#instinct that will destroy indiscriminately.

[craycraybluejay]

people think i'm "rude" for being too blunt/too honest but if i took some kind of uncontrollable truth-telling serum i would be actually suicide-inducingly horrible to be around. i'm honest but trust that i take care to be much more polite, fair, and controlled at most times than I want to. you could not take 5 minutes of me blurting out everything that goes on in my brain in gruesome detail, especially pertaining to You specifically. kindness and courtesy are neither a weakness nor proof of some inherent purity. they are a bore of a chore. and while it is an incredibly irritating chore it is required in order to exist (less) hassled by society.

idk. it's truly annoying to spend much effort and energy on all of everything alone. and after accepting no help will come your way, no ackmowledgement or reward for your work comes either. and not only. instead comes punishment. punishment for the grave sin of not being good enough at pretending like i love small talk and not being good enough at kissing ass and not being good enough at neither keeping my head down and doing nothing nor making waves. not being good enough no matter which way you turn, what weight you pull, how much pain you opt to ignore in favour of pushing onward. there is no prize, no safe space, there is only the anger in the meaningless and base fight to survive. hatred, death, despair, the deep wells of agony. and within it all a part of you screams itself hoarse and then quiet to break the dam. at such high capacity, it doesnt matter of its toxic sludge or just water. "just water" kills everything in its path. tsunamis, typhoons, tropical storms, rainstorms, deadly hail... a little bit builds up and in the right place it can be cried out, or redirected, or simply evaporate in the warm, kind, invigorating rays of the sun. but what then if there is no place for that kind of thing. you are the river above a city and you grow and you grow and come the next storm you may just flatten it all to nothing with everyone inside. the dam allows no space to move or grow smaller. you grow so big you don't know if it's even a river anymore. what you are is some strange unnatural body with a riptide so intense it rivals the wildest ocean tides.

i remember the time i almost got swallowed by a storm riptide clearly. it took just a touch of the water and i am being pulled by a force stronger than anything i have felt before or again, something wild and so much bigger. a storm that no longer wants or has any purpose or even one clear cause... without reason, it doesn't *want* to destroy ships and tug people to their crushed deaths. no. it just-- will. it will do that. it has no will but it will kill you. it will destroy everything. what a beautiful terror. but why in me. tugging tugging tugging. sometimes i wish my weak little kid body got seized by the riptide and that i could not break free at all. that would be an epic death.

#rambles #someone promised me a visit to a rage room!!!! they must deliver!!!!!! #i must admit i do look down on the one that rages like a traumatized little bitch-- dog #at every little thing #the one who-- in the real world-- is too angry and stupid even to shut its mouth when it kills itself #here i am with all this anger you put inside me and its enough to genuinely want to wipe our planet dead #and here i am calmly listening to you air your pathetic grievances while i think of smashing your skull in with this hammer #and you. you... like a little baby given power. #and here i fucking am taking it and trying so hard to maintain. as if it wouldnt be such a relief to just let go #as if i havent envied you for your senseless retarded pursuit of being so unapologetically terrible to people #as if i wouldnt do anything to trade our minds and places and be the stupid eternal toddler #people think the things i occasionally say or do are anger. it is not #how many switches will you flip and buttons will you push until you choose the wrongest one yet #how much longer must i withstand this pressure with my hands under me and my teeth pressed firmly together #how many more times do i have to stop in the middle of acting on instinct. instinct to survive and fight #instinct that will destroy indiscriminately. #if its like this for long enough... do you think water can become fire? youve heard of hell freezing over but have you heard of earth #becoming hell? #again i cant sleep. the energy is suffocating. i need to be held tightly and to tussle till my body gives out #no i need to feel bones crack under me.

[luciferstit]

One thing I really like about MP100 is that they let Shigeo’s repressed emotions be ugly and mean and hurtful. Every other character in the whole show has had their chance to be mean, with almost every instance involving them being mean to Mob. Teru, Ritsu, Dimple, Reigen—even Tsubomi, when she was a kid. Really almost anyone. Tome got to be angry and hurt, Mezato has done morally questionable things, and so has Serizawa. Except for Mob. All of his anger moments were in battle, were reactions to pain, or were in self-defense. He’s never gotten the chance to just… be ugly.

Shigeo has been through… a LOT of traumatizing situations. Life-or-death battles, multiple instances of being murdered (even though he got better), watching the people he loves get hurt, six months of abuse from quite literally every possible angle, and seeing (even if fake) his family burn to death in a house fire. It is par for the course when dealing with trauma that you also deal with anger. Anger is the mind’s way of protecting itself. Anger and trauma are joined at the hip. Anger is so often an act of love and protection for the self.

I’m glad that they didn’t shy away from making Shigeo’s feelings be ANGRY. By god, he should be angry. The world has hurt him beyond comprehension, his guardians have failed to protect him, and he has punished himself for many, many years for the actions of a scared and overwhelmed child. He’s practically destroyed himself to make room for everything and everyone else.

If you never let that anger out, it never goes away. It just becomes indiscriminate, gnarled, and twisted. It becomes a suffocating pressure and a ticking time bomb. Years and years of anger and hurt and fear are emerging all at once, alongside years of suppressed fight-or-flight instincts, and the only way out is through. I just… I feel for Mob.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #long post #sorry for all the rants lately #this show is doing something to me #mp100 spoilers #mob psycho season 3 spoilers #shigeo kageyama

[thrashkink-coven]

The flame that purifies

What is Fire, my Lord?

Fire is the element of purification, it is the light that illuminates and dominates. It is reckless and untamed, giving grace to no master, for it is it’s own. Fire can burn, it can be painful, violent, and cruel- destroying all that crosses it indiscriminately. Dominating all that dare to face it- for what it provides, it can easily strip away. Fire is to be respected and handled with care.

But fire is purifying, powerful and radiant. Fire will obey peacefully if approached with peace, one can control it with patience and reverence. For fire purifies, it not only illuminates all that harms us, weighs down on us, and makes us feel insecure, it burns these negative things off of us instinctively- giving us the strength to be sufficient without it. This is a process that can hurt, it can be uncomfortable and it can take a long time to complete. But fire is purifying, my love. For all who walk through it, purity and complete clarity await them on the other side.

We walk with you, Lord Lucifer, Eosphoros, into your blessed flames, we allow you to burn away all that does not serve us so that we may be close to you, closer than we have ever been. We will radiate your confidence and power as the flames radiate within our souls. When we emerge, clean and well, we will dance with you at the mighty fire and sing praises in your name into the night. We will be free, liberated, and pure. Just as you promised.

Ave the Father, Lord Lucifer the liberator! So blessed be. 🖤🖤🖤

#witchcraft #magick #occultism #witch community #demonology #paganism #witch aesthetic #pagan #witchblr #grimoire #lucifer offering #luciferian #luciferian witch #lucifer #theistic luciferianism #lucifer morningstar #eosphorus #eosphoros

[hikari-ni-naritai]

ok so ive had a few hours to digest shinsekai. thoughts and spoilers ahead!

so ok. shinsekai yori is the kind of show, similar to season 1 of shield hero, where taking a watsonian perspective makes it look really, really good! if we could take the text just as it stands, its great. it's a story about, at its core, the parts of humanity nobody likes to look at. fear, oppression, playing god, the powerful going to any lengths to keep power for themselves, cruelty, desperation. taken at face value, it's a fascinating exploration of how, exactly, humanity might deal with psychic powers manifesting in a small portion of the population.

but we're not here to take a watsonian perspective. we must once again look through the lens of the doylist perspective, and unlike shield hero's obviously shitty foundation, this one's... confusing. any time someone writes about political structures, oppression and revolution, and societies very different from our own, they're going to inevitably let some of their personal beliefs colour the narrative. and i couldnt figure out, really, what the author believes in this one. but i think a good way to put it is that the author set out to create a deeply unethical world, extrapolated from problems in modern humanity, and said "we need to change these problems". but they trip over their own feet in this because theyre. not actually capable of imagining a better future for the world theyve created.

the first big problem to address is the fact that children have no human rights and are killed if they show any signs of nonconformity or potentially dangerous outbursts or if they suck at being psychic or if they arent psychic at all. this is a defense against the emergence of Fiends and Karma Demons, but Fiends are the primary issue. to prevent psychics from slaughtering each other, humanity was genetically modified to be instinctively unwilling to attack other humans, and to experience death feedback, a biological response to killing another human where the body's psychic energy shuts down vital organs and kills itself. Fiends are humans who lack these and are thus able to kill indiscriminately. humans can't fight back because theyre biologically programmed not to kill humans, so Fiends are effectively unstoppable once they snap. and so we must kill them as children before they become fiends (by breeding big cats for murder), forbid discussion of "missing" students, and modify the memory of any students who knew them. this, as all the characters except the ruling class agree, is horrible! it's cruel and inhumane and no civilised society should ever implement such a policy.

but like. what is there to be done instead? the show never offers an alternative. it doubles down and tells us the only reason the last Fiend was stopped was because of a fluke. another emergence of a Fiend would destroy humanity. and when another Fiend DOES emerge, rather than finding a way to deal with it, it's simply. not actually a Fiend. it can be dealt with, but it doesnt solve the problem at all. In fact, the one method they find to actually kill a fiend without dying themselves is destroyed and unrecoverable.

main character Saki is told she's to take over as head of the Ethics Committee, which one would think could result in meaningful change being made. but, from what i gathered in the last episode, she's simply a member of the committee, not the head. and no changes to the practice of murdering children are ever suggested or explored. maybe she DOES have thoughts on the matter, but the author does not tell us them, and i believe this is because they also do not know what to do.

the second huge issue is the oppression of the slave race, the bakenezumi. where do i even fuckin start. bakenezumi are sentient creatures that appear to have evolved from naked mole rats and worship humans as gods due to their psychic powers. their societies are similar to ants in that only the queen can give birth, they live in tunnels underground, and they steal workers and larvae from their defeated enemies after winning inter-colony wars. they are heavily regulated by humans. their colony name is tattooed on their forehead at birth and they have to submit paperwork before being allowed to go to war with each other or have battles. if they commit crimes against humans, they could face the eradication of their entire colony. humans claim this is only in "extreme cases", but our protagonist's comphet boyfriend says that questioning the deity of humans is punishable by death, so how "extreme" could it really be?

