#that is not a human. that is not an animal. that is a machine and it hates.

[midnight-mourning]

Love Bites

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 8💘💘

Okay okay okay, back on track now, please enjoy this little diaster i made based on @divinit3a's yeti boys, it was, quite fun >:3c

Prompt: umm letseee... valentines...Typically the Sun is not Out.... (for... Reasons... ahah.) but----loves to hunt, and hunt for the thrill/sport/game of it. And loves to eat & eat & would love a properly cooked meal. preference to high protein meals, very rich, very tasty, salty & fatty. so Im sure if u wanted to tackle him, in particular, could have fun with that..... (Slaps a giant fish on the table. Token of affection. Totally Wont Eat You ) The Moon.......... is a lot quieter and subdued, but actually a far better caretaker. takes care of hurt animals; would probably take care of a hurt human, too. mmm hot cocoa. much pickier eater, he doesnt like much, and he doesnt like to eat meat.... I think overall, a 'meal together' would be the best valentines fhgjsdfghjsdf WITH THESE FREAKS IN PARTICULAR...

Word Count: 2907

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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The hall is quiet as you step out from your room. You strain to listen for any sign of life, nothing. Must be out. Good. That gives you more time. 

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadowed hallway, not nearly as bright as your windowed room. Though, you weren't opposed to keeping the lights off. It saved energy for one—which meant warm floor beneath your feet as you pad through the facility—and two, it kept the not as friendly yeti from making an appearance. Which, yourself and Moon were both in agreement about at least. 

When you'd first gotten here, so many months ago now, your first encounter with the yeti, robot, thing—you still haven't quite figured that one out—was less than, pleasant. Though, that may very well have been due to the state he first saw you in. Which was bloodied, bruised, and vulnerable. And as Moon would later explain it to you, that had triggered something in counterpart. Something more instinct than logical. 

Luckily for you, a ragged chase into a darkened cavern had saved you from suffering any further injury, or worse. 

Instead, you got Moon, and he was thankfully much calmer than the other bot. He also wasn't trying to kill you, so you took what you could get. He patched you up, gave you a place to stay, a nice warm bed out of the cold, and plenty of things to do while you recovered. 

When you'd first ventured out into the snow, having heard the rumors of the 'ice devil' you'd be facing, this hadn't been what you'd expected. 

Delivish upon first glance, sure. Those tusks didn't help anything, that's for certain. Not to mention Sun as a whole, the manic energy he radiated, the wild look in his eyes, the raw strength as he'd pinned you down to "Try a bite"—

But still, with Moon at the very least, the rumors didn't match up. 

He was quiet, even a bit stern in certain cases, but polite. He took his directives very seriously, but beyond that, he held a compassion you wouldn't ever have expected of a machine. Though, maybe it was because he was a bit more than that, they both were. 

Regardless, you owed him for not abandoning you out there in the frozen tundra to die. Much less putting in the effort he had to care for you.

As you traverse the hall now, there's only the slightest pain still left in your ankle as you shuffle. You'd left the crutches behind today, as you had been the past several mornings, despite the lunar-themed yeti's insistence for otherwise. 

That was another thing, the care. For a so-called devil, he had the attitude of a saint. Or well, you didn't know any saints, so a good friend then. A very good friend, at that. 

You found yourself in long conversations that would last hours, either listening to that quiet tone regale you with stories of all his travels, or sharing some of your own experiences prior to meeting them. You enjoyed the walks you'd take together through the caverns, or going with him out into the arctic—on the rare trips he would allow you with your injury—to scout for poachers and the likes. 

And those rare moments you could get him to laugh at one of your jokes, it lit something inside you that you couldn't describe. Something that albeit would be a bit more frightening than it already was if not for your situation. 

You think the combination of getting your foot caught in a bear trap, freed and then chased by a rabid yeti-bot, and then saved by the other side of that same yeti-bot, allowed you some freedom when it came to your feelings. 

But that wasn't the point to what you were doing. Rather, you wanted to show your appreciation for Moon, not your feelings. Nevermind the fact that today did just so happen to be Valentine's, having found out by checking the date on your half-dead phone. 

Besides, You didn't even know if it was even possible for him to return such affections. Truthfully, you preferred not knowing if it meant you could keep this peace you've had for so long now. You were almost afraid for when you fully healed. 

Afraid that the moment you could leave, you'd be kicked out, back into the cold to survive to find your own way back to society. That the past few months were nothing but a ruse, set up by Moon and in fact once you were at a good range, your back turned and unaware, Sun would bear down on you and—

You shake your head, no. Despite your initial encounter, Sun had been fine. He wasn't allowed out much, so you didn't speak much, though you also think he would prefer not to. It didn't necessarily have to do with you in particular, you don't think. 

