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twitchesandstitches · 5 years

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One thing I’ve been thinking about; I’m not shy in balancing out the boy/gal/nonbinary ratios (generally in favor of the latter two) and Transformers is shaping up to be a pretty important deal in Crossthicc, both in terms characters present in the factions, overall influence on the aliens and societies seen, metaphysics and the scale of aliens in general… so what of their main gods?

What of Primus, the creator of all things? What of Unicron, the deity of undeath and absolute extinction? And waht if the 13 Original Primes, the first true Transformers and gods to many aliens?

I had the idea; what if in Crossthicc, Primus and Unicron are fembot goddesses?

For one thing, as Transformers, visual presentation is largely a matter of personal choice, and its not as though there’s much of a reason for them canonically to not be. For another, it’s kind of awesome.

In this case, both of them still have largely the same motivations and outlooks as in canon; the biggest chance here is simply that they are giant goddesses, but still have the same significance to the setting as a whole.

Primus, here, is generally considered the mother of all life, whether in a literal or figurative sense; while mechanical life is specifically made in her image - and the argument can be made that organic life is an aberration - she still laid the seeds for organic life to evolve, and they are metaphysically her children. She tends towards a gravid, maternal shape that the big ladies of the MILF fleet often unknowingly emulate. As far as anyone knows, she may in fact BE the first MILF in the cosmos, or close to it.

While Primus is certainly present in-fic, it’s not clear where she is. Originally she had divided parts of a previous avatar into various worlds her Transformers could call home after they successfully beat Unicron in ages past, but when the corrupt Functionalist government forcibly combined all those worlds into the single planet of Cybertron without consideration for the culture clashes, their corruption and cruelty set the seeds for a massive civil war. Cybertron has long since been inactive and dead… but Primus herself lives.

Primus is a gentle and noble soul, who loves all living things regardless of what they are, and is largely an incredibly passive figure. While she may act on her own, she will do nothing of the sort until there is no other option. She would rather act by inspiring others: “It is best that mortals win their battles without being sure if I did anything at all. It is the best way for them to grow.” In particular, she endorses growth, change and mutation of all sorts, and her blood, the material known as Energon, induces the growth of life and transformations of all kinds, which is considered sacred to her. She is the goddess of Transformers, after all.

Primus is worshiped by countless entities, across the multiverse, though they may not be aware of it; many a robotphobic civilization has revered a creator god and unknowingly been giving homage to the machine-goddess herself. Appropriately, she takes whatever form she pleases, manifesting in the dreams and making herself clear to a thousand prophets, and the greatest of those who speak in her name is the Prime of Cybertron, with the Matrix of Leadership a token of her very flesh, given to anoint her chosen ones and convey her will to all living things, who are her people; from the tiniest micro-organisms, to the mightiest sapient war machines. However, her power to manifest into the material planes are limited, and she is highly reluctant to do so again and risk more disaster as she has in the past. She is so distant, in fact, that many other gods and goddesses act on her behalf, making her something of a greater good paragon even by the standard of genuine deities.

The 13 Primes are all alive and well - even if this seems completely impossible - and are flat out gods, though not on the same scale as Primus herself. Generally, assume that they are all non-binary or fembots, with the notable exception of Megatronus and Solus Prime, who are definitely male and female respectively. Of note is Onyx Prime, who is usually referred to by masculine pronouns but can be changed up to suit the way the AU shapes out. Onyx is the progeniator of beastformers, or Transformers who assume monstrous and animal-themed alternate forms, and is named for the pure black shade of their metal form; they were the most ferocious of the Primes, the most monstrously horrifying in appearance… and the wisest, and kindest, of them all. They gave rise to the world of Eukaris, which became the land of beastformers, and later the nation-state of Simfur on Cybertron. Grimlock is the last king of Simfur, and a fervant worshiper of Onyx Prime, which may have gotten the attention of this long dormant deity of honor and civilization.

