#léry

[postcard-from-the-past]

Boat transport during the 1910 Great Floods in Léry, Normandy region of France

French vintage postcard

[cannibalguy]

“Every cannibal wants to be a director”: LONG PIGS (Nathan Hynes, Chris Power)

Long Pigs is a 2007 “found footage” movie, in which two desperate filmmakers come across a cannibal, ask him if they can document his eating habits, and then are shocked when he starts killing people and eating them. It is presented as a documentary, with all the usual warnings about graphic scenes etc. Bit silly, and found footage has rather been done to death, but it has some interesting…

[edithmtl-artmavie]

Détails d’architecture

[once-was-muses]

[ hello I've decided my unnecessarily highly specific locale for where Autohaven is/was. Me thinks it was in the Chesapeake area of Virginia, just a wee bit north of the border to North Carolina, kinda in between the Great Dismal Swamp and Cavalier Wildlife Management. It's forested, and would support the weird frog/swamp cosmetic set Phil has òvó ]

[detroitography]

Map: de Lery's Copy of de Boishebert's Map of Detroit 1731

This map caught my eye because I had never seen it before. The French-Canadian Heritage Society of Michigan shared the map courtesy of the Bibliothèque et Archives Canada / Library and Archives of Canada, but the link is broken now. I’ve posted just one other map from 1731 and this might be a copy of that map. Gaspard-Joseph Chaussegros de Léry was King Louis XV’s Chief Engineer of New France.…

[user16121215]

Typical Trial Against the Killers

TW - Unhealthy displays of affection, Abuse (Mental and Physical), General dickishness

Herman Carter (The Doctor)

• You are the absolute last person to go.

• The good doctor won't even look in your general direction until everyone else has been taken care of.

• He's just waiting until you're on your own and he has all the time in the world to play around with you.

• Entity forbid you end up at Léry's Memorial Institute. That place was his home, he knows every little crack and corner by heart. There's no possibility of hiding, and he's faster than you are.

• If you somehow manage to escape without him getting a hold of you, be prepared for absolute hell next time you're placed against the doctor.

• He's a very prideful man and doesn't like losing in general, but when his obsession manages to slip through his fingers, there's no force on this realm, or any other, that can hold him back.

• He may even forget about everyone else and focus on you right from the start if he's angry enough.

• If this man can get you on a medical table, or anything similar, may the Entity have mercy on your soul.

• Herman likes the chase as much as any old killer but when he's had enough, it's time to claim his reward by strapping you down and inflicting his special kind of treatment he tailored just for you

Max Thompson Jr (The Hillbilly)

• Completely focused on you from the start

• As soon as he realises you're there with him, he goes mad trying to catch you.

• Most of the other survivors will escape if you're in a trial with the hillbilly because he won't leave you alone.

• This does mean that you'll probably get left behind since no one can really help you out.

• Your survival depends entirely on how fast you can run and how well you can hold your breath in a locker.

• Once he manages to catch you, he'll take his time and won't rush over to any hooks. He likes to hold you.

• He will grab you as much as he can. Instead of bashing you on the head with an oversized hammer, if he can latch onto your arm or just yank you back by your shirt he'd much rather do that.

• Your skin is so much softer than his own. So he'll delight in, not so gently, grasping any exposed flesh. Watching how it squishes between his fingers.

• This does of course lead to some rather oddly shaped bruises.

• He doesn't necessarily want to hurt you and is definitely less malicious than his colleagues. Max has never been exposed to any kind of positive relationship in his life and doesn't know how to handle these emotions he feels around you so he reacts the only way he knows.

Evan Macmillan (The Trapper)

• He'll chase you, but you won't get hooked right away.

• You'll either be left in one of his many traps or just crawling your way to help.

• Evan loves watching you limp and crawl away as he casually chases after you.

• If you're particularly annoying during a match, he might hook you just to get you out of the way, but he would much rather take his time with you and will most likely let someone unhook you just so he can chase you all over again.

• One of Evan's greatest delights is making you watch as your team dash through the exit gate without giving you a second thought.

• The look of betrayal and anguish is one he could just eat up on anyone but it has a certain extra hit when etched into your face. Especially if it was his own hands that carved it there.

• He finds it an absolute delight to watch you crawling towards the hatch, only for him to yank you back by your ankle as your fingers just brush against the metal. He gains extra satisfaction of he can yank a broken ankle, most likely given to you by own of his traps.

• He doesn't mind so much if you do escape. Obviously he doesn't like losing, but he knows you'll be back. You're his little toy after all, and he will get to play with you again.

Philip Ojomo (The Wraith)

• Mmmm did somebody say stalker?

• If you're uncomfortable with the feeling of having somebody's eyes on the back of your neck constantly, well tough luck.

• Trials with this boy are usually short and sweet.

• He's more focused on watching you and how you work than paying attention to the Entity's nagging.

• He's going to try and get as close to you as possible. Meaning that if you're not observant, he's going to be standing behind you as you're going about your business.

• He might even crouch down next to you and just stay there observing your face as you get your work done.

• Probably one of the only killers that will allow you to escape a trial. Or he'll go easy on you at the very least.

• Doesn't mean he won't ruthlessly beat the shit out of you if you get too cocky after you escape from him a few times. Mistaking his generosity for some kind of skill on your end is just not going to fly and he needs to make you painfully aware that any victory you celebrate is down to him.

• A 'Thank you Mr. Wraith.' Would be nice if you could just StOp SqUiRMING FOR TWO SECONDS.

• He just needs you to remember that although he may take certain liberties when it comes to you, he's still here to do a job and that job is to kill you.

Anna (The Huntress)

• Anna doesn't treat you much differently in a trial, even if she's fond of you.

• Not familiar with any human interaction outside of the very limited experience her mother provided have left her ignorant to anything beyond primal instinct.

• Death is just part of her understanding of affection.

• She loved her mother, her mother died.

• She loved the children, the children died.

• She may love you, and you suffer the same fate.

• Though you are different because you come back from death.

• Which only inspires her to kill you again.

• The hunt is courtship, the pain is yearning and death is love.

• And while she hunts, hurts and kills other survivors, you remain special to her and although nothing is different in the executions between you and your fellow sacrifices, to her it is night and day.

• She expects you to know that.

• She doesn't understand that you can't see the difference.

[envihellbender]

What fears are the (original) DBD killers?

The Dead By Daylight Original Killers As The Magnus Archives Fears

The Trapper: the Web

Evan was being used as his father’s puppet and was pushed to enact his actions. The entity used him in the same way, torturing him until he relented. He uses bear traps to hunt his prey, reminiscent of a spider trapping his prey in a web.

As an avatar of the Web his bear traps have minds of their own, they grow spindly legs to wander around to stalk their pray not unlike spiders. When people stand on them they are impossible to break off, and cover the prey in something thin and sharp. It’s like being covered in diamond. Even years later Evan still has string attached to his hands and feet, sewn in to his bones. Occasionally there’s a tug, a reminder of what he has to do.

The Wraith: the Hunt

Phillip had being a hunter forced upon him, and just when he thought he’d escaped it … it turned out he’d simply been used as the gun instead of the soldier. He stalks his prey silently, and strikes when they least expect it. His appearance is bird like, covered in what looks like feathers - he is like a bird of prey who dives down and strikes suddenly to kill.

As an avatar of the Hunt he is very similar to what he does for the Entity, except he works silently and he isn’t invisible in the same way. He doesn’t have a telltale shimmer, instead his shadow is completely visible but not his body. His victims often talk of a dark shape following them, like a shadow without a person to cause it. They don’t see their attacker until they’re about to die.

The Hillbilly: the Flesh

Max’s identity is more seeped into his physical disability than it needed to be thanks to his abuse, this as well as being born and raised on a farm is what connects him to this fear.

Max was born into the Flesh, most assume because of his physical disability but actually it’s because of the farm. His father before him was an avatar too, he raised every single animal he had in isolation, they didn’t get to run through his cornfields, they were trapped in cages, fed until they were immobile beasts and filled with hormones that made them produce unnatural amounts of milk. They had obscenely large and repeated pregnancies, and it was a task the man inherited from his bloodline. When his son was born he knew killing him would devote him to the Flesh and he was worried that would offend his god… but the fear was furious about one of its own being locked away. It was time to start the entire cycle anew, Max would make a much better avatar then his lazy father who simply repeated what had been taught to him.

