#they are so deep intertwined like a host and a parasite

[notdrifting]

game of thrones || ernest hemingway || crimson peak || cameron barnett || anais nin || the song of achilles || subhaga crystal bacon || oedipus rex || the borgias || persona

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Star gazing with Eddie and venom, it be like a cute date that was totally venom idea but won't admit it and reader enjoying her time with them

.⋆｡Stars and Us｡⋆.

Eddie Brock x plus size reader

With no other options left, Eddie is forced to listen to his parasitic friend who’s secretly a massive romantic.

Warnings: fluff, Venom doesn’t have feelings (it totally does), brief mentions of smut WC: 1k

6k Follower Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Eddie wasn’t quite panicking, but he was close. He could at least convince himself that he had everything under control despite the end of the week looming ever closer. It was your three month anniversary. Three blissful months with the most incredible human he had ever met and even if you insisted that you didn’t need any big celebration, Eddie knew better. You deserved to be celebrated and worshiped, the only problem was, he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

The man was five articles deep on the best anniversary ideas but none of them would be perfect (or cheap enough). “Maybe she’d appreciate half a dozen orgasms and some shitty take out.” Eddie grunted as his forehead hit the desk, abandoning his quest with a whimper.

“That’s what you do every week.” Venom curled itself around Eddie’s broad shoulders, its white eyes skimming over the section on a Parisian getaway before looking down at its pouting host.

“It’s worked this far hasn’t it?”

“Pathetic.” Eddie’s head spun around so quickly his neck clicked. Venom sighed heavily and slunk back towards the kitchen. “You claim to love this human yet you do not put in any effort into seducing her. You just throw her around and expect her to enjoy it.” It plucked up a chocolate bar with a thin tendril, waving it in the air before it threw the sweet into its wide maw.

“Why are you suddenly an expert on dating? Last I checked, you barely even tolerated having her around if she wasn’t feeding you.” Venom scowled, releasing a soft growl as he licked his teeth clean. 

“You chose her as a mate, do not judge how I deal with it.” Eddie sighed and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. You would be home soon and he was running out of free time until it was your anniversary.

“Well, do you have any bright ideas on what I should do if you’re so smart.” Venom hummed, seeping back into Eddie just as your heels clicked up the hall.

“I may have an idea.”

——————

“I told you that we didn’t have to do anything today.” You giggled as Eddie helped you off his bike, his large hands deliberately lingering on your hips even after you found your footing. He just smirked and pressed a quick kiss to your full cheek as he reached behind you for the bag propped up behind your seat.

“And miss this chance to spoil you? Absolutely not.” You clung to his free arm, squeezing the hard muscle of his biceps as Eddie led you towards the empty field sprawled out in front of you. 

“You aren’t gonna kill me are you? Cause I didn’t tell my roommate where I was going tonight and I need someone to feed my fish for me.” Even though it was just shy of pitch black, you knew Eddie was rolling his eyes. His arm slipped from your hold for just a second and before you could reach around again for it, he grabbed your ass and gave it a generous squeeze.

Your surprised yelp carried across the field, as did Eddie’s accompanying laughter. “Hands off the goods, handsome.” You scolded but took his hand back in yours anyway, your fingers intertwining.

“Sorry princess.” Soon enough, you both slowed, coming to a patch where the grass wasn’t as long and the sound of crickets seemed to dull slightly. With another kiss to your cheek, Eddie pulled a blanket from his bag, laying it out perfectly with a flick of his wrists.

“Shit Brock, you practise that just for me?” 

“I was single for a long time, baby, these wrists have put in some real work.” You scrunched your nose and shoved him off you as Eddie went for another kiss.

“You’re disgusting.” But it came out as more of a giggle than anything else.

“And yet, you love the things these wrists can do.” He purred against your lips. 

Your arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer. “Oh you bet I do.” Just like always, you melted into his kiss, eagerly lapping up his affection as he held your waist to him. Just as his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, Eddie flinched and pulled away.

“Yeah, I hear you, there’s no need to threaten my liver.” 

“What’s Venom saying?” You asked with a voice full of fondness.

“Just reminding me why we brought you here in the first place.” He helped you down onto the blanket before joining you. Eddie guided your head to his chest as you wrapped yourself around him and finally looked up.

Millions of stars stretched across the night sky, each one shimmering brilliantly from their place in the universe. They clumped together like strokes of a paintbrush reaching all the way down to the horizon. “Wow.” You breathed. “I never knew you could see so many stars so close to the city. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s fingers gently ran up and down your back as he hummed. “Yeah you are.” 

You tore your gaze away to look at your boyfriend, who was already looking at you. Heat crawled up your cheeks and you turned away. “Fucking sap.” You muttered as his chest rumbled with soft laughter.

He kissed the top of your head and finally joined you in watching the galaxy go by. 

“This is perfect Eds. Where did you come up with this?”

“Had some help from Venom. I was just gonna eat you out till you passed out.” You jammed your finger into his ribs just as Venom did the same thing from inside him. “Hey! I can’t have you both teaming up against me! I’m fragile.”

“Yeah right.” You said as Venom echoed the same sentiment, making Eddie smirk. “Will you thank it for me then, I don’t think I’ve ever had a man be this romantic for me before.”

Venom remained silent but Eddie could tell just how pleased it was. “I will. Happy 3 months princess.”

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[aurabird]

Final Sacrifice

Ao3 Link

Spoilers ahead for Owen's recent New Life episode.

--------------

Spread the skulk...Spread the souls...

Those words...those damned words, they echoed in his head during every waking hour, every moment asleep. It was maddening, it was torturous...it had to stop.

Sparrow looked at the massive amounts of explosives before him, rows and piles of red sticks and gunpowder lined every street, every building foundation. This was it, Sparrow knew he should have been scared and yet he only felt regret and anger.

Perhaps...perhaps the skulk had taken such an emotion from him like it had everything else that had once been human.

It couldn't take anything more...he wouldn't let it.

His final farewell and warning rested beyond the now-sealed city gate alongside every recording he ever made, the only things that would prove he had existed; an insignificant human in a world of hybrids and primordial powers beyond comprehension.

Sparrow lit the stick of dynamite in his infected hand and was met with a cacophony of cries from the parasitic fungi that had found its way into his body, his mind, and his soul; begging him to cease his actions, pleading with...no, demanding him to stop.

He didn't listen, and began to walk towards the start of the trail of explosives.

Sparrow winced as he felt the skulk try to further gain control of his motor functions out of desperation to save itself and its chosen host. He could feel the fungal tendrils of the parasite intertwine deeper beneath his skin, pulling against him as he walked closer to the line of explosives. Each step was as if his bones were made of lead and he was walking through molasses.

The faces of those he once knew and those he had met in this land flashed before him as he forced himself to move.

He remembered the good moments, from when he was still human. Memories that he looked back at with a fondness at the joy they had brought him, and melancholy at where...when it had all gone so, so horribly wrong; when he'd changed.

The bad moments were next. He saw the expression of fear on Sausage's face as the Warden struck him down, saw the look of horror in Scott's eyes before the skulk made him take the hybrid's life in the worst way possible. This was for them...ALL of them and anyone else who would stumble upon this accursed and forsaken city.

Control of his limbs was becoming more difficult, his body now almost fully taken over. But in a final act of defiance, Sparrow forced the arm holding the dynamite above his head, turned to face the closed city door...and released his grip.

The skulk screamed as the city went up in flames, pain flaring through every nerve in Sparrows body from how intertwined he had become with the now-burning fungus sending him to his knees.

A single tear dripped from his eyes as he felt the heat wave approach him. Sparrow let out final cry of agony as the explosion engulfed his prone form and then, only darkness. Sweet, blissful, and silent darkness.

He was finally free.

-

Up on the surface patches of skulk withered, their spread halted by the destruction of the gateway leading from their realm of origin.

While many of the hybrids that once lived in this land had either perished or moved on, their homes now overgrown and reclaimed by nature; those that remained may never know of the great sacrifice that had occurred deep beneath the earth.

But they would all meet again in time, for unknown to all of them, their kindred spirits would find each other and unite once more just as they always did and always will.

[shootingstarwritings]

Eight Pleas on a Starry Night

Eight Cups a Day

Eight Memories a Minute

All that this creature knew from the moment of its "birth," was to consume. The moment it first began to understand "itself" and "the world," it absorbed whatever was in front of it. Just as babes from the womb yearn for their mother's womb, these slimes feast upon segments of their host's brains. There was no thought and no malice behind; instead, it was pure instinct. Consume and assimilate as much as the host's brain would allow until complete takeover.

The moment this creature, now male due to his host, opened his eyes, he saw the sight of another looking at him with emotion the creature couldn't quite understand just yet. However, through pure instinct and the slight connection they shared as a species, he knew that this was his brother. “Ah, hello,” he greeted with pure innocence.

“H-Hey,” his brother responded, sounding not unlike the people the creature saw in his host’s memories. How skillful was he at hiding amongst these humans? “D-Do you know who I am? Do you know who you are? What’s your name?” Now, he spoke aggressively, but alongside another set of emotions.