Whereas Moon was more oriented to stay on task, Sun had his own personal drive to fulfill. You'd yet to figure out exactly what that was yet, however. Besides the desire to hunt and kill just for the thrill of it. Whatever it was, with your injury, you simply didn't fit into it. You had no use—for now—so he left you to your own devices. 

For now. 

You flip on the light to the kitchen area as you enter, dimmed lighting now illuminating the space. 

You'd been surprised to find there was indeed working cooking equipment in the research station. Not originally all in the same space, but with a bit of help, you'd dragged everything functional into one space. 

When it came to ingredients, you didn't have much to work with besides what either yeti brought to you. There was some very old canned food you'd found, and several containers of unopened spices, but beyond that it was slim pickings. The crate of hot coco you'd found had been a godsend. Considering the situation though, you weren't going to complain. 

The idea of making a meal had come from the simple fact of the matter that beyond hunting and protecting, Moon nor Sun did much else. So, providing nourishment would have to be your way to pay back their hospitality. Or at least, Moon's hospitality. If Sun enjoyed something you made, you'd consider that in and of itself a victory.

So, you set to work immediately. Opening the fridge, you pulled out one of the the few items in there, a massive bluefin tuna, which took up the majority of the space. You struggle to take it out, much less carry it with wobbling limbs over to the island. When you put it on the counter, you almost swear you hear it creak under the weight. 

You step back and let out a breath, admiring the giant fish for a moment. While the two really only ate for fuel—a fish like this would just simply be devoured as is from what you'd seen—you knew they could taste, and that when presented with chances to try something that was flavored in some regard, they did seem to enjoy it. Especially Sun, having taken one bite of your beef jerky and snatching the rest away for himself when you'd not been paying attention. 

Though you only had the one fish and just a few other ingredients to work with, you had several ideas in mind for how to properly utilize it. Taking the large butcher knife, you cleaned, gutted, and scaled it, and divided it up into proper pieces. 

The loin you'd make steaks out of, pan searing and basting in fats, utilizing the bit of pepper and spices you had available. You set aside three to cook and stored the rest in the freezer. 

The back you would smoke, creating some jerky from the pieces there. Thankfully, Moon kept firewood around in case the power failed entirely, and you doubted he would notice a few pieces going missing. You'd utilized one of the broken freezers for your smokehouse. 

The belly would be raw, sliced thin and served with a bit of the salty roe that you'd discovered inside the fish initially. 

As for the remaining bits of the fish, you'd stew the bones for a broth and fry the collar and cheeks as one final touch to finish off the meal. 

It was a lot, all things considered, and for them it may very well be next to nothing in comparison to their appetites, especially Sun's. But, that wasn't going to deter you from trying your best to make something from your heart. So, you got to work. 

You had no idea when Moon would return, so you tried your best to work both quickly and effectively. Thankfully, since several items were basic prep, they took very little time to come together. You enjoyed it, the process overall. After all the time being spent on you, being able to give back felt gratifying in its own way, exciting even. Again, ignoring your own feelings about the yeti. 

At some point, you even find a small radio, the batteries still good to your delight. Despite your location, you can just barely catch a signal as sappy love songs play from some far away station. You hum and dance and sing to the music as you cook, the time passing by like nothing to you in your focused state. You even are able to make yourself some hot coco, sipping on it throughout the cooking process. 

You're so focused, even, that you don't notice the towering presence hovering around the other side of the counter until you turn directly to face it. You were just setting down the last bit of the meal, ready to sit and wait for Moon's return, so color you shocked when you find yourself face to chest with Sun instead. 

His head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, expression unreadable as he examines you with that calculated stare.

"You've been busy." He states. 

You come out of your daze, shaking your head. "I-yeah. I have."

"Tore up the meat. A pity. I was going to enjoy that." He picks at one of his claws, you see a hint of red stained there before he glances back up to you, grin wide. "Though, it's not nearly as good as when it's fresh, anyhow."

You both know that fresh isn't quite what he's implying. 

You swallow, while you'd been expecting Moon—and would have preferred him, especially in this case—this was technically a gift for the day-themed yeti too.

Deciding you weren't going to let your lingering fear overtake you, you straighten up, and steady your voice. "This is all for you, actually. And Moon, of course. I, wanted to extend my thanks for, allowing me to stay these past few months." This again was technically all for Moon, but you couldn't exactly say that with Sun standing right in front of you. 

"I—Me?" He questions, eyes widening and grin falling. 

You nod. "Yeah, I um, figured that something made with a bit more care might be something you guys liked. I noticed you never really get the chance to... add more flavor to things, and you seemed to like my snacks in the past so, i just—" You stop when you find that he's eye to eye with you now, baring down on you with a serious expression you weren't anticipating. 

"You made us, me, a meal?" The way the words are half-snarled mere inches from your face makes you flinch. 