crucially, the bakenezumi are sentient. they may speak a language of primarily grunts and squeaks, but they are perfectly capable of learning the human tongue and speaking it fluidly. they can read, they can organise into military units, they can fill out paperwork, they can enter into contracts, they are for all intents and purposes humans that live in the ground and come out of a big meaty queen looking like bugs. their political structure is primitive, sure, but feudal monarchy was common during a time when we would consider humans to still have been fully sentient, so thats not really a proper argument against the bakenezumi.

any sentient race living subservient to another race is eventually going to revolt. when your entire nation could get wiped out if you accidentally said 'yknow ion think those guys are gods' within earshot of a human, what reason do you have NOT to revolt? squealer (may he rest in power), the primary antagonist of the second half of the show, recognized this, but so did kiromaru, the leader of an alliance of bakenezumi colonies that was fiercely loyal to humans. BOTH of them recognized the futility of their existence and attempted to do something about it. but the humans are completely incapable of understanding this point of view. the standard humans, yeah, but also the main characters who are generally wiser about the societal problems with human society. even saki, whose job it is to work with bakenezumi, cant figure out why theyd rebel. because humans see bakenezumi as inferior creatures. no more than beasts of burden.

but what does the show do with this? it's fuckin, hard to say, really. squealer is portrayed as a cunning, ruthless leader who takes his colony into a new age of.... democracy and union membership? he commits horrible atrocities against his own people and against humanity in an effort to eradicate humans and become the new dominant species, but like. the way his crimes are tied to his support of democratic governance, unions, individual rights, and forward thinking, contrasted by the Noble Savage kiromaru's clinging to the Old Ways of tyrannical monarchy and dying for the sake of the colony, its hard not to come to the conclusion that the position we're expected to take is 'modernity is bad and the people selling it are lying to you'. squealer's society is just as based on dying for the sake of the colony as kiromaru's, and this 'contradiction' is supposed to make him seem evil, despite the fact that like. of course the bakenezumi are going to die for the cause of freedom. humans in real life die because an army recruiter whispered the word in their ear.

and when squealer does revolt, instantly humans decide that ALL bakenezumi need to be eradicated, despite the fact that many colonies were allied AGAINST squealer. even kiromaru's years of famously loyal service arent enough to change the humans' minds. they strip him naked like a dog and chain him in prison while continuing to demand he grovel for them. saki saves his life and he works with them to try to take out the Fiend in squealer's service, but lets examine how the narrative treats kiromaru here. clearly it wants to say his treatment was unwarranted, he's just as sentient and worthy of respect as anyone else, but his ultimate fate is to be killed in a plan that HINGED on his death. that was the best we could get for him. decades of loyalty despite recognizing the futility of the bakenezumi's existence, and his reward is to be abandoned by the people he served and killed to protect his oppressors.

but surely in the aftermath of the war against humanity, saki will do something to fix the situation right? well, not in any visible way. saki works to prevent kiromaru's allied colonies' queens from being killed (no word on if the surviving members survive or not, she only promised to save the queens), but thats just maintaining the status quo. instead of driving bakenezumi to extinction, certain loyal factions are graciously permitted to remain in servitude. their continued oppression is their reward. and it's not through anything they couldve done. no act of the oppressed could possibly save them, if kiromaru's reputation couldnt save him. it was only through the grace and mercy of Human Saki that divine punishment could be avoided.

and humans dont even THINK about changing their views on this. theyre just as sure of their own superiority as they were before. squealer is given a farce of a trial. his impassioned cry of "We are humans!" is met with cruel laughter and he is sentenced to Eternal Torture, while his followers are presumably wiped out. in memory of the event, a museum is built where visitors can come and see the crude weaponry of the bakenezumi, the funny helmet he used to wear, and his quivering, tortured flesh piled in a flask. his torment is reduced to a mere curiosity. saki kills him in a fit of mercy, but how many months did he remain in that state while they built a hall around him?

and perhaps the most fascinating part of this is that like. our heros dont change their sense of superiority, either. saki's comphet boyfriend discovers that the bakenezumi were created by adding mole rat DNA to the DNA of Actual Real Humans without psychic powers until they looked inhuman enough to be killed without triggering the death feedback. saki experiences a momentary horror as she realises she's been massacring Real Humans, but she's quickly comforted by comphet boyfriend, who reassures her that she doesnt Actually see them as the same race, does she? of course not. they may have been human once, but they are not now! they are instead Subservient.

despite saki hoping that in the future the world Does Better, there's no thought given to what that might look like. she's dreaming of a better world in the most empty way possible. its the same world, but there's a sticker on it that says 'new and improved!'. and im not sure how im supposed to feel about it.

#maybe another time ill talk about how the author deals with sex and sexuality but this has gotten Long so not right now #shinsekai yori

[nutzgunray-lvt]

Another rough draft!

Righteous Anger

Izuku hadn't meant for it to happen.

In all honesty, he hadn't even been thinking at all when it happened.

All he could really remember before those cold, black and teal energy tendrils came out of his hands was seeing his mother in that cage, suspended over that bottomless pit.

That's when his instincts took over.

Ever since that fateful trip to the doctor ten years ago, Izuku took it upon himself to protect his mother. He had vowed to himself to never give her another reason to cry like she did on that day, and he took that vow very seriously.

It's why he tried to the best of his ability to hide Bakugou's bullying from her (how did she miss his burnt school supplies and uniforms?).

It's why he offered his shoulder to cry on (he could never let it be the other way around).

It's why he accepted her homemade hero costume and food gifts while he was in the hospital (why wasn't she this supportive before he got his Quirk).

She was being held hostage on Parents' Day of all days by some sort of masked lunatic who kept ranting and raving about 'destroying their bright futures by murdering their parents in front of them.'

Well, over his dead body was he going to let something happen to his mother.

Anger coursed through his body as he, Momo, Todoroki, Hagakure, and Uraraka created a diversion to get the drop on the villain. To his horror, it failed. The villain then opened the cage door, lit a match, and threw it into the gasoline pit below.

He froze, his brain short-circuiting as the terror of losing his one remaining parent overwhelmed him. Then, it gave way to rage. It gave way to white-hot rage as his teeth bared, feet drove into the ground as he got One For All ready.

Over his dead body was he going to let his mother die because he couldn't be quick enough to save her.

One For All activated, the green electricity covering his body -

And then the tendrils appeared.

Time stopped. This was not One For All, at least, he didn't think so.

They hurt. They felt as cold as Todoroki's ice as intense pain shot through his arm. He tried to pull them back, tried to call them off as tears blurred his vision (God, it hurt so bad, not even his bones breaking hurt this much), but it only seemed to intensify them. He was scared, so scared as the tendrils pulled him into the air. All he could do before he was slammed into a nearby wall was scream at the top of his lungs,

"RUN!"

What followed next was pandemonium.

More tendrils indiscriminately shot out of his body, slamming into nearby structures and demolishing them, grazing his classmates as they desperately dodged them, their initial mission barely forgotten.

"THIS ISN'T ME!" He desperately screamed, trying to brace himself as he was flung into another wall. "I'M NOT DOING THIS! GET AWAY FROM ME, GET OUT OF HERE!"

ONE FOR ALL, CALM DOWN! Izuku screamed as he was flung around the mock cityscape. He hit wall after wall, pipe after pipe, the adrenaline cushioning the blows as little by little, he resigned himself to his fate. He was going to be stuck up here and his mother was going to die. It was going to be all his fault for not being quick enough with a plan, for not being able to think of a successful strategy -

All of a sudden, the tendrils disappeared.

Wait, didn't that villain say that he made Mr. Aizawa take a dirt nap?

That didn't matter.

What did matter was that he was falling, falling, and everything went blank.

~ ~ ~

When he came to, he found that he was in a barren, black space that was reminiscent of a black hole. He was standing on what looked like concrete or some sort of other gray rock. He had only his hair, his eyes, and his right hand. Everything else was encased in that weird black/purple coloring around him. He wasn't in any pain, but it was rather terrifying being unable to speak or see the majority of his body.

Where was he?

What happened?

Did this have something to do with those tendrils?

"Crap, kid! What have you gotten yourself into, huh?! You could have been killed with how you were being thrown around! Don't do that ever again, you hear me?!"

Who was this?

He was tall and muscular, very bald with a short beard. He looked like a punk rocker, with goggles on his forehead, a leather jacket, and an ammo belt draped around his bare torso. This had to be one of the eight shadows that saved him from an early elimination at the Sports Festival, one of the past One For All users.

So Izuku was right that they helped him win his match against Shinsou.

"Shit! Where the hell's your mouth at?!" the man yelled, his eyes bugging out of his head before got his bearings back.

"Look, my time's running out, so I'll break it all down for you. Nod or shake your head if you understand. Understand?"

When Izuku nodded, he continued.

"The power that just shot out of you was my Quirk. Overtime, as One For All was passed down, our individual Quirk factors mixed into the core of it. Imagine this core resting in the middle of a whirlpool or whatever; these waves are the cultivated power us previous users added to the original Quirk. After so long, the core is starting to expand, making One For All stronger. You following me, kid?"

Izuku nodded. It wasn't like he could do anything else.

"Now, you were focused on saving your mother by capturing that villain. It just so happens that my Quirk, Black Whip, was the best tool in your arsenal for that. That means that luckily for you, you get to meet me first!" He pointed at himself with a proud smile. "I don't want to brag or anything, but I have a pretty cool Quirk… but be careful!" He went from smiling to sober so quickly that it gave Izuku whiplash.

"Black Whip's got the power of One For All backing it, meaning it's gotten much stronger since my time. Righteous anger can be a slippery slope with a Quirk like Black Whip. It's easy for your emotions to get out of control and for you to hurt someone in the fallout. I'm not saying to close off your emotions, just control them. After being passed down through eight people, One For All's become an awesome force. You've got six more Quirks that'll manifest as you improve your body and mind, so be prepared. You're the one that'll complete One For All."

The man started to fade away into a red aura. The black and purple around him was becoming a brighter and brighter light. Muffled, overlapping voices were registering to him, and he jumped when the man reached out and roughly ruffled Izuku's already messy hair, smiling down at him.

"Don't worry! We'll be with you the entire ride, kid!"

~ ~ ~

Izuku's eyes snapped open, and he was back in the mock cityscape. He was laying down on the ground, adults crowding around him and looking worriedly down at him.