Uncron has a bit more of a femme fatale vibe, and her habit of devouring entire planets is more strictly vore themed, and done in her humanoid mode rather than her planet form. Sort of a combination of Galacta, Daughter of Galactus, with elements of a truly malicious goddess of death and destruction. While her physical form is a gorgeously curvy fembot, she is incredibly bad news; she would devour all the multiverse if she could, for unknown reasons; as it is, she may well be a personification of the idea of cosmic extinction, and undying hatred. Some rumors suggest that Unicron and Primus were originally components of a more ancient titan, and that Unicron was originally that titan’s cancerous sickness, and to this day Unicron acts as such.

Unicron’s sole goal appears to be spreading death and ruin, and to a lesser extent making Primus irritated by making life miserable for the mortals she cares so much for. However, she is fundamentally a creative entity, and appears to be making something with all the death she has made. Perhaps she devours planets and is recycling them into new creations, or is compelled to outdo Primus at her own game. One such creation are the mysterious Reapers (of Mass Effect fame), here the vanguards of Unicron and her attempt to improve on the idea of the Transformers. When she devours entire species, she shapes their digested essence into a Reaper and endows it with her own essence, and thus she is surrounded by a vast fleet and living temple to her own insatiable hunger and bloodlust. Eternally they worship their mother-goddess, praising her and living solely for her twisted world-view. She finds this… pleasing. This may yet explain her true motivations; to erase the multiverse and replace it with something that reveres her, alleviating the chronic loneliness and isolation she has suffered through eternally, and the torment she may experience from existence just… being there, in spite of her.

When all is silent, and existence itself simply stops save for that which is like her, than she will be pleased, when all is Unicron.

#/#//#///#////#/////#queued #crossthicc AU #transformers #primus #unicron #twitchy ideas

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timeslipselfships · 3 years

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Shaky Next Step A Ruv (FNF: Mid-Fight Masses) Self Ship Fic

A/N: AAAAASHWAIKAAFS I actually did it holy hell, my first ever proper self-ship fic.

Also @prick-o yer hcs inspired this bless

It had been about two months since Kay found themself indefinitely staying at the church. A strange thing to think about as it wasn't like they were being held captive here, but as long as they didn't have any identification, money or means of contact with their family they didn't have anywhere else to go. They were but a simple tourist who had won a week-long trip to Moscow, Russia, in a raffle they had entered on a lark. It was the furthest they'd ever been from home but it was as exciting as it was nerve-wracking.

The trip was pretty great at first, a nice hotel, delicious local cuisine and beautiful architecture abound.

Around three days in, however, things fell apart.

Kay had been attending a local concert that went on to late in the night. They knew the area by now but the darkness of night tended to make things startlingly unfamiliar. It wasn't a far walk from their hotel but they couldn't help but feel anxious as they passed the shadowy alleyways and dark buildings. Next thing they knew they felt a hand on their shoulder and they were pulled into one of those very alleys. They felt a knife pointed to their chest as the thuggish figure demanded something their grasp on Russian didn't quite comprehend, but likely was along the lines of "Your money or your life."

Kay should have screamed for help, they should have just given him their bag and ran. They didn't do either of these things.

Instead, Kay lifted their leg and kicked him square in the groin. It was pure fight or flight instinct. For good measure they took their bag off and beaned him in the head while he was clutching himself and heaving.

Huh, never thought they'd react quite like that. Kay almost felt proud of themself for teaching the thug a lesson. At least until they found themself surrounded by a whole group of similarly dressed and armed figures.

Kay didn't even get a chance to curse themself out internally before something large and metallic hit the back of their head.

The next time Kay awoke their vision was blurry. They were lying somewhere cold... very cold. They could see the vague shape of trees and... snow. They heard vague yelling and struggling as they tried to sit up, to no avail as they were simply too weak and fell back in the snow.

The last thing Kay saw as their vision faded once again was a tall, imposing figure decked in grey looming over them.

That was the man Kay would later come to know as Ruvzayat, or Ruv for short. He had come across the thugs carrying their unconscious body through the wilderness, likely looking to leave them to the elements to die. He had intervened and saw them off (rather violently) before taking them to the church they currently resided in. There they’d meet Sarvente, or Sarv, who did her best to treat their wounds and make them comfortable before they woke back up.