"Y-yes?"

Sun stares at you for a bit longer, and if you weren't so alarmed you'd move away. But you don't. 

After a few moments more, he huffs, then starts to chuckle, standing straight again. "Aren't you just so interesting, Little Star?" 

You feel confusion knit your brows only for them to shoot up in shock as Sun's hand suddenly grasps your chin, leaning in again. 

His other hand snatches one of the pieces of raw fish from the table, eating it in one bite. "Such an offering from you is, surprising but, despite your, obvious misconceptions about our relationship, I suppose I can consider it." He tilts your head this was and that. "You're not the worst option I've ever been presented with."

"I, huh?" 

He let's you go again, grabbing one of the steaks with his bare hands. His teeth tear through it like it's nothing. You can only watch as you try to understand what he's saying, not entirely comprehending it. 

When he's finished, he wipes his mouth, snickering to himself. "I certainly can't wait to see what he thinks of your proposition. I'm sure it will be entertaining to say the least."

Before you can respond, he walks over to the light switch, dimming the lights as low as possible, thus allowing for Moon to take his place. 

As the switch occurs, Sun makes one final remark, and it all finally clicks to you. "Something you should keep in mind though if I do accept, Sunshine, is that I don't share."

With that, you're left with an embarrassing realization, and Moon. 

You can't make eye contact with him, instead turning around and starting to busy yourself with cleaning up to distract from the burning feeling spread across your cheeks. 

You can't believe you didn't put together that something like this would mean something like that to them. But it's not like you would have known either! How were you supposed to understand the cultural differences between humans and yeti-robots that lived in abandoned research centers? This feels like something that was on them and not you to be honest. 

Your half-delusioned reasonings do nothing to stop the racing in your heart as you clean, and you just hope to finish up quickly, grab a snack for yourself, and get out of there to keep yourself from any further embarrassment. 

"It's very good, Starlight."

You pause for a moment, then hum. "Y-yeah?"

"Yes. The amount of flavor you've packed into each dish is... incredible." Moon says, sounding genuinely a bit in awe. 

It only worsens your state, mumbling back a quiet response. "I'm, I'm glad you like it."

Quiet between the two of you. The radio still plays softly throughout the space, only disrupted by the sound of clinking as you clean things up, or Moon's utensils scraping against each other. 

"So what Sun said—" "You should eat too—"

You both stop, and looking back to him, you laugh softly. 

You nod. "You first."

"Join me." He pats a seat next to him. "It's only fair after the effort you've put in."

"Oh! Okay." 

You try not to make a fool of yourself as you make your way over and sit down. You can only protest as Moon piles you a plate full of food, depositing it in front of you once he's finished. 

He hands you a fork, chuckling at the scowl on your features. "You need your energy too, if you want to stand any chance at getting better."

"You're not wrong." You sigh, taking a bite of the smoked fish. As you'd hoped, it's delicious, and you appreciate your own efforts to make such good food in that moment. 

"So,"—Moon reaches for a bit of the fried collar—"You were saying?"

You almost choke on the bite you just swallowed. You regain your composure to answer. "I, um, Sun mentioned, that um, something like this was very, very, important to you guys in a specific way. Which, honestly I didn't know and I'm so sorry if I've offended you I just wanted to do something nice—"

You're interrupted by a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

"I would say offended is nowhere close to the feelings you've elicited. Honestly." The night-themed yeti states, amusement between the words. "Rather, I find myself rather interested in your proposal, intentional or not."

Your eyes widen ever further. "Pr-proposal?"

"If I'm misreading, then I am sorry, Star. But I—"

"No!" You shake your head, trying again. "No, you're not um, misreading. But again this wasn't my intent at all. I'm definitely all for it. I mean, to a point you know, sorry this isn't something I ever expected to happen but I really do like you, a lot and—"

Instead of a kiss, a piece of tuna is pressed into your mouth, and with how good it is you can't say for sure that you'd prefer the kiss or not. As you chew, a slight scowl on your features, Moon laughs. It makes your heart flutter for a moment. 

"I really like you too. I wasn't sure that you'd feel the same, so I didn't act on those feelings. But, since you've shown that you clearly feel something,"—He snickers as you shoot him another glare—"For me, I'm more than happy to make it clear to you now."

"Gee, thanks." 

Another kiss is pressed to your hair, arm wrapping around you and you welcome it, snuggling into the warm fur next to you. You grab a piece of tuna, munching on it to hide your fluster in that moment. 

"And since he's already said it, I will too." Moon's voice is right next to your ear in that moment, low but lethal. 

"I don't share either."