Not wanting to disappoint his brother, the creature said, “I do not recall,” with complete assurance. “I seem to be quite adept at assimilating my host’s memories, unfortunately. It looks as though I cannot be a unit that can infiltrate any of these people.”

His brother shut his eyes, as though he had swallowed something harsh, before saying, “You are Nolan. Your name is Nolan.”

“Nolan. Understood.”

“And I’m F-Forde. My name is Forde.” Forde took a deep breath, his hand brushing up against Nolan’s. Then, he intertwined their fingers together. “Do you really not remember me? When we looked at the stars together?"

Nolan shook his head. “Am I supposed to? I am sorry if I am not up to your standards, brother.” Squeezing Forde’s hand—was it his host’s natural response?—Nolan said, “I will do better in the future. Do not worry.”

Forde nodded as he drew his hand back to his chest. There was an emotion on Forde’s face that Nolan did not recognize, so he ignored it.

The creature inside of Alan stared up at the summer night. He had a fleeting thought of the few stars that shined despite the town's light pollution and wondered if that was where he and his kin came from. However, he quickly dismissed that line of thought. It was not important for their invasion, so it was unnecessary. He was reeling from these useless thoughts that continued to plague him ever since the day he emerged from the sea.

Most of his brothers had perished when he had managed to infect Forde. He could only convert one person and implant his sole offspring before his brothers, unable to speak to him and cry for help, dried up. All he could do now was ignore any sort of sentimentalism that burdened him and press on forward.

“I am an invader,” the invader said to himself, floating naked on the surface of the pool. “Then, why do I have these regrets?”

Regret was a sentiment that his host, Alan, was familiar with. Words left unsaid, arguments he couldn't take back, and a life that was snuffed due to a misunderstanding. The list was long but also faded. By now, the invader had engulfed most of Alan's memories, so there was very little he could recall with any clarity. All he could see was a series of faded images.

It mattered little, the invader decided. The lingering feelings didn’t matter. All that was important was to breed and infect. That was the final purpose they had.

“Alan, there’s someone at the door.”

Ah, that was unexpected. Alan swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. “Do you know who it is, brother?”

He nodded. “It’s your friend—or rather, it’s your host’s friend,” said Forde. “He texted you, and I responded, and one thing left to another...” he said, nonchalantly while pointing his thumb to the front of the house. “And now he’s here. You gonna…?”

“I’ll have to infect him,” said the invader as he dried himself off. “There’s nothing else that can be done.”

“Right, well Nolan is by the door if you need any assistance.”

The invader raised an eyebrow. “Will you not help me?”

“I'm sorta tired if we're being honest. Maybe some other time?" Forde said with a shrug and a grin.

The invader narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything in response. He walked past Forde, but stopped right before crossing the doorway. “You are my offspring, and yet you are so different from your brother and myself. Why is that?” There was far too much personality, whether from the host or from the possessor itself. It was odd.

Forde’s gaze grew distant. “I wonder why myself,” he muttered. “But never mind that. Your friend’s in the front, and Nolan’s in position to help you infect him.”

“And your family? The ones who own this home?”

“Won’t be back until Monday. We’ve got plenty of time.”

The invader had suspicions rise, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “Please, watch over your siblings.” The invader didn’t wait for a response. He processed the information carefully and he dried off and dressed.

“Alan, hey!” Forde was right. A friend of Alan, a great deal younger—about middle-aged—stood in front of the doorway. The invader could not access much of Alan's memories, so the man was a stranger to him. However, he was knowledgeable enough to recognize the glint in the man's eyes.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Came as soon as I could,” the man said, smiling brightly as he spoke to Alan. “Said you needed my help? Say, what’s this place anyway? How come you’re here?” With narrowed eyes, the man leaned in and whispered, “Ain’t that kid a li’l too young for you? Seems kinda weird if you ask me.”

Alan shook his head. “He’s a family friend. Said he needed help moving a couch. Could you help me?”

The suspicion in the man’s eyes cleared, and he eagerly nodded. “Sure! I’ll give you hand. Lead the way.”

[LINE BREAK]

Forde was panting by the time he entered the house again. What he walked into didn’t surprise him, but he still had to fight the urge to gag.

“Hello, nngg, Forde!” Nolan greeted him as he fucked Alan’s convulsing friend. “This one has almost finished his conversion. Would you like to assist me?"

“I think I’ll pass,” Forde said, grimacing. His eyes lingered on the man before turning over to the sleeping Alan on the couch. “Alan’s asleep?”

“Yes, mmm. He-fuck—s-said creating so many offspring has left him exhausted. Will probably sleep until the party tomorrow.”

The party…

Forde took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing. “Nolan, when you’re… finished, meet me in my room, all right?”

“Which—“

“The one closest to the bathroom. You can’t miss it.”

“Right."

Forde lied back on his bed, attempting to erase the image of Nolan happily plowing another man’s ass out of his head. There was no doubt that what he had seen was the truth, but it carried such wrongness to it that he couldn’t help to wind back to it. Nothing about Nolan seemed to have remained. The chipper friendliness and eagerness to please was something that would have disgusted Nolan and now it disgusted Forde. Not even the memories were there. At most, the one possessing Nolan could remember some family members, last name, and his street address.

Everything else, including that night under the stars, was gone.

“Is this my punishment?” asked Forde, unsure if God would answer the pleas of a parasite. “Is this what I deserve for killing Forde?" That sin would remain with him for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if he believed he was Forde and inherited the name, the body, and the memories, the original was gone. If Forde ever left this body, it would remain a hollow husk. The organs would function, but there would be no brain activity. It would be no different than a vegetable.

Yet, Forde could not deny his greedy nature—as a parasite and a man. I still want to be happy, he thought. God, Alan, and the world itself can shame and hate me for it, but I still want to live a happy life. He knew how shameless that desire was, but did not care. The pain and pleasure that he has known in his short time as a human only stroked the hungry flames that burned in his heart.

The door opened, and Nolan walked in, still naked. “I am here, brother,” he announced, as though it wasn’t obvious.

Forde drew the sheets back and scooted to the side of the bed. “Close the door, and lie with me.”

“Hmm? Will we be sleeping on the same bed?”

“Yeah. Keep me company for tonight, will ya?”

“I see no reason to decline.” Without any shame, Nolan lied right next Forde. Their bare shoulders were touching, but only one of them understood the implications,

“Nolan, do you remember what happened when we went camping that night?”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, I figured,” said Forde, preparing himself. His hand was trembling, and he was sweating all over. Why couldn’t he calm himself? “Could you… Could you do me a favor, br-brother…?” When Nolan said yes, Forde nearly sobbed. After a deep, uneven breath, he said, “Please, gather yourself in your host’s mouth. I have to show you something.”

Unquestionably, Nolan did so. He opened his mouth, the blue slime lying on top of his tongue. Even in that form, he looked completely innocent.

Forde ripped over the packet of salt and poured it on his own tongue, cringing from the taste. Then, he leaned over and kissed Nolan’s lips before swiftly drawing back, the aftertaste of the salt lingering in his now empty mouth. The effect was immediate.

Nolan’s body began to violently convulse. “Wh-What did you d-do?!” Nolan cried out, spitting out the salt and now bits of foam. “Br-Brother?!” His eyes rolled to the back of his head and spat out more and more foam—the remains of his desiccated body. Forde shut his eyes and covered his ears.

Just like snails and slugs, their species would dry out when their real forms were exposed to concentrated amounts of salt due to osmosis. Even though they originated from the ocean, the intense amount of salt would still kill them. It only due to Forde’s biology degree that he could figure that out. And because of that, he knew that there was a chance Alan didn’t know that, either. This was his only weapon… the only thing he had to stop the invasion.

And yet…

Forde jumped as Nolan grabbed his arm in desperation. He opened his eyes and the image burned itself into his memory. He was dying. Nolan, the slime, whatever, was dying. Because of him. Because of what Forde did. He’s just a parasite, a murderer, Forde kept thinking as the convulsing began to cease. “I had to, I had to...” he kept muttering to himself, even as tears trailed down his cheeks.

He was a murderer just like me.

Now, he was staring at Nolan’s still-breathing body. There was no life in his eyes, but his chest still rose and fell, and his mouth was still agape. The slime, his brother, was gone. And Nolan was gone too. Two more lives that Forde had snuffed out, and tomorrow he would have to do it again.

He tried to smile. “Nolan...” he said, embracing the brain-dead husk. “Nolan, Nolan… Nolan… I love you,” he said, caressing Nolan’s unmoving face. “I saved you, I did it… you’re okay now.” Forde pressed his face on Nolan’s left pectoral. His heart continued to beat despite how empty it was. “You’re free, you’re okay. I k-killed the parasite, I did it for you…! So, you’ll forgive me, right?” There was no response, no matter how much Forde pleaded. However, he continued. "Please, please tell me you'll forgive me. You and Forde will forgive me, right? Please, please, for the love of God, please help me...”

Neither God nor Nolan answered him that night.