It was definitely a shock as Kay woke up in a strange, somewhat run-down looking church. They had always been rather uncomfortable with religious subjects, having had more than one unfortunate experience with people using their faith as an excuse to spread hatred and cruelty. Fortunately, Sarv was every bit as kind as the good book encouraged, immediately at their side as they first observed their foreign surroundings.

Sarv was an interesting character to be sure. Doting on Kay like a concerned parent, she would always ask if they were comfortable, if they needed anything to eat or drink, if they needed new bandages or more pain medication...

Kay was indeed rather roughed up from their experience. Their worst injury was their broken left foot, currently in a makeshift cast and propped up on pillows, as well as being rather chilled from exposure to the frigid Russian air. They also had some bruised ribs and a (surprisingly only) minor concussion, alongside a myriad of minor scrapes and abrasions as well as some broken teeth. Of course they were also stripped of everything but the clothes on their back. No phone. No ID. Nothing.

Thus, Kay was left at the mercy of Sarv, who was also rather unique physically. She was almost seven feet tall with her heels, wore an oddly form-fitting nun's outfit and...

Had odd ivory white skin with streaks of pastel pink marbling, as well as large, blank white eyes.

Kay would be a pretty massive hipocrate to question others' physical appearance, they weren't anything special themselves. Nonetheless, this was still something that gnawed at their mind.

Then, there was Ruv. He was arguably even more doting of Kay, without fail appearing every waking hour making sure they were in need of nothing. He was surprisingly quiet despite his appearance, seeming to appear without a sound. And even with his deep, bassy voice he'd always talk just above a whisper. Taciturn and blunt yes, but he seemed to care just as much as Sarv.

If only Kay knew it would become so much more.

Indeed, Ruv was oddly determined to find the rest of those thugs and show them what petty, cheap thievery would truly earn them. Even in his criminal career, he only targeted either other gang members or those that could defend themselves. He didn't look on his past fondly but he liked to think he had some standards, of a sort.

But for now, that could wait. For now, making sure this stranger, Kay, was safe and healing, was more important.

He wasn't sure why he was so concerned about this Kay figure. His best guess was that seeing this simple civilian being dragged around by some wannabe crooks to be left to die alone... angered him. A rare kind of anger that seeped through his soul and made his blood white hot.

He wouldn't, couldn't, just leave them be.

And now, a mere three days later, he kept having to check in. Less to make sure Kay was taken care of, but to keep them off their feet and resting.

He was shocked the first time he saw Kay trying to walk on their bum leg. Clearly struggling and practically dragging themself using a pew for balance.

"what are you doing."

Kay stiffened briefly at his voice before relaxing somewhat.

"I c-can't just sit around and watch you two runnin' about..." Kay stammered out, sharply inhaling as they took another quivering step. "Let me d-do somethIINGggH!" They choked out as their knee suddenly buckled.

Ruv was right on top of them, arms around Kay before they hit the ground. They couldn't help but blush at the contact as Ruv carefully scooped them up bridal-style and brought them back to the mattress they had spent their stay on.

"stay here."

Kay let out a sigh.

"You sure you don't want me to do anything?"

"just rest."

Kay hated this. They felt like little more than a burden loafing around like this. Surely they could walk a little bit by now...

"...you really want to help?"

Kay nodded.

Ruv left the room without a word. Kay sat there awkwardly, worried they had offended him somehow. However, Ruv soon returned with an armful of papers, setting them on a nearby pew.

Kay blinked curiously before being scooped up once again and placed next to the pile, soon surrounded once again by blankets and pillows as they were made comfortable as possible in their new seat.

Ruv pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Kay before pointing to the stack of papers.

"fill in the names."

He handed Kay the first paper in the stack which contained a list of names.

"one each. put them aside when you're done."

Kay took a quick look at the papers. Some kind of newsletter. How quaint.

"you... k with that."

Kay, for the first time since their arrival, beamed.

"That's the name!"

It took Ruv a moment to process the joke before giving an ever so subtle ghost of a smirk.

As Ruv turned around, Kay called out to him.