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Thank you for the request @divinit3a!! I had lots and lots of fun with the yetis and i can't wait to see what else you do with them yourself, i may perhaps do a bit more when I find the time hehehehe

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[sharklovingaquarist]

Man before I got on here and saw how TERFs actually act, ngl I believed the fear mongering. Its actually really eye opening. In classic mra style, the majority of the left deems TERFs violent towards men when it's really MEN who are constantly repressing us.

I just think it's funny

TRA: UHM TERFS ARE LITERALLY WHITE FEMINISTS WHO ONLY CARE ABOUT HURTING TRANS PEOPLE! DO THEY NOT KNOW ABOUT THE THRID GENDER IN SOME POC CULTURES? THEY JUST REDUCE WOMEN TO BIRTHING MACHINES BECAUSE THATS ALL THE FEMALE BODY IS TO ME!!!!! A TERF ACTUALLY HELD A GUN TO MY HEAD ONCE TRUST ME MAN!!!

TERFs: I just donated a days earnings to women in Afghanistan while having my rights taken away. I refuse to conform to the way I was conditioned to coddle males. As you swaddle them, they'll stab you in the back. They are leeches.

Like this hivemind lie that TERFs are these violent blue haired women that just really hate poor innocent misunderstood "women" is so funny. In classic patriarchal style, women are defined like wild animals whilst never being talked to in the same lense of humanity and sentience.

To all who read this, continue to be evil revolting women. I may disagree with yall on some things, but even so I still deeply love and support you as a woman.

[igguana-art0-0]

Crowley’s feeling a little unemployed at the moment

[bootmilk]

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . boothill’s punishment. smut . sheノher — x reader ノ mentions biting . muzzle . surprise sex ノ rough sex ノ mild degradation . overstim ノ blocking minors and blank or ageless blogs…

Boothill was sulking.

It was an unnatural sight—he wasn’t the type to sulk, he was the type to sink his teeth in and make you beg him to stop. But now? Now he was sitting in the corner of the room, arms crossed over the jagged metal of his torso, the muzzle strapped tight around the lower half of his face, muffling every irritated grumble he let out.

He had been biting too much. Not just playful nips, not just teasing grazes—no, deep bites, ones that lingered in bruised purples and swollen reds, teeth marks that ached whenever you moved. He was part machine, but his jaw strength was all human, and he loved to use it on you, loved to claim you in a way that left undeniable evidence across your skin.

So you’d had to put the muzzle on him.

And now he was pissed.

His dark eyes followed your every movement, burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t speak much to begin with, but now, deprived of his ability to sink his teeth into you, he was even quieter, save for the occasional irritated huff, the muffled curses spilling out behind the metal.

Every now and then, you’d catch his fingers twitching, like he was resisting the urge to rip the thing off and lunge at you. He was glaring, sulking, grumbling like a caged animal.

You ignored him.

Mostly.

Because as much as you acted unaffected, the way he stared at you—like he was planning revenge, like he was waiting for the moment he could get his hands on you—had heat curling low in your stomach.

But you didn’t give in.

Not until later.

Not until he got the drop on you.

You hadn’t expected him to move so fast.

One moment, you were walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hideout, and the next, you were pinned.

Your back slammed against the wall, and the sound of it echoed—a sharp clank of metal on metal, because Boothill wasn’t just flesh and blood. His body was cold steel, heavy and unyielding where it pressed against yours, trapping you.

The muzzle was gone.

How had he—

Your thoughts shattered when his hand gripped your jaw, tight, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were alight with something dangerous, something hungry, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with barely restrained rage.

“You think you can put me in a goddamn muzzle?” he growled, voice rough and jagged like the edges of his cybernetic plating. “Think you can keep me from you?”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your legs, because you knew that tone.

You knew what was coming.

He didn’t give you time to answer.

His mouth crashed against yours, sharp teeth grazing your bottom lip—not biting, teasing, as if to remind you of exactly what he could be doing if you hadn’t forced that muzzle on him. His hands were rough, metal fingers digging into your thighs as he hoisted you up, pressing you higher against the wall, making you gasp.

“You took somethin’ from me,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark, almost mocking. “Now I’m takin’ somethin’ from you.”

And then he slammed into you.

No warning, no teasing—just one brutal, punishing thrust that forced a cry from your throat, stretching you, filling you to the point of near pain. His cock was thick, hard, unforgiving, just like the rest of him, and he didn’t give you a second to adjust before he moved.

Every thrust hit, forcing you higher up the wall, making your head fall back with a broken gasp. The sharp edges of his cybernetic abs dragged against your bare skin, sending jolts of sensation through you, the contrast of human heat and cold metal making you shudder.

He was ruining you.

Just like he wanted.

“Shoulda never put that damn thing on me,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pounded into you, each thrust harder than the last, making you feel every inch of him, making you pay for keeping him away.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but take it, your nails raking against the hard plating of his shoulders, finding no purchase, no softness. Just steel, just power.

Boothill owned you in that moment.

