#both genetically and physiologically

[dreamofbecoming]

this isn’t ready for ao3 yet bc i have more planned and i don’t want to make it chaptered, but i’m actually quite pleased with how this turned out, so please enjoy this first taste of my banshee/siren hybrid jaskier story!

part 2

minor warning for gore

wc 745

now on ao3

----

Jaskier knows the taste of death.

He tastes it more often than he’d like (which is to say, at all); every few towns or so, whenever he makes eye contact with the wrong person. An old woman putting out her washing, a young man in a tavern, puffed up and boasting while his fellows egg him on to show off, a girl with bruises on her arms and her eyes downcast, walking in the shadow of her husband. The sickly taste of rot will coat the back of his tongue and he’ll feel a Song rising in his throat.

He never Sings it.

He’s tasted the deaths of a hundred strangers, and while his heart breaks a little every time, he fights down the Song and swallows the rotten bile and turns away, knowing he has no power here. There is nothing he can do for them, now.

This time is different.

This time, the Song he can feel building in his chest isn’t for a stranger.

It’s for Geralt.

Something— breaks, inside him. The Song, which has always before felt like a living thing unto itself, separate from the man who hosts it, just waiting to be unleashed, expands to fill his lungs. For a moment, Jaskier chokes on the sudden absence of air, before his world narrows down to a single thought: No.

He feels the moment when the magic inside him changes, when the Song becomes a part of him instead of simply a parasite. For the first time since his failed training as a child, he lets it loose.

The first to fall is the bowman in the treeline, the one Jaskier saw but Geralt didn’t. Jaskier is too far away to see his face when his hands turn the crossbow on himself, but he can taste the moment when his body falls from his perch, leaving his fellows without cover.

Geralt has felled four of the remaining bandits, but three still encircle him, and Jaskier can see him slowing.

“A single thread

hangs limply down,

and I breathe,

‘Not now,

not now,’”

All three men pull back from their attack on Geralt in an instant. The witcher doesn’t stay his strike and cuts down the one immediately in front of him before whirling to stare at Jaskier in shock, but Jaskier can’t stop now. The Song isn’t finished. Geralt isn’t safe.

“And I find you all

unwoven,

trying desperately

to sew,”

The two bandits left take jerky steps towards each other, swords raised, eyes wild and terrified. The leader makes a low, despairing sound as his friend’s innards spill beneath his blade.

“And I know the kindest thing

is to leave you

alone.”

As the last man drags his own dagger across his throat, his eyes never leave Jaskier’s.

The magic cuts off abruptly, the Song finished with the death fulfilled. Not Geralt’s death, somehow, not anymore. He’s done what he swore he never would, he’s outed himself as a monster, but Geralt is still warm and breathing behind him, so it was worth it. Whatever fate he meets at his witcher’s hands, it was worth it.

Jaskier can taste nothing but decay and blood, and he doubles over, his stomach heaving painfully as he expels his breakfast.

He’s still hunched over the ground, coughing on the lingering taste of death while spots dance in his vision, when he hears Geralt come up behind him. His footsteps are more tentative than Jaskier is used to. Understandably cautious around an unknown threat, Jaskier thinks bitterly. He’d known it was coming, it’s what he expected, but it still chafes. Most of all, he just wishes he had more time. More time with Geralt, but just more time in general.

Still, he won’t die crouched in a puddle of his own vomit like some beast. Whatever his parentage, he has more dignity than that. He’ll meet Geralt’s silver sword standing tall, and it will still be a better death than he could have met if he’d stayed at home, like his sire had expected. Love doesn’t need to be spoken to be worth dying for, after all.

Except, the spots in his vision don’t fade when he stands, like he’d expected; in fact, they grow. He sways on his feet as the world tilts alarmingly. The last thing he sees before the world goes totally black is Geralt, hands empty of silver or steel, lunging to catch him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Jaskier!”

#the witcher #twn #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #creature!jaskier #banshee!jaskier #siren!jaskier #my writing #the amazing devil lyrics as always #will i ever use another band in a witcher fic? i think the fuck not #y’all the amount of lore and backstory and magical mechanics i have come up with for this au is wild #will i use most of it? #almost certainly not #but you can bet your ass i’ve spent at least 4 hours nailing down exactly how a siren and a banshee would reproduce #both genetically and physiologically #siren social structures? #got those #exactly how siren powers and banshee powers might combine (aka how can i justify jaskier being able to do whatever i want him to do)? #yep it’s all up here #i’m actually really excited for where this one is going y’all i hope you like it!!!

[suzukiblu]

If you feel up for it, for the writing meme prompt, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, with the song You And Me by Lifehouse? If it's not your thing I totally get it though and hope you have a great time and fun writing the things that do catch your fancy!

I think we ALL knew that I was gonna do baby Kon for this, lbr. Also ngl, this came out way more cracky than the prompt would suggest it should've but it is absolutely my favorite thing I’ve written for this meme so far, as the necessity for the following cut should help attest, haha.

Unfortunately, Lex takes one look at Cadmus’s progress report on the newly-crafted Experiment Thirteen and realizes he has paternal instincts. 

Well, that’s inconvenient. And a little disgusting, honestly. Certainly a disappointment. 

He supposes it could be worse. He could be Lionel about this. 

Anyway, that’s how he has a physiological four year-old on his lap when he hears the news about Superman coming back to life and fistfighting an evil cyborg with his own face about it, because of course the man didn’t have the decency to just stay dead. Why would he, after all? 

Lex needs a drink. That would be a bad example for the physiological four year-old, though. 

Then again, Experiment Thirteen should be completely immune to the effects of Earth-based alcohol in about another four to six months of consistent yellow sun exposure, so . . . 

Lex is halfway through his second brandy when Superman shows up on his balcony at super-speed wearing a very pretentiously dramatic black suit and looking both winded and bewildered. And still alive, unfortunately. 

“Don’t you have a murderous cyborg to be ensuring is in custody?” Lex asks dryly, deciding to just not acknowledge the presence of the physiological four year-old who’s moved on to messily but methodically coloring on the floor underneath his desk. Lex didn’t actually give Experiment Thirteen either a coloring book or crayons, mind, but he appreciates the clone’s resourcefulness in breaking into the office supplies. Anyway, it’s useful for developing its hand-eye coordination and fine motor control. 

Superman’s pupils are pin-pricks, barely even there at all. Which is an unusual reaction from him, and Lex notes that fact reflexively but doesn’t particularly care about it. Meant-to-be-dead people do unusual things, especially the alien ones. And it isn’t as if–

“Baby,” Superman blurts, his eyes wide. 

Lex . . . pauses. Takes a slow sip of his brandy. 

Alright then. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he settles on eventually, raising an eyebrow at him. Experiment Thirteen peers out from under the desk, immediately decides Superman isn’t an interesting presence, and then goes back to coloring all over Lex’s floor. It seems to be drawing either a puppy or a chain of complex genetic sequencing, but judging by the kinds of things it’s been drawing so far, it’s fifty-fifty. Lex has been getting the impression the clone actually likes art, which is a baffling interest to find in his own progeny, but how does that quote go . . . “I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet”? 

Or something like that, anyway. 

“No, I–baby,” Superman stresses, looking bewildered as he floats down a little closer to the open balcony door. 

“. . . yes, I’ve noticed,” Lex repeats, raising his eyebrow again and taking another sip of brandy. Superman looks frazzled, bobbing up a little higher in the air again to get a better view of Experiment Thirteen under the desk. Experiment Thirteen keeps ignoring him in favor of its coloring, displaying no apparent interest in the most powerful uninvited guest in the history of illegal immigration. Lex experiences a moment of overwhelming paternal pride, which is such a bizarre and unanticipated experience that he doesn’t even know what to do with it. 

“Where’d he come from?” Superman asks with a wondering expression. Ugh.

“A cloning lab,” Lex replies dismissively, setting his near-empty glass down on the desk. It’s hardly worth lying about Experiment Thirteen’s origins at this point. He didn’t want to murder everyone in Cadmus to keep the secret. He might need them if there’s an issue with Experiment Thirteen’s genetics later, after all. “We mixed it up a couple weeks ago while you were off wasting everyone’s time being dead."

“You had my baby?” Superman says, tilting in the air and still staring at Experiment Thirteen, as if he's somehow forgotten both how much kryptonite Lex owns and how much kryptonite he keeps specifically in this office. “While I was dead. You had my baby while I was dead.” 

. . . alright then, Lex thinks again, both eyebrows raising this time. 

“I really wouldn’t put it that way, personally,” he says. “Also, I don’t recall saying it was in any way yours.”

“Baby,” Superman repeats inanely, then lands on the floor and ducks down into a crouch to peer under the desk better, his pupils still reduced to barely-there pinpricks. Lex is so mystified he doesn't even activate the security system or the weaponized red sun lamps. Experiment Thirteen frowns at Superman–Lex, again, basks in unanticipated paternal pride–and then turns its back on him and hides all its drawings from him as seriously and carefully as if they were under NDA. 

It's almost adorable, frankly. 

Not that Lex finds things adorable, of course. 

“His heartbeat's so cute,” Superman says, looking absolutely fascinated. Which is surprisingly useful of him to mention, actually, since Lex had previously been vaguely concerned that Experiment Thirteen's odd thrumming heartbeat might be a sign of a heart defect, but apparently it’s just a Kryptonian thing. A . . . “cute” Kryptonian thing, according to Superman. 

Lex is increasingly mystified by this interaction. 

“Can’t say I’ve spent much time listening to it, personally,” he lies, because he has in fact obsessed over that heartbeat’s health and stability since first finding out about its unusualness and has done a truly aggravating amount of research into heart murmurs and conditions and the like. But that’s hardly Superman’s business, now is it. 

“. . . what’s his name?” Superman asks hesitantly. Lex is possibly having an out of body experience. 

“Experiment Thirteen,” he says. Superman immediately looks offended. 