"A-and... uh... thank you..."

Ruv turned his head slightly.

"...no. thank you."

Kay blushed again as they quickly turned to their work, unaware of Ruv quickly retreating to hide his own matching shade of pink.

And now, the two were surprisingly close, much to Sarv's delight. She had wanted Ruv to open himself up more to others for a long time and their new guest seemed to click well with him.

It wasn't unusual to see the two of them sharing a comfortable silence together. Sometimes Kay would be face down in a book as Ruv simply seemed to be in his own little world, before Kay would pipe up with something they found particularly interesting, with Ruv making a grunt of acknowledgement before sometimes adding his own two cents.

It was... peaceful. And true to their word, Kay was more than willing to help with whatever needed doing in the church, whether it be paperwork like before or, as their injuries healed, physical labor. Carrying boxes of donations, sweeping the hall etc.

Kay felt they could never truly repay the two for saving their life, but for now, this would have to be enough.

Today however, was a quiet, relaxing one. No chores were in need of immediate attention, nothing scheduled, and Sarv was out in town today, so the two were content to simply sit in the church hall and talk whatever came to mind.

"I'm just sayin', we know more about outer bloomin' space than we do the ocean. Who's to say what's down there?"

"so you're saying there's still megalodon out there."

"No, no. I'm saying it's entirely possible some descendant of megalodon adapted to life in the deep ocean. Megalodon is extinct, but a new, different species of mega-shark lives on in their stead."

"ah."

Neither one was really sure how they got on to this topic, nor did they really care. Just listening to Kay talk at length about something they evidently cared about was enough to make Ruv happy.

Their peaceful banter was suddenly interrupted as the large double wooden doors of the church burst open. Both immediately turned to see an unfamiliar figure. Kay briefly feared it was one of their thugs coming to finish the job, but soon found he didn't have the same "uniform" those petty crooks wore, just some off-brand trackwear and knit beanie.

The man looked around the place with a confident smirk and his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the pair.

"Nice place. Little plain but that can be fixed. I'll take it." He punctuated his last statement with a cocky grin towards the two.

"What?" Kay remarked.

"I said I'll take it." The man rolled his eyes like he was talking to an idiot. "This joint'll make a nice little hangout for me an' the boys."

"Wh- you can't do that!" Kay stood up before pausing "Uh... Can he?" They asked their tall, silent companion.

"'Course I can!" The man made his way towards Kay, pulling something shiny and metal out of his pocket. Kay felt their hackles raise thinking it was a weapon until...

A... microphone?

"Unless you wanna rap for it." The man said with a toothy grin.

"...What?"

Kay looked wide eyed between the mic, the man and Ruv. No one moved. The man's expression didn't falter.

Oh... he was serious.

Not only that, but according to Ruv's reaction, or lack thereof, this was not an unusual means of conflict resolution.

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Kay raised their hands defensively. "I don't think you get it! I can't sing or dance or anythin'!"

"So you forfeit?" The man's slimy smile made Kay's skin crawl. "Guess you better pack your bags then."

Ruv evidently had enough, as he stood from his seat to his full towering height and soon stepped between the two.

"this is a sacred place." Ruv glared down towards the interloper. "show respect or leave. your choice."

Kay saw Ruv's hand leave his pocket revealing a microphone of his own. Did... did he have that on him this whole time?

The man snorted back laughter looking Ruv up and down, seemingly unintimidated. "Big man gonna hafta protect his widdle pwincess?"

Ruv's eye narrowed. "last chance."

"Pffft..." The man mocked. "Bring it stringbean!"

Kay retreated back a few as the two combatants stepped away from each other. They were about to question things further until the speakers installed in the church walls suddenly sprang to life as if on cue.

Kay was about done questioning things at this point. Or so they thought.

The first few verses passed by quickly as Kay had a hard time keeping up with the lyrics, thanks to both the speed of the song and the fact that the two seemed to be singing in their native language, Kay not being nearly versed enough to fully follow.

Ruv had a surprisingly nice voice all things considered. Made them wish he sang more often.

Then there was a brief pause. Ruv took a breath.