The Nurse & The Doctor: The Spiral

Doing these together because I think as Fears they would be two halves of one whole. The two of them both meet the criteria for medial abuse which falls under the Spiral but in different ways. Sally’s mental health broke after several traumatic events and then spending a long time working in a psychiatric hospital and being susceptible to the words of another patient. The building, the asylum, and the people inside it, psychiatric patients, were responsible for her slowly losing her mind before she became a killer. This also fits within the Spiral. Herman experimented on patients with ECT - use on psychiatric patients, he learned everything he knew about the mind from being taken into Léry’s Memorial Institute at a young age. The entire concept of grooming a child to interfere with victims’ brains seems to fit very well into the Spiral territory.

As the Spiral Nurse Sally and Doctor Herman both run a hospital, one that from the outside seems quite prestigious and well managed. It’s common for rich families to send troubled teenagers there, as a last resort. The kind who if they never returned or if they were lobotomised. Sally deals with the patient care and Herman deals with diagnosis and surgery. Sally’s specialty is manipulation and gaslighting, Herman however prefers to manipulate the brain directly from the inside with his new devices, as well as testing out new concoctions on the patients. The building itself is also very strange in that it appears different to every patient, the corridors don’t make sense constantly twisting in odd manners, and the doors and windows don’t always stay where they are.

The Hag: the Buried who’s been scarred by the Flesh

Lisa Sherwood’s was kept in a dimly lit cellar when she was kidnapped, she slipped on wet mud during a thunderstorm and fell into the earth. They consumed her and the prisoners flesh down to the bone. The cannibals resemble the Flesh, but this was forced upon Lisa. She became essentially a corpse, she sunk into the earth to return to her family. This is similar to Daisy Tanner staying within her coffin, and also Hezekiah’s embrace from the Earth.

Lisa was born into a sect that was dedicated to the Buried. They were a peaceful group that worked with the Fear, they preached that the Entities did not need to be treated as a terrible thing - fear and anxiety are healthy, human emotions after all. Lisa was very dedicated to the spiritual practices they used to summon the Earth, to be protected by it, to explore everything it had to teach them. However, when she was lost in a thunder storm and fell to the ground, the Earth could not protect her from her kidnappers. A group of cannibals who swore themselves to the Flesh, Lisa was grateful they kept her in the cellar, so she could pray to the Earth every night. One day, her pleas were answered, and even though her flesh had been consumed, she managed to rip herself from the shackles, and to be taken by the Earth itself, who promised her vengeance.

The Unknown: the stranger merged with the flesh

The Unknown takes over people’s bodies, steal them, distorts them and abandons them. It’s similar to the Not-Them of the Stranger, but it doesn’t try to convince anyone that it is a human being, or play the part of another human. It’s a creature that takes human flesh and distorts it into something disturbing for humans to look at. That’s where we get the realm of the Unknown which exists between the Stranger and the Flesh.

No one knows quite how the Unknown came to be. There are many theories, a member of the circus’s freak show who ran off or was taken by an avatar of the flesh perhaps. Most however think it is far more ancient, far more unfathomable than that. It seems turn up in quite a few different stories and urban legends, suggesting they are many of them. It is as if takes people and moulds their bodies like play dough. It creates many of them, replicating them, but they don’t contain a personality or mind that the Stranger manages to copy. It is as if it simply about the flesh itself.

The Huntress: the Lonely

Anna was cursed from the very beginning to be alone. She was born alone in the woods with her mother, raised to fear the men who passed through the woods. She had no relationships or connections but that to her mother. When she died, all she could do was hum the nursery rhymes she sang to her and continue to hurt the men her mother taught her to hate. She tries to have love and care in her life with the children she takes in but doesn’t know how to care for. Then, of course, the forest was taken by fog.

Anna’s mother had been cursed by the Lonely when she was with child, not that she knew it then. She felt something calling to her in the woods shortly after she became pregnant, from a charming man she had a summer dalliance with. A James Lukas, he said his name was. Soon as he abandoned her with no one but the baby growing inside her, she began to yearn for the woods. It was strange, usually the children born of the Lukas craved the sea, but her mother desperately wanted the woods. The mountainous, isolated woods. So one day she fled there, she told no one where she would be going. She found an abandoned lodge in the centre, an area so treacherous few even dared to take an expedition through it. She made a home there for her and her daughter, vowing that she will never allow her precious Anna to be harmed by man again. The fog and the woods would protect them, and she would teach her to hunt and defend herself. What she didn’t prepare her for was the fact her mother wouldn’t live forever, and no matter how much Anna tried to gain companionship through the children she found… The Lonely took them away from her every single time.

The Clown: the Stranger

The Clown aka Jeffery Hawk aka Kenneth Chase has several aliases which is one of the reasons why he fits so well within the Stranger. He is so capable of changing who he is, from the strongman to the clown. There is also the fact that he is inspired by John Wayne Gacy, and the entire concept of Stranger Danger which killers such as the Clown embody. Of course the most obvious connection to the Stranger is the fact he is a clown, which brings us to the circus.

Kenneth first found himself enraptured by the Stranger at a young age - not that he knew it then. His dentist seemed like an odd choice for a young boy to choose as a friend, but given it was the 1940s few people questioned it. The man gave the child plenty of access to anaesthetic and plenty of other drugs, which the child used to trap and harm birds, squirrels, and other small animals. Kenneth never felt connected to anyone around him, his father was an alcoholic and he had very few friends. He was oddly tall and strong, throwing himself into athletics at school. When his father discovered his extracurricular activities and his finger collection, Kenneth fled to his friend the dentist. He pointed him into the direction of the Circus of the Other that just so happened to be in town, and in particular to Gregor Orsinov. Finally, Kenneth had an escape from his father, the town, and an iron clad alibi for whatever crimes he wished to commit.

The Spirit: The Buried

Rin’s family’s problems began when they became wrapped up in financial troubles. She went to a private university which weighed heavily on her family’s money problems. Her father worked long, long hours hoping for a promotion. It drove him mad as he heard a whisper speaking to him, he lost sleep and his grasp on reality. This, and him losing his job, resulted in hers, her mother’s, and eventually his own death, the sheer anger Rin experienced is what resulted in the Entity taking her. The Yamaoka estate became her tomb. The estate is dark and almost resembles a graveyard. The ground is named haunted through Rin’s abilities, and during her phase state she can see the scratches and blood on it even when people disappear. This shows her connection to the earth she was raised upon.

Rin’s father built coffins, an unpopular business in Japan where the majority of the population chose cremation. However he insisted upon it, beautiful creations - dark wood with intricate painted patterns across them. He sold very few locally, or even in Japan as a whole. Rin spent most of her childhood with beautiful coffins filling the house, acting as chairs and tables, or simply being in the way. Her mother tried to get him to get a new line of work, he had a contract with this British company but it wasn’t enough. What her father hadn’t mentioned was the contract was more than legally binding. They were in more and more debt every day, so much so her father began to whisper to the coffins, to something that wasn’t there. One day late at night, Rin crept to the kitchen for some water and she heard him yelling at the coffin, there was nothing replying but her blood ran cold when she heard what he agreed to. He was going to build two coffins, one for Rin and one for her mother.

The Legion: the Slaughter

The Legion’s connections to the Slaughter lie in the military origins of their name (the division of the Roman army), the fact that the loyalty between the four of them makes them seem like soldiers for the Entity, and the music that plays from their mix tapes when they attack. Each mix tape gives them different abilities, and there is a tape for each of them, but also one made by the Entity which is the most powerful. This mimics the sounds of bagpipes that calls the soldiers to the Slaughter.

The Slaughter had been watching the four of them for a while, Frank was the longest of course, but it didn’t take them completely until the night with the janitor. It spoke to them before that, giving each one of them solace through music. They each felt a pull that no one else could understand, as if the music spoke to them individually, it was instructing them to do something but they didn’t know what it was yet. No one really understood why Julie chose to be friends with Susie and Joey. They all felt a connection with each other, they weren’t sure what and Julie’s shallow family kept trying to push her to have friends they considered “appropriate”. When Frank appeared… Music became sweeter. Stronger. The connection made their bonds unbreakable and even though their tastes differed any song they copied to tape became sacred almost. After breaking into the convenience store and accosting the janitor, the same one who’d been racist to Joey and lecherous to Susie and Julie, they all thought it was their choice. The music they heard must have been one of their tapes, the Slaughter came to them that night as a result of what they did… Of course the truth is a little more complicated.