“We need to give him a name, Lex,” he says. Lex, again, has an out of body experience. 

“‘We’?” he repeats incredulously. “I made it, I get to decide what it’s called.” 

“He’s got my DNA!” Superman protests, looking indignant. Lex has absolutely no idea how to process that expression. 

“It has both our DNA, in fact, yours was too irritating to stabilize alone,” Lex informs him dubiously. More accurately it was literally impossible to stabilize alone, but he’s not mentioning that to Superman. “So it has my DNA, and I made it. And also put eight point two billion dollars into its production, as a lowball estimate. Therefore I’m the one who decides what its name is, thank you very much.” 

“Lex,” Superman says disapprovingly. “You can’t call a baby Experiment Thirteen.” 

“It’s physiologically developed enough to complain if it doesn’t like it,” Lex retorts, narrowing his eyes at him. Superman frowns at him. Lex has never had a more ridiculous conversation with the man, including all the times Superman’s tried to appeal to his nonexistent “better nature”. “Well it is.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Superman says, then ducks back down and peers at Experiment Thirteen again, gentling his voice to address it while Lex is still incredulously mouthing “ridiculous”? to himself. “Would you like a real name, kiddo?” 

Experiment Thirteen sticks its tongue out at him. 

Lex is finding parenthood to be a very rewarding experience, actually. 

#clex #lex luthor #clark kent #kon el #conner kent #superman #superboy #superfamily #rinfic #anonymous

[roseykat]

What about alpha Minho/omega Jisung X alpha fem! Reader?? The two alphas fucking each other roughly because it's their nature and they constantly try to dominate the other, both of them fucking their little Omega until he cries and shakes in their hold, marking him as their mate

The three of the spending their ruts/heats together...

That's it

Thank you for giving me free rein (again) over another topic, and I think this is the first A/B/O type hard thought that I’ve written on this account lmao

Imagine the sheer, untapped ferocity between alpha Minho and alpha reader whenever dominance is at stake. Not to mention whenever their doe eyed, freshly marked mate is watching as well before he gets clawed into the mess. His alphas’ ruts are brutal and totally unforgiving, but to me, Jisung holds the mental faculty as a natural pleaser. Yes omega’s submit to alphas, but Jisung just submits in general because that’s also his personality and not just his genes (in this AU anyway).

So even if he didn’t possess the genetic makeup of an omega, that man is on his knees, awaiting further instructions from reader and Minho without question.

They’d fuck him harsh and senseless, using his holes at their own will until he’s crying from how good his insides feel. Even though he likes it hard, fast, rough, and will take both of them at the same time on any given day, his alpha’s can go overboard sometimes. But he knows it’s not their fault and they know that if there’s anything that’s as equally bad if not worse than a rut, it’s when Jisung goes into heat.

Slightly similar to his partners ruts, it’s uncontrollable and unbearable if nothing is done about it. He could absolutely go on heat suppressants to help lessen the intensity of them. But it doesn’t make them disappear. He’ll still present all the symptoms of being in heat when it swings around, and if he’s especially unlucky, they don’t work.

If that’s the case, Minho and reader have to prepare for their mates heats just as he prepares for their ruts.

Jisung’s can’t withstand his physiological needs and will beg, cry, or both sometimes, for his alphas to fuck him. When they’re not around, it’s not an uncommon occurrence for reader and/or Minho to catch Jisung with an article of clothing from each of them, bought up to his nose as he tries to finger his slick hole on their bed.

The need to be fucked by his alphas surpasses all rationality. His body screams at him to be knotted and bred. So when he again, goes crying to his alphas, sobbing at their feet because his body hurts without them, they don’t hesitate. It’s fairly usual for the two alphas to offer their bodies. To fuck him into the mattress repeatedly, and it’s never just once when he’s in heat. Not even twice. He’s going until his heat ends, which can last for days at a time.

The worst was when Jisung had an irregular heat that lasted for just over a week. It was exhausting for all parties, particularly Jisung. But both alphas had to find and create ways that would satisfy Jisung’s needs until their own stamina replenishes. So Reader and Minho went out to buy sex toys for Jisung to use, which at first, takes the edge off a bit, but it’s not long after until his skin starts crawling with what feels like fire, and the only way to put it out or to satiate it, is if Minho and or reader fucks him until he’s unable to hold a single transient thought in his pretty little head.

Now when Jisung’s heat triggers a rut for either Minho and or Reader, then it’s beneficial for all three of them because they’re getting what they want. Not to mention it’s the most likely and accurate point in time where it’s possible for Minho (and or Reader) to breed Jisung.

Some AU’s suggest that female alphas can’t get male omegas pregnant, some say the opposite - I’ll leave that up to whoever is reading this to decide that for themselves x

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #poly minsung #minsung x reader #minsung x poly omegaverse

[lafemmemacabre]

Trying to find a physiological source for a psychiatric/psychological condition won't make ableist/saneist pieces of shit respect it or the people who're diagnosed with it.

Signed, literally every single chronically ill or otherwise physically disabled person. They do NOT care. Chronically ill people can have genetic testing proving our mutations and such and they'll still tell us it's all in our heads and if we Just Put Our Minds To It, we'd be cured... Of shit such as diabetes or multiple sclerosis.

The only thing able-bodied psychiatrized people are achieving by trying to claim physicality in their conditions just for a sense of validation is; yet again, speaking over physically disabled people; yet again, not allowing us to have even the tiniest spotlight within discussions of disability.

You're not going to convince bigots of your worth if they've already decided you're not worth shit. Their hatred of you as someone whose mind doesn't work like the norm, isn't logical. It's both ideological and disgust-based. They decided to hate you first, and found reasons to justify it later.

This especially won't work in your favor if you're appealing to them by trying to approximate yourself to a population they also despise as much as, if not more than, your own.

Newsflash, bigots aren't typically fond of people whose bodies are outside the norm. The more visible the difference in bodies, the more they hate the people who inhabit them.

If you ever managed to convince them that "Hey, actually my mental illness has a physical source!", it won't get you compassion, it'll get you further disgust. If you're gonna bring physicality into it, for your own sake, at least do it for conditions in which that's actually relevant instead of insisting on promoting debunked "science" (e.g. "depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain...").

#disability #chronic illness

[mcverse]

ꨄ︎ Paring: Neteyam x Avatar! F! Reader

ꨄ︎ Requested: Yes/No

ꨄ︎ Type: Part 1 out of 5 (Previous/Next)

ꨄ︎ Word count: 2.3K

ꨄ︎ Warnings: Death, conscious transfer, illness, depression, angst, not spell checked

ꨄ︎ Side Bar: Lied bout how many parts ✌️

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+

You were the fault in the stars—an anomaly right from your first breath.

The sky people, who technically were your own, had descended upon Pandora with a singular intention of seizing what was not theirs, continuing the vicious cycle of destruction and resolution that had marred their history.

In the midst of this chaos, your parents, two faceless soldiers whose names and faces are shrouded in a haze of pain and heartache, had their own hidden agenda that they pursued with reckless abandon.

Their clandestine romance, born out of passion and desperation, resulted in your fragile birth—a constant reminder of their illicit love in a world that will struggle to accept you.

Much like spider, whom you considered your own brother now, the two of you were both deemed too young for cryogenic preservation and left behind on the unfamiliar terrain of the alien planet.

Unfortunately unlike Spider, your body was weak, afflicted with a genetic strain inherited from one of your biological parents. Perhaps this, among other factors, contributed to the decision to abandon you on Pandora, leaving you to face the harsh realities of survival alone.

Despite your rational understanding of the circumstances, as you came to accept the voice in your head as your own and not a figment of your imagination, the unjustness of their decision still lingers within you.

It certainly wasn’t fair.

Your delicate condition left you confined to the high camp, unable to roam freely and appreciate the majestic wonders of Pandora like Spider. Every step you took was accompanied by painful bouts of coughing, requiring you to rely on a specialized oxygen mask designed to alleviate your symptoms.

Even within the safety of the base built for humans, the air meant to sustain you offered no respite. Such was the irony of your existence, born into a world where both forms of air you breathed posed a constant threat to your survival. Life had thrown you a curveball long before you even knew what it meant.

But it wasn't all doom and gloom.

Although you were too young to return to Earth and too ill to venture far from your room, you seized the opportunity to explore what was within your reach. Every video log, every movie, and every book, left behind by the sky people, some of which a child shouldn’t have access to was reviewed by you to fill in the absence of adventure in your day.

For a while, it was sufficient, and you gradually came to terms with the inevitability of your fate. There was no cure for your ailment, not on Pandora, and certainly not without the funds to obtain one. You accepted that you would die here, in this place, as you.

It was during this time that you became fascinated with the study of physiology, absorbing every bit of knowledge about your own body and how it could have been saved under different circumstances. You spent countless hours researching medical practices and surgeries, diving deep into your own anatomy and discovering how various medications and herbs could extend or improve life.

Sharing your newfound knowledge with Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri became a daily ritual that brought you joy and excitement. You would eagerly offer up fascinating facts to the Sully children and Kiri whenever they stopped by to visit or fetch your brother.

Though they didn't always grasp the intricacies of physiology like you did, they were just as enthusiastic to learn and would often opt to stay cooped up in your room, asking questions both silly and serious, and enjoying the happiness that radiated from you.

The moments spent with Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri in your room were some of the best memories you would always treasure. It was through your eagerness to share your newfound knowledge and energy that you got to know them better, especially Kiri, who became your closest friend and confidante. You were so close that she was like a sister to you, always by your side.

However, the limitations imposed by your illness often left you feeling lonely and isolated when your friends were not around. Your physical limitations reminded you that you had a faulty body that was unable to explore the vast world of Pandora like they could. And that is where you messed up.

You fell into a deep depression, which gradually turned into a false sense of determination. You felt like you could survive out there like Spider, or rather, that you wanted to. What was the point of living if you had to live with this feeling of not being in control? It was actually pathetic.

