforted him.

            After a while of walking, Aasimar brings him to an abandoned warehouse, but once inside, he realizes it’s fitted like an old club, a bit rundown and not exactly taken care of, but there’s things strewn about that indicate this place is home to someone.

            “What are we going to do here?” Shepherd looks at Aasimar who drops his hand and wanders towards a large computer system.

            “You’re going to learn to fight,” he says, and types several things and a startlingly realistic hologram appears, “by fighting a holographic version of myself. I am a bit too small to train with you without causing some harm and besides, I don’t like getting all sweaty and dirty, makes my gills get soggy.”

            Shepherd fights back the urge to snort and bites his bottom lip. The image of him is near exact, down to the nails which feel far more terrifying than they had been before. “You’re not – You won’t use those against me, will you?”

            “What? Oh, my nails? No,” he laughs and shakes his head, “they’re for show, not for hurting. Not usually anyway. The hologram is programmed to not hurt you. We’re not there yet. Today, we’re going to focus on you learning to punch.”

“Maybe you should’ve used Clare’s image for this,” Shepherd mutters, and the bitterness in his tone surprises him.

“I thought about it but not yet. When you know more about fighting, perhaps, but not today. Today, you get me.” Aasimar crosses his arms, “fake me will not do more than blocking. It’ll be a good start for today.”

“What? Punch you and ruin your pretty face? Are you sure?” Shepherd snorts, eyeing the hologram. “What do I do?”

“You flatter me,” he shakes his head before guiding Shepherd’s legs into a specific stance, “when you must fight, stand like this. I don’t know if you’ll meet anyone capable of knocking you off balance, but if that does happen, this stance will help keep you on your feet. Something about distributing weight, who knows.”

Shepherd snorts and he cocks his head to the side, but he lets Aasimar move him into a position akin to fighting. “You know you could just upload fighting information into my code, right?”

“Why? And lose out on quality time with you? No chance.” Aasimar’s hands drop to his hips as he steps back. “Punch me.”

“What?”

“The hologram, sweet one, punch the hologram. It’ll feel realz perks of engineering holograms that have mirroring electromagnetic fields that interact with yours.”

“O – Oh, right.”

Shepherd states oddly at the replica of Aasimar. It looks like him but it doesn’t feel like him, it’s nothing more than a husk, a shell. Still, Shepherd hesitates for a moment before eventually convincing himself that hitting the hologram wouldn’t hurt Aasimar.

The punch lands a bit lopsided and he pulls his hand back, hissing in annoyance.

“Mm, try a hook. You’d punch upwards like this,” Aasimar demonstrates, “it’ll knock your opponents head back if you hit hard enough.”

For hours, they train like that, with Shepherd mirroring Aasimar’s actions, repeating them several times if he messes them up to ensure he gets them right. It’s delightful and Aasimar is a kind and gentle teacher, despite the fact that it’s him Shepherd is punching.

After a few hours though, Aasimar seems to consider him worthy of completing the first session of training. Then, he invites Shepherd into the lounge area on the second floor, where they sit and admire the rising sun.

Shepherd sits in a prolonged silence, realizing he had unfiltered access to trillions of data at once that otherwise would’ve been blocked by Institute censors.  Information passes through his mind, settling into every nook and cranny. It feels weird to have such unfiltered access, and yet there’s power in it.

“Why did you say you didn’t deserve kind words earlier?” Shepherd’s gaze focuses on him, taking in several thousand new pieces of information. All of which attach themselves to Aasimar in one way or another. Articles on siren folk, on relationships, on the Institute. Everything he could read if he watched to pry, but he doesn’t. He locks them away, keeps this information away from everyone. It is not his job, but something in him longs to protect Aasimar the way he’s protected him.

“Shepherd, it’s not a big deal,” he waves his hand dismissively, “the byproduct of growing up different from everyone else. You wouldn’t know it , but there are a lot of mutants and other freaks down here. But people like me? With webbed feet and gills? Not exactly the norm. I did some things when I was younger. Bad things.”