[marvelousecology]

Until Dawn

The frigid sting of frozen morning air causes me to wince and sink underneath the mauve knit scarf around my neck. My heavy black winter coat, woolen mitts, and tall boots protect me from the harsh cold wind that rustles the bare tree branches around me, but my face is less fortunate to the indifferent cruelty of winter. Each step I take accompanies a satisfying crunch as it compacts the pristine snow on my back patio. I love the fresh snowfall and its glistening plush blanket covering the hard ground beneath it.  

I look up at the dark motionless sky while waiting for the sunrise to peak up from the suburban rooftop horizon of the neighboring houses. Surprisingly, the first signal of dawn is not the vivid shades of pink and orange melting away the night but the break of silence. Cardinals, chickadees, and nuthatches orchestrate a symphony of songs welcoming the morning. The quiet stillness of these early hours is the perfect time for their dawn chorus since birdsongs are longer and more complex patterns of notes that require the noiselessness clarity of these few hours before sun-up to relay their message—hop away from my domain, they say. While birds compete for territory, they do not have to compete with the rowdy ruckus caused by human activities at the crack of dawn, at least for a little bit. The melodic chirps are soon replaced by the sounds of engines starting and cars slowly rolling down the street, sullying the beautiful snow, and leaving behind a wretched dirty slush sloshing with each person dragging themselves to work.

I feel sympathy for my neighbors dredging along to the status quo that weighs heavily on all of us—to make a living, pursuing the American dream, but so caught up in the demanding affairs of society to stop and enjoy the hidden treasures the world we set ourselves apart from offers. The overwhelming beauty found outside is no more than background noise as we so often shut ourselves indoors. We ignore the birdsongs, the nostalgic childish love for snow, and watching the rising sun.

But more importantly, we ignore the trash. The bare tree branches not only house nests but runaway plastic bags carried away with the wind that gets hopelessly tangled in the intertwining sprig arms. The soft blanket of snow not only covers the ground but temporarily hides the empty snack wrappers, sticky plastic lids, and carelessly discarded garbage that litters my front yard. There is a sickening familiarity of media’s influence normalizing throwing cigarette filters out of the car window as if it miraculously vanishes after the first hard rain. And I am sure everyone is aware that it is against the law to litter, yet our concrete jungles comprised of messy parking lots, cluttered curbs, and muddled highways reveals the ugly truth—just look around.

Taking the time to silently reflect outside and truly exist with my surroundings granted me this clarity to recognize the piling burdens demanding our attention, while witnessing the magnificence deep listening offered. The impulsive habit to pull out my phone and distract myself from this horrifying reality is forbidden if I am to truly acknowledge my role in nature. Unfortunately, there’s comfort in disassociating from civilization’s life sentence of monotonous servitude, so avoidance and escapism feel like second nature, but the static disconnecting me eventually fades away.

I recall Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring igniting environmental movements that ended the use of the noxious pesticide DDT, meanwhile, the North American bird population is down 2.9 billion, which is 1 in 4 pairs. Global biodiversity is speeding tremendously into the 6th mass extinction, while the human population boasted 7.8 billion, and climbing. A parasite lacks the sentience to acknowledge that by killing its host, death is imminent. What’s our excuse?

The sunlight effortlessly breaks dawn, impending doom upon the newly born snow that’s blissfully ignorant to the freeze thaw weather plaguing Southeast Michigan roads. The expanding suburbia is smothering what’s left of the wetlands, while the weather missed our demolition memo, so when my neighborhood streets flooded, people went kayaking. The disconnect from the world around us is like a disease quickly multiplying and spreading through the veins of mother nature and leaving the imprint of civilization on the doorstep for it to cleanup.

So often animals find themselves eating a grub basted in Roundup or a mouse marinated in Rodent Repellent, then dying a slow agonizing death by poison. Apparently, “you are what you eat” only applies to shaming people into adhering to physical appearance standards. The saying, “They don’t care unless it’s theirs,” comes to mind. Until everyone cares about the plastic bags clinging to the tree branches, stopping to hear the dawn chorus of birdsongs, or the effects our actions have on an ecosystem, then our communities shall remain eye sores we choose to ignore.

[mace158commissions]

The Judge

This example of my writing is an original story with 1747 words which would be $18 (this is not for sale as it is an example)

TWs: mentions of emotional, physical, and psychological abuse by a lover, it’s a take on christianity so religion warning, mentions of suicidal thoughts and suicide

If you want to commission me feel free to check here!