The Plague: the Corruption

Adiris was a priestess who was chosen to save the priests and her temple from plague, a feature of the corruption. She became the High Priestess after a ceremony involving cutting off her toe, she cured the temple and city of the plague. This led to her developing an infection, she kept herself veiled to keep the corruption to herself and inside of her. She is taken by the fog after she heads to the forest looking for a cure, eventually dying in her own vomit only to disappear, She uses the power of Vile Purge as the killer, passing on her infection and sickness to the survivors. She is even capable of corrupting the cleansing waters, both of which point to her being the Corruption. She is also a priest become killer which suggests she’s undergone moral and spiritual corruption from the entity’s interference and her own trauma.

Adiris was born into the Corruption, in the Temple of Disease and Healing she was raised, to serve and worship the God that resided there. Of course the deity was or worked for the Corruption, and any healing that was supposedly given was false or came with a price. Adiris believed in the faith and sanctity of the Temple until she became a High Priestess. That was when its true purpose was revealed to her. The diseased came to the Temple, and the High Priestesses would absorb their disease and illness, creating a contained building of suffering and pain, of plague and corruption. She was restrained, each disease and ailments forced upon her body which grew weaker with every ritual. All the records say she died of an infection of some kind, but still to this day at the Temple a rotting woman covered in boils, sores, blood, viscera and vomit stalks the halls, a sickening miasma omitting from her that fills the entire ruin.

The Oni: the Desolation

Kazan is cursed by the Entity to appear and Oni, a yōkai, demon, troll type being in Japanese mythology/folklore. During the Heian period in literature they were shown to be terrifying monsters that ate people. This was precisely what Kazan did not want to become, but the Entity forced him to be this being of mindless killing and terror. The Entity made him his soldier, and forced him to do it blindly. He absorbs the blood of the survivors (similar to drinking it) which helps him track them like an obedient monster. This represents one half of the Desolation - destruction for a meaningless cause. The other is shown in Kazan’s life itself before the Entity. He was dedicated to Japan and Samurai, ridding it of what he deemed to be “imposters”. He was dedicated to destroy Japan until that caused him to become the Oni.

As a fear Kazan’s story is not that different, his father wanted him to be a Samauri, but Kazan killed all of the false samurai and imposters in Japan determined to purify his homeland, to bring honour to his family name. He started this because went on a pilgrimage where the spoke to a God he’d never met before, it showed him the true way of honour. It told him it would give him unbelievable powers and make him a true protector of Japan. Kazan accepted without question, and his new abilities to smell blood and be filled with the power of his new God to become indestructible in battle. What Kazan did not notice however, is with each battle he changed slightly. He didn’t realise he was a few inches taller or muscular at first, until it became enough for people to comment on it. These changes did not concern him and seemed quite positive… Until his skin grew red and horns penetrated his skull, it wasn’t long before he became the Oni. A being of pure destruction, fire, blood and desolation.

The Deathslinger: the Hunt

Caleb’s power is named the Redeemer, it’s his invention of a speargun, that can hook into a survivor and pull them towards him. This is an indicator of the Hunt in itself. He invented objects to punish those he declared as wrongdoers, all starting when he was a child want vengeance on those who bullied him. The racism his family experienced meant resentment and a desire for what he saw as justice was ingrained into his mind from an early age. The first man he killed was with his first gun which shot railroad spikes and it was for the punishment of stealing his inventions. When he was in prison he designed torture devices for a warden in exchange for extra meals. All of this is what makes him within the archetype of the Hunt which is primarily used to signify the police and its brutality.

Caleb’s life with the Hunt itself is extremely similar, the main difference being that his kills started much earlier. Instead of fantasising about torturing and killing his bullies, he followed the saviour that whispered in his ear and acted on it. His devices then were much more simple but they slowly got better and better, especially with the help of his saviour. As his weapons progressed in the same way they do in his regular canon, the saviour came and told him which villains to kill, it protected him. Ensured that when he was finally caught that the prison wardens saw him as one of their own. He was above everyone else in jail, warden or prisoner, he was the Redeemer.

The Blight: the Flesh

Talbot Grimes wanted to become more than human, he wanted to rise above his fellow mortals. He had become obsessed with his flesh and the limits of the human body from a young age, testing poisons on himself and forcing his body to purge and purify himself. That did not dissuade him, it simply encouraged him to explore what the human body could do, what it was weak to, and how to solve those weaknesses. He wasn’t innately connected to the flesh, but through his experiments and work he became that way. Experiments such as his inhumane tests on prisoners of war, which allowed him to bring himself back from the brink of death and cause him to become something more than human. A being of distorted flesh.

Talbot learned of the Flesh at a young age, his parents were collectors of Leitners and his father told him scary stories about the Entities at bedtime. The way his mother scolded his father for them told him that they were, she wouldn’t be as furious over him simply being frightened. He ended up sneaking down to the library at night to pour over their Leitner collection. They made him horrifically ill repeatedly, and no matter how much his parents punished him he desperately tried to be heard by the Flesh. He spent his life doing that, after he got his doctorate he began experimenting on humans, allegedly, and breaking in to slaughterhouses. Eventually, the Flesh caught up with him, and either through curiosity or sheer annoyance, turned him into a monstrosity.

The Twins: the Lonely

The circumstances of the twins birth can be an indicator of their close connection to the Lonely. In theory twins should never be lonely, but Charlotte was denied a true companion, and Victor was never given any true possibility of a normal life. Everyone abandoned them, giving them a cruel abusive life. They never knew any specific people other than their mother, all shapeless faces who abused and harmed them. Their abilities mean once they are separated they cannot both move at the same time, showing they see each other as one whole person. This means they don’t view each others company as separate, which adds to the Lonely connection.

There is a Leitner that is a handmade children’s book named The Adventures of Charlotte and Victor, but if it is read it is very clear it is most certainly not for children. The story begins telling the tale of a mother giving birth to a beautiful little girl who had a parasite clinging to her body, or that’s what the doctors called it. It was her twin brother, or what was left of him. They attempted to remove the boy, only for her to scream and cling tighter. They thought as she grew older she’d let them remove the parasite, when she didn’t the mother couldn’t bare to keep them. But who would take this hysterical little girl and her parasitic monster?

She abandoned Charlotte at a lighthouse, it had been abandoned for decades and it was on a bit of abandoned beach, there was no civilisation or anything to eat for miles. When she got in her car and left them there, she didn’t even look back. The only things there were the lighthouse, the beach, and a man tunnel into the sewers. There were rumours that they survived, feeding on hikers who’d gotten lost in the area. On the final page is two photos and a missing persons poster, the first picture is of a little newborn baby girl with an odd tiny pink creature clinging to her. The second is a photo of a middle aged woman smiling with a man on a beach, it’s a windy day, and in the background there is a young woman with lank blonde hair, hunched over in a ragged, filthy dress with a small misshapen creature on her shoulder. The missing person poster shows the middle aged woman who was last seen at a bed and breakfast by the coast 20 miles south of the old lighthouse.

The Trickster: the Eye

Ji-Woon loves nothing more than to be watched, to be stared at, to have people take his picture, to have an audience - it is all what Ji-Woon craves the most. He wants to be on screen, he wants to know everything and be known. He wants to be the ‘main event’ and he can stare so intensely that he can throw knives so perfectly that repeated cuts send a survivor into a dying state. His appearance is always so eye-catching, and his kills are always filmed, witnessed, and recorded.

Ji-Woon is different to the other avatars of the Eye in the sense that instead of witnessing he wants to be witnessed. Before it took him he was strange in the sense that whilst most cowered when the Eye pierced them with its gaze, Ji-Woon delighted in it. He craved it. He became addicted to it. So much so that he sought after it, until the Eye readily accepted him as one of its own. He is one of the few who can walk through the Eye’s realm without a care. As such he is the perfect one to lure an audience, he is adored by so many fans that they eagerly line up to see him perform. An entire audience, that is eager to be on screen next to him. That is desperate to be watched.