“Mm. That does not make you any less deserving of kindness now,” he tilts his head, “you are worthy of the things you give. No matter what you did before, you made a difference with me. You could’ve ignored my cry for help, if you were truly unworthy of kindness, and yet you saved me. You saved me and punished her for hurting me.”

Aasimar keeps his gaze elsewhere, like there’s a shame in looking at anything else. “You are too good for this world. Shepherd. I hope the world will be kinder to you than it was to me.”

A frown finds itself on Shepherd’s face and he scoots closer to Aasimar, hand reaching to grab his. “I’m a lot tougher than you’d think. I don’t mind being tough for the both of us.”

He’s quiet before giving Shepherd’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He sighs, “we should get heading back. I’m sure they might be wondering where we’ve gone.”

“I don’t want to,” Shepherd’s grip tightens, “not yet, anyway. I can see more things, things the Institute had kept hidden. I – Can we just stay like this for a while longer? I promise I’ll behave.”

“You don’t have to behave in order to experience freedom, Shep,” Aasimar sighs and leans his head back, inhaling slowly. “I own this place, but… you can come here whenever you’d like. Once they start sending you out more, you might find yourself wishing you had a safe space.”

“You say that like you’re planning on leaving,” Shepherd says, and then he turns rigid, “you… you aren’t leaving, are you?”

Aasimar’s thumb traces circles against Shepherd’s hand, “worried I’d leave you, Shepherd? I won’t do that, not to you. You have been surprising, Shep. In so many different ways, but you have been so much more than I think even you thought you’d be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You care for people, you care for the things that no one else notices. The stars… to me, to all of us, they are just stars. But to you? I wish I could see them the way you do.” Aasimar sighs almost wistfully, almost like his inability to see the world through Shepherd’s eyes had brought him some level of sorrow.

Shepherd’s gaze shifts when Aasimar looks at him, eyes dipping to the man’s lips. A thousand images flash across his face then – images and videos of people kissing, touching, loving. A million images of people he doesn’t know, scenes from movies he’ll never see, and all of them are replaced by the image of Aasimar.

“Don’t… don’t do things you’ll regret,” Aasimar murmurs, his eyes darting from Shepherd’s lips to his eyes, shifting between them like he can’t figure out where to rest his gaze.

“How will I know I’d regret it?” The reply comes out breathless, and he furrows his brows. “M – May I?”

Aasimar swallows hard, his eyes shifting like he’s thinking, “You may.”

[nshtn]

I love writing Wesker with a little touch of what he seems to hate so much... humanity.

The one core aspect of his persona is that he was manufactured - abused - created.

The Executive Training School intended to produce sets of controllable psycho-sociopaths - a class worth. Human beings, more complex than tools, rarely turn out how they are meant to - neither Birkin nor Wesker were controllable.

Lisa Trevor was a threat and an intimidation tactic as much as she was an experiment - "this will be you if you don't do what we say", essentially.

Wesker, Birkin, and Alexia were all groomed (literal) under the Doctrine, meant to take over in Spencer's stead when he passed (and meant to fight for the position).

Birkin's hate for Alexia was an intentional machination of Spencer. Wesker was intended to experience it towards Birkin eventually, but ultimately did not.

There is only so much death you can voyeur - unwillingly, willingly, it doesn't change the outcome - until you are no longer empathetic to it.

He's a victim of an insurmountable magnitude of intentional happenings whose scale approaches the Truman trope.

His natural, base inclination is not violence.

Birkin had a much higher kill count than he did in the beginning of his arduous and terrible journey, one that they had both started with the desire for a positive change even after they grew up watching their peers picked off like carrion by Marcus.

Wesker's comment to Birkin after the murder of Marcus is that he does not feel anything - good or bad - and that Marcus was "just another monster".