"G-Get away!" he screamed, trying to leap to his feet in a bid to run away in case Black Whip triggered again. Overlapping yells of concern assaulted him along with the dizziness that brought him back down to the ground. A pair of hands caught him and laid him back down.

"Young Midoriya, not so fast!" the owner of the hands urged, gently keeping him held onto the ground. "You got banged up pretty badly, and you're running on adrenaline right now. You have no way of knowing how hurt you are until it wears off, so stay still until the Transport Robots get here."

All Might.

He was wearing the same outfit as the villain… wait a second. All Might was the villain who had kidnapped their families. All Might was with him right now, the paragon of worry as they waited for the robots to take him to Recovery Girl.

Was this a set up?

Seemingly reading his mind, the Symbol of Peace nodded guiltily. "It was a trial for Parents Day to test your rescue skills if a loved one were in danger. Your mother is fine, no one was in any real danger, but it was believed that anything lower stakes would have made you all not perform at your best."

The older man had the decency to look remorsefully down at his successor.

"We didn't imagine One For All would go haywire like it did, though. We're not blaming you, Young Midoriya," he said, raising a placating hand as Izuku tried speaking up. "We're not blaming you at all. We stopped the exercise as soon as you started getting injured. Aizawa erased One For All and caught you before you hurt yourself even more from the fall you took." He smiled a little sadly at the recollection. "I don't think I've ever seen him look so worried before."

Mr. Aizawa worried? About him? Maybe it was the headache talking, but that sounded utterly ridiculous. Mr. Aizawa hated him, always singled him out for one reason or another. Why would he be worried about Izuku of all people?

Unless he was worried about everyone else being hurt because of him?

Yeah, that made way more sense.

It wouldn't be a good look for UA if an entire class's parents were killed by an out of control Quirk on Parents' Day.

"Look, Young Midoriya, I don't have a clue what just happened, but I promise you that I'll find out to the best of my ability," All Might continued, the beeping of the Transport Robots almost drowning him out. "Don't worry. You're not alone in this. I promise you."

#mha fic #bnha fic #izuku midoriya #daigoro banjo #all might

[girlactionfigure]

THE MASSACRE THAT NEVER WAS

In 2002 Israel waged a military operation in the West Bank town of Jenin in response to the fact it was used as a launch pad for Palestinian terror attacks against Israeli civilians.

The next day I went into a newsagents in Great Britain. I was a kid just out of university and living in Oxford. As I walked in a middle-aged, middle-class white guy came up to me holding up a copy of leftwing Guardian newspaper. “Look at this” he said to me a complete stranger. “Look at what those bastards in Israel have done.” In big letters it said MASSACRE IN JENIN on the front page. I knew nothing really about Israel at the time but I knew Jewish history and I knew the general rhythm of our hearts which crave peace over conflict. I instinctively urged caution and said we don’t know what actually happened yet. “Of course those bastards did it” he said quite comfortably to a complete stranger before leaving. When I left the shop I phoned up my brother. “Have you seen the paper? It’s saying Israel has massacred people. That can’t be true can it? There’s no way? If they have there’s no way I can support Israel? I can’t believe they would have actually massacred people?” “I get you” he said. “Lets wait and see…”

I waited and I saw. There was no massacre. The British media had almost uniformly adopted the Hamas line distributed to the Western media without any journalistic standards of enquiry. They had happily spread the lie of a massacre to the world. It turned out that 23 Israeli soldiers had also been killed in what was described as a hard battle that lasted 11 days. The majority of those Palestinians killed were armed combatants engaged in this battle. Not only that - the Palestinian leadership who cried “massacre” to English-speaking audiences and which was eagerly lapped up were describing the battle amongst themselves as a great “VICTORY”. It is still regarded by Palestinian militants as an inspiring victory against the Israelis. 

How on earth could it have been a victory and a massacre at the same time? 

The Guardian eventually offered a feeble article tucked away somewhere that tried to explore how the British media irresponsibly jumped to apportion blame to Israel, but by then it was too late, the lie and the damage had been done and was seared into people’s hearts.

That pompous man in the newsagent taught me a lesson about a phenomenon I have seen played out over and over again - that people are not only willing to believe the worst about the Jews - but they WANT to believe the worst about Jews.

Throughout history, the most outlandish and unsubstantiated slanders against the Jewish people have been able to take hold because people have wanted to believe they are true. Now that Israel exists it is in turn treated as the “Jew of the nations” - with people willing not only to believe the worst about Israel but wanting to believe the worst - and to then broadcast it’s alleged villainy to others.

In 2018, the world screamed massacre and swore blind to indiscriminate killing by a gung-ho IDF after Palestinian terrorists tried to breach Israel’s border behind the shield of a manufactured crowd. The pathetic weeping and crying presented to the world by Palestinians dedicated to bloodshed was that this was a peaceful protest. The world loved the story. They’re hooked on this story. The world gets a righteous thrill from the performative crying of Palestinians and the fairytale depiction of Israelis as big, bad ogres.

Yet a few days later Hamas themselves announced that 50 of the 60 killed during their attempt to breach Israel’s border were not innocent civilians but were active members of the armed terrorist groups Hamas and Islamic Jihad - groups whose stated goal is to destroy Israel, to kill every Jew on earth and whose mission that day was to infiltrate Israel under the cover of human shield protesters and “tear out the hearts” of Israeli citizens half a kilometre away. (Quote from Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar).

40,000 people were at the Hamas organised assault on Israel’s border that day.

60 were killed.

50 of those were active members of genocidal antisemitic terror organisations.

That’s 83% of the killed confirmed as being members of terror organisations - by Hamas - not Israeli sources of information.

What does this statistic prove?

It proves that, as with Jenin, everyone who reflexively attacked Israel and accused them of indiscriminate shooting in defence of their border were completely wrong in their characterisation and assessment of the situation and completely irresponsible in their rush to pass unbridled condemnation. It shows they were willing to not just believe the worst, but wanted to believe the worst. If the IDF were firing indiscriminately into a crowd of 40,000 people we would expect those killed to be a completely random cross section of people. But the figures are not random, not in the least bit. The fact that 83% of those killed were Hamas and Islamic Jihad proves there was an attempt to be as considered as possible behind each shot fired by the IDF and that “indiscriminate” shooting of Palestinians is far from what occurred. It proves that there are moral considerations guiding the actions of the IDF when engaged with an enemy that deliberately blurs the boundary between civilian and combatant and who hides behind human shields of women and children.

In the massacre that never was in Jenin 2002, the world’s media regurgitated verbatim the headline pitched to them by the genocidal terror group Hamas because they were willing not only to believe the worst about the world’s only Jewish state - but they wanted to believe the worst. In Gaza 2018, the world’s media, politicians and no end of people online were not only willing to believe the worst about Israel - but they wanted to believe the worst. They have been brainwashed into antisemitism and/or easily nudged into it because of pre-existing anti-Jewish bias.

And it happens over and over. Again and again. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.

This desire to be as uncharitable as possible to the Jewish state is seen most palpably in the refusal to acknowledge the dilemma Israel faces - and the demanding of a solution that doesn’t exist. In 2018 Hamas was always going to get at least part of what they wanted. Either Israel shoots and gives them their “martyrs”, or it lets them get through the border to murder Jewish families. In this situation Israel chose the option any other country would pick - including you and your country.

It’s a government’s primary responsibility to protect it’s citizens and the role of lethal force is a dilemma none of us equivocate over too long when it’s closer to home.

In 2018, Jihadists armed with machetes, firebombs and IEDS tried to infiltrate Israel and kill it’s citizens. They were shot by Israeli security forces. Baulking at the ugly reality of conflict, British people condemned Israel for protecting it’s citizens.

Yet only a year earlier, in 2017, jihadists armed with machetes stalked the streets of Britain with a view to kill British citizens in and around London Bridge. They were shot to death. British people applauded Britain’s security forces for protecting it’s citizens. There was no opining or moralising along the lines of, “Why wasn’t non-lethal force used against these terrorists? Why weren’t they tazered? Why weren’t they restrained in another way?” There was no, “Surely British security services could have used riot control techniques against these jihadists who wanted to stab to death British families?” There was no, “The shooting was disproportionate because the terrorists at London bridge were armed only with knives. There can be no comparison made between people with knives and the full might of the British security services! Shooting those jihadists who wanted to slaughter British citizens was an act of murder!”

There was none of this when Britain was faced with three attackers trying to kill its citizens. Yet hear the cry that comes when the world’s only Jewish State has an entire terror infrastructure on its doorstep and has the audacity to defend itself from untold numbers of jihadists trying to storm their border and murder their families.

LEE KERN

#Israel #Jenin #Guardian #stoplyingaboutisrael

[twilightknight17]

Yesterday on P3R: like three hours in Tartarus, Secret Meetings, and spending more time with Koromaru than anyone else.

I have made it to floor 100! It was like floor 109 by the time I left, but I was very proud. And kind of surprised that there was nothing weird on floor 100. But hey, bringing Koromaru along is reward enough.

Also did a bunch more persona fusions, so I’ve got a new fusion spell. All of my fusion spells so far other than Orpheus’s are Frosts. It’s very silly. XD

He’s so big. XD

Anyway, it’s been like 3 hours, everyone is low on stamina, time to head back and get back into the social link grind.

...are you serious??? We were literally there ALL NIGHT, when did someone wander in???? Ffs. X’D

Oh well. Later. Right now we’re going out for ramen with my rival track bro. Apparently every single restaurant in the mall lets him eat for free.

Dude, seriously, what the heck? Although… I’m getting some vibes that this guy probably doesn’t have a great home situation. So it’s probably a good thing that he’s at least getting regular meals. There really are good people in this city.

Junpei is off hanging out at the mall, and has noticed someone new and interesting! There’s a girl sketching, and she basically brushes him off and tells him to move out of the way when he goes to see how she’s doing.

She wasn’t with Takaya and Jin when they locked us in the military base, so poor Junpei has no way of knowing that this is one of Strega’s members. :/ He has a point about her outfit, though. Even Mitsuru was complaining about how hot it is today.

I arrived home to find Aigis engaged in a stern discussion with Koromaru about how he is not allowed to take himself on walks. Apparently Akihiko was supposed to take him, and has not returned home yet, so because Aigis ALSO can’t go out without supervision yet, it falls to me to take him.