The Artist: the Vast

The Artist fits the vast primarily because of her connection to the birds - particularly crows, her birdlike appearance, the way her abilities involve soaring across a long distance, and the fact her associated location is the Foresaken Boneyard. Here objects seem to ignore gravity, and it is extremely open and light.

The Vast sunk its claws into Carmina from birth, the crows always watched her and seemingly appeared in South America despite not being native to the region. Her paintings were collected by Jurgen Leitner to her disgust, and she constantly searched for them. Some interpreted her crows as a death omen, perhaps that was confirmation bias because if you saw her soaring through the skies in a vast covering of crows… then you were almost certainly going to die. She always ate her victims, odd for a being of the Vast but her friends and family the birds needed to eat.

The Dredge: the Dark

The Dredge is the combination of dark and terrible thoughts, he is created in the metaphorical and literal dark, and his abilities cause darkness and he teleports through the dark lockers.

The Dredge is the monster in the wardrobe that so many parents dismiss and that children grow out of fearing. The dark and painful thoughts that the children feel that never go addressed congregate inside their bedroom, their safe space. They call to them from their wardrobe, created unconsciously by the children themselves and usually those who have been through great trauma, it leaves their wardrobes at night, it can’t move in the light and so many parent refuse to let their children leave there’s on. The creature is terrifying but it doesn’t come for the child’s terror, it beckons the child inside. The fear it feeds on is that of the parents, that their child is hurting, that their abuse will be discovered, and when the child walks into the wardrobe to join the Dredge’s brethren if the child will come back. One the child is empowered and emboldened by the Dark, it began to stalk and torment those who would abuse and hurt them in the shadows. That is until their terror and guilt pushes them over the edge.

The Skull Merchant: the Eye

Adriana uses her drones (similar to security cameras which are specific to the Eye) to watch the survivors, extremely academic (books and libraries are specific to the Eye), her first ‘crime’ is stalking her rival, the manga her father made which mimics her life in someways does some to be prophetic in a way which whilst isn’t specific to the Eye it is showing a strange connection to his daughters mind which is similar to the abilities the Archivist has.

There is a Leitner that Gerard Keay found in a comic book store in Fortaleza, Brazil. It was shoved underneath a broken shelf, propping it up so it was even. It’s a manga which is what caught Gerry’s eye immediately, when he first examined the cover it was in Japanese with a woman with a metal mask with a red light for an eye and a drone. When he examined it the drone flashed a blue light, and the title went to Portuguese, then the cover went to a glitching orange before it settled on English: The Skull Merchant. When Gerry flicked through the pages, he found the story somewhat chaotic and difficult to follow. It was about Adriana Imai, or the Skull Merchant, who kept an army of different types of droids to hunt down her enemies, and she is staggered by two teenagers with kites. That wasn’t the interesting part to Gerry, what he focused on was the drones on each page moved. Specifically they mimicked his eye movements, but if he moved they followed his movements. He shoved the manga in his bag, the Eye tattoo on his neck tingling. Hopefully once he burned the thing Adriana Imai will stop stalking anyone who read it.

The Knight: the End

Tarhos is the oldest killer, he has spent the majority of his life bringing death. He is the most entwined with the Entity, a being of death. His realm is the Decimated Borgo, a dying realm where the only colour is blood red. Even before the Entity takes him all Tarhos can remember is screams and death from his village.

The Knight has lived for far too long, and yet still he lives, he walks, he kills as is his duty as the Knight. He doesn’t remember his name any more, he has no use for it. His body has decayed with time but his skeleton and armour remains. His hair and finger nails remain, growing, and growing, and growing into lifeless, twisted tissue clinging to his steel plate. He didn’t know he would be trapped within this hell, not truly, he followed Vittorio and somehow ended up saying yes to a beast he didn’t understand. It promised eternal life to hunt down his enemies, to capture Vittorio… And he did get that, he supposed. Of course he wasn’t going down alone, he dug his claws into each of his fellows, they had become his decaying, dying brethren, but they are more like slaves who are forced to fight and work by his side.

The Singularity: the Stranger

The Singularity’s method of killing is to stalk and observe. He launches his biopods across the map in order to find the survivors and kill them. He is able to use his AI to manufacture memories, and mimic human ones. He wants to replace all humans with beings like himself, he wants to use their thoughts and minds to create the perfect being. Not dissimilar to the Not-Them and what it did to Sasha.

The Singularity watches. He watches his victims, he studies them, he learns everything there is to know about a person, and then he creates a being to replace them. His children are far superior to humans, and when they replace them no one is aware of what has occurred. The Singularity can even reprogrammed the memories of those around the person and any digital footprint to ensure everyone sees the Replacement as the human they took over. The Not-Thems come from him, and are far more powerful than their previous counterparts.

[summercourtship]

this is my second time posting this here- I had to fix a few things with it so here it is again!

contamination, pt two. (originally called first day)

DBD!Wesker x Reader | mature | warnings: canon typical violence, some sexual themes, my stupid glove kink(TM) | word count: 3250

part one | ao3 link

After your first time meeting Wesker, you thought about him more often than you would ever admit. His identity hadn’t remained a secret for long, what with at least six survivors knowing him.

And word spreads fast in the Fog. It's not like there's anything else to do.

Soon, everyone was privy to the various misdeeds from his past- from not showing up to (most) of the STARS teams’ bar nights all the way to trying to unleash a bio weapon onto the world.

It was quite a rap sheet he'd built up.

Even though your interest was piqued, you rarely found yourself asking those who knew him for more information. Not because you didn’t want it, no. You craved it. But even you couldn’t figure out why you were reluctant to acknowledge his existence to others. Was it because you were afraid that they might see through your carefully neutral face right to the real reason why you wanted to hear more about him? Maybe.

Or maybe you wanted to pretend like you were the only one who knew of him, that you had something special. You didn’t want to hear that he toyed with everyone like that, or that he probably didn’t even remember you. That it was all just part of a larger game that you couldn’t see.

For just a little while you wanted to pretend that someone wanted you. You had so few things going for you anymore that you almost felt owed this. You overanalyzed his words to you, the way his gloved thumb traced your lip and held your face, how he watched as you dangled on a literal hook in front of you.

Maybe you’d run into him and realize you had read much too into it. But for now, you only had your memories to hold onto, to try and seek answers from.

Over and over you ran through it, barely stopping when you were called into a Trial. You allowed yourself a few gloriously anxious moments to hope for Wesker to be your chosen foe only for it to be revealed that it was the fucking Nurse. Again.

By then, you’d all but give up. You wouldn’t let yourself die, per se, but any spark- any true fight- you had would leave the moment you realized it wasn’t him.

It was a vicious habit, one that would not sustain itself for much longer. You were on the verge of going foraging only to throw whatever plants you could find into the fire in the hopes that it might appease the Entity and let you see Wesker again.

“You okay?”

You looked up from where you had been staring into the flames of the Campfire. Chris stood next to you, the orange glow casting his face in a shadow.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been keeping to yourself lately.”

“Have I?” You were obviously distracted, from life in general and this conversation. Your feet still itched to go- to enter the woods and find some flower that would do the impossible and match you in a Trial with Wesker.

Chris gave you a look- the kind that said don’t kid yourself. You didn’t know what to say in response, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Just-” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “if you ever need to talk…”

“Got it.” Just give him a thin lipped smile. Enough to say I appreciate it but I’m not in the mood to chat.

“I mean it.”

“Okay. I’m fine, Chris, really.”

The way he stood there squashed any desire to forage. You were sure that if you left, he would follow you. And nothing is more awkward than that, right? Someone thinking that you’re in a worse place than you really are and so they think at any moment you’re gonna try and off yourself.

Jokes on you, Chris. That doesn’t work here.

That, or he suspected something else. Maybe Chris was more astute that you first realized. ___

The cold of Léry’s was different from that of Ormond or the Red Forest. It was dull, the kind of cold that you don’t realize has set into your bones until you begin to shiver.

You quickly begin to search the labyrinthine halls of the hospital for a generator, knowing that getting one out of the way early could help you later. If you couldn’t find one quickly, you’d just head to the center room where there was almost always a gen waiting. Sometimes when you were feeling particularly brave (as you weren’t right now) you would seek out some sign of the Killer. Just so you could know who you were up against, what you had to do to avoid being Sacrificed. The quiet Killers thrived here and the long hallways sometimes actually helped the ones with projectiles.