And he knew it.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice nothing but a low, dangerous drawl.

“I’ll put my mark on you again,” he murmured, thrusting deep, making you choke on a moan. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

And fuck—if he kept going like this, you never would.

[staarriezz]

hello :D

i have a request for a dottore x reader fluff/angst, i hope the idea sounds interesting 😅

what if the reader suddenly finds dottore in a horrible mood, except he’s not angry or anything, just really down :(

and the reader tries their best to comfort him but he just won’t verbally respond to them until the reader says something that really hits his heart, then he actually starts opening up 💜

i really like this concept bc there’s not enough people who write abt dottore being upset or sad, maybe bc it conflicts with his character a lot but i feel like he has so much emotional baggage throughout the years. it has to catch up to him eventually 😥

thank you 🫶

HAII FIRST REQUESTS EVER! yes of course i can give you some dottie angst… i lov him so much

dottore x reader — cracks in the mask

pairing: dottore x reader

genre: fluff/angst

warnings: none

word count: ~1.2k

the laboratory was unnervingly quiet that evening.

typically, there was always something to fill the silence— the hum of his machinery, the scratch of a pen, any of the clones babbling on about their experiments. however today, the near silence was suffocating.

at the center of it was dottore.

you found him at his desk, unmoving, hunched forward with one gloved hand resting against his temple. his bird-like mask sat to the side, revealing his sharp features, usually so animated with concentration or delight, now replaced with something disturbingly close to exhaustion.

that alone was enough to make your stomach twist.

“dottore?” you approached carefully, unsure of what state he was in. he was an unpredictable man— one wrong move could easily cause him to have an outburst. “i brought you something to eat. you haven’t left your lab all day.”

silence.

you stepped closer, setting a plate of fatteh down on the desk beside a stack of notes. he didn’t even glance at it. his sharp crimson eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the paper before him, though it was clear he wasn’t really seeing it— he was looking past it.

that was when you noticed how tense he was—his fingers curled slightly as if suppressing a twitch, his breaths slow but shallow.

something was wrong.

“…did something happen?” you asked softly.

still, no response.

your concern deepened. dottore was never quiet. he always had something to say, whether it was mocking, taunting, or spiraling into a monologue about his latest discoveries or newfound interest. but now, he seemed to be locked in some internal battle, his usual arrogance stripped away.

you reached out, hesitating for only a moment before placing your hand over his gloved one. “zandik,” you said softly, calling him by his real name— the name he let only you use.

that finally got a reaction, though it was slight. his fingers just barely twitched beneath yours, but he still didn’t look at you.

you swallowed. “please… please talk to me.”

not a word.

worry twisted into frustration. you had seen dottore in many different states— enraged, ecstatic, amused, even mildly— mildly tender. but this was different. this didn’t just seem like the aftermath of an experiment failure, or a setback in his research. this was heaviness. a weight pressing him down, pushing him into something that even his fiery ambition couldn’t pull him out of.

and you didn’t know how to fix it.

“i hate seeing you like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know you don’t like talking about things that bother you. i know you think it’s weak or useless. but you’re human, zandik. no matter how much you pretend you aren’t. you’re not one of your machines,”

a flicker of something subtle crossed his face.

more desperate for anything, you continued. “you carry so much. too much. and i know you— if something is weighing on you this badly, it’s not just some minor inconvenience. so please, just—” you exhaled shakily, trying to calm yourself. “just let me in.”

for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.

then, finally, quietly— so quietly you almost missed it— he spoke.

“…do you ever wonder,” he started, his voice hardly above a mumble, “if everything you’ve done has been worth it?”

the question caught you off guard.

your fingers tightened slightly around his, his words making your heart ache. “what do you mean?”

he took a slow breath, his hand shifted beneath yours, but didn’t pull away. “i have spent my entire life pursuing knowledge. progress. evolution. a way to enhance the human race. i have been chased out of my home town, and expelled from the akademiya. i have torn apart the weak, the feeble-minded, and discarded the useless in the name of something greater. my vision of the future.” His voice remained eerily calm, but there was something brittle beneath it.

his gaze finally lifted to meet yours. “…but does any of it matter?”

you sucked in a breath.

dottore was not a man who dealt with regrets. he prided himself on his ambition, his dedication, his refusal to be weighed down by something as trivial as morality. but there was something deeply, achingly tired in his eyes now— an exhaustion that went beyond sleepless nights and endless research.

this was the weight of years. of choices made and paths walked that could never be undone.

your heart ached for him, your stomach twisting.

“you’ve given up so much,” you said carefully, “but that doesn’t mean it was all for nothing.”

he let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “hasn’t it?”