If you want to give me a tip you can on my ko-fi right here!

~~~

The Judge had seen many souls over the eternity of live. Perhaps in the beginning, the Judge was not a being of hell, but the Judge was still there for the first souls in existence being made. The Judge was the one who first chose who got soulmates and who didn’t. The Judge remembers the first pair of soulmates, angels. The Judge remembers how their closeness made the host fear their power. The Judge remembers a lot.

The Judge doesn’t get to see all the souls anymore though. The Judge doesn’t choose soulmates anymore. The Judge no longer gets to observe the beauty of every soul, the Judge only sees the souls that heaven chooses not to accept. Because heaven learned to choose like the Judge chose, but heaven chose things that the Judge disagreed with. So, now the Judge, rejected, Judges the others that heaven rejects.

But some beautiful and heartbreaking souls still slip through the cracks to be admired by the first one to ever admire them. The Judge has learned that sinners can still be beautiful, and that some souls sent to hell aren’t truly sinners at all.

The Judge has also learned that souls can be broken.

Humans can break spirits and minds, the Judge knew this. The Judge was aware of the most horrific acts a human could do to one another, to themselves, to anyone or anything. The Judge knew that humans can break and break and break. Yet when meeting the first shattered soul, the Judge was caught off guard. A spirit can heal. A mind can too. A soul cannot, not without intervention by one of a higher power, a being from heaven or hell or other ventures.

The Judge has come across multiple shattered souls by now. The Judge never bothered to count them, as in an eternity they would never come to a stop, and the Judge would rather not experience the hopeless feeling of the shattering and pain never ceasing. Never stopping.

So this soul in front of the Judge was not a surprise. Shattered, completely, glass shards of pain and agony and grief with pieces of love and hatred. Emotions the Judge has learned well over the years of looking through sinners. However from what the Judge could see of this one, the soul was… not intended to be hell bound. The soul wanted to help.

The Judge sighed. The soul was in pain and restless, the Judge could not get anywhere with it like this. Carefully, the Judge began to move some pieces. The soul sobbed, the Judge could not tell if it was from pain or from relief, but the Judge had long since learned to ignore sounds of suffering from their existence in hell. It was long and tedious work, and perhaps to a being with a shorter lifespan, it would not be worth the work at all. However the Judge had lived a long eternity, and still had a long eternity to go, and spending time on such a task was only another task in continuing existence. Pieces began to fit together soon enough and the soul became more and more whole as the Judge continued. The soul was assembled into larger pieces when the Judge decided to take another look at them.

The first piece was the largest, the soul’s past and personality and goals. It… the soul was beautiful, perhaps not among the most beautiful the Judge had seen, but better than average. It had grown up wishing to help, doing what it could to help. It valued those that put others first and strived to be one like such. The Judge felt confusion. Why would heaven reject a soul as pure as this one?

The second piece was a swirling vortex of pain and hurt, love and hatred so intertwined that it was difficult to tell if they were both present or if it was just one. A cancer on the soul, the Judge realized. The soul had a parasite from its life, a parasite that likely caused its shattering.

The rest of the pieces were in a pile, seemingly connecting the second piece to the rest of the soul. The Judge looked at the pieces of the soul, thinking.

Heaven likely rejected this soul due to the disease on it. The disease would appear like any sin, as it infected part of what would have been a good person’s soul and made it sick and twisted. The Judge looked back at it, still in thought.

The Judge could send the piece of the soul back to heaven. It was assembled enough to become a Risen, thought it would lack substantial memories if its human life and personality. The Judge could also rebuild the whole soul, allow the beauty to be tainted and corrupted. The Judge could also allow the soul to stay here and not rebuild it, however it is likely that in this environment the soul would only grow another tumor.

The Judge sighed. Decisions like this needed more information. Without thinking much of it, the Judge touched the second piece of the soul to learn its memories. 

Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain pain. I love him. I want to help him. It hurts it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts. Help me. Go back. Help him. Save him. Save me. Real, not real. He loves me. It hurts it’s painful it hurts so much I want to die it hurts to much. He loves me not. He hurts he’s hurting me pain pain pain. Please let me escape. Let me go back. It hurts hurts hurts hurts. I want to save him please. I need to die. I want him back. I want to leave. Please stop. I want to save you. Please. Hurts dying pain suffering it’s not real it is I want it to be fake it’s real it’s not he loves me he loves me he loves me not.

The Judge gasped, pulling away within a second, almost afraid. The pain left the Judge breathless and afraid, shaking slightly. That much torture, internal and external, in a single soul…

No wonder the soul couldn’t bear it.

The Judge shook, taking a deep breath. The delusions of love is what hurt the Judge the most. The idea that the soul could care for and love something hurting it to the point of madness…

The Judge will never understand humans, but the Judge will always have the ability to feel the pain the souls feel when Judging, will always know their innermost thoughts as learned from their souls.

The Judge took a moment, or perhaps several. Time was different to an immortal in hell after all. But in the end, the Judge decided that… well, perhaps that the Judge is unfit to Judge. It happened before, when the Judge asked a soul what it would prefer, though it wasn’t often. However no one will ever truly know one like oneself will, and the Judge acknowledges such. The Judge can read souls like a human reads a book, but the Judge cannot write them like the human does, the Judge cannot live them.

The Judge touched the larger pure piece of the soul gently, brushing fingers over the surface. If you wish to speak, I am giving you the ability as of now.

The soul brightened. What’s going on?

You have been sent to hell. However you have a few options.

Options? What do you mean?

Heaven rejected you because of a blight on your soul. The cancer destroyed you from the inside out, I had to rebuild you. I can send you back to heaven before I complete the rebuilding, without the harm on your soul. I can also give you the sickness back and you will stay down here. Without your entire soul, you will lack memories, but whatever you can remember as of now you will have with you. The memories tied to the pain may not be worth shouldering on once more, as they broke your soul before.

The soul seemed to shift and flutter a bit.

I… I cannot remember feeling any love.

The Judge looked through the soul, finding that oddly, the large piece had none of the love.

I remember telling my parents and my sister I love them, but I cannot remember feeling it. I know I must have, because I remember the hurt of them disowning me.

The Judge looked at the writhing, horrid piece of the soul. Love was sprinkled throughout it, intermixed with the hatred.

I do not want to go to Heaven not knowing love. I do not wish to continue on with my current memories without remembering everything. I feel broken, I don’t want that.

The Judge must have still been experiencing emotion from touching the soul, as it felt as though happiness had died. You may still feel broken after being put back together. The love you are missing is mixed with more pain and hatred than most humans ever encounter.

I can handle it.

The Judge blinked. Ah, perhaps the human soul wasn’t perfect. With those words, the pieces from the third pile shifted. With a closer look, the Judge realized that while it is below the surface, this soul was prideful. This soul wanted to help and took pride in the fact that they could. Believed that they were the only ones that should.

Their pride is what caused the sickness to become as bad as it became, perhaps what aided the sickness to start in the beginning. If I fully reconstruct your soul, you will be a demon of Pride within hell.

Alright.

The soul dulled, waiting for the Judge to put it back together. Waiting to be stitched up and waiting to relive the worst memories of their life, waiting to be forced to be whole with the madness that drove them to shattering. Hoping they wouldn’t shatter again.

The Judge almost wished that it did not have to be done, or perhaps that the Judge did not have to do it. But the Judge chose to give this decision to the soul. And a Judge is meant to have honor.

The sad thing about loving the beauty of souls is that the Judge becomes attached sometimes. The Judge wishes for better than what the souls get. However even a being of eternity cannot change what is happening, what has happened.

Here, the Judge cannot choose.

[timeforelfnonsense]

I said I’d share this ages ago but I 100% Forgot to! This was an essay I wrote for a university class on Gender and dystonia. It’s a nine page essay so it’s a long read but could be interesting to some folks! I also was a little burned out when I wrote this so please be soft with me.  

In August of 2007, Irrational Games, at the time Known as 2K Boston released, the first game in the Bioshock series. The three-game series explores the ethics, politics and consequences of societies based in utopian ideals and how quickly they become dystopian. This paper will explore the first games world of Rapture, and its connections to biopolitics and the exploitation of capitalism.

After a mysterious plane crash, protagonist Jack finds himself at the entrance to Rapture, a strange concrete lighthouse. Inside a golden statue of the cities founder, draped in a red banner reading, “No Gods, No Kings, Only Men”.  Created by billionaire Andrew Ryan to escape from the political, social and religious anxieties of a post-World War II world, Rapture is a libertarian state founded on individualistic ideas and objectivism.

“I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No,' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No,' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.' 'No,' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”

― Andrew Ryan (Bioshock, 2007)

BioShock’s creator, Ken Levine has stated that the world of Rapture was heavily influenced by the work of Ayn Rand (Nyman, 376, 2018).  Bioshock challenges Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, imagining what that word might look like inhabited by realistic and flawed people (Nyman, 376, 2018).

Rapture at first seems successful, individuals are allowed to innovate and create without restriction. Ryan’s capitalist utopia begins to run into issues fairly quickly however as the culture of rapture begins to cause class tensions within the city. The over valuing of profit defines the nature of Rapture’s tendency towards greed and elitism. In Rapture, those who are dependent on society are viewed as parasitic drains on society. It is the good of the individual and not a common good or general will (Nyman, 378, 2018). This leaves those of lower means living in Rapture alienated and left behind.

In, Society Must Be Defended, Michel Foucault explains that biopower is defined by two different overlapping technologies of power (Anderson,616, 2018).

“... one of the greatest transformations political right underwent in the nineteenth century was precisely that, I wouldn't say exactly that sovereignty's old right—to take lite or let live—was replaced, but it came to be complemented by a new right which does not erase the old right but which does penetrate it, permeate it. This is the right, or rather precisely the opposite right. It is the power to "make" live and "let" die. The right of sovereignty was the right to take life or let live. And then this new right is established: the right to make live and let die” (Foucault, 241, 1976).