In RE4, he is more than willing to let people solve his own problems without directly, violently interfering to reach his goals. Only when they require violence does he portray it - his first suggestions aren't needlessly cruel ("ring the church bell", "take advantage of the distraction [Leon] is causing", "use [Leon] to clean up Saddler").

When Wesker initially became suspicious of the Arklays, and he looked upon what he perceived was Spencer's goal, he found the idea of it completely revolting even at its' smallest scale. But he could not flee.

The Arklays were meant to produce a viable strain that Spencer could then himself perfect after shedding the Arklays as a testing ground; it was intentionally set up for the event of Raccoon City to occur, but it was not intended for it to occur at the time that it did.

Spencer admits that he - and Project W as a whole - were raised intentionally to produce tools who would become eugenicists in a similar fashion.

Eventually that bitter lie becomes so numb to Wesker's tongue that it begins to taste sweet. "A lie repeated twice is truth" is a known and very evil propaganda tactic employed by cults and fascists - it is called the 'illusion of truth' in psychology, the curse of familiarity.

He was not born evil, and he's a broken dichotomy of a person who is fundamentally incompatible with life.

[artsicfox]

There it finally is! @evajongepier and my final film!!!

Our film is a music video on the song I carrion (Icarian) by Hozier under rubyworks , with this animation we wanted to convey the story of Icarus in a positive and loving light, much like how Hozier often times sings about him!

In the end we worked on this project for roughly 8/9 painstaking weeks and I'm so happy with the final product, also big thanks to @/ jonathebona (insta) and @calipygos for editing and coloring respectively! It was a huge project and I'm happy I can finally sit back and enjoy the rest of my vacation before I leave for Japan!

Thank you all as well for your patience and excitement towards this project, it was a great motivator, and I hope you all enjoy our final film!

[coolpixdump]

carrion spring, knumears & saetia @ vera project, seattle, wa.

2024.07.23

[cyten0]

A Symphony of Crimson Masterpost

Figured this is gonna have quite a few chapters, so time to make it sort-able! Will update it as time goes on.

A combination of the carrion!sif au originally by @traumaboyexo, and an Au I was working on before, to add elements of AdventureQuest World's Astravia. Only needed reading is ISAT itself!

Siffrin is dead. And has been for a long time. But Something wants to live as them. Something that hungers. Something unnatural. But they want to stay with these people. And hope that they don't hurt them...

But Monsters rarely get what they want.

[Dialogue Symbol Key]

Asks are recommended! Feel free to ask away! Change and Equinox will happily deliver said asks to the party. You can also ask the Scale questions, as they have tech to talk to Change!

#Symphony!Asks is the tag I use for ask questions.

Character Ref and art: [Siffrin? and Loop] [The Scale] [A fallen star]

[Scale voice ref]

The following are links to the chapters released on tumblr, which are outdated or innacurate somewhat. The accurate version is on AO3, but these are kept as an archive of old writing choices!

[Prelude]

Act 1: Movement in Black

Ch: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18][19] [20] [21] [22] [?]

Act 2: Movement in White (Optimally read A-B, A-B)

A Side: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [8]

B Side: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Interludes and Misc moments

[End of a World]

[whinlatter]

In the little upstairs bedroom facing the sea, he goes to the wireless on the dressing table. She watches as his wand slowly turns the wireless dial, setting back the clock. [ vulture, n.: a bird of prey that gathers in anticipation of death and feasts on carrion; someone who preys on or exploits others - or - (in mythology) a symbol of maternal love ]

🪶 read the author’s note for this chapter (coming soon!)

🐾 listen to the playlist

🪺 watch the trailer 

🦉 thoughts & questions? ask me anything!

[sweeneydino]

It's the boy.

The one on the bottom right is @theyodelerz original concept, while the others are what I was envisioning while reading.

I'm gonna be honest. Finding out he was just a smol and chubby version of himself filled me with so much happiness.

I love horror, so the main inspirations for the baby krang were The Thing and Carrion.

Check out the fic here vv

Also, my hand really hates me.