It was a reckless decision to leave the safety of your home and venture into the forest, following the group of newly-adults, taking care to move slowly so as not to cough and give yourself away. It was even worse when you brazenly entered the Omaticaya clan, knowing full well that you were a stranger and seen as an enemy of the natives.

Being surrounded by creatures larger than you, most of them hissing and armed with weapons, was overwhelming. Panic set in, causing hyperventilation, which was exacerbated by your illness. Despite the mask, it was difficult to breathe, doing very little to keep you conscious and your eyes began to roll to the back of your head.

You welcome the darkness, craving the peace it brought, but never enough to end your life yourself. In that moment, you felt alive for once, and you never wanted to leave. You had no desire to return to the life you once had.

But things don't work that way, and eventually, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, you're disoriented, you wonder if you're still gone—whether you're dead or just existing to not exist. Your vision is still blurry, but as you blink and flicker your eyes, the colors of glowing, bioluminescent blue slowly come into focus.

The sight before you is truly breathtaking. The glow emanating from the tree mesmerizes you and fills you with a sense of wonder and awe. As you gaze at it in rapture, you feel an intense urge to touch it, to feel its warmth and energy. You reach out your hand, but to your shock, the hand that extends is not yours.

The hand that hovers before you is large, bony, and blue, with five fingers like yours. Confusion and bewilderment seize you, and you stammer out a feeble, "W-What?" as you try to make sense of what is happening.

As you stare at the mysterious blue hand, your eyes widen when you see another identical hand firmly grasp on the blue hand hovering before you. It's not just a visual illusion—you can feel the pressure on your skin. Slowly your eyes follow up the arm of the mysterious hand to find Kiri smiling softly at you, tears glistening in her eyes.

The sight of her tears immediately worries you, filling your head with warning bells and you return the squeeze, “Kiri, what’s wrong?” you ask, voice oozing in concern.

She returns your concern with a wider smile, her teeth gleaming under the bioluminescent light and shakes her head, “I’m okay,” she assures you, her hand trembling as she continues, “It’s just… to see you like this makes me so happy.”

Confusion etches on your face as you furrow your brow, struggling to comprehend Kiri's statement, "See me like what?" you mumble, tilting your head quizzically. Your eyes dart back to the now intertwined hands before you, trying to make sense of what you're missing.

As you feel Kiri's hand on the other bony blue hand, you can't help but notice that it's not your own. The hand is obviously Na'vi, which you are not. Your mind is filled with unanswered questions, and the nagging feeling of not understanding the situation consumes you. You look back at her, repeating your question with a sense of urgency, "What do you mean, Kiri? When you say 'see you like this', what am I like?"

Kiri kneels down beside you, and you feel her release your hand. She slides it up your arm and firmly grasps your bicep, while her other arm reaches around your upper back and uses all her strength to pull you up into a sitting position. You're momentarily discombobulated, realizing you must have been lying down before, but you can't remember when or how you ended up in that position.

“You fainted,” she replies softly after a beat of silence, pulling on you slightly to lean more on her. You look up at her, mouth slightly agape at her words, “You almost died,” she continues, brows frowning like her lips, “We almost lost you.”

The weight of her words hits you hard, and you feel a lump form in your throat. You inhale sharply, only to realize that when you do, your lungs contact and flatten smoothly without a following cough. It's a strange sensation, and you can't help but marvel at it for a moment, grateful to be breathing easily again.

Then your attention is back on Kiri, eyeing her questionably, as you notice something strange, “Did I grow or have you gotten shorter?” Whether it was sitting or standing, Kiri is normally seen towering over you by several feet, but right now she’s exactly the same level as you.

Kiri's expression twists into a grimace, and she opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak, another voice cuts in, firm and straight to the point, “No! You have passed through the eyes of Eywa and returned.”

Your gaze shoots up to the source, and you find yourself gazing into the piercing yellow eyes of a female Na'vi standing before you. They felt as if she was looking straight through you, leaving nothing hidden or unexamined. Immediately your struck by the intensity of her. There's a raw power to her presence that feels both intimidating and awe-inspiring, as if you're standing before a force of nature.

“Come again?” you stutter, worry slowly creeping up on you as you are once again confused by another statement. You weren’t understanding a lot of what was going on right now. You tear your eyes from her to look back at Kiri and raise your brows at seeing Lo’ak and Spider now standing behind her.

When did they get there?

“What does she mean? Who is she?” You whisper hurriedly to your best friend, glancing occasionally at the boys, hoping if Kiri doesn’t give you the answers you want, they will.

“[Name],” another voice speaks, calling out to you. You perk up at it, instantly recognizing it to be Norm, which it was when you find him standing in his avatar body beside the mysterious woman from before. He walks closer to you, kneeling when close enough just like Kiri, “Sweetie, when you fainted, you stopped breathing for a few minutes. Jake called Max and I to help.”

Jake. That’s Kiri and Lo’ak’s dad. You’ve only met him once when he was stopping by to talk to Norm. He was really sweet and made you feel normal just like his kids.

“Okay…” you stare at him warily, waiting for him to get to the point.

He looks away briefly, seemingly to gather his thoughts before looking back at you, “Max and I know more than anyone how much you’ve been struggling. So even though we didn’t have the resources before, we were determined to help you,” he pauses as Max comes up behind him and beam at you, “We started making you an Avatar 6 years ago. Some test still needed to be ran but we’re out of time.”

You push away from Kiri slightly, lips forming a tight line as your squint at him, “What are you trying to say, Norm?” A part of you knew deep down, but the denial was heavy, to think you could be like everyone else, no illness or restrictions was a myth.

“You’re human body died, you are now consciously living in your avatar.”

His words caused a reaction, albeit a slow one. First your lips start to quiver, and your body trembles in disbelief before tears pool at your eyes. Kiri quickly wraps you in her arms, laying her head on top of yours as you lean your face into her to conceal your choked sobs.

To think something you had dreamed about has actually came true. The many nights you stay up, coming up with solutions to you, the problem. You didn’t know what else to feel, if not relief beyond the depths of your soul.

“Eywa has gave you a second chance,” Kiri mutters lowly, but it was loud to you as her hot breath fans your ears and cause it to twitch, “I’m so happy for you, [Name].”

This time you pull away from her completely, smiling up at her with glossed over eyes and chest filled with so much warmth, you might overheat, “Thank you, Kiri.” Slowly, you rise up from your sitting position with her help. You were stunned at the distance from the ground at full height. This was going to take some time to get used to.

“Max, Norm… Thank you, I can’t express that enough.” You try to walk to them, but your legs were wobbly so you more like stumble instead. Eventually, you reach them and pull them both into a hug, which probably looked silly as Max was the shortest by far in the bunch.

“You being safe and healthy is enough.” Max says, being the first to pull away and Norm nods, agreeing with him as he pulls away next, “We still have to run test though.”

You chuckle at that, rolling your eyes as you nod to him, “Understood.” You didn’t care how many test they had to run, as long as you were able to run and breathe without falling over.

Run.

You wanted to run.

Your ears flicker at the thought, stalling your side quest as your attention is drawn to them. You went to grab them in awe and felt something swish behind you, “Huh?” You twist your body, wait a second, and laugh when your eyes land on a tail; your tail, “Amazing!” You exclaim, smile growing wider.

Someone clears their throat, successfully making you stop and look at who did. To your surprise it was Jake, who was standing by the female Na’vi from earlier. He too had a smile on his face, happy to see you back and better than ever.

Though he haven’t spent much time with you, he was sympathetic to your situation, as it felt somewhat similar to his past self and unknowingly to you, have allowed Norm and Max to create a Avatar for you. It was only a matter of time before you became one like him.

“How are you feeling?,” he smiles warmly at you, like a father does his child. It made you feel giddy and shy, “It might feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it.”

You give him a curt bow, afraid to look him in the eyes. Before it was easy, it just felt different now. You couldn’t explain it, you just knew, “Thank you, it feels… different but I’m still me.”

He nods, walking closer to stop a foot away, “Good… [Name], you are Na’vi now. That means you have the opportunity to become apart of the Omaticaya clan.” He raises a hand and places it on your shoulder.

You knew what that meant. That means you’ll have to complete rites to become one of them. But that was the least of your worries; you knew nothing out the land except from what you read or what Norm brought back and you didn’t know how to hunt or fight for yourself. There was no way you can pass.

As if he can read your mind, he points to a male Na’vi, much younger than him with braided hair and sharp features. He resembles a handsome sculpture you read in history books, but better, “My son, Neteyam, will teach you the way of Na’vi.”

“Dad,” Lo’ak steps forward to protest but gets shut down with one look, his eyes cast down and he steps back into the background.

Poor Lo’ak, you thought, didn’t even stand a chance.

“Neteyam is a good teacher and warrior. You’ll learn fast.” Jake tells you, proudly.

“T-Thank you.” You bow again, much deeper this time. You didn’t know why you were bowing or if it was even appropriate in this situation, you just read somewhere that it was respectful.

He nods again, turning away to walk over to his son, the one he calls Neteyam. He whispers something to him, something that causes his lips to form a tight line and look over at you in annoyance as his dad leave him there.

You flinch at that and look away abruptly, just now taking notice how there were a whole ton of Na’vi circling around you all. How overwhelmed must you’ve been to not notice?

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of you temporarily as a force hits your stomach. Looking down, your body relaxes when you see it’s Spider. It was a little weird to be the taller one this time, but that didn’t stop you from returning his hug.

“Do that again and I will kill you!” He spits, glaring up at you in faux aggression. His hold on you, along with the pout on his lips tells the opposite of his words, “Scared the hell out of me.” he eventually admits, glare softening a great deal.

“That’s the opposite of what we want, bro.” Lo’ak comes up beside you and swings his arms over your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug of some sort, “But if you do, I’ll team up with him to make it happen.” He teases, smirking at you.