If Kay had a hard time following beforehand, they definitely were completely lost now. As Ruv sang, his voice was nearly incomprehensible at the sheer volume. The building shook and his opponent had the expression of someone who had made a massive mistake as he stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby pew to maintain balance against this pure vocal force.

For his part, he tried to continue, albeit rather shaken and fumbling his words. He... tried.

Ruv didn't relent, continuing his lyrical assault as he marched towards his foe, his footsteps seemingly in time with the rhythm, giving the impression of the quaking being caused by his very approach. The man finally lost his balance and fell. Ruv loomed over his opponent as he gave pause for the thoroughly shaken man to retaliate.

"Ah… eh… I..." The man stuttered and mumbled before dropping his mic with a feedback ladden clang.

An eerie silence fell.

Then, a noise, a mundane, inconsequential sound that had no right to carry as much dread as it did.

Click. Eeeee...

Ruv's microphone wasn't even on.

This broke something in the intruder. He scrambled to his feet and ran, clambering about on his shaking knees while yelling something along the lines of "What the hell are you!?" as he fled.

Ruv picked up the dropped microphone as he placed his own back into his pocket after turning it back off. He examined it idly as he silently walked back to Kay.

"sorry about that." Ruv simply stated as he sat down next to his shaken friend, before presenting the discarded mic to them.

"here."

"...Huh?"

"don't think he's coming back for it."

"..."

Kay quietly took the microphone, shiny and unused beyond what had just happened.

Kay looked over to Ruv only to notice him avoiding their gaze.

"...soooo..."

"..."

Kay tapped their fingers along the mic in their hands as they thought over their wording.

"That was..."

Ruv closed his eye waiting for the inevitable words. Terrifying. Monstrous. Freakish. He'd heard it all over the years.

"Awesome..."

Ruv's eye opened wide. Scratch that. He'd hadn't heard that one before.

Ruv turned to Kay, trying to read their expression for any signs of a lie. All he saw was an honest blush of bashful admiration.

"...huh."

"Yeah. I know. Weird. But..." Kay looked at their feet as they talked. "Can't say I know many folks who can make the roar of a crowd with only one man." They looked up again with a small smile.

Ruv wished he could properly smile back. "i... thanks."

"How do you do that anyway?" Kay suddenly had a look of earnest curiosity as they looked him in the eye, a rare feat for them.

"it's not exactly something you can learn."

"Don't care."

Ruv paused. He had never told anyone the origin of his voice. Never really had the chance. Only Sarv knew because she was there when it all happened.

"it's a long story..."

"I've got time."

...

"fine."

Kay smiled and turned fully to Ruv. They tucked their knees to their chin and looked on with rapt attention.

"let's see..."

-NOTE: THE FOLLOWING SECTION DEPICTS SCENES OF GUN VIOLENCE, GORE AND BODY HORROR. IF THESE TOPICS ARE TRIGGERING TO YOU OR YOU OTHERWISE WISH NOT TO SEE SUCH CONTENT, PLEASE CTRL+F AND TYPE IN 'END OF SEGMENT' TO SKIP SUCH CONTENT. PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST.-

It was a peaceful day at the church. Sarv had just finished dusting the hall and was looking upon the room with pride when a sudden noise burst through the afternoon air.

BANG

Sarv jumped. A gunshot? Her thoughts were soon interrupted by another bang, this time against the church doors. She rushed over only to witness them opening as Ruv's body fell like a sandbag to the floor.

"Ruvzayat!"

Sarv rushed over to her friend’s body, alarmed as she saw a fast forming pool of blood underneath.

"Ruv, please! Speak to me!"

No response.

Sarv turned Ruv's body over, gasping in shock and fear as she saw just what had happened.

Ruv's chest was absolutely eviscerated. Red, raw flesh and shattered bone were plainly visible along with a vital clue.

Buckshot.

Figuring out who had attacked Ruv and why could wait. For now, Sarv had to desperately try to save her childhood friend.

How though? Her mind blanked in panic. She could do basic first aid, but she was no surgeon. Calling for medical assistance would be fruitless, with their remote location it would take far too long for help to arrive.