Capitalism in Rapture makes use of this new form of biopower, intertwining the viability of an individual's life with their ability to labor.

Even with the class tensions, things began to change between 1948 and 1952 with the discovery of ADAM by scientist Brigid Tenenbaum. A substance that, when refined into Plasmids allows the user to alter their genetic code without any limits. ADAM, in its natural form is found in a deep-sea slug. However, the slugs could not produce ADAM at a rate that could keep up with the growingly dependent market. The addictive nature of ADAM cemented its place as the blood of Rapture. Moreover, as the addiction began to worsen, the demand for ADAM spiraled out of control far past what Rapture could produce and soon withdrawal symptoms caused ADAM users to change into violent addicts called Splicers.

It is though the exploitation of children, specifically little girls that creates some kind of stability for Rapture. With skyrocketing demands for ADAM, Dr. Tenenbaum is pressed to find a solution for quicker production. Her tests found that only though the implantation of a slug into a viable host, ADAM production went up thirty percent. These children, deemed the Little Sisters, become the backbone of Rapture. Frank Fontaine, a rival to Ryan seeing an opportunity for profit opens the Littles Sisters’ Orphanage to house and supply children to become little sisters. Rapture has no social programs, no welfare, leaving orphaned children in an impossible situation. Moreover, many parents from low income backgrounds are unable to provide for their children. Fontaine offered lofty promises to the poorer citizens of Rapture that he would provide their children with safety, education, and a life better than they could offer themselves.

These little girls are now cogs in the capitalistic machine rather than children. They have been reduced to a resource, a manageable unit that society is dependent on (Andersen, 623, 2018). These children are stripped of their personhood, taken from their homes and families all in the name of profit. Opinions on the little sisters are mixed in Rapture before its ultimate downfall. With some, such as Fontaine viewing the children as a neutral rescue. Ryan upon finding out about the little sisters was repulsed but saw them as necessary collateral to keep Rapture running. Others such as Brigid Tenenbaum, the creator of the little sister however saw them as children being exploited. The little sisters of Rapture are the ugly truth in a capitalist utopia. Capitalism is dependent on the exploitation and labor of those who are invisible. The citizens of rapture are able to use ADAM to achieve limitless heights, but all that innovation and creativity is on the backs of little girls robbed of their personhood.

As the insatiable craving for ADAM grew, as Rapture fell victim to more political unrest and conflict with the working class. Dr. Yi Suchong saw a need for ADAM was greater than what was being produced by the Little Sisters themselves. He developed a way for ADAM to be extracted from the blood of dead Splicers In order to make consuming the blood of the dead splicers more appealing the children are conditioned to see the now dilapidated world of Rapture as an idyllic, colorful kingdom.  This mental reconditioning was a candy colored counting on a grotesque truth. People were dying, children were being exploited all for the sake of a steady ADAM supply. These delusions coupled with their small size made the little sisters targets for crazed splicers desperate for an ADAM fix. Seeing the rise in brutal killings of the Little Sisters at the hands of the splicers, Dr. Yi Suchong developed the protector program, or Big Daddies to keep the little sisters safe.

Much like the Little Sisters, the Big Daddies are denied personhood. Created by genetically enhancing and grafting the skin and organs of prisoners into diving suit, the Big Daddies are another example of people being exploited for profit under a capitalist system. They did not consent to being mutilated and genetically altered. They have been both literally and figuratively striped of their voice in society. It is not surprising that the majority of Big Daddy test subjects included criminals, the criminally insane, and political prisoners, housed in a for-profit prison. These were individuals discarded by Rapture, people deemed undesirable. Yet, Rapture and its market are dependent on their labor and their suffering to waylay total collapse. This isn’t unlike our own history. These tests are biopolitical discipline, making those who have been marked as detrimental to the capitalist state useful while keeping them docile and under control (Foucault, 249, 1976)

The Little Sisters, the Big Daddies, even the Splicers, are all victims of a system devoid of social compassion or safety nets. The profitability of ADAM was placed before everything else and the structure of Rapture’s "gulch" style not only allowed it but encouraged it. Those with biopower are able to dictate life via the status quo.

“...we also have a second technology which is centered not upon the body but upon life: a technology which brings together the mass effects characteristic of a population, which tries to control the series of random events that can occur in a living mass, a technology which tries to predict the probability of those events (by modifying it, if necessary), or at least to compensate for their effects. This is a technology which aims to establish a sort of homeostasis, not by training individuals, but by achieving an overall equilibrium that protects the security of the whole from internal dangers.” (Foucault, 249, 1976)

However, one can only compensate for undesirable events for so long. After the supposed downfall of criminal and potential rival to Ryan, Frank Fontaine things in Rapture began to spiral. ADAM supplies ran low, civil unrest and descent began to surface. Ryan placed himself as de facto leader of Rapture, going against his own mantra of individualism. He began restricting freedoms and implementing harsh punishments for those who questioned him. On New Year’s Eve of 1958, a riot lead by Atlas, a mysterious figure who rallied the working class became the final nail in the coffin for Rapture.

The ADAM attention epidemic and the social political tensions boiling over from the working class into a civil war, ultimately lead to the downfall of Rapture. The limitless possibilities promised by Rapture and made reality by ADAM were never sustainable. Capitalism in Rapture, as well as in the real world has a body count. The term “Necrocapitalism”, refers to forms of organizational accumulation that involve disposition and death (Canavan, 3, 2014). This death can be actively caused by the capital gain or, as is the case with many in rapture a side effect of it.  In Canavan’s if the engine stops, we die, he states, “What necrocapitalism marks, then, may be not so much a novel feature of capitalism but rather the ongoing intensification of these technologies of suffering past the point where they are possible to deny.” (Canavan, 6, 2014).  The death and exploitation of those involved in the gathering and production of ADAM, the poor working class living in a state with no welfare, the disparity became impossible to ignore.

By the time Jack, the player character arrives, Rapture has gone completely dystopic. Upon seeing a little sister for the first time, Dr. Tenenbaum who has no devoted her life to protecting her “little ones”, begs Jack to help the girls rather than harvest them for their ADAM. They player has a choice, continue to exploit and kill these children for power and individual gain just as the citizens of rapture before them. Or, with the help of Tenenbaum help cure the Little Sisters, returning them to a state of near normalcy. Tenenbaum becomes an invaluable ally to Jack if he spares the Little Sisters, providing him with pyramids and assistants when possible. While it is more technically advantageous for the player to harvest the sister, it results in a bad ending. Sparing the Little Sisters means Jack returns to the surface with them, adopting the girls and creating a family and a life for them that under the biopolitics of Rapture they never could have had. It poses an interesting question about capitalism and exploitation. The idea of total freedom sounds utopic and ideal. However, these systems are always supported by the labor and exploitation of those marginalized by society. In Bioshock, all the difference in the world is made by siding with a woman who herself was exploited as a child and the Little Girls she cares for. In order for a “good ending” it is necessary to approach others with compassion, putting aside self-interest and power.

In conclusion, 2Ks Bioshock sets up an interesting and unique lens to critique the use of biopower and biopolitics by libertarian capitalism. This game reminds us to think outside of profit and power. Moreover, it exposes how profit often has a cost, a human cost that cannot and should not be ignored.

Foucault, Michel, and Ewald François. Society Must Be Defended: Lectures at the Collége De France, 1975-76. Penguin, 2008.

Work Cited

2K Games. Bioshock. Aug. 2007.

“‘If the Engine Ever Stops, We’d All Die’: Snowpiercer and Necrofuturism.” Paradoxa: Studies in World Literary Genres. Vol. 51, 2018.

Andersen, Gregers, and Esben Bjerggaard Nielsen. “Biopolitics in the Anthropocene: On the Invention of Future Biopolitics in Snowpiercer, Elysium, and Interstellar.” The Journal of Popular Culture, vol. 51, no. 3, 2018, pp. 615–634., doi:10.1111/jpcu.12689.

[moonlitjade]

Hallowed Mother, our deliverer, I come to you in our time of need. Guide us so that we may seek our paradise.

> Character Info

NAME / ALIAS: Yona Uyehara  AGE: 29 GENDER / PRONOUNS: Female Host (She/They/Us) HEIGHT: 202cm/ 6′6″ WEIGHT: 80kg/176lbs VOICECLAIM: Goblin Slayer — Purple Mage SPONSOR: Techico Labs

> Lore

SPECIES: Kishi (Carnasite Host)

Pureblood Kishi are a noble, but delicate species. They are defined by pale, slightly luminous doll-like skin, translucent flesh, dark sclera, and fine, straight hair in light colors. As a prideful and insular species, they take great care in their ornate grooming and presentation, with ornaments and hair styling a symbol of both status and class. They often adorn themselves in simple painted wooden beads, made from the native black wood, and the many pale gemstones abundant in their soil, along with layered silken fabrics.

The Kishi are also extremely photo-sensitive, hailing from the moonlit planet Asmodia. They are a minority species on Asmodia, and stay tightly clustered in small clans. Though their night-vision is nearly impeccable, they are extremely susceptible to blindness and UV burns. They have additional eyes embedded in their palms, enhancing their night-vision, with the ability to see auras and spiritual energy. Those gifted amongst their communities may even be appointed as Seers, with brief insight into the future, or the nature of a path a particular choice may take the Kishi down. 

They are deeply devout to their Supreme Mother, a spiritual being named Cosmos, who they believe is deeply intertwined with their lives, and actively guides them. As their species has an extremely slow reproduction rate, and a high rate of birth failure, they have deep reverence for the matriarchs in their clans, and often look to their female counterparts for leadership and direction. Alongside this, they do not eat meat on principle, and prefer mushrooms, and other strongly flavoured plants and fungi. 

//

The Carnasite is a highly malicious and infectious parasite that rapidly mutates the host. It begins as a microscopic organism that grows in size and influence the more it eats. A diverse diet of strong and hardy species will cause it to mutate and strengthen further, and potentially even take on characteristics of the species it consumes to follow unique evolution pathways for each host. Periods without food will cause it to devolve and revert to a more primitive state.