Kiri comes up from behind to push him off you, replacing his arm with hers around your waist, “Over my dead body,” she rolls her eyes and cheese at you, “I can’t wait to show you pandora. You’re going to love it,” she says, tugging you with her towards the forest, “Come on.”

ꨄ︎ Avatar M.List

ꨄ︎ Skybound Flame series

ꨄ︎ Page Navigation

ꨄ︎ Previous Fanfic

ꨄ︎ Tag list: @itscheybaby, @yaya6765, @jackiehollanderr, @fanboyluvr, @hotdsstuff, @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic, @navs-bhat, @baebinana, @tammitammytime, @ghostlytoadeaglehands-blog

Hope I got everyone!

Let me know if you want to be apart of any tag list!

Like or reblog if you enjoyed, Thank You!

#⋆✾ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ!! — ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #atwow headcanons #atwow fanfiction #atwow x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fic #neyetam #neteyam fluff #atwow neteyam #avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader fluff

[kit-williams]

I need to be folded like a lawn chair while big Black Templar man breeds me for all he's worth.

*cracks knuckles also pauses work on another boy*

Alright ya'll are getting Brother Roland again because he causes the most thirst. If you need to put this into a time line setting this is before Bun in the Oven

SMUT heavy breeding kink

He tried to be good to his Bäckerin but there were some months that his will would faulter. And as Roland would discover putting a baby inside of his Bäckerin wasn't as simple or as easy as he thought. He could smell the biological changes and the fact that something took but then he could smell her body change back. Frustrated he asked her not understanding that the human body was just too strong for it's own good. His Bäckerin soothed him by simply saying "well if my body reabsorbed it this early then there might have been something genetically wrong. A lot can go wrong... I'm certain you can put it in terms of becoming a Black Templar. Sometimes healthy aspirants just die during the process... sometimes what might have been a viable baby just doesn't make it." She would smile at him and just soothe his wounded pride.

She still humored him to make sure that they could both still could conceive and it was simply the roll of the dice. Though Roland knew him being a Space Marine probably wasn't helping him. He finished his prayer and headed to training as he was just stewing in his own mind. His Bäckerin smelt so good this morning... just like the day they first had sex. He couldn't stop himself from pinning her down and bullying his cock inside of her. Watching her whine and whimper under him just sent such a... a thrill up his spine. Chaplin Eckehard was so helpful for Roland during these times but even Roland would watch him stalk after one of his two wives.

Training was hardly helping as it just seemed to get his blood flowing faster to between his legs. His Bäckerin should be out... just a cold shower. He marched back to his quarters after bidding his brothers farewell. His Chaplin had explained that like with battle brothers once he had "imprinted" upon his mortal that he was suddenly acutely aware of her scent biology... he could still look at other mortals and find no desire stirring in his loins but looking at his Bäckerin and occasionally women who looked similar to his Bäckerin could cause the stirring between his loins.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to be where her scent was the strongest. But he was a Space Marine if he could not resist temptations then he was vulnerable. He did not wish to be a weak link when out in combat with his battle brothers. The cold water seemed to hiss against his naturally warm physiology but he could feel himself calming down... coming down from the frenzied high. Till he heard the front door open and his eyes snapped open.

He could hear her... he could smell her... he held his breath so he wouldn't taste her. He could smell the scent of flour, yeast, butter, and eggs against her... probably entangled into the scent of her hair. She was bringing home bread was all... she would leave... he waited those painful seconds as his eyes went over to the bathroom door... she would leave...right?! Oh by the Throne why wasn't she leaving?!

He couldn't face his Bäckerin just yet... "Oh Roland..." his ears picked up even muffled through the door. He twisted the water off and stalked out running his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he could smell her. He watched her pull her fingers out of her unzipped trousers and put them into her mouth licking herself clean.

"Bäckerin," He snapped, "Get on the bed now!"

He watched her jump as her head whipped her head to him seeing him fully naked and he watched her eyes fail to meet his as they were caught between his legs looking at the angry throbbing thing. His own eyes were no longer the soft honey brown but were black with how he looked at her with nothing but a predatory desire. But when she didn't move suddenly she was face first into a burly chest.

"R-Roland?! W-what"

"Less words." He felt himself salivating as he unabashedly inhaled her scent, "I'm going to fuck a baby into you!" He snarled as he threw her onto the bed as he punched a code into a terminal. Only the Chaplin could contact him or get in during this time. When he looked over at his Bäckerin he was pleased that she had stripped naked.

She flinched in unconscious fear as suddenly he was looming over her. She was still a mortal at the end of the day and he was a lethal weapon. As much as he wanted to pin her under him and thrust with reckless abandon, as her scent was coaxing him to do, he rolled over laying on his back. "Work yourself on. Please." He hissed giving her this one concession.

Lucky for him she was already so wet. He let out a guttural hiss from the back of his throat as her hips began to roll and bounce her way down his cock. "Du riechst so gut." He groaned arching and pushing himself into her more. She felt so full and whimpered as he gave her till she started to move.

She found herself on her back quickly as his hips began to piston in their barely restrained pattern. He really shouldn't indulge himself during these times of the month... but it was addictive to smell her fertile scent just mingling with his own when he fills her with his sperm. His drool splashes on her breasts as he is lost in his fantasy. Her breathy moans filling the room just as much as the wet squelch and slap of his hips against hers. The way his balls met her skin, the feeling of her feet against his chest and shoulders... oh he knew when he was bad she would press them against his neck to try and break him out of whatever trance he was in.

He pressed her down causing her moans to increase an octave as she was utterly cock drunk slurring his name as the bed creaked and rocked with the rhythm his hips had set. He sometimes wished his Bäckerin could handle him more... but he wouldn't give her up for anything. He could feel the way she clenched around him and the way she groaned in pleasure as he fucked through her orgasm simultaneously extending it but also building up the next one.

"So gut." He salivated on her shoulder before sucking a hickey into her skin. It didn't take him very long to get her to orgasm again but when she did he bottomed out snarling, "Meine Bäckerin, meine... meine... meine." All gutteral sounded and coming from deep within his chest and throat as he stilled his hips just rolling them as he flooded her insides. He knelt there just panting softly as he let her legs go and watch them just spread wide and she rested her feet on his thighs.

"Um... hi to you too?" She spoke softly.

"You're ovulating." Roland said as if it was completely obvious as to why he dragged her to bed, "I wasn't expecting you home."

"I was just going to leave some bread and... yeah neither was I expecting you." She moaned softly as he had softened and pulled out. He cocked his head to the side as he felt some pride and sexual satisfaction seeing at how wide open he would leave her. Pushing some of the oozing cum back into her quivering cunt. She moaned softly as he would do so. She wasn't staying as open as long any more. "Roland?"

"Hmm?" He finally looked up at his Bäckerin.

"Get my laptop I'm not going to be moving for a bit. Not with... that."

He just grinned going to get her some water and her device. He would pepper her with kisses and his tender affection till he had to return to his duties. But he was happy to return to them with a clear head even though it meant any plans his Bäckerin had were ruined.

Though he was certain she hardly minded.

#tw: smut #tw: sex #warhammer 40k #Brother Roland #Bäckerin #smut #Black Templar #Space Marine x reader #x reader #is this x reader still? #Space Marine #Black Templar x reader #Does Roland count as a Yandere still? #tw: breeding

[holden-norgorov]

"What are The Hunger Games for?" An essay on the fans' puzzling response to Snow.

This is basically my take on the entire TBOSAS discourse. [Warning: this will be long.]

The assertion that showing why a villain makes villainous choices (and why often from the villain’s POV they get reframed as morally good or right choices, so as to allow him to justify himself or self-excuse his own behavior to carry them out) is somehow “problematic” because it runs the risk of legitimizing his evilness or even praising it as a valid and commendable response to the world is by itself insulting and implicitly insinuates the idea that good and evil are not choices every human being makes, but rather independent constants that have nothing to do with each individual’s autonomy – when in fact the whole point of the book is that good and evil much closely resemble multiple differential functions whose variables can be extremely varied in both nature and number. In the case of Snow alone we already have: childhood trauma about the war, physiological trauma about starvation and malnutrition, staunch supremacist and totalitarian upbringing from Crassus and Grandma’am, poverty and scarcity that culminated in some kind of block or impairment in his physical growth and development during his teenage years and that most likely forever altered his metabolic and neurological processes to a significant degree, philosophical and ideological indoctrination from Dr. Gaul, social and economical collapse of his family’s wealth and reputation combined with the need and pressure to keep up appearances, etc. Claiming that Snow’s ultimately sick moral compass cannot derive from any of this is like claiming that nothing we experience in our formative years bears any role in shaping and defining who we become and what kind of choices we end up making.

That of Choice is, in my opinion, one of the most important themes of the book, and we really get a sense of this in the way Snow’s kills progress through the story, and particularly in how every next kill he engages in is the result of less independent variables that find themselves out of Snow’s direct control:

Bobbin; killed in straightforward self-defense after Snow is forced by Gaul to enter the Arena.

Mayfair; killed not in a life-or-death situation, but as a consequence of her threat to have both Lucy Gray and him hanged (so, this time the threat of creating a life-or-death situation is sufficient to provoke the same response).

Sejanus; killed as a result of a variety of fairly complicated variables, with most of them being directly dependent on Snow’s sphere of influence, intentions and interests, and deriving from what he deems as more important or morally correct for himself or what he believes in.

Highbottom; killed in cold-blooded cruelty and premeditation, with the murder being exclusively motivated by a desire to carry out evil without remorse, as Snow has finally reached the same conclusion Dr. Gaul was so eager to instill in him by appealing to his emotional attachment to his past and to his ambitions (which in turn stemmed from the traumas he went through), which is that every human being is actually evil at its core, and that the world is made up of victors who can exert evil with impunity and losers who just become victims of it.