Which is not a hardship at all because he is the bestest boy.

However, on our walk, we ran into Takaya, who is just… openly wandering around without a shirt and carrying a gun even during normal hours. Koromaru doesn’t like him instinctively, but he says he just wants to talk, so we head up to the shrine. He wants information.

It’d be a lot more fair if you’d get your hand off your gun. I know that one is real.

But, he says I can ask him a question first.

Well… they don’t really seem to have some grand goal in mind. And they’re getting in our way because they don’t want us to destroy Tartarus and the Dark Hour. So…

Hahaha, very funn-- Okay, actually, he’s joking, but it would be funnier if it was true and only Minato thought he was shirtless.

Basically, he wants to know why we’re so determined to throw away our powers. He says that if it’s because of the shadows, that’s the wrong way to look at it. He explicitly compares shadows killing people to car accidents. Plenty of people die in car accidents every year, but we’re not trying to destroy cars.

(Which is a half-valid point if you ignore the fact that the Dark Hour only exists because of mad scientists, and also some of those people who die during the Dark Hour are because of Takaya shooting them.)

...funny you should say that, since out of everyone in SEES, Mina is the least likely to care about anything, at least in the beginning.

Not wrong, technically. Like, yeah. You don’t have to help. But you’re also not the sole arbiters of what to do about everything, and your opinion would probably have more weight if you hadn’t already locked us in an underground facility to starve to death.

He does note how special Minato’s power is compared to everyone else. He really doesn’t get why Mina, specifically, would want to give all of that up.

……it’s not the blessing you think it is, my dude.

Anyway, he hands off a piece of paper with some info as repayment for helping him out before, and heads out. He really did just want to talk, which is… refreshing. Like, Strega is not a bunch of indiscriminate madmen. We’re still going to be enemies, but they’re not monsters.

“Test subjects”, huh? So Grandpa Kirijo was into human experimentation, too. Great.

Fuck it, I’m going home to brush Koromaru.

He’s soft and shiny~ But we can’t stay here all night, sadly. Time to stop, boy.

...okay, fine, a little longer.

The bookstore isn’t ready to rank up yet, so I head out again with Mamoru. I’m learning a lot more about his family situation.

I’m assuming he’s pushing himself so hard because he wants a scholarship. I get the vibe that the family doesn’t have much money. And unfortunately, his father is dead. Which, dude, I’m so sorry. That’s terrib--

…………okay I might be going to hell because I snorted a little bit. It’s just so abrupt. A cliff? Where are there cliffs?? X’’’’D I’m still sorry for your loss but omg.

Having Koromaru in the dorm means you can pet him and shake paws. 10/10, no notes.

And I opted to spend the next day with him, because he likes to chill out front and people-watch.

An old man who used to be friends with the priest came by, and he told us that Koromaru had been taken in by someone else once before, but he always kept going back to the shrine. Now that he’s staying with us, it’s because he’s chosen to be here. We’re his family now.

He makes us promise to take care of each other, and… I can do that. For sure.

#Li plays P3Re

[tk-duveraun]

Lian and the Capitalist Fuckboy AU 7/?

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7 (here). 8.

Featuring @illogicalghost 's Umumi Umi

“Blessings are not free.”

-

Lian meets the Warrior of Light and her entourage in Onokoro. She's more than halfway to horrified: they're all children. Lian is not ignorant of Lalafell, the way she was when she was younger, but Umumi is still perilously young, though still older than the Leveilleur twins. Even Lyse Hext is barely more than a teenager.

Lian feels a heavy instinct to hide all of them behind her sleeves and deal with matters herself, despite her people's non-intervention with the Domans up to this point.

"You'll have to forgive my rudeness, Madam Feng," Alisaie says, "but how can we trust you? It doesn't make sense for you to get involved now of all times. Far more likely you're here to sabotage us." She's all brash, sharp edges like Lian's sisters.

"My spouse is Eorzean," Lian answers easily. She shows them the wedding ring Hancock gifted to her for their wedding. "He asked very nicely that I might add my magic to the cause."

Umumi rocks on her feet, clutching her head in the grips of a vision from her Echo. She clutches Lyse's stabilizing hand and then stares up at Lian with wide eyes. "You have the Blessing of Light, too!"

Lian nods, "So it's called by your people, yes. It is thanks to the Blessing that I recently survived an illness that should have been fatal. As such, my people believe the Heavens wish for me to aid in fulfillment of the Blessing's purpose."

Alphinauld's eyes are bright. "Your people don't think it's a blessing from Hydaelyn?"

Lian covers her mouth with a round, hand fan. Ah the willful inquisition of the young. "The Blessing is from the Heavens; there's no need to introduce conflicts of faith."

Alisaie rolls her eyes so hard they look about to roll out of her skull.

Lyse laughs. "Spoken like a true politician!"

"Alright, then," Umumi says with friendliness, though some reservation. "Right now, we're planning to strike against the Red Kojin..."

Lian's frown deepens as she listens to their plans. "Assaulting someone's faith is quite cruel."

"It's not like that!" Umumi insists. "They're using stored aether to summon a primal! It's not a real god."

"Even if they weren't allied with the Garleans, the Red Kojin having summoned a primal is a problem, not just for us, but for them as well," Lyse adds.

"Primals draw on large amounts of ambient aether when summoned, not just what was used to manifest them. They don't deplete aether to extent of, say, the Burn, but there are measurable impacts on the surroundings. Then, once you add in tempering, they're indiscriminately dangerous."

"I see, but I will ensure the proper respects are paid. Destroying a facsimile of a god, even a dangerous one, maybe easily be seen as an insult to the heavens."

After the defeat of Susano, the Eorzeans are more comfortable with Lian.

"I've never seen magic like that!" Umi says with stars in her eyes.

"It felt very similar to Black Magic, but like nothing I've seen practiced before."

Lian nods. "I believe the Black Magic practiced in Eorzea follows from Mhachi traditions. They were admirable mages, no doubt, but my people's practices come from our own traditions. The similarities are formed from the inherent properties of aether and the fundamentals of aetheric manipulation. While purely offensive, my magic has more of a living base than Black Magic. While my staff is metal, many, including my own brothers, practice with living wood, much like your White Mages."

Umi barrages Lian with questions about both the links to White Magic and her brothers.

"Do you think Nature magic is more intuitive? My little sister Pinene can already channel White Magic and she's only twelve!"

"How we manipulate aether is informed by the culture in which we're raised, even if we don't seem to be learning about magic," Lian says. "Your family is from the area where White Magic is most often taught, yes? That would be most intuitive."

Umi considers this. "So if we lived in Ul'dah do you think she'd be doing Black Magic?"

Lian chuckles. "My understanding is that most buildings in Ul'dah are made of stone due to children accidentally creating fire as their talent for aetherial manipulation grows."

"Oh, you just need to meet Y'shtola!"

#feng lian #wol adjacent #capitalist fuckboy au #umumi umi

[path-forbidden]

My natural instinct (which is flawed, yammering and relentless), is that if it flicks the "[TRASH]" switch it should be destroyed immediately. This is applied indiscriminately, my left hand should get it like a flawed idea or piece of technology.

the timeline is probably like > develop extreme rage > develop exceptional learned helplessness > solve many problems by violent escalation. This was all when I was a kid, you understand, most of it happened before I was 6. So it all cools and melts together into "when you act on a problem the act should be extreme, destructive and totally conclusive."

Maybe this is also why my sense of contempt is so strong.

[titoist]

the guy walking beside me at the rail crossing was... i would say around mid 60s, thin & disheveled hair, sunglasses, a prickly salt & pepper goatee which one can tell was more the result of him not bothering to shave, than anything else. under a thin, ratty, navy blue jacket, he wore a black t-shirt... on it, the logo - the material of the graphic tee, linen, cotton, whatever it was, slightly glistening in direct contact with the sun - was a... detailed art of the serbian eagle, snakes within its clutch & twin heads adorned with a crown. inside of the shield which usually houses the national cross, there, instead, is the dual cross of the eastern catholic church. it is... a profusely edgy national symbol. it's like walking around with a cockade of the dinara division. i was immediately hit with the realization, almost all at once, "he was alive during the wars in the 90s. the world really has done a number on him..." it's really interesting... it seems like, no matter what, you never really get used to it. it - if you're on a sufficient level of awareness, it can never not seem wrong, unnatural, like anything but a distortion, a world where the rising tide of the past has come and destroyed everything in its wake, the waves suffocating beyond reprieve. or, perhaps it's more accurate to say that i've never gotten used to it. i think it's something that's impossible to become acclimated to, impossible to assimilate to, if you value your own dignity - there's no coping with it, i suppose. it's the reason that people become terrorists & take it upon themselves to maim soldiers. it's the reason that the wide majority of old people here have been rendered insane, conspiracy-riddled husks, using nationalisms and imagined communities to obfuscate a source of greater, more existential unease. it's something that can't ever be grappled with, it's something you never get used to, no matter how hard you try. it's something that, even after a lifetime of being forced to stare it directly into its eyes, is still able to surprise you - sneak up on you, shock you into the condition of a horrified child feeling its fright instincts for the first time. the only choice is to forget. you can only ever hope to forget. forget, forget, forget, move on. the old project has failed, a new one awaits. but when you are forced to live in the ruins of that old project with little to no hope of upward mobility, it starts to seem impossible to live without delusion. by the time you hit 70, you're either a pensioner who wishes that šešelj would go on a crusade for greater serbia, or you're a pensioner who believes that vučić is a mastermind who's going to singlehandedly save the balkans with neoliberal economics. one, of course, would be exaggerating if they were to claim that no happiness or joy ever manages to cross this horrible, cracked exterior - like rediscovering the joy of being a child on top of a hill. but, a wide majority of the time, it's quite efficient at distorting, destroying, humiliating any relief that is ever put on the table. simply because: if the container is cracked, then everything inside that container will necessarily be compromised, too.