Note for Body Horror: The mutation period for a Carnasite infection is usually 2-3 days. Initial symptoms of a Carnasite infection include insatiable hunger, irritability, fever, flushed skin and psychosis. Delusions are usually focused around incessant whispering and paranoia. 

As the infection progresses, the host will begin to experience blurred vision, jaw pain, festering sores on the sides of the lips, and increasing hunger. Small wounds will also appear across the body, particularly on the bulk of the limbs, with accompanying bumps around the wounds. Within a day, these wounds will expose teeth and begin producing a sticky adhesive saliva, not unlike spider silk. Large fangs will also split the skin around the mouth. 

At this stage of infection, the host will enter a frenzied state, in which they will consume anything nearby, organic or inorganic. Some hosts may not return from this state, and remain crazed. If they are starved or without sustenance, they will ultimately self-consume and perish. 

Those with a high rate of biological synergy with the parasite may retain enough of their mental faculties to return from a frenzy, and suppress the physical appearance and needs of the Carnasite to a degree. 

A Carnasite infestation will cause the host to crave satiation, particularly from new and foreign organic flesh, to diversify its own genetic code and abilities. It speaks in an unknown language, and can be heard whispering at times to the host when the hunger cravings are particularly strong. 

Consuming the flesh of an infected individual will pass on the infection.

There is currently no known cure or extraction method for this parasite.

HOMEWORLD / PLANET: Asmodia — Caelia Cluster

Originally, the Kishi lived on Asmodia, a beautiful bioluminescent planet with two moons. Populated by lush towering flora and a diverse range of fauna, Asmodia was a thriving planet in perpetual moonlit darkness. The Kishi lived comfortably in ‘tree-top’ communities amidst the tall fungiform plants, using the planet’s low gravity to drift between establishments. The planet is now barren after a foreign disease from a merchant ship crash ravaged the flora, and left it incapable of supporting the Kishi species.

//

Cygnus — Caelia Cluster

A nearby planet with a complex underground cavern system and an empty surface, covered with thick toxic fog. There are signs of long-forgotten settlers scattered across the surface, obscured by the fog and acid rain. 

However, underneath the adverse surface of Cygnus is a stunning and complex system of caves, lit by luminescent crystals and moss-like flora. The caves are characterised by their large columns made of thick fleshy roots, opening out into webbed shelters at the base, like mangrove roots. These basket-like shelters usually form around geode rocks full of precious mineral ore, and shallow caustic waterways carrying small bioluminescent insects that glow when disturbed. The parasitic Carnasite species lay undisturbed on Cygnus for an unknown time, dormant in the lush moss of the caves.

STATS: ATK (4) / DEF (6) / DEX (4) / CHR (10) / INTL (10) / HP (8)

SECONDARY JOB / PROFESSION: Botanist — Yona takes it upon herself to explore, collect, and cultivate the flora of any new planet she visits, to see if it has any viable medicinal or sustenance purposes for her people. 

> SKILLS / ABILITIES:

> Siren Song: (CHR) Those lucky enough to have heard the secretive Kishi sing will speak of the enchanting power their voices hold. They hold a hypnotic quality that may lull a relaxed or vulnerable listener into a hypnotic state, leaving them open to suggestion. A loud noise or persistent outside distraction can break this effect. They have great control over their vocals as well, and can emit loud ear-piercing shrieks and a vast range of frequencies.

> Insatiable: (ATK/DEF) As a Carnasite host, Yona has been granted the ability to consume anything. Anything. She may also temporarily take on some of the physical characteristics of what she eats, such as hardened or jagged skin, heat resistance, color change, or other limited samples of foreign abilities. As her symbiote is still relatively young, it reverts from this evolved state rapidly unless it has a large and constant source of the same food. While she can still experience the taste sensation of adverse experiences such as bitterness or spiciness, she will not experience the attached side effects of food. Poisons, allergies and digestive incapabilities will be nullified by the parasite’s adaptive appetite. As a drawback however, she is truly insatiable, and constantly plagued by hunger. 

> Spider Silk: (DEX/INT) Yona is able to produce a durable and adhesive silk-like thread from the saliva of the Carnasite mouths. She can control the nature of the thread, like how quickly it dries, how sticky it will be, and/or how brittle it will be, which makes it uniquely suited to a variety of tasks. Primary uses include snaring/immobilising prey, repairing or making clothing, creating traps, binding items together or creating constructs like nets. 

> Seer Sight: (INT) When deeply involved in prayer and thought, Yona may briefly glimpse a vision of the future, or experience a feeling as a premonition for the possible pathways an action may take. She is not as skilled as some of her species at this, so her visions often appear scattered, obscured and vague.��She may also accurately locate bodily or spiritual injury using this skill, to better treat an individual or locate a bodily weakness.

> Night Vision: (INT) Kishi have pristine vision in darkness. They thrive in dimly lit settings, and may even become luminous themselves if they have been exposed to enough moonlight. Briskly rubbing their skin may accentuate this effect.

> PERSONALITY

{ Peaceful // Gentle // Nurturing // Resolute // Contemplative // Trusting // Conflicted // Compulsive // Fretful // Melancholic }

Yona tries to embody many of the best traits of her culture. She is gentle, nurturing, and extremely devout to their Supreme Mother Cosmos, whose belief system encourages many maternal and guiding qualities. She believes in striving for true harmony with one’s environment, and always being respectful to one’s ancestors and the history of the land she encounters. Though somewhat skittish when first experiencing new things and meeting new people, Yona’s patience and kindness knows no bounds once she is familiar and comfortable. 

Despite the fundamental conflicts between her morals/values and her current predicament, she remains resolute and steadfast to her goal of finding a cure for her people from the Carnasite plague. She is utterly selfless and willing to be a martyr for the sake of her species’ future, even if it means casting her own quality of life and happiness to the wayside. She has extreme mental fortitude in the face of hardship, which is one of the main contributors to her survival thus far. The burden of this mission however leaves her contemplative most of the time, and melancholic when she dwells on the Kishi’s plight. 

She views bounty hunting as a necessary evil, in order to balance the hunger-driven compulsions from the Carnasite living inside her, and views many things in the universe as such. She tries to find a uniquely balanced perspective on all the conflicts in her life, striving to see both sides of the equation. As such, she finds it easier to sympathise with the motivations of a villain or a bounty, no matter how nefarious. She tends to rationalise all actions of others, no matter the underlying morality or general acceptance of such actions, and believes all things have a reason and explanation for happening. 

She also has a tendency to sympathise especially with those who have wronged her, even when they have few redeeming qualities. She may excuse their actions or even try to justify them, despite them having brought harm to her. It is in part how she has coped with the events of her life up to this point, but it also leaves her open to suggestion and manipulation from others, as she fails to and even sometimes outright refuses to see bad quality in others. 

Despite this, the Carnasite finds ways to prey on the weakest points of her resolution, so she often has moments of paranoia and fretfulness. She struggles deeply with personal guilt over her actions as a result of the parasite she is host to, and sometimes has difficulty separating herself from its intentions. 

Her infallible optimism towards others is one of her defining qualities. She believes there is light in every situation, no matter how bleak it may seem. She tries to hold team situations together, mediating issues where they appear, and seeking a diplomatic pathway where she can. The only exception to this rule is her own fate— though hopeful, she is also bleakly fatalistic about the likely prognosis. She speaks about death and addresses it with a numb callous that may be morbid and unnerving to some.

LOVES: Kiyumi, Cosmos LIKES: Flowers and pretty new plants, gemstones, moonlight, children, music DISLIKES: The state of her people, eating, caves HATES: Sickness, hunger EXTRAS: Yona lives with immense survivor’s guilt. She also has an extremely distracted manner of speech, and pauses at odd moments in her sentences. This is in part habitual, due to their species’ naturally slow and careful speech style to avoid inadvertently enchanting listeners, and also a personal affect, as she finds the Carnasite’s voice very distracting and overwhelming when she is trying to conduct conversation.

She is also curating a garden her most favourite plants she’s collected on her ship.

> PERSONAL GEAR 

Yona carries with her a meagre supply of spare fabric rolls, hand-twined ropes, a collection of painted wooden and avelite stone jewellery, painfully inherited from her beloved priestesses. Thanks to her sponsorship, she also now possesses a (mind and soul adapter, more tba)

SHIP: RAPTURE — A ship that bears the scars of great hope, and great sorrow.

A rudimentary patchwork ship, with many elements pieced together from merchants and travellers who visited Asmodia. Similar to an old Ark ship, it is an extremely slow vessel, and barely furnished aside from the most necessary technology inside. It has enough space inside for a sizeable crew and passengers. Some of the wall covers are missing or damaged, and the interior shows signs of a terrible struggle. There is faded purple blood splattered on some of the floor and walls, with apparent bite marks in some of the panels. 

The bottom of the hull is decorated in luminous ink, detailing the handprints of her late clansmen. These were placed on the eve of their departure from Asmodia, as a sign of respect for their heritage and future. 

WEAPONS: Much to her distaste, her body is currently her greatest weapon. If she had her time again, perhaps she would choose an elegant war-fan or battle hammer. In time, she may explore her options, but she is currently exploring how to weaponise the Carnasite silk in order to execute the most painless and humane bounty capture and extermination possible.

COMPANION: She does not trust herself enough at this point for any long-term companions. Unfortunately, her resident parasite keeps her enough company for the moment.  SHOP ITEMS: TBA

> HISTORY 

( There is graphic content beyond, detailing death and violence. Such is the nature of life in this universe. A censored TL;DR has been included at the end. )

GENESIS 

Life on Asmodia was idyllic and peaceful. Situated in the Caelia Cluster along a common trade route, the Kishi clan would occasionally have passing ships stop and offer trade goods like technology and fabrics in exchange for the luminous gems and ornate wooden jewellery they curated. Aside from these brief interactions, contact was fleeting and rare with outside species. They led a life of devout isolation and symbiotic harmony with their land, never taking more than was necessary, and always finding ways to give back to their surroundings. 