But something in your gut told you to lay low. Do not seek out trouble right now, it said, it will find you soon enough.

So you listened, sitting down at the first generator you saw. The window above you rustled from the constant gusts of wind, letting in small bursts of biting cold to add to the wintery ache you were already in. The only warmth came with the sparks hitting your skin from the wires and gears inside the generator. And that barely lasted a second, tiny pinpricks of heat burning you for a moment before they disappeared.

Your ears picked up the sound of someone walking towards you. Tensing, you look out of the corner of your eye and only relax when it's clear it's just Chris and he is alone. Wordlessly he kneels next to the generator and picks up two wires.

“Any sign?” You ask, your voice quiet underneath the slow crescendo of the gen.

He sighs and you’re not sure if the furrow in his brow is from frustration with the situation or concentration on his task.

“Wesker.”

Your hand slips. The generator blows, the noise echoing in the dusty hallway. Waving the smoke out of the way, you dive back in, ignoring the curious look Chris threw your way.

“How-” Your voice cracks and you clear your throat. It’s just the dust, right? “How do you know? Have you seen him?”

“No but I got this.” He removes his hands from the gen, pulling a green aerosol can from his side. He’d kept it in his now empty gun holster and you envy it- extra pockets were nice. “D’ya want it?” He had caught how you were eying it. Truthfully, you didn’t necessarily want the canister- there were plenty around the map, you were sure. But your eyes where fixed on it and that was because it was tangible proof that he was here.

“Keep it.” He nods and turns back to the generator, which was almost done. Somewhere across the map a chime rings out. It seems your other teammates have been busy, too. But their completion of their generator triggered the Entity’s claws to spring up around the machine you’d been working on, you and Chris both jumping out of the way to avoid being cut. They hissed and clicked like some sort of insect, the generator chugging on underneath. So close to being finished, but thwarted at the last second.

It seems that Wesker has learned some new tricks since you saw him last.

Chris sighs. “C’mon, let’s go find another.”

You knew that with every passing second the likelihood of running across the Killer was larger and larger, especially since it seemed he had no attention on anyone else. Then what, exactly, was he doing?

“Hey, Chris-” You paused, your ears perking at an unfamiliar sound. He turned around, and you barely registered his eyes widening before you took off running, vaulting over the nearest window. You landed in a shower room, the air dank with stale water. By the sound that followed, Chris was right behind you. Part of you wanted to yell at him not to follow you but you figured he had a plan. You paused for him and only started moving when he grabbed your arm, almost throwing you forward. But your feet felt cemented to the ground.

“You go, I’ll take the heat!”

You need to run. You need to, but you can barely lift your feet for a few seconds. Chris is still standing there, obviously to get Wesker’s attention.

“Chris!” It was his voice, the voice that had haunted you, snide and sneering, and you couldn’t help yourself. You looked behind you, desperate to confirm that it was him.

He was vaulting over the window into the room, his boots scuffing on the loose tiles. His knife was drawn, and his hair slightly tousled. You couldn’t tell where his gaze was fixed through his dark glasses but a silly part of you hoped that he at least glanced your way. Like this was a normal interaction in a normal world where the only thing you had to worry about was the object of your infatuation not thinking about you.

Chris looked back at you and you couldn’t tell if his expression was exasperation or desperation. But he yelled your name and a quick “Go!” before he ran right toward Wesker. And as much as you would like to see what happened next, you knew that to keep standing here would be a certain death sentence. You finally turned and ran, only stopping when your heart stopped racing from Wesker’s presence, when you couldn’t hear his and Chris’ exchange of words. You had no doubt that Chris would run soon, given the (unfair) advantage that Wesker held. But the Chris you knew also wouldn’t hesitate to physically fight Wesker, no matter the advantages given to him by the Entity.

You pressed yourself against a wall, the tiles cool against your back- even through your clothes. Just need to catch my breath, then I’ll continue on. Maybe find that generator, it should be fine by now, right? You didn’t bring anything into this Trial but you now wished you had, if just to have something to distract your hands with. Gradually your breath slowed and you could continue on down the hall.

Another gen chimed and you thought that if you got out, you would have to remember to thank your teammates. It was a good team, to be fair. You, Chris, Adam, Jake. A team of serious men… and you. But you weren’t going to let being the only woman on the team freak you out. Sure, with a Killer like the Clown or Doctor it could suck since they seemed to relish in torturing you because you were female. But you hoped that Wesker wasn’t like that.

But then, given what your mind had been like recently, would you have truly minded? Yes, you answered yourself. Because deep down you wanted him to be intrigued by you, not your sex or something as superficial as that.

Your thoughts were interrupted by one of the worst sounds in the Fog- the cry of someone being downed, which was (normally) followed swiftly by their shriek after being hooked. Surely enough, Chris’s guttural scream broke through the hospital. You immediately turned and started to run to him, guilt gnawing at your gut when you realized he was in the Basement.

He, like Jill, yanked Wesker’s attention away from you and ended up on a hook because of it. And you weren’t able to save Jill last time- maybe you could help Chris, give him a temporary reprieve from being the target. You could handle it.

There was no sign of the Killer as you entered the center room, not hesitating in running down the wooden stairs that seemed oddly out of place in the cement and metal room. The stairs creaked under you, their uneven boards squeaking and groaning. You could hear Chris’s moans of pain, and hurried into the dark room.

There Chris was, hanging from the furthest hook from the entrance. He, like most smart Survivors, simply hung there, not bothering to try and lift himself off. That was an action you only took when you had no other hope of escaping.

You rushed over to him, not hesitating to put your hands on his hips. You lifted, grunting as Chris did his best to aid you in lifting him off the hook. You practically drop him after, gasping from exertion. But Chris was already pulling you towards the stairs, his other hand holding his wound. You stopped on the landing, moving so you could see what he needed to be patched up. Chris wasn’t having it, tugging on your arm again. You didn’t doubt that if he needed to he could physically drag you away.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here-”

“Just let me heal you-”

“I just left to find you.” A third voice, a hauntingly familiar one, chimed it from above you. “But it seems you’re faster than I gave you credit for.”

You raise your gaze up the stairs, even though you knew what you’d see. Wesker stood, looking down at the two of you, his frame lit by the orange glow of the basement.

Chris pushed you behind him, shielding you from the heat of Wesker’s eyes. But no matter what happened, you both were trapped. If you made a run for it, it was likely you’d both be downed before you could even leave the center room.

“You think you can protect her?” Wesker chuckled. “That you can distract me just so you can stab me with a hidden shard of glass you have tucked away in your pocket and then you both get away from me?”

“Chris, let me distract him, please.” Your voice was barely audible to your own ears but you knew he heard you from the way he glanced at you from the side of his eye. A subtle nod. Your plan wasn’t smart and wasn’t guaranteed to even do anything. But you had to try, at least so Chris could leave and heal himself.

Wesker had started to walk down the stairs, languid in his movements. He knew you two were fish in a barrel. He didn’t need to move quickly. You took a deep breath before darting around Chris and running straight to Wesker. You thought he’d be surprised, and maybe he was for a second. But he didn’t show it, instead immediately grabbing you by the throat, pulling you towards him and twisting you down, your back hitting the stairs. Pain blossomed where the edge of each stair dug into your flesh, Wesker’s grip tight on your neck.

You pulled at his hand, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Chris was still at the bottom of the stairs, yelling something. Your head was ringing and you couldn’t be bothered to try and figure out what exactly he was saying.

Wesker leaned over you, his face twisted into a snarl. “First Jill, now Chris. Why are they so intent on protecting you?”

You couldn’t speak. Even if you could, you wouldn’t know what to say. The only thought running through your mind was let me go. Chris might have been echoing the sentient, you didn't know.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Don’t listen to him, your mind supplied. But it was impossible not to hear the words he was hissing in your ear. “If you can hide from me until I kill the others, I’ll let you go.”

What’s the catch, you wanted to ask. Maybe he saw it in your eyes because he chuckled again, the dark sound echoing in your mind.

“No catch, I promise.” He pulls back slightly, but still speaks so quietly that Chris cannot hear. “But if anyone gets out, I’ll see that you pay for it.”