& it's also really interesting... passing by that man in the street. it felt like there were two diametrically opposed (or perhaps complementary?) views swirling around in my head, thoughts, opinions on him. one... i felt a sort of... intense sadness. a pity. an overwhelming sort of sympathy. the world has broken him down so much, cored him of his humanity - he never had a say in any of it, but it indiscriminately corroded him regardless. and i could almost begin to imagine it - the total cruelty of the world that this man has convinced himself that he's living in... in another world, in another place, in another time, the intense sadness in his gaze isn't necessary.... ahem. on the other end, what underlined this sense of empathy was an intense anger. indignation, fury. it was people like him who continuously made the world a struggle for life, people like him - roaches, cretins, reprobates - who actively protested against my very existence. who's ideal world would see me, & ideally everyone like me, pushed to isolation & eventual suicide. no matter how misguided he is, he's complicit, & i was momentarily overcome with the intense desire to see him violently die. or... maybe not his death, but the violent death of what he represented, to me. that intense evil. splattering against those train tracks. ahem.

i don't think one should interpret this as some latent, psychopathic instinct to kill random people on the street that resurfaces in my mind every now & then. i think that this dichotomy, this sort of dissonance... is a completely congruent, perhaps even balanced thing to experience... think of it this way; that empathy was directed towards him as a person, as a unique instance of an individual, as an equal protrusion of humanity. and that anger was directed at what he, nonetheless, in spite of his undeniable humanity, identified with, and both of these emotions were equally sincere, co-existent - despite his alignment with it, despite him being a temporary host to this alienation... one should never, ever conflate the two. even if it seems impossible not to, even if the person in question is actively fighting tooth & nail to be conflated with it... and if you ever think it sincerely necessary, justified to kill another person, then i think it qualifies as an ethical imperative to kill them with the understanding that they are not an idea. that they cannot be quantified, dehumanized in that way. you have to kill them & confront the understanding that you are ending another person, with all of the weight that action consequently carries. ... and yet, still, despite their separateness, it often seems that it is impossible to not see those people as direct wardens of that alienation. because, functionally, the consequences of the two are the same. you can never interact with them as people, that opportunity has long been extinguished - now, you can only attempt to salvage what good remains in yourself, and not allow it to be ceded. misanthropy, with the right aim & intent, tends to constitute an ethical imperative, though i often find myself wishing it didn't. "we would be stuck in this muck forever without it."

[gelastocoridae]

Thinking about this conversation I had with my brother about the evolution of domestic cats.

Think about it: house cats retained every natural instinct and physical trait of their wild ancestors right down to the obligate carnivore digestive system, and every iconic pet cat behavior (catnip high, knocking things down for fun, making biscuits, etc.) is also seen in just about every wild cat we've checked... except for one.

The sheer magnitude of their sadism.

Their fuzzy little sociopathic sadism.

When dogs were domesticated they developed their own unique behaviors apart from wolves and symbiotic with ours to a point where we could then culture whole new instincts into entire breeds that owners can't just socialize out of their individual dog even when it's a mutt.

But when cats domesticated themselves, it was out of convenience to both of us - their warm, plentiful shelter for our freedom of pests. It was our convenience that they continue to kill the pests in our farms and houses, from foundation to rooftop, and kill them with extreme prejudice because our pests carried diseases, damaged our homes, ruined our crops, destroyed our food stores, and got in the way. We kept the good mousers, rewarded them for it, took care of them when they were sick or hurt, appreciated them for their qualities and intensified them just like every other non-dog domesticated animal. Result: cute, soft, killing machines with the sadism of human vengeance. Little super soldiers in our war against pest villainy.

They do not really have breed specific instincts unless founded with wild relatives, we have not changed their physiology, and many breed-specific physical traits are often lost unless inbred, or actively decrease their quality of life/lifespan/physical health. They are a land race that has decimated countless species wherever humans introduced them.

This EXCEEDS the vengeance and spite we see in wild cats, like tigers holding grudges, and lions slaughtering hyenas. Housecats enjoy the hell out of eating their feather toys, sharpening their claws, and downright torturing their live prey in front of their humans. They feel no remorse for that, they do not think about it, it is built into every cat that enjoys "cat tv" of birds and squirrels without ever having been outside, or watches moths fly around the house. It is just part of them. They were cultivated for a service the way some sheep were for wool, but their service was indiscriminate pest-control.

#long post #biology #science #cats #felis catus #not cited #actually wait #source: my cat who killed 3 starlings in 2 days on our carpet + outdid the mouse traps n tortured several to death in front of us #source: my cat who fears for his life if alone outside but eats moths/feathers like hes starving n catched mice he doesnt know how to kill #source: my sisters cat who cries when hes alone but has kept us up at night by play-hunting his toys and wants to kill the birds outside #source: my cat who was just Some Guy but killed a bunch of lizards living under the hoise #but anyway this is speculation based on what i learned of anthropology n genetics n dogs n animal behavior in uni & personal studying #please add ur two cents if u have it

[dijonisia]

Hamas’s ‘Sadistic’ Sexual Assault Detailed by Israel’s Rape Crisis Centers | National Review

Reports from the UN itself of claims of sexual violence have come before the people since the 1980's and increased in frequency during the nineties to which the "response" from the UN neither investigated the claims, nor punitively addressed them - GIVEN IT WAS THE STAFF OF THE UN AND NATO FORCES THAT PERPETRATED THESE CRIMES AGAINST THE POPULATION.

Clearly this is a page from their play book in psychological warfare - to shock and reduce the population into "submission" by dismay and humiliation.

As a survivor of both pedophilia and violent rapes (x2), this is NOT the result. This action provokes only anger and must be addressed and not by returning violence for violence indiscriminately upon the entire population obviously but by reason and determination. Israel has shown great restraint in mindful precision as well as mercy for the population at large, in spite of the onslaught of mindless foolish zeal.

It is clear that the UN and its various organizations have long ago forsaken all sense of human decency by their own derelictions to duty to maintain the only mission establishing it of PEACE; nevermind honoring the RIGHT of another to simply exist as a nation and even less, the regard for a person - but where are instead willfully deprived of dignity, in its clear objective and quest for world dominion over sovereign nations - who have openly objected and refused to relinquish their sovereignty in exchange for a monetary bailout from the IMF - who clearly sculk in the shadows with its numerous "lobbyists" or New World Order globalist operatives, bankrupting the nations into debt and default of its people by encouraging, or as we witness in the US, establishing tax evasion "non-profits" of self serving corruptions that purposely employ a given class of individuals to further directives of deprivations, violence and other psychological warfare agenda degradation of NWO compliance.

No "excuse" whatsoever JUSTIFIES THIS CONDUCT of human behavior against another, which clearly is "barbaric" as well repugnantly appalling and inhumane and demands accountability as well as peaceful measures - death.

Just as we humanely "put down" dogs and other beasts of the field that have turned, mauled others, and even killed a vulnerable person, the difference is key as to what qualifies as human being to that of an "animal" in that being the exercise of free will.

An "animal" moves by instinct with no sense of regard for anything outside itself, it is a closed system unto itself and may not be "reasoned" with obviously, given all sense of confidence has been destroyed by it's very conduct and where then, the lesson learned in the poem, "The Woman and the Serpent" as to its NATURE - is gleaned.

In life, each person makes a decision for themselves to where they DESIRE to be in life, regardless of the influences placed upon them; whether those influences are given by fear in extortion, or appeals by flatteries or loyalty. A physical "environment" or group think herd mentality similarly may never define a "person" as it relies on a decision by the individual to begin with obviously; our long established principle to personally exercise self-determination or free will simply. Therefore the subsequent conduct and the NATURE of it, are determined and the consequences or response are either rewarded, punished or permanently removed. This simple foresight in discernment into the decision making process is what an individual determines for themselves as to the quality of that conduct, whether it be wholly self gratifying or be mindfully considerate and keenly aware of others.

Clearly the consequences are the assessments of risk in discernment towards the desired resultant to which then, in terms of commissions of a crime, conduct may be scutized to determine guilt or innocence to follow with the appropriate response.

That said, it is clear that credence is given to Israel's claim that the UN not only assisted Hamas through the tunnels, but may have similarly provided the mind altering substances through its surrogates that were found among the dead, given the UN historical firmly established decades old psychological warfare campaigns of depravity.

***If it is too big to serve one woman in need, it is then too small to serve the world at large simply and is rightfully useless to humanity as a whole and serves no viable purpose other than to consume other valuable resources.***

Given these numerous intolerable atrocities, it is overwhelmingly clear that the UN ITSELF must be dissolved; as the mission to maintain PEACE is no longer viable nor sustainable, given it no longer exists obviously and where its ongoing NWO agenda campaigns of depravity and enslavement has been reinforced by continued usurping and supplanting pepetratrated by the same enemy of a Godless collective, marked by an unyielding arrogant superiority over another and whose WWII "defeat" first established it.

***NO***

https://www.nationalreview.com/corner/hamass-sadistic-sexual-assault-detailed-by-israels-rape-crisis-centers/?bypass_key=QWRpU2FJR2pDc0M0VXhHYU14aWhaQT09OjpTMUJoWlhFMU5IY3pSVkZvYURKSFVuRXhZVTR3ZHowOQ%3D%3D

#christianity #bible #religion #faithoverfear #faithbased #endtimes #faith in jesus #politics

[breedaboyd]

Day 24 ~ Showtime

(Gif by me.)

Prompt: Oviposition.

Pairing: Miracle Guy/Ryan Reiner × Unknown Tentacle Monster.

Word Count: 3.7k+

CW: Breeding kink, oviposition, tentacles, urethral penetration.

The city trembles under the onslaught of the beast, its towering form casting a long, ominous shadow over the streets. Panic fills the air as civilians scramble for cover, their cries echoing through the streets.

Inside Heroics HQ, the emergency alarms blare, casting an eerie red glow across the command centre. The screens flicker with chaotic images of the monster wreaking havoc, its tentacles lashing out indiscriminately. The seasoned heroes exchange uninterested looks.

"Hey, MG, can you handle this on your own?" Vox asks, scrolling through her Instagram feed.

"Yeah, Ryan, would you mind?" Blinding Fast adds, digging into his Subway sandwich. The blonde sighs dramatically and runs a hand through his hair.

"Sure, I'll give it a shot." He says confidently. He's seen worse, he's fought worse; this should be a walk in the park.

"Miracle Guy, you're up!" A technician shouts, his voice laced with urgency. With a determined nod, the blonde strides towards the launch bay, the doors sliding open to reveal the chaos outside.

"Showtime." He steps off the launch pad, taking to the sky, fists at the ready.