Yona was sheltered from all but the occasional exotic tea blend the clan would trade for, or foreign fabrics. Within the clan, daily life consisted of a balance of fine arts, prayer, and gathering and preparing food and resources from their surroundings. As a youngling, she was fascinated by the work of the priestesses and Seers in their clan, and spent much of her youth following them around in their daily rituals. In particular, one of the younger priestesses Kiyumi took a liking to Yona, and became a mentor and an elder sister figure for the young Kishi. She dearly loved her mentor, and spent long hours watching her work, aiding her chores, and talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

Yona was a quiet youth with a delicate constitution, considered too fragile by many of her peers for the food gathering aspects of the clan. Instead, she was encouraged to learn the decorative sewing and rope-twining skills they prided themselves on, and help with the preparation of the various medicinal herbs and meals. She proved to have good hands and concentration for the tasks, content to fulfil menial roles to pass the days and assist Kiyumi.

Life should have continued in simple bliss, if it weren’t for the crash of a large merchant ship near their settlement. It had been fleeing pirates with a cargo of foreign foods, exotic species and assorted ‘medicines’. The crew was almost entirely killed on impact, and those who survived were finished soon after as the pirates descended for their bounty. The initial impact wiped out a significant part of Asmodia’s landscape, but it was the following weeks in which the true impact of the crash showed. 

They had inadvertently brought with them disease, scattered from the alien goods into the fragile and sensitive flora of Asmodia. Much of the Kishi’s food sources became tainted with a black pox, turning the plants to soft slime with a sour smell. It spread like wildfire, from the smallest of foods first, and eventually into the plants in which the clan lived. It toppled the towering fungi with rot at the core, and sent the clan fleeing across the planet in search of a stable home and reliable food source. Each new hopeful settlement dried up shortly after their arrival. 

It became apparent that there was no hope for survival left on Asmodia. It was a dying planet, crumbling at the seams as a plague ravaged the very ground beneath their feet. Like a poison, the lack of food sent many species spiralling into madness, starvation and desperation causing some to even eat their kin, a grave omen for things to come. 

EXODUS

As a predominantly homebound group, the Kishi only had limited and primitive spacefaring technology. With their weakened and diminishing clan numbers, they had just enough resources to take the youngest and the strongest of them out into space, leaving behind those too ill or elderly to join them at the Seers’ suggestion. In spacecrafts patched together from traveller’s technology and salvaged fuel from the crash, the remnants of the Kishi clan fled into their nearby star cluster and drifted. They drifted, until at their ship rasped a soft ping, a blip on the dash for a small planet. The systems had been dead until this point, but it only offered a name — Cygnus. 

They had no star maps, no knowledge of the surrounding stars or planets, and no connections to gather information from. Was it a distress signal? Or a buried log, too corrupted now to reference? They landed blindly in the swirling mists of Cygnus, and prayed to Cosmos that she would guide them safely in their journey. A small search party braved the acrid smog, stumbling upon the weather-worn remains of old ships and the broken skeletons of crews long forgotten, stripped bare. They were jagged wrecks, apparently savaged by large beasts. It was impossible to tell how long the wreckages had been left, all identification worn away, bones broken and strewn about as though hunted by some vicious monster. The party paid their respects, giving them a brief prayer burial to rest their souls with their Supreme Mother. 

And still, the Kishi searched onwards, undeterred by the corpses, seeking shelter or any kind of resources. They found respite in the gaping maw of a cave, cold and damp, with the sound of running water and wind whistling deeper into the tunnel. It seemed at last they had found promise of shelter. 

As they travelled deeper, the found lush moss lining the walls, flowers growing out from the seams in the rocks, and running water. The plants were beautiful, with teal petals dangling down from their stems like little bells, leaves thin and curled around the base on delicate vines. They were reminiscent of the flora from home, and upon investigation, deliciously edible for the Kishi. The water, though bitter and strongly flavoured, was also good for consumption. The glow of the crystals embedded in the many rocks and cavern pillars also emulated their beloved moonlight. 

The weary and diminished clan had found the first thread of hope since leaving their home, and were eager to find a way to settle the caves beneath the hostile surface. The initial party was joined soon after by the remnants of the clan, setting up rudimentary settlements around the brightest rocks and the thickest moss. Cygnus might have lacked many of the comforts from Asmodia, but it was a promising start. 

PESTILENCE

Their first days were focused on procuring as much food as possible to begin a small stockpile, and exploring the extent of the Cygnus caves. Despite how promising their new settlement seemed, the Seers in the group were restless, Yona included. The priestesses complained that their sleep was disturbed, and their dreams were plagued with horrid visions of bloodshed and death. Yona’s visions had never been strong, but she claimed when she had meditated by the cavern’s glowing stones, she had been seized by terrible and vague premonitions. 

The more fierce of the clan simply brushed off their concerns, reminding them of how stressful and perilous their journey had been, and how they were likely just haunting after-images of their exodus from Asmodia. The debate did little to soothe their concerns. They took small comfort in the steady flow of food and water, which assuaged most of their fears as it had been many cycles since they had last had certain supplies. 

Strangely, regardless of how well fed they were, members of the clan began to weaken inexplicably, wasting away feverishly. They all complained they were plagued by the paranoia and whispering visions the Seers had first experienced. Next, they noticed the painful sores on their lips and the insistent thirst that sent them crawling to the steams to slake their parched throats. A mysterious illness had seized the clan, not unlike the plague that had cast them out of their homes. 

Those who remained well stayed by the side of each one who fell ill, gently tending to each flickering life. They were well aware deaths on a scale like this could obliterate the few strong that remained of their clan. Yona noticed her own symptoms later than the rest, forgoing her own food and drink in favour of tending her most beloved priestess. As Kiyumi tossed restlessly and babbled in her troubled sleep, the Seer continued to warn of the water. The eyes in her palms, usually so bright and focused into the spiritual world, rolled dull into the backs of her hands as she reached for clarity. ‘The tide of death will come, and we will be swept, all of us, in the undertow. All of us, drowned.’ Yona put it down to the illness speaking, but the visions spoke true. 

GENOCIDE

There was sickness in the water. Namely, a long forgotten and undisturbed parasite they would later dub the ‘Carnasite’, for the carnage it left in its infectious wake. 

The condition of the ill worsened rapidly until they lay in moaning heaps of tangled limbs and wounds, their very skin crawling with the hungry presence growing underneath. Yona held enough clarity to witness her kin’s bodies erupt with teeth and starving alien maws, their faces disfigured beyond recognition as their minds deteriorated to base beastly instincts. Long gone was the gentle grace of her mentor, the wise calm of their elder, the stoic measure of their bravest warrior – even the soft mewling cries of their young were morphed into wails of starving distress.

As she lay on her side, heaving and fighting against the whispering in her mind, she held Kiyumi’s hands like they were her lifeline. It wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of familiar screams as she watched her kin descend upon one another, tearing at flesh like they had never known a kind touch. She saw mother devour child, friend betray friend, the warriors feast upon their own flesh in mad, senseless rage and craving. 

So she prayed fervently to Cosmos, through her tears and her own screams as her body tore apart at the seams. She prayed that their Supreme Mother would protect them, and deliver them somehow from this nightmare. She felt her mind slip away, and something else, something malicious and cruel and unholy take the reigns as the last of her prayers drifted away.

SACRIFICE

When Yona regained her mind, she was curled into Kiyumi’s empty chest, the priestess’ arms wrapped around her in weak embrace. A sense of foreboding lurked at the hazy edges of her mind, the rancid smell of death filling the cavern. She sat up weakly, gazing at her hands smeared with lavender gore.

She first noticed Kiyumi’s prayer beads clutched in one hand, and then she noticed the soft suckling noise of something feeding. 

And then it dawned on her that she was making that sound. Spiralling mouths had opened along the length of her limbs, silken drool running glistening rivers to where they had attached themselves to Kiyumi’s corpse. 

Yona shrieked and scrambled backwards in horror, backing into the desecrated body of the elder, unrecognisable now, stripped back to the bones. Everywhere she looked, she saw the mark of death, staining the walls and the lichen floors of this cursed place. She cradled her face in her hands and felt the spokes of teeth protruding through her cheeks, still slick with blood. Everything ached, but nothing hurt more than the mangled sight of her beloved spirit-sister Kiyumi. She wept abruptly. Was this truly deliverance? She had regained her mind, but at what cost? Kiyumi had always had wisdom and foresight, why had she been the one to perish, and Yona the one to survive? 

Distantly, she could still hear the sounds of her beastly kin lumbering, the splash of disturbed waters and hungry wailing like tormented souls. The cavern felt at once sinister and claustrophobic. She staggered to her feet, whispering a prayer for repentance as she fled the graveyard buried under Cygnus. 

SALVATION

At the mouth of the cave, she found several others gathered, each at varying stages and severity of mutation. They loitered in the shadows, away from the glowing lights they had once embraced, full of self-loathing and despair for what they had become, and what they had done to each other. Some had more mental presence than others, but it was clear they were all in a poor state. This was all that remained of their clan, aside from those they had abandoned on Asmodia, and those mutated beyond recognition or salvation deeper within the caves. 

They knew next to nothing about the sickness that had made them such monsters. They called them Carnasites in hushed voices, as though whispering the name could give power to the unknown disease. All they knew was that the hunger was connected to the maws that appears and closed across their body, and feeding them could help stave off the madness some of the others had succumbed to. They had no expertise on how to reverse the effects, or if that were even possible. It was clear they couldn’t stay here if they wanted any of their lineage to survive, and they certainly couldn’t return to Asmodia. Their only choice was to venture onwards, out into the universe in search of knowledge.

They made a sombre pact there and then that they would not meet again until they had found a cure, lest they turn on each other again. Those too weak to maintain their form and mental faculties resigned themselves to a fate in the caves. The resolute few who were left trudged through the mists, past the ruined relics of other travellers who had perhaps fallen to the same fate long ago, to their awaiting ships. They split a small crew amidst each. Yona was assigned to Rapture, a sizeable vessel, with a few others from her clan. 