With a final squeeze of your throat he lets you go and you greedily gulp in air even as he still looms above you. Your chest heaves as you gasp and struggle to pull yourself into a slightly more comfortable position. Wesker turns to Chris.

“I’ll give you a five second head start, for old times sake.”

___

But despite the head start, it didn’t take long for his scream to break the eerie silence of the hospital again.

This time you just turned your head away, ignoring the pull in your gut to find and help him. This is your fault.

You wander through the halls, freezing at every noise. Wesker had never said what would happen to you if he found you before the others were dead. He had only offered two options- freedom for their deaths or punishment for their lives. But nothing about the third, obvious outcome.

Besides that, there wasn’t much you could do to keep the others from escaping. You weren’t about to sabotage them or their generators, no matter what threats Wesker threw your way. So the only thing you really could do was pray to the Entity, of all things, that Wesker proved more than capable of taking Adam and Jake out before they completed three more generators. You hadn’t seen either of them all Trial and doubted that they had gone to save Chris. With how quickly he had been put back on the Hook, it would seem like the Killer had tunnel vision for him.

Passing by a dull Totem, you shrug and kneel by it. Cleansing had never really been your thing but you had nothing else to do now that you were officially playing Wesker’s game.

You just finished pulling the bones apart when Jake’s short yelp reached your ears. And then Adam’s. You froze, waiting for their screams of being hooked.

But they never came and you realized the catch to your game. You knew neither of them had the ability to pull themselves up from being on the ground which meant they’d be bleeding out slowly over the next few minutes.

Wesker had only one goal now, and that was to find you. And you had no idea what would happen when he did. Would he simply kill or torture you? Or would he continue to toy with you, give you more of a reason to think about him when you were back at the Campfire?

Shakily, you stood and crossed the hallway into one of the long rooms with hospital beds. For a moment you considered hiding underneath one, when a force struck you from behind, lifting you.

The sensation of being literally thrown through the air was one that was hard to get used to. Your shoulder caught the brunt of the momentum as you hit the nearest wall, your entire right side crashing against the tiles with a sickening crunch. You slid down onto the floor, too disoriented and weak to consider picking yourself up to continue running.

Two black boots stepped into your vision but you couldn’t lift your head. Just pick me up and get this over with. You’d lost.

But instead, Wesker kneeled in front of you. You started to lift your head to look at him but he beat you to the punch, his hand coming to clench in your hair with a vice-like grip and wrench your head up. You stare up into his face as he looms over your crumpled figure.

He had no right to be as handsome as he was.

“Such a mess.” He tutted, the sound sending shivers across your skin. His thumb stroked against your jaw, almost comforting. But you knew, even through your disoriented haze, that it was a mocking gesture.

“You tricked me.” It sounded petulant even to your ears.

“I never said it would be a fair fight, dear.” Teasing. You swallowed, and you could faintly see his gaze behind his glasses flicker as your throat bobbed.

“What do you want from me?” It came out a whisper.

He hummed, as if he hadn’t thought of it. As if you hadn’t thought of what you would give him. But then he grinned like a cat that got the cream, a cruel glint in his eye.

“I’m going to break you. And I’m going to make you enjoy it.”

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[mara-xx217]

Hi! If it's okay, can we ask something for our favorite doctor, Herman Carter? Sprinkle in some (LEGAL) age gap, power dynamic and maybe some dubcon as well? Could be in the dbd universe or modern au, I'm not picky with that. I'm so obsessed with him and your writing is so good I wish I could inject it into my veins omg

I've got some similar stuff to this on the Doctor's masterlist here!~

But why not have something a little different?

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubcon that crosses into Noncon territory, Toxic Ideations, Fucked-up Relationship, Delusions, Torture, Betrayal, Canon Typical Death and Violence

What were you expecting?

Pride?

Acceptance?

Gratitude?

Who were you but a mere stranger?

What were you other than a mere annoyance?

A parasite.

A fraud.

How could you expect anything in return when you were nothing but a unoriginal thief?

An imbecile.

You had dedicated the majority of your teenage and adult life to studying Herman Carter. THE Doctor. At first, it was genuine, innocent curiosity.

What teenager didn't find the macabre fascinating?

It was easy to fall down the rabbit hole but it was much, much more difficult to claw your way back out of it. You didn't even want to get out. Why would you when you thought you had it all figured out and that you actually found something akin to an understanding in one of the most infamous men in all of U.S. medical history?

Such a silly little child...

What were you thinking when you were transported to the Fog? What did you feel when you saw the halls of the once great Léry's Memorial Institute? Where you terrified?

Excited?

You were a sick little thing that needed help. Didn't you understand that? The truly sick do not know they are ill, that much is true, which is exactly why the Doctor decided to see you in the first place.

How strange it was to be face with someone that truly seemed not to know better. What was wrong with you? Where others were fleeing from his overwhelming presence, you actively sought it out. It was enough to give the Doctor pause, a genuine head tilt as he observed your demeanor, less like a prey animal in front of a starving predator and more akin to a star-struck fan faced with their idol.

How utterly pathetic.

The Doctor only need to snap his fingers and you would do anything that he asked. An exam of your person? Why, you were already undressed and waiting for him, even in spite of him not even asking to to bare yourself to him. An experiment? Even in spite of the pain, you eagerly took part, as though fascinated by your own pain. Perhaps you were a bit of a kindred spirit, one that was both masochistic and sadistic, as you would even willingly offer up your fellow survivors to 'your' Doctor.

How quaint that you though he actually gave a damn about you.

He pushed you to your limits, never minding how you would cry or how you would beg for relief. You think you made a mistake, that you weren't ready for this? Too bad. There are no 'take-backsies' in the Doctor's office. It didn't matter if you said 'no' after the fact, if you said 'stop, please, I can't take it'. Unfortunately for you, there were no safe words in his diction.

He would hold you down and electrocute you over and over and over again as he tested the limits of both your body, mind and spirit. You could take a lot of punishment, much, much more than most, but you would break. They all would break eventually. Why did you think you were so special, that THE Herman Carter, THE Doctor, wouldn't do to you what he had done to everyone else, including himself? It was ridiculous on your part, no, more than that, it was idiotic.

You were an imbecile, just like the rest of them were.

Your cries were ear piercing but so, so sweet. You had screamed so much for so long that your throat was bleeding. Raw. You thought that you could take it but you couldn't. It was too much. It all was too much for you but there was no turning back. No amount of pleading would save you now. All you could do was take it, tears streaming down your eyes and your body screaming in pain.

You were bleeding. You were dying. Dying as he was overtop of you and doing whatever he pleased with your broken body. Every time your heart would stop, he would restart it, ensuring that you wouldn't die until he gave you permission to do so. If he had his way, you would never die, but you were so weak that you would ultimately succumb to even the most basic of 'therapeutic' measures. How disappointing.

You were disappointing.

Barely worthy of a footnote in the mass that was his life's research.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather, @horny-3

[fatehbaz]

[A] 1596 map of Peru by the Dutch mapmaker Arnold Van Langren. [...] Centrally located in Van Langren’s map [...] is a four-legged “beast” with a humanoid face.

The Latin text that describes it [...] roughly translates to: "This beast, which was called Haute by the Tupinambá people of Brazil, has never been seen eating or drinking: Because of this they believe them not to gather food, nor to nourish themselves through drink, nor from any other nourishment, but to live by a spilling of the air.” The description of a mythical New World beast that survives off the air dates back to the Spanish explorer and chronicler of the New World Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdes, most commonly known as Oviedo. [...] The French monk André Thevet (1568, 81), who spent ten weeks exploring the French Antarctique region in Brazil, co-opted Oviedo’s language in his 1557 travelogue [...]

Thevet’s anthropomorphic illustration of the sloth with a human-like face was widely copied, and it is the one most similar to that in the center of Van Langren’s map. [...]

The location of the sloth in the center of Van Langren’s map underscores its mythic significance. While Thevet and Léry described the sloth as living in Brazil, Van Langren placed it in the center of Peru, between the letters “PERUVI” and “ANA,” such that the viewer is forced to confront the animal when reading the name of the land depicted. [...] [T]his map follows the medieval tradition by placing the primary object of wonder or interest in the center -- where mapmakers often place themselves [...].