Obviously Collins is not stupid and knows perfectly well that there are predispositions (also, if not mostly, genetically inherited, because at birth we all get handed a deck of cards we don’t choose and just have to learn to handle and master, whether we like it or not) that may make someone more inclined to do good or commit evil (Snow is indeed described from the start with narcissistic traits and sociopathic tendencies, but these seeds of his character get nurtured and watered instead of sublimated and eradicated because of what happens to him and the choices he’s pressured to make or deliberately chooses to carry out as a response to his circumstances), but I absolutely disagree with the kind of interpretation according to which the prequel demonstrates that Snow was always “destined” to be a villain because he was rotten right from his mother’s womb, just because it seems to me that there’s this giant terror in indulging the question “oh my God, what if evil is always a choice?” as it could be seen as an attempt to legitimize or excuse Snow’s behavior as an adult, when in fact, as far as I’m concerned, if would do nothing but condemn him doubly.

Essentially, claiming that Snow is a villain because he has always been evil and could have not been anything different literally provides ground to justify his actions behind the idea that he really didn’t have any other choice, and that everything he did was just the result of his villainous nature. This is exactly the same kind of thinking Dr. Gaul is able to inculcate in him, and that he exploits to be able to sleep at night knowing what he chooses to do during the day. The book obviously states the exact opposite, and in order to do so it has to argue that yes, Snow is a human being with the same moral layers and the same innate capability to be good and virtuous that everybody else has, but he has constantly rejected every chance he had to embark on a different path than the one he ended up travelling. Showing that Snow, the Villain, was made and not born DOESN’T mean that the author is justifying the character or that she’s patronizingly saying to us “oh poor soul, you better weep for him because he was a misunderstood victim of the system, etc” as I’ve seen so many fans argue since the novel was released back in 2020. It actually means that the character gets condemned twice by the narrative because he’s ultimately the conscious product of himself and the way he chose to respond to the world – and yes, that also includes to personal injustices and blinding traumas he experienced as a kid and didn’t deserve, and to circumstances that, as opposed to make him sympathetic to fellow victims who went through similar or comparable experiences, shaped him into someone who denies (or more likely, convinces himself of the impossibility) that human beings can even be genuinely sympathetic to each other in the first place.

Moreover, since I’m already on the subject, I’d like to add a little consideration regarding the fact that, if all of this about Snow’s character escaped so many people, then I’m not positive that the full political and philosophical message of the novel has been adequately understood by the fanbase, or that Collins’ brilliant idea underneath it has been adequately appreciated in its genius. The movie more or less manages to give it justice, but not completely. Because the book basically tells you: okay, The Hunger Games are the product of a school project by two drunk students, but they have been set up by a sadist (Dr. Gaul) and kept alive for 75 years by her pupil who she shaped in her likeness (Snow). Both Gaul and Snow argue that The Hunger Games exist to preserve all humanity (the so-called overarching order of things), and the reasoning they provide behind this conviction of theirs is very mechanistic, almost mathematical, stemming from naked economics and scarcity at least as much as, if not more than, existential considerations on the flaws of human nature. Gaul says, and Snow repeats: human beings are instinctively wired to be evil. This is testified by the fact that human beings, much like every other living beings, are dominated by a survival instinct that is capable of turning them into predators in order to avoid or preempt the risk of becoming preys. The possibility to become prey is a realistic prospect that the human being assesses and that, according to Dr. Gaul, demonstrates the inherent distrustful nature of Man (you don’t trust others not to kill you, as soon as you know they have the chance to and have to weigh that chance with the preservation of their own life). So, the notable conditions at the so-called “natural state” (civilization disappears in the Arena because the tributes are purposefully stripped of it) support the Hobbesian “homo homini lupus” view of humankind. Immediate consequence: if the species is to survive in any way, a means to control this primitive impulse towards self-destruction has to be devised (by the way, it’s interesting to me that Katniss herself also concludes that the human species gravitates towards that very thing at the end of Mockingjay, right after both Coin and Snow are dead). This impulse requires, so to speak, to be “parametrized”. So yes, Gaul says, and Snow repeats, that the world is nothing but a battlefield where a constant fight between people who are driven by this self-destructive impulse is carried out, and that whichever artificial construction built upon that impulse can only serve the purpose of obfuscating or hiding it, and therefore making us forget “who we really are”. So, this would apparently be what The Hunger Games are for: to remind us of who we are at the natural state, and therefore of what we need to keep human nature under control. And the movie (more or less) communicates this successfully.

But there’s actually a subtler layer to this. Because in the book Dr. Gaul even argues that, if the world itself is an enlarged Arena, if mankind is instinctively wired to self-destruct, and if peace is impossible, then The Hunger Games are not only a useful solution: they are a noble solution. Because their purpose is not to punish the defeated of a settled war. It’s to contain the scope of a war that hasn’t yet ended, and will never end. Even the conflict between the Capitol and the districts isn’t actually over: it’s just routinely ritualized, televised and sold as entertainment to the masses. And it’s much more convenient for everyone that a war taking place in the real Arena (the world) is contained in its catastrophic effects by periodically absorbing them in a highly supervised representation of a warlike conflict confined to a small, parametrized ground, which is much easier to control and leads to the loss of fewer human lives overall and the waste of fewer resources (let’s always keep in mind that Panem is a post-apocalyptic state). The genius behind the idea of The Hunger Games lies in this: in the ability, from those who have the upper ground, to believably reframe them as a noble management strategy for a problem that is actually without solution, but whose total control is of utmost importance.

All of this obviously applies IF one moves from the idea that human beings are innately evil. But the saga shows countless times, both in the original trilogy and in this prequel, that this is not the case, and therefore that The Hunger Games cannot be justified by any means, and are nothing more than a barbarity. And yet, Collins’ ability to pull you into the thoughts and meanderings of a sadist whose conclusions mostly derive from her own prejudices (which she takes as axiomatic) in order to make you understand why and how The Hunger Games have come into existence and have been gradually accepted by the dominant society is astounding and nothing short of genius. And this is also why I think TBOSAS was a necessary addition to write, as it basically fills a gap left by the original trilogy. You read the trilogy and you are left thinking “okay but Capitol City is beyond unrealistic because only a society made up of psychopaths could tolerate such an inhumane instrument”. Then you read the prologue and you understand that Capitol City’s point of view (deeply sick, but now scarily comprehensible) is that The Hunger Games, in the face of a deeply flawed human nature dominated by survival instinct and self-destructive impulses, are merely a strategic device whose ultimate function is to preserve civilization (by “parametrizing” the scope and development of a never-ending war) and allow the ruling class to maintain enough resources to keep the government afloat (thereby proving successful in contrasting the hegemony of the “natural state”).

Now, if I also deeply believed in this worldview and had been convinced since birth of its validity, and I belonged to the winning faction of a post-apocalyptic society that’s been relentlessly torn apart by war, I don’t know if I would see the apparent callousness of The Hunger Games as such an absurd price to pay in order to maintain what, according to what has been taught to me, is the only order capable of assuring the survival of the entire human species. As ugly and uncomfortable as it is, it’s still a political and philosophical dilemma that whoever is in charge of government and is responsible for keeping the whole country of Panem alive and functioning is obligated to face, whether willingly or not. So here we come to the typical leitmotiv of how power inevitably corrupts, but dealt with much more interestingly and thoroughly than how it’s conventionally explored in these kinds of stories.

All of this to say that, if we move from the assumption that to “humanize” Snow is to legitimize his evilness, and that he has engaged in all these monstruous acts purely because he was a monster through and through from the start, then we are playing right into Dr. Gaul’s hands and supporting her own thesis, as we are reducing the human experience to some kind of conflict between victors and losers whose nature is already predisposed and independent from the choices they make, and not only that: we are implicitly supporting the existence of punitive instruments like The Hunger Games. Because, if I take for valid that someone can be born evil and never escape this ontological condition, no matter what he does or doesn’t do, what prevents me from inferring that this may be the case for other people as well (or for everyone, even) and that something about human nature has to be fundamentally wrong? What prevents me from concluding that punitive or corrective methods to keep at least these unredeemable, inherently corrupt individuals under control should be established, and that to do so is a moral good? What prevents me from justifying the validity of barbaric, inhumane strategies detrimental to the fundamental rights of people in order to confront what I perceive to be as morally sound and perfectly justified needs because they are grounded on beliefs I think are true, or I’ve been sold as such?

A lot of still existing ideologies originate from specific beliefs about the intrinsic nature of certain groups of people in order to reach conclusions that appear to be legitimate for whoever embraces them but that in reality are actually horrendous and disgusting, which historically can lead (and in some cases have already led) to the establishment of sociopolitical systems characterized by such a disconcerting inhumanity as to be horrifying. And yet those were and are real people, with a personal moral conscience, that were and are able to do this (and still sleep at night) because so confidently self-assured to be right thinking “yes, those people are inherently subhuman/inferior/defective/violent/uncivilized and that’s because it’s their own nature, so I’m fully justified in the measures I take against them, no matter how dehumanizing they might be”.

Snow wasn’t a monster from the start. He chose to become a monster because he chose to believe Dr. Gaul when she said to him “any and all atrocities you might commit are not actually your own fault, because evil is inherent in all of us and coincides with our natural state, which means we can exploit it to impose what we deem as the most beneficial kind of control and order so as to save humanity from itself”.