The journey was not easy. It was long and arduous before they found a place where they could find resources and repairs, a shady black market den where few questions were asked about the sorry state of the ship and the group. Their main point of conflict was where they would find food. The plant food they had become accustomed to no longer seemed to appease the hungry maws, but neither did the purchasable meats satiate them for long. Much to their chagrin, it seemed the maws craved fresh meat and new types of organisms, which staved off the symptoms of madness the longest. 

Unable to come to terms with this, their crew dwindled as some would rather starve than face their apparent future. Eventually, Yona found herself alone on the ship, with the bitter knowledge that cannibalism provided the longest relief. Fuelled by memory of Kiyumi’s sacrifice and the bodies of her kin on board, she continued ever onwards, no matter the cost, determined to find a way to exist as a symbiote in her newfound identity. Despite her own abhorrence at her predicament, she continued until she heard word of a promising career. Bounty Hunting. With the support of Fortune and their sponsors, bounty hunting could provide a source of legal food, and a means of searching for a cure on a larger platform. 

She pursued Fortune, registering herself and taking on as many small-time bounties marked WANTED : DEAD as possible to find food for herself and work up the ranks. No matter the moral cost, no matter the danger, Yona vowed to Cosmos that she would find salvation for her people, and a future for those they had left behind.

TL;DR — The Kishi species led a content and insular lifestyle on Asmodia before a merchant ship crashed on the planet, releasing a foreign disease that eradicated most of the plant life and food sources. Using primitive technology, a large group of Kishi fled to the nearby planet Cygnus, seeking a new home. There, they accidentally awakened a dormant parasite species that mutated them into insatiable monsters. A majority of the clan died in the days following the outbreak. 

The surviving few left Cygnus and went their seperate ways, scattered across the universe in an attempt to find a cure for their species. Yona sought out bounty hunting and the expertise of Techico Labs as a sponsor, in the hopes that she could find help for her people there. 

[viralnewstime]

Never have streaming services seemed more crucial to our collective consciousness than right now. In these uncertain times, we’re all looking for a way to escape, whether it’s through home workouts, baking, or something a little more thrilling.

Thankfully Aussie legend Stan has the goods with a slew of brand new thriller releases. So dim the lights, grab a bowl of movie-grade popcorn and get ready to stay in, sit back and enjoy.

Penny Dreadful: City of Angels

What: A spiritual descendent of the original Penny Dreadful story, the brand new series Penny Dreadful: City of Angels is a twisting, supernatural crime caper set in 1938 Los Angeles – a time and place deeply infused with social and political tension.

When a grisly murder shocks the city of Los Angeles, Detective Tiago Vega (Daniel Zavatto) and his partner Lewis Michener (Nathan Lane) find themselves embroiled in an epic story that reflects the rich history of Los Angeles: from the building of the city’s first freeways and its deep traditions of Mexican-American folklore to the dangerous espionage actions of the Third Reich and the rise of radio evangelism. Before too long Tiago and his family are grappling with powerful forces that threaten to tear them apart. 

Why should you watch it? If the action-packed trailer alone, with its sinister lighting, old-school gangster guns, grizzled but dreamy detectives, explosions, horror, occult references and supernatural undertones isn’t enough to convince you, then consider this: one of the TWO major battles the show is built around sees Magda (Natalie Dormer) face off against the literal personification of death Santa Muerte (Lorenza Izzo) who just so happens to be her sister! It’s the demonic family feud we’ve all been waiting for, and the city of sinners is the perfect place for it to go down. 

If Penny Dreadful: City of Angels was a band it would be:  Slipknot (there’s a LOT going on and it’s ALL awesome) 

When to watch: Right now, right here.

The Gloaming

What: A powerful and provocative crime thriller set against the surreal landscapes of Tasmania, and from The Kettering Incident creator Vicki Madden, the Stan Original Series The Gloaming is a crime TV masterpiece not to be missed. When an unidentified woman is found brutally murdered, Detective Molly McGee (Emma Booth) uncovers chilling evidence that links the body to an unsolved crime from over two decades ago. Driven to finally get both the truth and justice, Molly teams up with ex-partner and old-flame Alex O’Connell (Ewen Leslie), only to be thrown headfirst into a murder mystery that rapidly goes from routine investigation to something much more insidious. As political corruption and shady business intertwine with sinister crimes and occult practices, The Gloaming becomes a genuinely unsettling puzzle.

Why should you watch it? If the above paragraph wasn’t enough to convince you, consider this: self-isolation has likely taken your brain to some strange and dark places this month, but none of them will be as deeply disturbing, unsettling and unexpected as the events depicted in The Gloaming. This is the type of murder mystery that will keep you awake until you’ve binged it all in one day, and the pay-off is absolutely worth it. It also scores bonus points for a stellar cast, the gorgeously ominous fog-covered Tasmanian scenery and the episode titles, which are all amazing (eg. The Mark of the Witch).

If The Gloaming was a band it would be: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

When to watch: This one is perfect for when you want to escape into the great outdoors (and not just for some essential exercise). Every episode of this Stan Original Series dropped as part of the platform’s massive summer line up, so you can jump right in. 

Better Call Saul

What: Joining the universe of Breaking Bad, one of television’s most critically acclaimed shows, Better Call Saul is a darkly comedic crime series centred on Walter White’s criminal/lawyer, and tracks his transformation from small-town attorney James ‘Jimmy’ McGill (Bob Odenkirk) into the dodgy, lowlife, scam artist, alter-ego, Saul Goodman. 

Set six years before Breaking Bad kicks off, Better Call Saul gifts viewers a front-row seat to the series of extraordinary, and extraordinarily tragic, events that forged one of television’s most truly despicable beings. Set in Albuquerque, New Mexico, we get inside the mind of McGill as he takes on a job as the lawyer for a former police officer whose skills allow him to enter the criminal underworld.  

Why should you watch it?  If for some reason the prospect of another five seasons of critically acclaimed TV featuring Bob Odenkirk as he becomes Saul Goodman wasn’t enough reason for you to watch alone, the welcome return of fellow Breaking Bad alumni Jonathan Banks as hitman Mike Ehrmantraut, and malevolent chicken king Gus Fring played by Giancarlo Esposito, should do the trick. Simply put, if you were addicted to the greatest television show ever made (or just like good TV), then you better watch Saul. If Better Call Saul was a band who would it be? Kyuss 

When to watch:  Every episode of all FIVE seasons are available right now, so get streaming before the final season drops next year and we say goodbye forever. Bonus: If you’ve never seen Breaking Bad, you can also stream every episode of the series  – there’s a solid month of self-isolation viewing sorted!

The Little Drummer Girl

What: Based on John le Carré’s best-selling literary masterpiece, The Little Drummer Girl is an immersive thriller series about a  fiery actress who, upon meeting a mysterious stranger in Greece, is drawn into a high-stakes international espionage operation.

Set in the late 1970s, the pulsating drama stars the fantastic Florence Pugh as Charlie, the unfulfilled British actress and idealist whose resolve is tested after she meets Alexander Skarsgard’s Becker while on holiday. It quickly becomes apparent that his intentions are not what they seem, and their encounter entangles her in a complex plot devised by the spy mastermind Kurtz, played by the incomparable Michael Shannon. Charlie takes on the role of a lifetime as a double agent in the ‘Theatre of the Real’, but despite her natural mastery for the task at hand, she increasingly finds herself inexorably drawn into a dangerous world of duplicity and compromised humanity.

Why should you watch it? The Little Drummer Girl blurs the fine lines between love and hate; truth and fiction; and right and wrong, and will leave you in a state of near-constant suspense as layers upon layers of depth and intrigue are added each episode. And thanks to the international settings, it’ll feel like you’ve taken a trip to the other side of the world, multiple times, without ever leaving your house. 

If The Little Drummer Girl was a band who would it be? Placebo 

When to watch: All episodes of the thrilling British miniseries are available to stream right now.

Supernatural

What: When Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) Winchester were children, they lost their mother to a mysterious and demonic supernatural force. All grown up, the brothers embrace their inner Buffy as they traverse the country seeking truth, vengeance, and their missing supernatural hunting father, kicking the ass of whatever force, human or otherwise, dares try to intervene.

Along the way, Sam begins to develop disturbing powers, including the ability to see graphic visualisations of people’s deaths before they happen. It’s these premonitions that then give additional purpose to the Winchester brothers’ quest as they try to prevent these lives being lost

Why should you watch it?  Put simply, Supernatural is one of the best shows of its genre ever made. With a Rotten Tomatoes score of 93% across 14 (yes 14!) seasons, it’s a genuine masterclass in TV worldbuilding, with every episode playing a crucial role in the telling of a truly epic paranormal tale that expertly blends horror, mystery, drama and thriller conventions into one supernaturally good show. 

If Supernatural was a band who would it be? Coheed and Cambria

When to watch: When you feel like some sibling bonding time, tuck into all 14 seasons of this iconic series on Stan.

Parasite

What: A pitch-black modern fairytale thriller, Parasite follows the near destitute and increasingly desperate Kim family as they infiltrate the ludicrously wealthy Park family, one lowly service job at a time, in a calculated effort to survive. A symbiotic relationship is forged, yet beneath the surface a parasite dwells, feeding on greed and class-discrimination, threatening to expose the truth. 

Parasite is a film best enjoyed without any further context, so we’re not going to spoil the plot any more – all we’ll say is you’ve never seen a film t like it, and it’s very likely that once you’ve seen it, you’ll never be the same again.

Why should you watch it? After winning 4 Academy Awards, including the historic accolade of being the first foreign-language film to ever win ‘Best Picture’, and the Palme d’Or at Cannes, Parasite is South Korean director/writer Bong Joon-Ho’s (The Host, Snowpiercer, Okja) masterpiece. Perfectly cast and brilliantly layered, every single shot, plot twist and piece of dialogue uttered in Parasite is absolutely essential in adding to the omnipresent suspense. It’s funny, haunting and thrilling all at once, but the scariest and most shocking quality of all is just how POSSIBLE it seems. This is a movie that will haunt not just your nightmares, but your daydreams as well. Stop reading this, and watch it immediately. That 99% Rotten Tomatoes score didn’t get there by accident.

If Parasite was a band what would it be? Envy

When to watch: After being fast-tracked from cinemas, Parasite is already available to stream so get to it – just make sure you’re emotionally prepared. 

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