She was running out of time. Ruv's breathing was weak, shallow and wet, he was fading too fast. Sarv couldn't... wouldn't lose him.

She shouldn't... using her powers like that was not only risky but would forever mark him as her indebted. In most eyes his soul would be beyond saving, damned.

Then again, she was a demon who had chosen a holy, righteous path. Maybe, just maybe, if she kept to that path, the powers that be would find room to spare him.

Sarv took a deep breath and started chanting some kind of unknowable language. Her light, charming voice started to echo with arcane power as she hovered her hands over Ruv's wound as they emanate a deep red glow which soon was shared by Ruv's injury.

Ruv's bones and flesh started to move on their own as they started to knit together and reform. His lungs and heart not only healed as the stray bullet remains were forced out, but strengthened and grew. His rib cage followed suit, and as his skin regrew around it, it became clear his overall chest area was now significantly larger.

-END OF SEGMENT-

Demon magic was always unpredictable, but it seemed that beyond some minor alterations Ruv was fully healed. Though Sarv couldn't help but wince as she saw Ruv's already pale complexion fade further as grey marbled stripes formed throughout. Not at all unlike Sarv's pink tinged patterns.

Turns out, being marked by demonic influence was quite a literal term.

Still, Ruv was alive and breathing, Sarv watching his chest steadily rise and fall with a small smile of relief. She soon got up to grab a blanket and pillow so Ruv would be somewhat less sore upon awakening.

Hours later, Ruv awoke with his mind in a haze. The last thing he remembered was that an old 'acquaintance' from his past had tracked him down and was more than willing to not only get some bloody revenge on him, but anyone he associated with. Naturally he couldn't let that happen.

A brief but intense brawl ensued. The would-be assailant was battered and beaten, greatly underestimating Ruv's physical strength as he attempted to wrench the gun from his opponent's hands.

However, all it took was one pull of the trigger.

Ruv had just enough strength in him to punch his foe out and stomp on the dropped weapon hard enough to render it at least temporarily unusable before his adrenaline ran low and he stumbled his way to the church doors in a daze before collapsing, completely unaware of the sheer severity of his injury.

He felt... surprisingly alright all things considered. No pain, just stiffness from laying on the floor.

Ruv sat up and looked around him. His destroyed shirt and coat had been removed alongside his hat, the latter likely had fallen off when he collapsed. He was still near the doors but found himself draped in a blanket and...

Uninjured...?

Ruv looked down at his chest. It was unmarred, no bandages, stitches or scars to be found. Instead he found his skin was even paler than before. Porcelain white as opposed to simply fair. Not only that, but grey stripes and markings dotted his flesh, covering his hands like mismatched gloves.

It didn't take long for him to realize the resemblance.

As Ruv examined himself further he realized how... strange his chest looked now. Maybe it was just because it had been destroyed in what felt like mere moments earlier, but he could swear there was a slight... vibration to it as he breathed. Putting a hand to his upper body it felt like his ribs were thicker somehow as he could feel his heart pounding with strength that wasn't there before.

"Huh..."

Odd, but nothing he couldn't live with. Whatever Sarv had pulled seemed to work better than any typical medicine.

That is, until his dry mouth elicited a cough.

As suddenly as the hack escaped his throat, the building shook.

Ruv braced himself in his sitting position as the quake ceased as soon as it began. An aftershock?

It was at that moment he realized he hadn't seen Sarv since he awoke. Normally she'd be by his side in an instant as soon as she so much as heard a sniffle, let alone anything more. He recalled the man from his past, his intent...

"SARV!"

He shouted for her as fear gripped him as he stood up, only to fall to the floor as another quake rocked the area.

Shit! An earthquake here? Now?

No... It stopped once again. What on Earth was going on?

"Shit... Shit!"

Ruv got to his feet again, one hand on his bare chest, feeling his heart pound. It didn't feel... strange or uncomfortable though. It felt like it was his normal heart rate, just... harder.

"Ruv!?"

Sarv's voice! Ruv spun to face her as she made her way down the hall.