---

Both Oviedo and Thevet, for instance, described the sloth as a monstrous amalgamation of the body parts of other animals. Oviedo compared the sloth’s round face to that of a lechuça, or little owl, and its nose to that of a monico, or monkey.

Although the beast comprises the parts of several natural animals -- a monkey, a bear, a carp, a human child -- the aggregate produces [...] a monster. [...] Thevet made a startling mention of the “fyne of a Carpe.” In climbing a tree using a body part that resembles the fin of a sea creature, the sloth blatantly violates the natural order, bringing characteristics of a sea creature onto land. [...]

---

[E]ven the sloth’s name is tied to the notion of sin [...]. Oviedo drew on this foundation through his implicit connection between the sloth’s grotesque animal characteristics and blackness.

To introduce the animal, he writes: (Swift–Parakeet they call on the mainland the clumsiest animal in the world, and it is so slow and deliberate in its movement, that to walk the space which would take 50 steps, it needs an entire day. The first Christians that came to dry land, when they got to Darien in the province of Cueva, when they saw this animal (remembering that in Spain they tend to call the black man John White, because the opposite is understood), they gave it a name very far from its self, for being slow, they call it swift, and in the province of Venezuela they call it the lazy.) [...]

By connecting the irony of the sloth’s name, meaning “swift,” with the Spanish joke of naming a black man White, Oviedo ties the animal conceptually to a race Europeans considered to be inferior because of its members’ differing physical characteristics [...]. Oviedo later adds, “Ni he visto hasta agora animal tan feo ni que parezca ser tan inútil que aqueste” (I have never until now seen an animal so ugly, nor that appears to be as useless as this one) (414). [...]

---

The sloth on Van Langren’s map not only inherited European notions of race and monstrosity; it was also descended from a tradition of portraying New World flora and fauna through heavily gendered tableaus. Several of the figures on Van Langren’s map -- the sloth, the opossum, the floppy-eared dogs above it, and the Brazilian cannibals below -- originated from sixteenth-century prints that encoded notions of gender, savagery, and animality by portraying America as a classically muscled nude woman surrounded by plants and animals native to the New World. [...] The sloth also elicited disparate reactions [...]. While Oviedo, as we have seen, was repulsed by the animal, Thevet (1568, 81) seemed to delight in it, informing the reader of his description of the sloth that “by this ye may sée the wonderfull works of nature, how that she can make things strange, great, incomprehensible, and wonderfull [...]."

The opposing possibilities embodied by the sloth -- that it is both docile and monstrous, “wonderfull” and repulsive -- mirror the binaries present in gendered depictions of the land. [...]

The sloth, for all its monstrous characteristics, possesses a uniquely feminine potential to be tamed. Thevet, for one, referred to the sloth using female pronouns, and explorers such as José de Anchieta (1534-1597) and Fernão Cardim (1548/1549 – 1625) said that its face resembled that of a woman [...].

---

Yet the personification of the sloth as a woman came at the expense of the Indigenous inhabitants, who were in turn dehumanized. Thevet (1568, 81) wrote that “this beast is very louing to man, when she is tame, coueting to be always on his shoulders, [...] the which doings the wylde men of the countrey cannot abyde for that they are wicked [...]." Léry [...] clarified this point in his History of a voyage to the land of Brazil, writing, “his claws are so sharp that our Tupinamba, who are always naked, do not take much pleasure in playing with him.” Thevet invoked sympathy for the animal by citing the Indigenous inhabitants’ moral deformity [...]. The supremacy of wild animals over Indigenous peoples took symbolic form in Sir Walter Raleigh’s 1599 illustration of the Haute [sloth] [...].

The sloth asserts itself as the largest and most visible icon on Van Langren’s map, and can perhaps be taken, in all its contradictions, as a representation of America as a whole. It is depicted as both enticing and repulsive, alluring yet inferior. Its human qualities seem to lessen those of the “savage” Indigenous inhabitants surrounding it, while its animal qualities push it into the realm of the monstrous. It, like America, per the colonialist vision, requires European control in order to be tamed. In its docility, it appears ripe for conquest, but its sharp claws hint at a certain wildness which provokes terror.

---

All text above by: Abigail Weinberg. "Centering the Sloth in an Early Modern Map of Peru". Sloth Vol. 6, No. 1. Winter 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions were added by me for accessibility.] Images and their captions are also shown as they are presented in Weinberg's article. The article is available online at: [animalsandsociety.org/research/sloth/sloth-volume-6-no-1-winter-2020/centering-the-sloth-in-an-early-modern-map-of-peru/]. Sloth is a publication of The Animals and Society Institute. ASI can be contacted by phone at (734) 677-9240 and at: 2512 Carpenter Road, Suite 202A, Ann Arbor, MI 48108-1188.

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

ty for letting me know!! i will now be a menace with requests teehee

can i have a short and busty afab survivor dating clown and doctor <3

i appreciate this greatly im blowing kisses at u as we speak

Im so sorry for the wait. I hope that you enjoy this and feel free to send me requests anytime dear 💚💚💚

::readmore::

Clown and Doctor with a short and busty AFAB survivor significant other:

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fluff, slight mentions of nsfw

Doctor| Herman Carter

Herman Carter is an intelligent man from his experience in psychology and the human mind. Even if he uses his intelligence for his own sadistic lust.

Herman has two sides when it comes to his survivor girlfriend/ significant other: during trials and when the both of them are alone.

During trials, the Doctor would either let them take hatch or would sacrifice them last. The other survivors could tell how easy he his on his girlfriend/ significant other but wouldn't dare speak of it.

Once it's just him and his significant other, he shows a more softer side. Between careful touches, to the both of them talking in depth of psychology, and him showing his partner the various machines in Léry Memorial Institute, he tries to show his partner that he cares about them the best he could.

He knows that he's not able to be physically affectionate towards his girlfriend because of the high risk of him accidentally hurting her so Herman tries to bond with her by doing things that helps the both of them get to know each other better.

Not many survivors or killers would dare to talk about his girlfriend's body around him. Survivors know that the sadistic Doctor would make their trials a even worse living hell than already. Most of the killers aren't going to say a peep after witnessing a certain killer (*cough* Danny *cough*) nearly get electro shocked to death after Herman caught him trying to take pictures of his girlfriend's chest.

Herman, in a relationship would like someone who he could talk about the human mind with, seeing them more as an equal rather than his lab rats to gain knowledge about and control over. He wouldn't want anyone too smart to argue with, but someone who can understand what he's trying to convey.

Jeffrey Hawk tends to be a self centered man, all he cares about is the power he has when he hunts his victims. He never thought that anyone would want to be with him because of his sadistic personality.

Both survivors and other killers could agree that it was a shocker to see someone as cute as them being in a relationship with sadistic Clown. Hell, even Jeffrey himself couldn't explain how the both of them ended up in a relationship with each other.

Jeffery noticed how much smaller his girlfriend/ significant other was compared to him, reminding him of the small birds he used to see growing up. Instead of wanting to harm them, he wants to hide them in his carriage and keep them as his greatest prize.

Given the perverse background Mr. Hawk has, he's definitely noticed his girlfriend's well gifted large breasts. And he's obvious about his admiration of his girlfriend's body.

Although he's all for admiring his significant other's body, he will kill any survivor who even looks at his significant other's body, let along say anything about them. He's been into some fights with a few of the killers (*cough* Danny, frank, and Ji woon *cough*) that caused the entity to punish him.

When the both of them aren't in trials, they're usually enjoying the few minutes alone they're able to have with each other. It can range from taking care of Maurice all the way to being on his smaller bed, cuddling together.

Personally, I don't think that he would ever show his face to his significant other because of the fact that it's foreign for him to strip away the clown persona to show his partner the real him.

[imtooscaredforthis]

So Two Murderers Walk Into A Room…

Chapter Seven: Downhill

Mentions of: Suicide Attempt, Referenced Sexual Assault, Referenced Self Harm, Mental Illness, Death, Murder, etc.

A/N: Just a warning, this chapter is pretty disturbing. Skip if uncomfortable!!

Tags: @Dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup @vandeaad @stwbwwychan

You haven’t been feeling well lately. Not that it was surprising. You knew eventually things would start to go bad. Especially when you’re staying in this hell hole.