And it’s in the climactic scene with Lucy Gray that every thematic knot is finally unraveled and Snow concludes (rather, chooses to conclude) that Dr. Gaul is right. Indeed, as soon as Lucy Gray realizes she’s now the only obstacle in the way separating Snow from gaining back the wealth and prestige of his family’s old name, she chooses to prioritize her own safety to the idea of trusting him or even giving him the benefit of the doubt, and quickly puts herself out of his reach to observe his next course of action from a comfortable distance, minimizing the risk of becoming prey. She fears he intends to kill her, so she grabs a knife and gains the upper ground, placing herself out of his sight. But from Snow’s internal monologue we know that at first his actual intentions are really just to speak with her, and doesn’t seem willing to hurt her at all. It’s the fact that he is still holding the rifle while making these internal considerations that ultimately prompts Lucy Gray to feel threatened, and therefore distrustful of him. So she hides and places a snake under the orange scarf, knowing he would be drown to it. She picks a non-venomous kind, because her intention is NOT to kill him, but to prevent him from killing her, which is what she thinks he is planning to do. She wants to neutralize him, or induce him to give up. And it’s, ironically, that very gesture that finally plants in Snow the idea of killing her, because he believes that she has tried to kill him and therefore that she wants him dead. The entire scene is genial because it’s a small-scale reproduction of a typical Hunger Games edition, where the theme I was talking about before comes to the fore-front: it’s the mere suspect, or the fear of turning into prey that urges someone to become predator. You don’t need to actually be a prey, you just have to believe you might become one. She fears he wants to kill her when he just wants to talk to her, so she sets up a trap for him: he misunderstands the trap as attempted murder, and reframes as self-defense his subsequent decision to try to kill her before she kills him. It’s a downward spiral of madness that Snow falls victim to that finally legitimizes, in his eyes, what Dr. Gaul has been telling him, because he sees that reflected both in his own behavior and in what he thinks is Lucy Gray’s behavior as well here: the survival instinct makes human beings evil at the natural state, so it has to be the role of civilization to keep this tendency towards self-destruction in check by constantly reminding people of what they actually are, bare of all their superficial artifices. Therefore, The Hunger Games are an instrument of civility.

From Snow’s point of view, he just wanted to talk to Lucy Gray in a civilized manner, but she hid in the forest to set a trap for him and tried to kill him with a snake out of the fear that he was going to abandon her and travel back to District 12. From Lucy Gray’s point of view, she sought refuge away from him to save her own skin and tried to neutralize a lethal attack with the hopes that a non-venomous snake bite could prove successful in disincentivizing his intention to shoot at her. Both misunderstood the ally-opponent by listening to their own instincts thus determining in the ally-opponent the kind of response that could justify their own convictions. Lucy Gray’s destiny is left uncertain, but Snow reenters the district borders having gone through some kind of existential epiphany, and the fundamental detail that the snake was non-venomous doesn’t even cross his mind in its implications and doesn’t seem to put at all into question what he has just concluded, because the actual, true realization he experiences in the forest is first and foremost about himself, and the way his own paranoia has completely validated what Dr. Gaul previously told him about human beings, and even about how Lucy Gray (in his own twisted recollection of events) has finally proved to him that they were not any different after all.

So, once he has chosen to believe that Lucy Gray was out to kill him, the circumstantial fact that the snake was non-venomous is quickly dismissed by Snow as non-relevant. But the snake being non-venomous is, incidentally, the defining element that finally allows the reader to properly differentiate Lucy Gray from Coriolanus when it comes to the dichotomy the entire novel rests on and that Collins herself has spent the entire story joyfully playing with (serpent/songbird). Because, confined again to the natural state, despite realistically fearing that he was going to kill her, and despite gaining even the upper ground and a significant chance to effectively anticipate him in the act, she ultimately chooses not to kill him. She merely chooses to try to neutralize him to secure a way out of the situation, or to force him to desist from any bad intention he may have in mind. This is not because Lucy Gray is incorruptibly good and Snow is incurably evil (the author strives for this to be particularly clear by reminding us that Lucy Gray still chose to kill inside the Arena even when she might have decided not to, sometimes with slyness and premeditation, prioritizing in that occasion her self-preservation to her moral integrity), but because in this occasion she chooses not to, in order to demonstrate to him the validity of what she had told him before: which is that human beings are not inherently evil, even when stripped of civilization, but that good and evil are always the products of conscious choices. Snow obviously needs to believe the opposite, because he needs to exonerate himself from the consequences of his own deeds and decisions. And Dr. Gaul gives him exactly that. And it’s within this framework that The Hunger Games become a justifiable instrument for the powerful, and for the society that it’s trained to accept and normalize them.

However, Collins’ own thesis is incredibly staunch on this: from Lucy Gray in this very chapter, passing through Reaper refusing Clemensia’s food and slowly dying of starvation to send a message to the Capitol, Lamina mercy-killing Marcus mirroring Cato’s death at the hands of Katniss in the original trilogy, Thresh sparing Katniss’ life as a tribute to Rue, all the rebel victors sacrificing themselves for Katniss and Peeta during the Third Quarter Quell, and arriving to all the oppressed civilians who willingly give up their own life to join forces and sabotage the Capitol’s industries, we are given plenty of demonstrations on how the natural state doesn’t eradicate human’s capability for choice, and how aprioristic thinking on the inherent evilness of our species (or of some subgroups of it) is not only wrong, but also extremely dangerous and easily conducive to the legitimation of barbarity and atrocity.

So no, I don’t agree with the idea that Snow was inevitably destined to be a horrible person because he had actually always been, and I absolutely don’t think Collins’ intention was to tell us this. He starts off the novel showcasing specific predispositions that cause him to oscillate between good and evil several times, and a lot of potential to eventually channel in either direction, but he ultimately makes the choices that he consciously decides to make (sometimes genuinely believing them to be the right or best choices, other times gaslighting himself and us into thinking he thinks that) up until Dr. Gaul offers him on a silver plate the ultimate opportunity to abdicate any and all responsibility on what he has done and what he’s going to do, which by the way stems from the same kind of reasoning behind this interpretation a lot of fans so desperately want to give of Snow (“man is evil by nature, so I’m just acting according to my own nature, and I’m doing it with the goal of safeguarding humanity and for morally positive ends”).

TL; DR: In a nutshell, what I mean is that the entire message of the saga, but especially of this prequel, is that The Hunger Games are an inhumane barbarity because they suppress and deny fundamental human rights behind a false promise to keep humanity safe from a self-derived tendency to devour itself that mankind supposedly strives towards because of its inherent evilness at the natural state. Collins demonstrates that such a promise is false because it’s fallacious, and therefore that The Hunger Games are nothing more than a gratuitous instrument of torture and death, discrediting the Hobbesian hypothesis that human beings descend into evil outside of the borders of civilization. And if that applies to all human beings, then it has to apply to Snow too (or Gaul, or Coin, for what is worth).

#thg #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #suzanne collins #thg meta #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #dr. gaul #analysis #mine #hobbes

[bloodynereid]

wednesday x shorter yn

Platform Mary Janes | headcanons

pairing: wednesday addams x gender neutral! reader

a/n: hi anon! i'm so so sorry that I took like 3 billion years to respond to ur request but it's finally here even if it is just headcanons. anyways hope you enjoy and once again sorry <3

tw: none really?? lmk if there are any like there's the usual macabre stuff like mentions of graveyards and scary movies but that's about it

description: it was hard to find someone shorter than wednesday but somehow she found that in her partner by complete coincidence.

You were still one of the newer students when Wednesday came to Nevermore. Your parents had both been alumni of the school and held some of the school’s most prestigious awards.

Your family was one of the stranger kinds of Outcasts. You had the ability to create anything out of existing matter. The ability did have an effect on your physiology.

Most of your family inherited eyes that would change color and then there was the obvious fact that you were all shorter in stature.

You meet Wednesday through Enid since you lived in the dorm room directly across the hall from them with your roommate, Lillian or rather Lily as she liked to be called.

It was another dreary and foggy day at Nevermore when Enid had asked you to join her for a movie night. So the usual routine of fighting over whether to watch a horror movie (your choice) or a romcom (Enid’s choice) was ensuing when Wednesday walked into the room.

Of course you knew about her through the gossip channels but you hadn’t realized how beautiful she was until that moment.

Obviously you tried to get her into the conversation and she actually seemed impressed with your choice of movie and obviously sided with you. That was just the start of a friendship and ensuing romance.

Wednesday took you to an abandoned church on your first date, she set up a picnic and you both exchanged notes on Frankenstien since you both had a love for Mary Shelley and had been in a little two person book club for weeks before Wednesday finally had the guts to ask you out.

Since your genetics made you shorter than the norm you usually wore a large amount of platform shoes, something that you noticed that Wednesday did too.

Wednesday didn’t notice that you were shorter than her until the one time you wore tennis shoes around her. It was during another one of your dates and you had ended up planning this one.

You had decided that going on a hike to an abandoned water hole far into the forest would consist of a perfect date. And you obviously couldn’t hike in platform shoes in the uneven ground of the forest that surrounded Nevermore.

Wednesday found it cute that you were shorter than her since she was accustomed to being the shorter one in every situation. You obviously weren’t that much shorter but she still found it adorable that you could lean your head on her shoulder without having to crouch down.

You both spent a lot of time planning out extravagant dates but every once and a while you would just cuddle up together in either your bed or hers and watch a collection of old and new horror movies. Always alternating between the different subgenres.

The rest of the Addams family adored you, your personality meshed incredibly well with Wednesday’s and you lit up every room you entered, that wasn’t just because you could create fire with a flick of your hand.

Obviously since you both wore very similar styled shoes and had the same sized feet, you and Wednesday were able to share your shoe collections which was just an added bonus to having Wednesday as your partner.

as a member of the short club i loved writing this.

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday the series #wednesday addams #wednesday addams netflix #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #wednesday show #wednesday imagine

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Can we get some details about Time Lord/TARDIS symbiosis? And how it works for a single pilot vs a full crew of six pilots being bonded?

Time Lord/TARDIS Symbiosis

🧬 Rassilon's Imprimatur: The Symbiotic Core

Rassilon’s Imprimatur, also known as 'imprimature' or 'imprimateur', is the term for the essential connection that Time Lords form with their TARDISes. This link is facilitated by the 'symbiotic nuclei' encoded within the hidden 4th strand of a Time Lords' DNA. This connection is mutually beneficial as the TARDIS needs the Time Lord's unique genetic codes to work - like a key in the motor - and the Time Lord obviously needs a TARDIS for safe time travel.