“no.” You squeezed his hand. “because if it were, you wouldn’t be questioning it now.”

that seemed to strike something in him. his lips parted slightly, as if to argue, but no words came. he simply looked at you, unguarded, disturbed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

you continued, voice gentler now. “you always act like you don’t care. as if the past doesn’t affect you. but you do care, zandik. maybe not in the way others do, but you wouldn’t be asking this if you didn’t.”

his fingers curled around yours, grip tightening ever so slightly.

the silence stretched between you, but this time, it wasn’t cold or distant. It was understanding.

“…you are a curious creature,” he finally muttered, shaking his head. “always saying things that even i cannot refute.”

you smiled faintly. “because i know you better than you’d like to admit.”

his hard gaze softened just a fraction. then, to your quiet relief, he exhaled— long and slow, as if finally releasing some of the weight crushing his chest.

“…stay,” he murmured. it wasn’t as harsh as a command, nor was it his usual smug expectation that you would obey him without question. it was something much quieter. much more vulnerable.

a request.

you lifted his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “always.”

and for the first time that night, dottore let himself relax.

[gamorahww]

wdym For Good uses too many nature metaphors?

I've seen some people saying that they don't like For Good (the song) for its over-reliance on nature metaphors. So today, while cleaning the bathroom, fighting limestone on my sink and listening to the Wicked soundtrack (as one does) I think I listened really closely to For Good for the first time, with these critics in mind, and here's what I found:

So, Elphaba has magic, and she is always more tied to nature. She also loves animals. She can fly, not by machine, but on the wind, with her powers. It makes perfect sense for her to sing in nature metaphors.

But actually, after unlimited, this song is started by Glinda, who so far has mostly been occupied by the more "human" things, social concepts, etc. And Glinda sets the tone with these nature images, so I was thinking, wow, that's strange, why do you do this? You are not a nature girly. And then I realized that she does this as a final gesture to Elphaba. Trying to have her understand better, adjusting to her, and what she likes, and how she works. She sets the tone for it, and they go on like that.

But like, yes, that is obvious, no? I'm pretty sure someone made this connection before.

But did someone also make the connection that, with the movie, this is even more obvious? Like, in the Ozdust, Elphaba does her little mating dance, and everyone laughs at her. It's pretty similar to how birds do their little dances, in hopes of finding mates, and she does it, and Glinda joins in. They even have For Good mixed into the instrumentals here, to foreshadow this. Ozdust is For Good 1.0 in all the ways.

So if in movie 2, if For Good has the same lyrics as it did in the musical (and why wouldn't it) then it will essentially be Ozdust 2.0.

[nikyu0]

Just curious, does jinx have two queues? (It would explain her odd connection to Eywa)

No, she only has one, but her queue is hidden in one of her braids!

Her's and Vi's backstory kinda matter as to why she has this connection.

Basically, the idea was that the tribe Vi and Jinx were originally from was one of the first tribes humans tried to work with a long time ago, trying to teach each other the language, etc! (Similar to what Grace tried to do before the first Avatar movie) This is why Vi and Jinx know english!!

But while there were humans actually trying to learn and respect the Na'vi, most of the RDA was destroying the forest and killing animals without any regard. This caused a group from the tribe (Vi's and Jinx's parents were part of that group) to rebel and destroy a lot of the RDA machines and equipment, which backfired and caused most of the tribe getting killed in responds.

Both Jinx and Vi were very young when it happened, but Jinx especially got scarred severely mentally because she got separated for weeks from Vi thinking she died too. Vi did eventually find her hidden at their dead tribes Spirit Tree, she found solace within Eywa and the memories of her loved ones she lost in that raid, but the prolonged connection to it altered Jinx for better or for worse.

[evergreen-femme]

long post and probably schizoposting but i think this is genuinely super interesting.

i don’t think that the nature of religion itself is conservative or even lends itself very well to conservatism.

real religion in history has been an agent of transformation. religion can be seen as an innate force in humans that drives our macro-scale differentiation, indeed acting as a macro-organism in the social sphere of human ecology. religion governs social norms, how we address each other, what we value, what we think of others. it causes us to act as civilizations in a geopolitical religious ecology. this is an emergent property of human society and it does seem to be innate to us. but what if it was not only innate to us and a biological phenomenon, but a signal of something else? that we by chance have evolved to be able to pick up on?

human religion development can be seem as a response to divine stimulus - this is undeniably in us. god is a biological imperative, but what if it were the opposite? if we imagine the big bang as an experiment by a metaphysical entity, life developed that was capable of perceiving the signal that “God” has been sending out perhaps unconsciously from the beginning. well, to me it is “God” since i was raised in a nominally christian culture. if you examine religion’s role in history and current life, its obvious that:

so many people disdain being compared to animals; we innately feel that we are something greater because we can sense the divine. it is an anthropogenic flaw in us to assume that no other living thing can sense the divine. why do spiders make their webs like that and why are they so beautiful for real? that feels like it has to be something more than “we are all biological robots” (one of the founding principles of the religion of Economics, actually). more on that later. the point is the VAST majority of us feel innately that we are more, that we have a drive to find ethics and treat our neighbors kindly and generally to love each other. SOME of us feel that this makes us better than animals and tries to corral inconvenient swaths of humanity into animal-dom so they can concentrate power. a danger for the priestly class at any time in history. (but also the main value of our currant global Church, allowing dark priests to control our entire society for their own enrichment).