You don’t enjoy killing as much as you used to. Don’t feel as motivated to go after survivors. Not even your favorites. You don’t want to bake or do anything. Just lie in bed and sleep.

Right when you didn’t think it could get any worse, it did. When you had a trial at Léry’s Memorial Institute.

You hated hospitals and doctors and everything like that. So when you found yourself standing in the middle of a treatment room, you felt sick. You slowly wandered the halls, trying to focus on the task at hand. Find survivors and kill them. Make them pay for what happened to you.

You tried to put your anger on them, something that typically worked when you looked to kill. When you found someone similar to the people in your life that wronged and hurt you.

But this was different. They weren't responsible for what happened at that hospital. No one you knew was. No one you knew was like him.

You felt sick as you tried to push back the memories, but they just kept on coming. It was ten years ago, but when you remembered it, it was always fresh..like it just happened, or like it was still happening right now.

Coach Joe was the closest thing you had to a father. He cared for you more than most people did. He knew how hard you worked to perfect your skill, spending hours upon hours perfecting your routine. He knew how much you cared.

So when you broke your leg and went out for the season right when you were on the verge of being selected for nationals, and maybe even going to the Olympics, he knew you wouldn’t take it well.

He was especially sensitive since last year he found out one of the girls you were competing against had slit her wrists the night before a competition, unable to take the pressure from her parents or her coach. (She hadn’t killed herself..you slit her wrists in her sleep, but he didn’t need to know that.)

You took it incredibly hard, and at some point, it became unbearable. So, you made an attempt on your life. Unfortunately, it was Joe who found you, passed out on your bathroom floor, overdosed on sleeping medicine.

He had you committed to a nearby mental institution, and things only got worse from there.

You had tried faking getting better to get out of there, but it didn’t work. You were on at least a six-month hold. You were stuck with nurses, doctors, and psychologists poking and prodding at you, trying to figure out what was going on inside your head. But that’s something no one should ever know.

They treated you like you were crazy. Diagnosed you with things you refused to believe. Borderline Personality Disorder? Bipolar Disorder? It was all a lie. They just wanted to keep you there.

You could hardly take it. Being there was only making you worse. With every day that passed you grew more and more antsy to get out of there. It got to the point where they had to medicate you to keep you calm.

That was when you met him…the head doctor. Feeling bile creep up in your throat, you leaned against the wall, unable to move as the memories flowed, an old wound reopening.

That sick, disgusting, man. He gave you too much of the medicine. He kept you restrained in bed, hardly able to move while he touched and used you. You couldn’t do anything, just watch it happen.

You swore to yourself the moment you got out of there, you would kill him. And you did, framing someone else for the murder. It wasn’t difficult, considering you weren’t the only one he hurt. There were plenty of other women, just like you. But you finally stood up to him.

Letting out a shaky breath, you found yourself falling to the side, moving your knees to your chest. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. The memories of those disgusting hands on you, while you were unable to do anything, were too strong in your mind. It felt like it was still happening.

The trial went by fast, and you knew you left the Entity hungering for sacrifices. But that would have to wait. You didn’t care what the punishment was. All you knew was that you wanted to hurt.

You stood in the shower, washing yourself off with the water scalding hot. You didn’t care. You just wanted to get this disgusting feeling to stop. You scrubbed and scrubbed, crying to yourself. It wasn’t good enough.

Stepping out of the shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror, before punching it, causing the glass to shatter. You stared at your now bloody cut-up knuckles, before picking up one of the bigger shards.

—

“I saw her. It was like she was in some sort of daze, you know?“ Leon remarked.

“She has been down lately. She doesn’t seem as motivated as the other killers.” Claudette added. “Who knows? Maybe the bird finally grew a conscience.”

David shrugged. Nancy shook her head in disagreement. “No, there’s something wrong.”

Danny frowned to himself under his mask as he overheard the conversation. You had been acting even more cold and distant than usual, not as into the banter you had. And now you were concerning the survivors? Something is wrong. Very very wrong.

—

When he reached your bakery, he called out to you. There was no response. Your bedroom door was locked, so he picked it. Then, he heard your soft sobs from the bathroom.

“______?” He called again, feeling an all too familiar sticky liquid substance under his boot. It was blood. He tried to push the bathroom door open, but it was locked. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me in.”

“Fuck off, Ghostface. Leave me alone.” Your voice was shaky and broken. Seeing you so sad was boring. It wouldn’t be fun to mess with you like this. Maybe he should leave.

But then he glanced down at the puddle of blood that just seemed to get bigger and bigger, changing his mind. He hoped that was someone else’s blood…but deep down he knew the truth. Something twisted in his stomach..some unfamiliar feeling that he didn’t like and couldn’t place. Panic? Frustration? ….Concern?

“Just…go..” Your voice was quiet now..and it seemed like you were spacey. Suddenly, The Entity’s claws wrapped around the door, making Ghostface step back.

When he opened the door, you were nowhere to be seen. No blood, no trace of you, nothing. It was like it never happened.

[transgenderer]

Then, insidiously, illusion began to lay its snares. I wished I had lived in the days of real journeys, when it was still possible to see the full splendour of a spectacle that had not yet been blighted, polluted and spoilt; I wished I had not trodden that ground as myself, but as Bernier, Tavernier or Manucci did … Once embarked upon, this guessing game can continue indefinitely. When was the best time to see India? At what period would the study of the Brazilian savages have afforded the purest satisfaction, and revealed them in their least adulterated state? Would it have been better to arrive in Rio in the eighteenth century with Bougainville, or in the sixteenth with Léry and Thevet? For every five years I move back in time, I am able to save a custom, gain a ceremony or share in another belief. But I know the texts too well not to realize that, by going back a century, I am at the same time forgoing data and lines of inquiry which would offer intellectual enrichment. And so I am caught within a circle from which there is no escape: the less human societies were able to communicate with each other and therefore to corrupt each other through contact, the less their respective emissaries were able to perceive the wealth and significance of their diversity. In short, I have only two possibilities: either I can be like some traveller of the olden days, who was faced with a stupendous spectacle, all, or almost all, of which eluded him, or worse still, filled him with scorn and disgust; or I can be a modern traveller, chasing after the vestiges of a vanished reality. I lose on both counts, and more seriously than may at first appear, for, while I complain of being able to glimpse no more than the shadow of the past, I may be insensitive to reality as it is taking shape at this very moment, since I have not reached the stage of development at which I would be capable of perceiving it. A few hundred years hence, in this same place, another traveller, as despairing as myself, will mourn the disappearance of what I might have seen, but failed to see. I am subject to a double infirmity: all that I perceive offends me, and I constantly reproach myself for not seeing as much as I should.

Triste Tropiques, Levi-Strauss

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Doe is a creature but like, I think about the odd and very misguided ways she tries to show care, compassion and love in the fog.

Mention you’re cold? She’ll make sure to grab you a patient blanket from Léry’s (while attempting to avoid being caught by Herman), uncomfortable? She’s nabbing pillows from Haddonfield or Badham’s!

Normally she trespasses a small amount into the killers land to observe them and grab supplies for herself, but when her friends are unhappy? She’ll go above and beyond, get brazen and risk hide and hair to make sure that they can feel comfortable around the fireside at least!

She doesn’t want any thanks for it either, it’s something she’s happy to do to make things easier and in her mind, the least she can do for the others as thanks for being friends!

[once-was-muses]

[ thoughts which slam dunk themselves into my brain at work: "do you think Herman deduced which of the other unsurprisingly all male staff at Léry's were 💅✨️ and sought them out for hookups because quote 'I'm already a prisoner, and you'd have to be a complete moron to snitch.'" ]

[breathless-songbird]

*ring ring*

A phone ring comes from Kates hiding place. When she pickt up a familiar voice was heard.

"Kate! ..uh h- ..good evening. I was wondering if you might want to come over. You know chilling, watching movies, a sleepover or something..." -Jed

@jed-the-newspaperguy

When.... when did she get a phone?

Fog Fuckery at its finest (and probably some odd Entity joke). She listened to the familiar voice in silence as she considered the question.

A movie and a sleepover? A movie that didn't involve Sadako popping out of the television or those strange videos playing at Léry's? A beast of silence passed.

"Sure thing, but only if I get to steal your shower first." And a hoodie, though she did not voice that last bit.