Miracle Guy's punches land with precision, each strike a testament to his power and determination. The tentacle monster writhes and roars, seemingly on the brink of defeat. Confidence surges through him as he pushes himself harder, determined to protect his city (and obviously get all the good PR afterwards). This'll be easy, he thinks as he slowly starts to get closer and closer to the heart of the tendrils, where they all connect. If he can just destroy that, the beast should retreat. It's foolproof.

However, things don't exactly go according to plan. Miracle Guy's confidence turns to arrogance, his punches growing sloppy. It's not enough. The monster rears its head, letting out a deafening roar, tentacles flailing wildly. Too wildly. And then, in an instant, the tide shifts. A tentacle, faster and more cunning than the rest, lashes out, catching him off-guard. With a powerful strike, it sends him hurtling through the air, crashing onto the roof of a nearby skyscraper.

The impact leaves him momentarily winded, stars dancing in his vision. He fumbles for his comms, desperate to call for backup. He might've bitten off more than he can chew this time.

"Shit!" He grunts, struggling to regain his footing. He fumbles for his comms, urgency in his movements. "HQ, This is Miracle Guy! I need—" As he calls for help, a sudden downpour of slime rains down on him, drenching his suit and skin. "What the...?" He recoils, wiping the viscous substance from his eyes. The strange scent hits him, sickly sweet, disorienting and heady. "Ugh! What is this stuff?" The pheromone-laden slime wraps around his senses, a fog settling in his mind. "Ohh, shit... Focus, focus..." he mutters to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. But the fog only thickens, obscuring his thoughts. He can hear the monster's roars, echoing in the distance. He knows he needs to get back in the fight, to protect the city, but his limbs feel sluggish, unresponsive. A heat settles in his bones as he breathes in the cloying scent of the slime. His cock twitches in his suit, his body reacting instinctively. Fuck, he thinks, a wave of arousal washing over him. Whatever's in that slime, it's affecting him in more ways than one. Miracle Guy curses under his breath, attempting to shake off the haze.

'Miracle Guy, HQ here. Status report?' The technician's voice crackles through the comms, sharp and urgent. The blonde flushes with heat, cheeks going a bright pink. He can't let anyone else see him like this.

"Uh, fuck— I'm fine! I'm taking care of it!" He lies, his voice strained. Tentacles wrap around his each of his ankles, rooting him to the spot, as two more curl around his wrists and he's unable to pull away. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, this is really bad.

'Roger that. HQ out.'

Miracle Guy struggles against the tentacles' grip, gritting his teeth. But, his attempts are futile, his strength waning. The monster's pheromones envelop him, suffocating him, consuming him. They burrow deep into his body, igniting a fire in his veins.

"Shit, fuck..." He sighs, feeling himself succumbing to the pheromones, his cock thickening and starting to tent in his suit. More slimy tendrils slide across his body, curling into the fabric of his suit before tearing it away, peeling back the layers to reveal flushed, clammy flesh. Miracle Guy shudders, goosebumps rising on his skin. This is so fucked, he thinks, his rational mind slowly slipping away. "F-Fuck you..." He growls, glaring up at the monster looming above him. But, his conviction falters, his breath hitching. Maybe this won't be so bad, a small, treacherous part of his brain whispers.

One tentacle almost lovingly strokes along the line of his jaw, leaving a gleaming trail in its wake. Then, it glides along his bottom lip and that slime smells so sweet... Ryan squirms, trying to pull away, but the tendril follows him, eventually sliding into his mouth, pheromone-laden slick oozing across his tongue. It fills his senses, sweet and sickly but so, so good... It lights a fire under his skin and, as the other tentacles finish peeling off his suit — leaving him completely bare — he starts to loosen up, his body growing more pliant, more relaxed. He finds himself sinking to the floor, knees pressed to the concrete. But that tentacle in his mouth is trailing over the points of his teeth and dipping under his tongue and, ohh, it's sliding down his throat... Oh, God, it's so thick...

Miracle Guy moans wantonly, eyelids fluttering shut. This isn't so bad... The tendril presses deeper, filling his throat and Ryan whimpers, his cock throbbing between his thighs. Drool drips down his chin, mixed with slime, and he's completely under the beast's spell. He loses track of time, surrendering to the monster's tentacles, his rationality slipping further and further away. The tentacle in his throat pulls out for a minute, letting him take a breath and he drinks down air before the tendril slips past his lips again.

Meanwhile, another tentacle pushes him over onto all fours, teasing his hole and slowly circling his rim. Oh, fuck yes, Miracle Guy thinks, rocking his hips back eagerly. Ryan's mind swims, the pheromones clouding his thoughts, distorting his perception. His mission, his city, his heroics; all of it fades into the background, replaced by the monster's presence, its undivided attention. Another tentacle slides between his thighs, wrapping around his leaking cock and Miracle Guy gasps around the tendril in his mouth, arching his back. His body is alive with sensation, not an inch of him left untouched, pheromones sinking deep into his skin.

The hero is pressed to the concrete, slick appendages pressing into his mouth and his rim, other tentacles stroking across his skin, slowly jerking his cock, holding him upright.

The tendril in his mouth is hot and slick, easing in and out of his throat. Miracle Guy hollows his cheeks, sucking greedily, craving more. Slick coats his tongue, his mind growing hazier by the second. Just the fact he's being used, his throat filled, makes him mewl. If someone saw him, it'd surely be the end of his career but, weirdly enough, he doesn't care. It just tastes so good, feels so good... The tentacle eases down his throat, saliva and slime dripping down his chin, and Miracle Guy whines like a Goddamn, cock-sucking whore.

The tentacle in his ass is thicker, opening him up, navigating the twists and turns of his insides, as it fucks him. It brushes against his prostate with every stroke and Ryan cries out, muffled and desperate. It teases his sensitive spots, abusing them, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. It's in so deep, fucking his organs like it's trying to skewer him all the way through. Miracle Guy trembles, pleasure coursing through his body, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It's so good.

The thinner, slick appendage wrapped around his dick is heaven, pumping him just right. Ryan rocks his hips, his thoughts growing hazier, his body on fire. It's just tight enough, just fast enough, it's almost like this beast knows just how to play him, just how fuck and stroke him. Miracle Guy moans brokenly, the monster's presence consuming him, owning him. Ryan loses himself, his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach. More, Miracle Guy thinks deliriously, tears rolling down his cheeks. God, it's all so good...

As if sensing his impending orgasm, the tentacle around his cock squeezes him tight, denying him his release. Ryan's eyes fly open, a muffled whine ripping from his throat. It's just so cruel but — ohh, fuck — it's making him feel so fucking high. The monster continues using him, thrusting into his throat and his ass, milking him dry, leaving him a sloppy, tear-stained mess. Use me... Miracle Guy thinks hazily, his rational mind fading away, his body reduced to that of a cute, little fuck-toy. Ryan's mind goes blank, the tentacles using him, drowning him in pheromone-rich slime. It's messy and brutal, saliva and slime coating his skin. It's so, so good... Miracle Guy melts into the beast's touch, his previous mission long forgotten.

But it only gets better.

Ryan never thought he'd be able to cum from someone — or something — fucking his throat before but, Christ, it feels so fucking good, having his face used and abused by this beast. Miracle Guy moans shamelessly around the tentacle, rocking his hips back against the other two. Fuck, it's so big and it's using him so well.

Suddenly, it begins to fuck into his mouth faster, deeper, with more purpose. It must be close to cumming, he thinks and that really shouldn't excite him as much as it does. He lets his jaw go slack, letting the tendril get in deeper, bulging the normally sleek lines of his throat. Miracle Guy moans wantonly — use me... — drool and slime dripping down his chin as its pace grows frantic, erratic. Ryan's pretty, blue eyes roll back, pleasure coursing through his veins. Cum down my throat, fill me up... Miracle Guy thinks, his thoughts growing hazier, more distorted by the slick. Fuck, he just wants to be useful, wants to be good.

And then, it cums but...it isn't what he thinks.

Bulges run down the lines of the tendril, something big pumping down the length of it, stretching his mouth and throat wide. Miracle Guy whines, his mind swimming. Bulges? What...? But, as they hit his stomach, Ryan's eyes widen, realisation dawning on him; eggs.

Soft, jelly-like eggs, each one about the size of a ping pong ball, fill his stomach. They're small but there's so many of them, filling him up, weighing him down. Miracle Guy whimpers, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, confused but delighted. Ryan moans, muffled and desperate, feeling the eggs filling him up, his stomach growing heavier. It's obscene, his belly distending with each clutch. It's so, so fucked. He should stop this, should call HQ for backup, should do fucking anything... But he just kneels there and takes it, swallowing audibly around the tentacle in his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing eagerly with each gulp.

Ryan whimpers, trembling as the tentacle finally pulls out, sticky strands of slime and saliva connecting his swollen lips to its tip. He pants heavily, his belly heavy with soft eggs. Ohh, fuck, he thinks deliriously, cheeks flushed a bright pink. What the fuck am I doing...? Miracle Guy shakes his head weakly, struggling to think straight. He's stuffed, his stomach full, his limbs heavy. But, he needs more, craves more. He rocks his hips back, silently begging the beast to continue. Miracle Guy spreads his legs wider, presenting himself. Fuck me up, fill me proper, he thinks...

With the lack of tentacles in his mouth, Ryan's voice comes back. He moans openly, voice slurred and sluggish. The tendril sinking deep into his ass has started targeting his prostate and, fucking Christ, he so wants to cum but the tentacle wrapped around his cock and balls refuses to budge. He collapses onto his side and rolls onto his back, hands gently rubbing over his swollen belly. The tentacle in his ass doesn't stop, ploughing into him deeper and deeper until he's certain the damn thing is up in his stomach. He can feel the eggs writhing inside him, a comfortable heat settling in his body as he lays there.

He wants to be fuller, he wants to be bred, owned. Miracle Guy whimpers, stars dancing in his vision, tentacles stroking across his skin, curled around his calves and his wrists. Ryan arches his back, toes curling as appendages hold his legs open. Fuck me, he thinks, his rationality further slipping away. He just wants to be useful, wants humanity used, wants his city filled and fucked and bred, its streets coated in this thick, viscous slime.