most of us are normal. some of us normal people feel the call of the priesthood as well. but they cannot all change the world, or even the perception of their neighbors. sometimes they do, though, sparking true evolutionary moves on the geopolitical ecological paradigm.

(religion is how humans will evolve to become gods, or become one with the divine)

this is the appearance of a “prophet.” we low key need one so fucking bad right now. an eye opens to the divine and begins to preach in a way that everyone adjacent to them suddenly adopts a genuinely new world concept and it spreads like a pandemic. but usually, these developments are positive in some way, ALWAYS seeking to elevate us beyond being mere biological machines.

we have FORGOTTEN true religion, because it always happens like that. our biological nature strikes back. we seek to evolve defenses against this divine antigen. however, for most of is, i believe this antigen is good. we are thirsty for meaning. it drips from everything everyone does.

when religion sparks, or rather, the divine antigen breaks through our biological defenses; you can metaphorically see it as a priest receiving a revelation, eyes and mouth glowing white and spilling light. if it takes over a whole society, if we all agree “this is the good way to live, i love the divine antigen actually,” then a new geopolitical superorganism is born.

the united states and actually all of imperial europe from the 1400s on has not been christian in the way that europe before that was. the religion that actually took over was Economics. our real priestly class has evolved into the financial sector. this has led us astray because Economics is against the nature of the divine antigen. its founding principle is that humans are biological machines, when that isn’t likely true even of most complex animals. or plants, fungi, literally who is to say. divinity cannot be comprehended by material science. that is its fundamental nature. we all know it, it is deeper in us than the Economic indoctrination.

we all want something better than this. we all know we are not biological machines. we are all crying it in tears of blood and sweat.

the mask is now OFF. too many people are being affected by the anti-human, anti-divine, metaphysically evil nature of capitalism (an offshoot of Economics). NOBODY wants to worship money anymore.

attempts to overthrow capitalism from within the religious paradigm of Economics have mostly failed to subdue the metaphysical disease for half a millennium. the end of Economics will come from a genuine religious uprising and worldwide war and chaos, or more likely, cooperative dismantling of the Economics Earth after a mostly bloodless global holy war.

[catherine-sketches]

For the people saying that Jayce had no motivation to shot Viktor…

Did you not see the fucked up shit that Jayce is seeing?

My man went into the hexcore and saw horrors beyond his comprehension. He called hextech, HIS DREAM, a curse

When he looks at the people on the commune he sees hollow vessels with people faces and the marks of Viktor’s fingers

Jayce caved Viktor’s chest in because he KNEW that the pretty colors and the art deco architecture was a facade. That whatever Viktor is doing is stripping people from their true selves and leaving behind puppets that play a game called community where no one reacts like a normal person because no matter how good you life in your community is

NO ONE WOULD JUST STAND AND LOOK WHILE THE MAD HAMMER MAN NEARLY DISINTEGRATES WHAT LOOKS LIKE A CHILD TO ASHE

These are Zaunites. They would have curb stomped Jayce to the ground

But they didn’t

They stood there

Because their Machine Herald told them to “Suffer no more”

And what is fear, what is love, if not a form of suffering

[urlocalwhumper]

living weapon whumpee who's never known anything but pain and violence.

their existence hurts. they were made to be effective, not happy, and their masters decided that keeping them in constant pain provided better results. they're wilder, more unpredictable, and the pain keeps them from thinking straight enough to question anything.

they're only given painkillers, only allowed a respite from their seemingly endless suffering, after a successful mission. it keeps them loyal, and most importantly, teaches their brain to associate acts of violence with relief and rewards.

everyone they've ever met has treated them as a tool, a monster, or both. they don't know how to be anything else.

that is until they're rampaging through a village, destroying, killing, whatever their masters demand of them. whatever will give them a few blissful hours of numbness.

one of the villagers steps out of a ruined building and looks them straight in the eyes. whumpee expects fear, hatred, disgust, the things they see in the faces of every person who's ever crossed their path. but they see something completely different.

compassion.

whumpee is so stunned, they don't think to move or do anything at all as the villager steps closer, gently reaching out a hand to cup whumpee's face.