🚀 Single Pilot vs. Crew Dynamics

Single Pilot Bonding: When a Time Lord pilots their TARDIS solo, the connection is intensely personal and direct. Imagine a rope linking two entities, where communication and control flow seamlessly as long as the rope is in one piece. This way, the connection is quite intimate.

Crew Pilot Bonding: Introducing a full crew of six to the equation transforms this intimate connection into more of a network of friends. Each Time Lord adds their own strand of rope, creating a web of interconnected symbiotic nuclei. This expanded setup can enhance the TARDIS’s capabilities, distributing the piloting and navigational duties among the crew and allowing for more complex operations. However, all pilots must have harmony and precise coordination to maintain stability and efficiency.

🌌 Consequences of Symbiotic Disruption

Disruption to the symbiotic nuclei or the 'rope' itself, whether through damage, illness, or external interference, has consequences. Symptoms can range from physiological distress to severe mental afflictions for both TARDIS and Time Lord. In extreme cases, this disruption can endanger the lives of both the Time Lord and the TARDIS.

Hope that helped! 😃

→🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (WIP) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine/Monitoring Guides →📝Source list (WIP)

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

》📫Got a question / submission? 》😆Jokes |🫀Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts 》📚Complete list of Q+A 》📜Masterpost If you like what GIL does, please consider buying a coffee or tipping below to help make future projects, including complete biology and language guides.

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifreyan biology #GIL biology #whoniverse #time lord biology

[merrysithmas]

missed opportunities with Spock & medicine in SNW

Okokok I didnt mind Spock & Chapel as I felt it was well-written (in conjunction w Spock & T'Pring) for the two of them and simply a stepping stone/arc to his further character development and exemplified his struggle converging his dualistic origins

but

Spock in TOS has an extreme (and to an outsider, illogical) aversion to medicine/medical procedures/medical personnel as evidenced by his deep mistrust of McCoy in TOS. I always postulated this is because he was mistreated or belittled or made to feel "wrong" by Vulcan medical facilities as a child given that he is a biological hybrid.

This "illogical" aversion to medicine is not based on the Scientific Fact that he as a science officer treats as secular gospel -- but is instead a result of his injured emotional nature, which felt ostracized and likely put on display as some kind of marvel/freak by the professionals he likely dealt with as a child.

I have a whole other post about Spock & Medicine and how his cantankerous and frequently mocking relationship with McCoy both displays his anger/disgust with the limits of the profession and, eventually, the healing of this wound via his friendship with Dr McCoy.

In TOS Spock dismissively refers to medicine as "potions" which make him feel sick and nauseous - (likely a side effect of his hybrid physiology where no medical traditions from either Vulcan or Terran origin completely mesh with his genetics or organs/hormones). Thus, even when he can get help from a compassionate provider - it likely does not help all the way or is uncomfortable to endure.

Discovery took this one step further and had Spock literally institutionalized because his emotional break following his visions/hallucinations which further highlights an origin for Spock's mistrust and distaste for medicine. We learn his visions were a result of an explicable cause & that medicine failed Spock yet again.

These experiences can even be applied to TOS and also color his relative annoyance with Nurse Chapel's one-sided affections.

Spock does not like doctors or nurses.

And he has good reason to fear and mistrust them despite his logical knowledge of their professionalism or expertise. Spock is scared, burned, and embittered by medical efforts and endeavors.

It is the one overt example in TOS where his human emotionality overtakes his logical mien almost effortlessly and with visible sharp resentment towards McCoy in almost every conversation they have.

Strange New Worlds seems to forget this important part of Spock's character which was evident in TOS (and eventually resolved by his friendship with McCoy), and expanded on in Disco with his institutionalization.

Sadly, his relation to Medicine in Strange New Worlds is a nonissue that pretty much ignores the canon in those two series - whether it is in a scene with Dr M'Benga or Nurse Chapel. It does not seem given the other canon he would ever be as cooperative or receptive to their treatments or suggestions.

However, as Spock is being written in this series to have mental duress over his "opposing" halves as personified by his desperate attempts to make two DOA romances with both T'Pring and Christine work - it seems this would be an important and relevant topic to broach considering Christine is in fact a nurse, and a representation of a system that has so far at this point in his life failed, harmed, and excluded him.

Not only that, but T'Pring is essentially the equivalent of a Vulcan psychiatrist.

It is fascinating that Spock, reviled and mistrusting of both medicine and psychology, sandwiches himself between a nurse and psychiatrist.

Despite his bone-deep betrayal by both of these institutions he finds himself indeed broken by them: beholden and shackled to the need for their love and approval - as deeply unhappy with himself as he is.

Spock, through these two flailing and ill-begotten relationships, continues to subconsciously punish himself for the truth.

That he is neither nor both - and there is no way to define him except by himself alone.

And that is what he fears the most: that he is truly alone in the endless universe.

Recognizable to no one.

#spock #star trek #strange new worlds #star trek discovery #t'pring #christine chapel #leonard mccoy #star trek tos #spapel

[typhlonectes]

Venom trade-off shapes interspecific interactions, physiology, and reproduction

Surum et al.

Abstract

The ability of an animal to effectively capture prey and defend against predators is pivotal for survival. Venom is often a mixture of many components including toxin proteins that shape predator-prey interactions. Here, we used the sea anemone Nematostella vectensis to test the impact of toxin genotypes on predator-prey interactions. We developed a genetic manipulation technique to demonstrate that both transgenically deficient and a native Nematostella strain lacking a major neurotoxin (Nv1) have a reduced ability to defend themselves against grass shrimp, a native predator. In addition, secreted Nv1 can act indirectly in defense by attracting mummichog fish, which prey on grass shrimp. Here, we provide evidence at the molecular level of an animal-specific tritrophic interaction between a prey, its antagonist, and a predator. Last, this study reveals an evolutionary trade-off, as the reduction of Nv1 levels allows for faster growth and increased reproductive rates.

Read more:

Venom trade-off shapes interspecific interactions, physiology, and reproduction | Science Advances

#cnidaria #anemone #animals #nature #science #ocean #marine biology #venomous

[deewithani]

Theory:

Clone Force 99, Omega, and Emerie Karr are the 6 Null ARCs embryos that "died" from Republic Commando.

Note: This post will be connected to another theory post I'm writing about Palpatine's failures in cloning.

Proof:

1. CF99 refused Order 66. Crosshair shot Lt. Nolan. Emerie helped release Crosshair. We don't even need to talk about Omega.

Null ARCs are well known to be independent thinkers and resistant to command.

From Wookipedia:

When the Kaminoans began cloning, they produced twelve prototypes, designated as Null-class Advanced Recon Commandos. Their extreme physiological modifications killed half of the prototypes during gestation. The "enhancements" to the Fett genome handicapped the survivors with erratic behavior and an inclination toward disobedience, making their loyalties unpredictable. Kal Skirata, a Mandalorian warrior who had been brought to Kamino to assist in the training of a special unit, concurred with the Kaminoans' rationale behind "modified" troopers; an "unaltered" Jango Fett was not the ideal infantry soldier. Disappointed with the unsatisfactory results of their wayward creations, the Kaminoans deemed 12 of the first 100 prototypes complete failures and intended to kill them

They're also very loyal to those who are loyal to them.

Other regular commandos followed Order 66.

2. In Republic Commando, the Kaminoan scientist Orun Wa created the Null ARCs. This is what he said about them:

Highly intelligent, deviant, disturbed—and uncommandable.

In Season 1, Episode 1, Tech says this when AZI says they're defective clones:

We're more deviant than defective.

3. The living Null ARCs numbers and the "dead" Null ARC embryos' numbers.

N-5 ("Prudii")

N-6 ("Kom'rk")

N-7 ("Mereel")

N-10 ("Jaing")

N-11 ("Ordo")

N-12 ("A'den")

Missing are Ns 1-4, and Ns 8 & 9.

Clone Force 99s designations are likely CT-9901-9904. We know that Crosshair is CT-9904. They are Ns 1-4, respectively.

Omega is N-9. She's the last experimental clone Nala Se took for her experimental unit.

That leaves Emerie Karr as N-8.

4. Omega is a defective clone, and it has nothing to do with her being an unaltered clone.

Nala Se also says she's a defective clone to Tarkin. She specifically tells him that five genetically defective clones are all that remain. This excludes Echo. He wasn't genetically defective. This also excludes Emerie Karr. She's with Dr. Hemlock by this point in time.

If Omega is one of the Null ARCs, she wasn't created unaltered. She was created with accelerated aging like all the others.

Her accelerated aging is broken. She's not older than the rest of CF99. She's the same age.

I suspect she started out aging rapidly, like 99. That was Omega's genetic defect. She remembers everyone else in the tubes but being outside of them herself.

Omega was an experiment too. Nala Se figured out how to turn off accelerated aging to keep her from aging too fast.

This also mirrors Republic Commando. The Kaminoans at one point knew how to slow aging. Kina Ha is proof of that. She was engineered for long hyperspace journeys, but those never came to pass. That particular trait wasn't really needed anymore after that and was abandoned.

Slowing down the aging of clones isn't a good idea for the Kaminoans financially, after all. You want your buyers to keep buying.

(I also find it interesting that both Nala Se and Ko Sai had hidden underwater research labs).

All of Ko Sai's research was destroyed by Ordo (to Ko Sai's knowledge, anyway. They kept a copy). Nala Se's research would have been destroyed with Kamino, except a living copy remains. Omega.

Omega only appears unaltered because her broken genetic defect was fixed.

Nala Se theoretically knows how to slow/stop aging, and Omega is a genetic template for that.

5. Probably the flimsiest proof. Delta Squad exists in canon.

It's not out of the question to believe that Omega Squad and the Null ARCs could be pulled into canon as well.

I'm personally interested to see if Bo-Katan gathers any Legends Mandalorian clans. If any Clan Skirata members show up that could help this theory.