The tentacle in his ass starts to move faster and his heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. He watches the eggs being carried through the appendage and he swallows thickly, still tasting the slime on his tongue. Ryan moans wantonly, stars dancing in his vision, tentacles curling around his thighs, pinning his thighs to the concrete. Soft eggs slide into his guts, filling him up, breeding him full. Use me, he thinks deliriously. Yeah, he might fail his city but, at least, he can be useful, can be bred, owned, fucked and used. He'll let the beast lay its eggs in his guts, let his city succumb to its tentacles.

His abdomen swells with the volume of the clutch, some of the soft eggs popping as the beast tries to cram more and more inside him. Miracle Guy cries out, arching his back, the eggs pressing deep, knocking the breath from his lungs. He can keep the beast's clutch safe, carry its spawn. Ryan giggles drunkenly, tears streaming down his cheeks as tentacles stroke across his clammy skin. He squirms, head falling back against the concrete as another egg bursts inside him, warmth spreading through his body.

The tendril pulls out of him, spilling slime and eggs and— Holy fuck, there's so many. He's left gaping, his hole ruined and his guts filled with fresh spawn. Ryan whines deliriously, tentacles stroking across his swollen belly, soothing him, calming him. Miracle Guy sighs contentedly, laying there, tentacles cradling him, protecting him. Ryan's rationality is long gone, his heroics forgotten, his city reduced to breeding grounds. His swollen belly serves as a reminder of his worth, of his use, of his failure. Miracle Guy giggles drunkenly, head lolling to the side.

Oh, if HQ could see him now, they'd be so disappointed. But, he'd just let the beast breed him again, that'd make him feel so much better.

Ryan collapses back, chest heaving, as the tentacles trail across his heated flesh. Still, the tentacle around his cock is still tight and unyielding. God, he needs to cum, he's been wanting to since they first drenched him in slick but they've kept him hard and aching.

Almost as if the beast can read his mind, the tentacle around his dick loosens, curling around the shaft and sliding along it. Miracle Guy cries out, hips bucking, finally being given relief. The beast strokes him expertly, teasing him just right. Ryan whimpers, thighs quivering, as it jerks him off. And, fuck, it's so good, it's everything he's been craving. He writhes, tentacles caressing his skin, pheromones settling deep into his bones. It's a dream, it's everything he's ever wanted.

"Fuck, yes, please..." He whines, biting back a sob. Tears stream down his cheeks, pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach. The pheromones clouding his brain, the tendrils tenderly drawing patterns along his swollen belly, the eggs kicking and writhing within him; it's all so good. Miracle Guy trembles, orgasm rapidly approaching. Just when he doesn't think it can get any better, a tentacle slides into his loose hole, rubbing against his prostate. Ryan screams, back arching, his vision going white. "Ohh, God, please! Gonna cum... Gonna...!" Miracle Guy sobs, thighs quivering. The tentacle in his ass grinds into the tender flesh and the beast strokes him faster, squeezing him tight. Ohh, it's too much. Ryan sobs, thighs trembling. He's reduced to a cute, little breeding slut, carrying the monster's clutch, letting himself be used and he's loving it.

Miracle Guy bucks his hips, crying out, as he tips over the edge, finally cumming. Cum spills across his swollen belly, tentacles milking him dry. Ryan trembles, electricity racing down his spine, orgasm tearing through him. Slime and eggs spill from his hole, the hero left wrecked and ruined. Ryan groans airily, hands rubbing gentle circles over his swollen belly, blissed out. He's ruined, broken, useless. But, at least, the monster got to use him, got to breed him, got to stuff his guts.

But it seems it's not through with him yet.

One tentacle wraps around the base of Ryan's spent cock, holding it still, as a thinner, more delicate tendril slides against his slit before dipping inside. He gasps sharply, head swimming. Ohh, it's teasing his urethra, slowly sliding into him. It's degrading, it's obscene...it's fucking heaven. The smaller tendril burrows deeper into his urethra, thin and slithering and, holy fuck, it's going so Goddamn deep... Miracle Guy trembles, entranced, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. Ohh, shit, it's going all the way in, squirming inside him. Ryan shudders, wriggling weakly, as the tendril slides in, pressing deeper.

"Ohh, fuck..." He sighs, voice slurred and sluggish. The thin tentacle curls in his urethra, slick seeping into his bladder. It's so deep inside him, stimulating him in ways he's never imagined. Ryan whimpers, eyelids fluttering shut. Tentacles curl around his wrists and ankles, pinning him to the ground, as the delicate appendage begins to fuck into him, thrusting in and out of his dick, the soft tissue yielding easily. Miracle Guy moans shamelessly, laid there for the beast's use.

Miracle Guy lays there, pinned to the concrete, tentacles holding him down, as the delicate tendril fucks his urethra. It seems to get thicker, growing in diameter until its about as thick as the other ones, pulling out, pushing in, pulling out, pushing in... There's a slight burn to it but it just adds to the pleasure, his slit stretched open, as the tentacle fucks him harder and faster.

And, suddenly, Ryan knows exactly what's going to happen.

He squirms and writhes but the other tendrils hold him down. His eyes widen as he watches the bulges along the tentacle again, carrying those sweet, soft eggs. The first one reaches the slit and he struggles with the stretch but the beast doesn't care, forcing the egg in, down his cock. Miracle Guy whimpers submissively, thighs quivering. The tendril eases the jelly-like eggs into his bladder, filling him deep. Ryan whines brokenly, thighs spread wide, letting the beast use him. The eggs are filling his bladder to bursting, warm and heavy, breeding him full. Miracle Guy shudders, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. It feels like it should hurt but...it doesn't.

The tendril fucks into him faster, bulges running down the lines of the appendage, another clutch to stuff him with. Ryan lays there, thighs spread wide, letting the beast use him. Miracle Guy giggles deliriously, eyelids fluttering shut, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. The eggs shift with each movement, their weight pressing against the walls of his bladder, filling him with a delicious ache that has his toes curling. Ryan groans breathlessly, tentacles holding his legs open, the hero spread open for their use. Miracle Guy whines, thighs trembling, as the appendage ploughs into him. Each egg stretches his urethra wider, the beast cramming more and more in. Ohh, fuck, it's obscene, it's fucking filthy...but he loves it. Ryan whines submissively, thighs shaking, letting the beast impregnate him in every hole it can...

Everything goes dark, the writhing in his body still sending sparks of pleasure along his skin...

In the dim, shadowy lair of the tentacle monster, Ryan finds himself in a very different role than the hero he once was.

The tentacles that had once knocked him out of the sky and drenched him in pheromone slime now coil around his pregnant body with a careful grace. His once-defiant spirit has mellowed, replaced by a strange complacency. The sensations that course through him are undeniably pleasurable, each touch of the tentacles sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine, each kick of the eggs making him ache with a need to cum. He doesn't struggle, doesn't fight back. In some odd way, he's come to enjoy this new role.

He's aware of the stark contrast between this and his former life as a superhero. The praise of the townsfolk, the battles fought for justice; it all seems like a distant memory now. Here, he's become something else entirely. A vessel of pleasure, a source of breeding, an incubator, a series of sweet, warm holes to fill. It's humiliating, yes, but Ryan loves it. He whimpers breathlessly, tentacles stroking across his swollen stomach. Eggs settle in his guts, trapped inside him, filling him.

The beast uses him night after night, leaving him stuffed, his city and responsibilities long forgotten. He lets the tentacles slide into his ruined, gaping holes, breeding him deep and thorough. They fill him up, their fresh clutches writhing in his organs.

Miracle Guy whines submissively, tentacles cradling his swollen belly. He surrenders to them — surrenders to it — without question. He lays there, bred and owned, tentacles stroking across his flushed skin. Ryan trembles, thighs quivering, tentacles curling around his wrists and ankles, slime dripping onto his face, seeping into his skin. He mewls wantonly as his holes are filled with slimy, pulsing flesh, his eyelids fluttering shut as he revels in the bliss. Looks like it's that time of day again~

#character: miracle guy #source: we can be heroes #misc: chariot writes #type: oc #misc: boydtober 2023

[shuttershocky]

Vlov remembering how to fight as a human capable of respect just in time for Shiki to come down on his has an instinctual harbinger of death is the greatest thing honestly.

I'm gonna get shit from Nrvnqsr fans and I must preface this by saying I really do love my boy, but how the Remake does Vlov's fight blows the original out of the water.

(Also it's really obvious that Nasu had Bloodborne in the back of his mind while writing the Tsukihime Remake lol)

Where Nrvnqsr hears the fear in his heart calling him back to acting like a human, he refuses to listen to it and abandon his pride as a vampire which results in him getting immediately destroyed by Shiki on murder mode. Nrvnqsr doesn't even touch Shiki in that state, anything he throws at the latter gets torn apart, and when he challenges Shiki to a direct melee he is instantly killed as well.

Meanwhile, not only does Vlov listen to his human instincts, but it's actually what gives him a fighting chance against Shiki and Arcueid.

Vlov is both weaker than Nrvnqsr and farther gone. Unlike Nrvnqsr whose body has mutated into the primordial ooze but whose mind is still intact, Vlov has almost entirely lost himself to madness. It takes a while for him to speak as he is only dimly aware of his surroundings, and people burn or freeze indiscriminately around him as he simply doesn't control his powers over heat and cold. Even some of his zombies are unable to live for long; they're burning ghouls that are much more dangerous than regular ones, but quickly burn out and die due to being on fire and thus make for poor scouting and gathering familiars.

But unlike Nrvnqsr, Vlov listens to that fear crying out to him beneath the haze of vampire bloodlust. He begins using weapons alongside his powers. His mind begins to form tactics. The fear starts running through his brain and down his spine and keeps him alive, with his instincts telling him that if the boy got close then he would die, no matter how weak Arcueid's strange familiar looks. Do not underestimate him. Do not look down on him. He can kill you.

And because Vlov listens, because he throws everything he has at Shiki and stays as far away as he can, Shiki realizes that he can't win this fight alone.

But what REALLY sets the new Vlov fight above the original Nrvnqsr one imo, is how this battle uses Arcueid.

Unlike the original where Arcueid loses to Nrvnqsr due to her weakened state and Shiki finished the battle on his own, Shiki acting as the specter of death isn't what makes Vlov start acting human again. It's Arcueid.