"oh, poor thing." they murmur, taking in the creature in front of them - part human, part animal, part machine. "they've done a number on you, huh?"

whumpee blinks at them. pain continues to course through their body, but the gentle hand on their cheek distracts them, even if just a little. all the indistinct noise in their foggy, addled mind finally goes quiet.

caretaker had stepped out in front of the being destroying their home with the intention to get through to it or die trying, and the expectation to absolutely die trying.

they did not at all expect the seemingly feral mishmash of metal, fur, and flesh to lean so heavily into their touch that they nearly collapsed into caretaker's arms.

[prolibytherium]

Would kill to read animal POV fiction that has the animal POV’s interaction with humans be like, semi realistic to the level of caution most predators take with large prey and/or competitors (including humans).

Like instead of the usual - “the human is such a weak, pathetic creature... so slow, no claws, blunt teeth… completely helpless without its 'Fire Sticks'. how is it the master of the earth?” type crap it’s like, the bear protagonist or whatever approaches some dude who spreads their arms and yells and the bear is like “FUUUUUUUUCK THAT THING JUST GOT HUGE. IT'S LARGE AND MAKING NOISES. HOLY FUCK.”

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon zero dawn (remastered) | dismantling a watcher

[sharklovingaquarist]

No @anomalys-bane you do have a point. I have many posts that concern the reproductive process and our wording of it. It always relies on the perception of a female vessel being done to by a male catalyst. You are the machine he operates. If men are feeling gracious, they'll say you're the goddess of life or whatever bullshit, but then word it as if they grant us permission to our "power to create life." I often talk about how I am going into zoological fields and how I am invested in animal hobbies (including breeding animals). The male ego is so vast, so prevalent, that a vocabulary does not exist to properly describe this process. I try my hardest, but academically, my hands are tied. I know later on I'll be corrected for not following the science made to make men feel more important than they are. More in control than they are. More credible and powerful. Fertilization, I try to replace with conception. We now know that eggs choose sperm, but that will never be integrated into our dialog as scientists. It's been a male field, it continues to be so. Women who enter don't question, I feel as if they actually enjoy this view of themselves bestowed to them by male overlords. As for "impregnation," I try to avoid seeing pregnancy as a direct action of a male and more as a process. Conception is male, "impregnation" is not. We become pregnant when an embryo attaches to our uterus, not when a sperm enters our uterus. Pregnancy is not an action done to by the male, it is a result of two people acting together. I refuse to see it as a man putting an embryo inside of me. He ejaculates inside of a woman so his sperm can meet her egg, not sorry he can impregnate her. The wording makes it seem as if she has no effort in the matter, when eggs are a more complex gamete than sperm is.

Basically, our view is heavily male centered. Most things are. It's miserable being in this field.

Edit: I feel as if I should provide an explanation for my take on female creation being the wrong way of viewing gestation. You have to see the process for how it is. People on the one side must stop acting as if female bodies are tools, and people on the other side must stop glorifying the female body in an inhuman, deified way. It is neither of the two radical ideas. Females do not create life through pregnancy. Females and males create life through conception (albeit NOT sentience, this is a process, after all. Sentience is achieved by an individual after birth). A bird chick forms away from a female in an egg. The truth of pregnancy is that it closely resembles parasitism. It's not a perfect definition because it can benefit females in the case of a healthy, stable-minded female spreading her genetics (impossible in our modern society imo). However, my point is that the fetus leeches nutrients from the female body. The female body is a nutrient source, not a machine that stitches together arms, legs, and a torso. The embryo is able to build parts to its body because of the nutrients it steals. The true power of female reproduction comes from our ability to withstand this. Endurance. But males are unable to eat their pride and admit this proves our capability, so then we become either vessels or artistic creators. We can not be strong in the same sense they are.

The female body should strive to be neutral. Not an inferior, not a deity. The fact is women have had their identities repressed for so long that we have no idea how to stay in the lines of humanity. I will say, though, that the women who glorify their female bodies are much MUCH better than those who see it as inferior. It is just a nitpick I have

[digibash]

not a regular digibash, BUT I made these graphics last month and wanted to share them far and wide. They are available in various sizes and you can post them, print them, use them as banners, wallpapers, whatever! just don’t steal and sell them please. no credit required! but it’s cool if you do

all images are here: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1WHpfVem5SM1qGrsBEYqbSPa7dIPy2c6W?usp=sharing

happy pride month

[covertblizzard]

jaykyle au where they're theatre kids in the same school but they're not the actors jason's the scriptwriter/director and kyle is the prop manager (i don't know the official terms sorry) and they'd probably do an amazing job on the backstage setting if they could stop arguing for 5 whole seconds about their artistic visions and ideas and how "this would obviously work better this way"

[thechaotichorselord]

WIP that i hope to finish

i just wanna post what i got so far because i’m proud of it :3

song is QUEEN- english cover by trickle

Black belongs to @blackkatdraws