#tbb speculation #star wars speculation #tbb theory #star wars theory #star wars #the bad batch #the mandalorian #tbb spoilers #mandalorian spoilers #republic commando #repcomm

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

“Why does Superman have civilian clothes?” Match asks instead. Thirteen–pauses, then just shrugs. 

“Ask him,” he says, which means he knows and is just being an asshole. Figures.

“More thorough scans would be helpful,” Jor-El says as they approach a very large . . . well, Match genuinely doesn’t know. It might be a computer. There’s a screen involved, at least. The rows of crystals underneath said screen are definitely not a part of any kind of “computer” he’s ever seen before, but it’s still the likeliest theory he’s got. “The infirmary is not currently optimized for cloned lifeforms, but we should be capable of extrapolation where necessary. And the Fortress’s programming is certainly familiar with Kryptonian-human hybrids, at this point.” 

Match doesn’t respond, considering how obvious a statement that was. His genes are functionally identical to Thirteen’s, after all, so of course Superman’s already familiar with his physiology. Well–of course he’d have access to Thirteen’s files, more accurately. 

“Um,” Thirteen says, frowning in confusion. “It is?” 

Match cannot believe how incredibly stupid his gene donor is. Is Thirteen somehow under the impression that advanced alien technology can't access Cadmus’s files? Hell, the Agenda can get into those with minimal effort. Cadmus’s lab security is not impressive. He's walked right in the front door enough times at this point. 

“It is, yes,” Jor-El agrees. “If you could hold still for a moment, please. Both of you, ideally. We may as well scan you as well, Kon-El.” 

Match–frowns. 

Wait. If the Fortress already has Thirteen's files, then why . . . 

A pale blue-white light materializes from the crystals beneath the screen and pans over both him and Thirteen. He doesn't feel any hint of warmth from the light or hear anything, and there's no pain. 

In addition to the pain he's already in, he means. Obviously. 

The whole process seems very . . . simple, for a DNA scan. Not involved enough. 

Not–what he would've expected. 

That's all. 

He assumes this is just a first step, and the actual analysis will involve something more invasive or–

“Scan complete,” Jor-El announces as the light flicks off. “Genetic profiles now on file for Kon-El and the as yet unnamed new member of the House of El currently classified as ‘Match’. Proper name impending.” 

Match has absolutely no idea what to say to any of that. 

“I think the AI is malfunctioning,” he says to Thirteen, who scowls at him. 

“Rude much?” he says. 

“It just called me a ‘member of the House of El’,” Match reminds him dubiously. 

“. . . maybe Kal can run a virus scan or something,” Thirteen mutters under his breath with a grimace. Match resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's a gesture he only ever started doing to impersonate Thirteen anyway. 

“All Fortress systems are currently running at peak performance,” Jor-El says like a malfunctioning AI would even be an accurate source, then gestures off to the side. “The basic medical supplies are this way. Please follow me.” 

“The damage is minimal,” Match says. He's healed from worse without wasting medical supplies. The burns aren't even third-degree. Superman can't possibly want to spend actual resources on him, much less anything that would presumably need to be replaced or recharged later. 

“Then treatment will also be minimal,” Jor-El replies matter-of-factly before heading off. “This way.” 

He's definitely malfunctioning. 

Thirteen follows Jor-El, though, and Match doesn’t know what else to do, so he does too. Either way he doesn’t want Superman to catch up when he’s by himself, so . . . 

He doesn’t even know what Superman is doing right now, aside from presumably making whatever call he needed to make, and who knows what that’s about or for. Maybe he’s warning the Justice League about the likelihood of the Agenda causing problems for them, publicity-wise. Or . . . something to that effect, anyway. 

They’ll take the opportunity to, he’s sure. The Agenda doesn’t miss opportunities like that. 

The infirmary is sparse and open and both laboratory-bright and laboratory-sterile, but still . . . off, somehow. Something about it just seems . . . off. 

Match isn’t sure what, exactly. 

Maybe it’s just that he can’t smell blood or bleach. 

Jor-El instructs him through using the cleaning wipes and disinfectant spray and strange alien bandages from the supplies–Match, like usual, uses his tactile telekinesis to keep himself from flinching when it hurts–and Thirteen tries to help, which is irritating. Match glowers at him until he backs off, which takes twice as long as it should. 

Superman probably wouldn’t appreciate him killing Thirteen, after all the fuss. And Superman’s . . . in charge of him now, he thinks. Technically. Probably. 

For now, at least. 

The Agenda will want him back, so . . . 

So for now, yes. Until the Agenda reclaims him and disposes of him as a failed experiment. 

Superman would be–harder to reclaim him from, though. Harder than government custody. Maybe even harder than the Justice League in general, because Superman by himself doesn’t necessarily have to answer to the same specific pressures the whole League altogether would. 

So if he does . . . whatever Superman wants him to do, exactly–if he does whatever makes Superman want to keep him, for whatever reason Superman decided he wanted to keep him to begin with . . . 

He won’t be disposed of as soon, if he does that. Eventually Superman will change his mind and the Agenda will take him back, but–only eventually. 

Not yet. 

So he just needs to do that. 

Match can do that. Superman can't be any harder to please than the Agenda. He . . . thinks he can't, anyway. 

Superman tolerates Thirteen, so . . .

#wip: clark panic-adopts his teenage clones

[t00thpasteface]

Genuine curiosity, what's the difference between isopods and amphipods?

oh hey, i remember this from last semester!

it's right in the name actually! crustaceans in order Isopoda ("single foot") generally only have one kind of appendage on their thorax-- they're pretty much all the same shape and oriented in the same direction. by contrast, crustaceans in order Amphipoda ("both foot") have some pairs of limbs facing forwards and some facing backwards, each with different shapes/uses.

of course, as with any taxonomic group, it ultimately comes down to genetic ancestry/similarity, and simple physiological appearance is not what determines the taxa!

#shebbz shoutz #ask

[overlyimmersed]

I'm having a HORRIBLE day, so let's talk about Fairy wings some more...

Specifically, Tioreh and Belte, the only two of Harlequin's kids who have wings so far.

We have the most info on Tioreh.

She has a single set of yellow, translucent*, cell veined wings. They're extremely typical for a Fairy. The only oddity is that she has them so early.

*(while the 3D model from the video game doesn't show the translucence, several of the manga panels here actually do. And while it's inconsistent across media weather Fairy wings are always translucent or not, I'm actually willing to differ to the manga on this one.)

Belte seems to have much the same.

We don't know what color they are, but he still has a single set with what appears to be at least nearly identical vein patterning to his sister. Though his seem to be a little smaller than Tioreh's.

Both children have very average wings.

We know basically nothing about how Fairy genetics work, but from what I can tell, the shape and vein configuration match their father...but it's weird that both kids only have a single set when Harlequin has two.

Even if the kids' wings will eventually get bigger, -which we don't know that they will, they could be fully evolved already since the proportioning looks fine- Harlequin had all four of his wings when they first sprouted so that wouldn't explain the difference.

My studies of Fairy physiology also haven't found any correlation between number of wings and... anything, really. It just seems as random as anything else. Though, having a single set is more common in Fairies overall. By a lot, actually... so genetically, maybe it is a dominant vs. recessive thing?

We also don't know if color means anything. Harlequin's are blue, which is unusual for a Fairy king specifically. Yellow, Tioreh's color, is the 3rd most common among the Fairy clan and Elaine's are also yellow, so genetically that might just be fine.

And while its weird to even try and figure out if genetics should be a discussion, since Fairies don't usually happen this way, I think its a fair argument that they do since nearly all the kids look and seem to behave at least somewhat like their parents. With similar eye shapes, body types, and facial structures, and Tioreh clearly exhibiting Diane's excitability.

#seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #four knights of the apocalypse #7ds #nnt #4kota #7ds fairy #nnt fairy #4kota fairy #4kota Tioreh #4kota Belte #7ds analysis #nnt analysis #4kota analysis #came back a few days later to add visual aids #and put in Belte's name now that we know it :D #I actually decided to make the adjustments because I'm now getting around to adding this post to the analysis page #figured while I'm here anyway yknow

[crevicedwelling]

Do you know why isopods can produce so many different color morphs compared to insects/other terrestrial arthropods? Like there aren't scorpions, cockroaches, or millipedes that come in a bunch of color morphs like some commonly kept isopods

a great question & something I’ve wondered about myself.

most likely, it has something to do with the way crustaceans develop pigments compared to other arthropods. lobsters, crayfish, and certain types of freshwater shrimp are famous for their multicolored morphs, some of which have been selectively bred much longer than isopods have. while isopods don’t seem to naturally produce the bright blue pigments that are quite striking in other mutant crustaceans, you do see a similar range of orange/red, yellow, piebald, and calico morphs across these crustaceans.

another, likely compatible theory of mine (just a hunch, I have not done any reading on comparative physiology between crustaceans and other arthropods) is that crustaceans’ exoskeletons depend more heavily on calcium, so pigments just add color and a lack of typical pigmentation isn’t a health concern, and a mutant will live long enough to breed (despite potentially being more obvious to predators) and spread its genes. meanwhile, the coloration of insects’ exoskeletons often is a result of the tanning process when hardening after molting—teneral insects look “albino” before their coloration develops. color mutations might have less pigment to work with, and the non-pigment based coloration might be essential for functioning properly.

however, there are numerous examples of color mutations in non-crustaceans (“amelanistic” and “albino” used loosely, I’m not sure what pigments are used in each case)

amelanistic forest scorpion:

double mutant (black exoskeleton, white eyes) American cockroach:

amelanistic Scolopendra subspinipes:

amelanistic Narceus americanus:

these are all fairly rare examples but in each case likely to have a genetic basis (P. americana “Venom” both genes are recessive, N. americanus “Albino” is recessive, scorpion and centipede likely to be as well) and the roach and millipede examples have been bred for several years. other roaches and crickets have shown the white-eye mutation, and several other scorpions, centipedes and millipedes have shown “albino” mutations.