Vlov was already cautious and already using weapons and tactics when Shiki enters the battle, catching the latter off guard when his sneak attack doesn't go as planned. At first, Shiki entertains the thought that he and Arcueid picked a fight with an unbeatable monster and they could never win, until he realizes Vlov doesn't move while throwing his attacks. If Vlov wanted, he could easily use his projectiles as cover to let him get close (but not too close), and skewer Shiki and Arcueid with his lance, so why doesn't he?

Then it hits Shiki.

It's because Vlov can't. It's taking him all his strength just to use his vampire powers while maintaining his mind enough to think. He's desperate, on his last legs, and it's because he fought Arcueid.

Arcueid makes it clear before the fight that she's weaker than Vlov in her current state. If it came to an all out brawl with their powers, she would likely lose. What she doesn't say however, is that she's still unrivaled as the most experienced vampire hunter, and she proves this in the ensuing fight where she puts all her power into her surprise attack, pulverizing Vlov from out of nowhere and immediately putting him on the backfoot. Arcueid lectures Shiki beforehand about the importance of blood as a resource for vampires, including how blood is needed for them to regenerate, and focuses on spilling as much of Vlov's blood as she can into her opening salvo while using her powers to evacuate nearby humans and deprive Vlov of any blood sources. It's so effective that Shiki actually believes that Arcueid was about to win without any help needed, when suddenly Vlov both changes his powers from fire to frost, and brings out his lance that he uses to drive Arcueid back and temporarily knock her out.

On the verge of dying, Vlov's human self emerges. He remembers he actually still has emergency blood vials left on him, but now refuses to use them as they were blood from his wives back home, and there were some things he could never compromise on.

Because before he was a vampire, Vlov was a knight (though in Shiki's eyes, a mere killer just like him). And faced with two terrifying monsters that evaded description, his twenty years as a knight overpowered centuries of madness.

Where Nrvnqsr died turning into a groteqsue monster and charging at Shiki, Vlov died as a human with Shiki and Arcueid using a joint attack to completely outmaneuver his best strategy.

Despite lacking any energy to keep going, Vlov would not disgrace the honor of his wives by using their blood for a battle. And despite being a human afraid of death, he was going to meet it head-on, his last act attempting to draw his sword before Death plunged a knife through his chest and shattered his existence.

And in doing so, he gave Shiki and Arcueid a MUCH harder fight than Nrvnqsr did.

(We all still miss Nrvnqsr though)

#Tsukihime #tsukihime spoilers

[cardbrobot]

GODZILLA

So, I decided to draw the Showa rendition of everyone’s favorite radioactive dinosaur, specifically his good ‘ol Showa incarnation. Ok, since I’m rewatching the older Godzilla films in preparation for his anniversary in 2 days, I wanted to draw Showa Godzilla in particular. And honestly, it was quite an emotional ride, even if this art only took me like 30 minutes time. To me, I feel like Showa Godzilla, out of all of the other Godzilla incarnations, is the most well-developed and personality-rich out of all of the Godzillas. It’s so emotionally intriguing watching this kaiju grow from a being who indiscriminately destroys and punishes mankind for his mutation and pain, to a being who indiscriminately protects mankind, regardless of what they might have done to him, or previous members of his species (Justice for 1954 Goji). His climb from a blatant villain to hero, is one that is unnoticeable, and many would chalk up as to Toho just moving to the kid-friendly zone, but the way I see it; you can actually see his development grow to an Anti-Hero in Ghidorah: The Three-Headed Monster (1964). Where after arguing with Rodan, seeing the larval Mothra getting hurt by Ghidorah in a one-sided fight sparked something inside of him. Likely an instinct to protect the helpless. And alongside Rodan, ran straight into battle to help Mothra. Saving both Mothra, and the rest of the world from Ghidorah. His development pushes forward even past this, with films like Astro Monster building further on his development as a hero. Since at this point, he was still an anti-hero. He didn’t give that much of a qualm about mankind. Yeah, he doesn’t destroy buildings full of people and atomize people with his breath of pure atomic energy anymore. But he doesn’t see mankind as his friends. I feel like the point where he truly developed was in Son of Godzilla, with Minilla. It was likely that similarly to Heisei Godzilla, raising another lonely one of his species pacified him. It made him let go of a good chunk of hate in his heart, and a lot of that hate, being directed towards mankind for mutating him and involuntarily turning him into the most powerful being on Earth, aswell as killing another one of his kind less than two decades ago, was lifted. He finally forgave them.  After this forgiveness, this is the where the heroic Godzilla we see from the late 60′s to early 70s onward comes in. Even though he might give the humans the stink eye for polluting, casual stuff. If humanity ever needs him, he’ll come on a whim to help us and save us. Look, I like the morally ambiguous and even antagonistic Godzilla approach that both Heisei Godzilla, and pretty much every other Godzilla incarnation after that point takes. Hell, I’m even trying to incorporate more moral ambiguity into my AU’s Monsterverse Godzilla. But honestly, I feel like a pure good Godzilla gives me hope that no matter how bleak things might seem at the moment, I can always hope for better things in my life. And that’s something I feel like I really need right now. This can partially be taken as my post for Godzilla’s anniversary, but trust me. I have a much **bigger** art piece planned for then. 

#godzilla #showa godzilla #toho movies #toho kaiju #toho godzilla #monsterverse #godzilla 67th anniversary #godzilla 1954 #godzilla raids again #king kong vs godzilla #mothra vs godzilla #ghidorah the three headed monster #invasion of astro monster #ebirah horror of the deep #son of godzilla #destroy all monsters #all monsters attack #godzilla vs hedorah #godzilla vs gigan #godzilla vs megalon #godzilla vs mechagodzilla #terror of mechagodzilla #i know not many of you really care about toho's godzilla but please just let me have this #and also reblog pls #it helps a lot

[gayregis]

do you think the moral of renfris story was geralt saying a victim is just as evil as their abuser? i see a lot of netflix fans interpret it this way and idk it just feels... off.

no, i completely disagree. the cycle of violence is probably one of the largest themes in the witcher series, and the lesser evil is only one of these stories. i actually didn’t understand the story until i read the entire saga... so sorry if i answer this question with more references to parts of the witcher that are unrelated to the lesser evil than to actually the short story itself.

this is my take: in the witcher series, everything turns to be a cycle, something inherited from the previous generation that you then pass on to the next generation. the wheel keeps turning and you inherit and pass on many different traits, and this is not confined to biological familial relations.

the biggest theme and story of the series, in my opinion, is that of the inevitable inherited violence and abandonment in the context of witchers. geralt was raised as a witcher because he was abandoned by his mother, and he was then given the burden of violence to carry out. because he doesn’t want to put this burden of violence on ciri, because he wants to somehow circumvent this cycle of inherited violence and prevent ciri from coming into contact with it, he inevitably dooms her to the inherited violence anyways - by deferring her as his child, she experiences the massacre of cintra. and by trying to prevent her from inheriting violence, he realizes after he’s left her that he’s unintentionally given her the other half of the trauma coin he has as well - abandonment. as he was abandoned by his mother, he has now abandoned her. so he searches for her, finds her, but now  undoubtedly needs to be raised as a witcher more than ever. thus she inherits the violence, too... and then she’s abandoned again (this time not intentionally), and when left to her own devices, becomes consumed with this violence. it takes her over and she just kills and kills...

i think the lesser evil is about this. maybe not all of this about inheriting things, but it’s about being consumed by violence, it’s about an unending cycle. it’s not so much about who is right and who is wrong, and stregobor and other sorcerers locked girls in towers and renfri and her gang kill people. it’s not about that so much, the actual actions that they do and weighing these actions to see which is lesser, which is eviler than the other, but the fact that because they have engaged each other in this dance, it’s now unending, and it will continue to destroy and destroy until it finally ends in misery. 

renfri isn’t “just as evil as her abuser” because it’s such a strange way to frame it... she was abused, and then she herself became an abuser and a killer. it’s not about the fact that it was wrong to abuse her, of course it fucking was. of course she deserves revenge. but she, on this quest for revenge, became obsessed with it, and became a killer in her own right, taking out her pain on others. this is also what happens to ciri, later on in the saga. except in my opinion (even though maybe this contradicts with sapkowski’s vision), ciri reigns it in at the end, and she realizes that violence is not the answer to everything, that this violence has destroyed her entire life and her entire family, and that revenge is a wild goose chase because you will never actually ever be satisfied with the amount of revenge you get, so she leaves this world, she is the chosen one but she ends her bloodline because she chooses to end the violence that has consumed her.

the message is that violence begets violence. and that if you experience violence, it is incredibly easy to internalize that, let it fester inside of you, and begin to long for nothing but vengeance and death, and that will lead to your ruin.

this is why geralt tells ciri in a voice colder than the walls of kaer morhen that she will not pick up a sword again until she understands what purpose it holds in a witcher’s hands... a sword is a tool of violence, violence is necessary at times, but it must be controlled. you cannot let the fact that you have experienced violence turn you into someone that craves inflicting violence. you cannot wield a weapon with no regard for the lives you may end. you have to think about what you do and not act on primal instinct. 

this is why ciri, after killing rampantly, has someone worse than the grim reaper set on her heels... her horrific encounters with leo bonhart are just a continuation of the violence which consumes her life. the cycle keeps turning and turning, and every time it turns, it gets worse and more grotesque.

and this is why renfri, after being dealt such horrible abuse and injustice by stregobor and the men allied with him, turns to violence as her tool to obtain justice. and the wheel turns, and people die. more blood is shed, more and more, until everything comes to a halt and it ends in final death.

it’s not saying that “the abused are as bad as their abusers,” it’s saying more like “being exposed to violence makes you vulnerable to also turn to blind and indiscriminate violence that consumes you, and you should resist this powerful temptation because it will make you a danger to yourself and others.” 

i’m not saying that this message is unequivocally right, i am just trying to interpret what i think sapkowski was trying to say in this short story and this series. i tend to feel that this message is a little milquetoast... but i think it was personally helpful for me to understand my own life, that revenge and violence aren’t always the helpful answers. they don’t always make you happy, sometimes they just add to the tragedy. and it’s way more complex than just seeing who is right... it’s delving into how feeling that when someone has hurt you or done you injustice, that’s all that matters, and it tends to blind you and make you stop thinking both about what really matters.

#theres also all this stuff about not being neutral but thats getting more into boe and toc and its not what was asked #so i decided to streamline this and only answer the question asked #the lesser evil #the witcher #ciri #geralt #renfri #stregobor #anon #ask