"Sarv! Stay there! Something’s-!"

The quaking started again as Ruv fell to his hands and knees as Sarv stumbled to grip a nearby pillar. Stronger and longer this time.

Through the cacophony Ruv heard an ominous crack. He raised his head to see the pillar Sarv was leaning on splitting apart. Ruv shouted out once more, realizing too late the true source of the quakes.

"SAR-!"

Ruv clasped a hand over his mouth as the realization struck him. Once was nothing. Twice a coincidence. Three times a trend.

He... He was doing this.

From his all-fours position he could feel the force emanating from himself. He felt how his chest vibrates violently with his voice.

Something was indeed wrong... with him. His body.

His thoughts were only interrupted when a violent, grinding crunch sounded through the building, his eye looking up just in time to see Sarv disappear behind a cloud of dust and debris.

Silence...

Dread like none before filled Ruv as the dust settled. He wanted to call out to Sarv desperately, but...

His lifelong friend, the only other person in his life...

She'd saved his life, and he'd taken hers...

Sarv emerged from behind the pillar, mere inches away from being crushed beneath it. She looked to where she last saw Ruv only to see him curled up on himself, eye wide and teary as he tried his best to hold back sobs. She hadn't seen him in such a vulnerable state since they were both but children on the streets.

"Ruv... Ruv it's okay. I'm right here."

Sarv startled as Ruv shifted away from her as soon as she made herself known. He looked at her with fear and remorse, silently begging her to stay away.

Sarv refused to have that.

She approached Ruv as he closed his eye and curled up further, though he didn't resist as Sarv draped herself over him in a tight embrace.

"It's okay. It's okay... I'm fine, see?"

Sarv tried to get a look at Ruv's face but he evidently was avoiding her gaze, shame clear on his features.

"It's alright Ruv. We'll figure this out. I promise."

The two sat there in silence for a long time, letting the events of the day fade into memory as they made a silent reaffirmation of their friendship.

They'd adapt. Just like they had before and inevitably would again.

Apparently, when Sarv healed Ruv's fatal wounds, she also effectively supercharged the affected area, resulting in Ruv now having far more powerful lungs, heart and vocal chords than any regular human. Naturally, Ruv didn't have any knowledge regarding how to handle these changes, thus a long, difficult learning process.

Kay sat in silence as Ruv concluded his story. His face was hard to read, on one hand it wasn't fun revisiting some of his more painful memories. He hated how vividly he remembered the horror of potentially losing Sarv twice in the same day, both as consequences of his actions. On the other, it felt kind of... nice. Like he was getting something off his chest.

Which Kay wasn't very good at hiding her wandering gaze at from him.

"Sooo... I guess you figured out how to control it?" Kay said after realizing they'd been caught staring with a blush, trying to change the subject.

Ruv hummed in response.

"yeah. didn't talk at all for a while. sarv wouldn't stand for that for long however."

"How'd you go about it?"

Ruv considered for a moment.

"singing, honestly."

At first Kay wanted to question this, but reconsidered. It wasn't that odd really. Singing did require a lot of vocal finesse. Controlling one's tone, inflection and, well, volume...

Sheesh... they hadn't even given much thought to the almost casual revelation that Sarv, kind, chaste, charitable Sarv, was a genuine demon. That's something they'd have to explore further at a later date.

Something else was bothering Kay now though, it was clear on their face.

"what's up."

Kay jumped slightly before blushing brightly.

"This is gonna sound really weird but... you said your, uh... chest was all different right?"

Ruv nodded, his expression stoic as ever.

"Could I... look? Justoutofcuriosity...?" Kay sputtered, knowing what their request sounded like.

"..."

"k."

Kay blinked. They didn't expect that to go over so well.

Wordlessly, Ruv shrugged off his coat, revealing his well-toned arms. Kay felt like their face was already on fire.

Next, Ruv deftly pulled his top up and over his head, managing to keep his hat in place. Kay could only imagine from practice alone as they tried to hide their flustered sweating.

"It's purely... scientific curiosity... yeah, let's go with that." Kay tried to rationalize their thoughts.

Indeed, Ruv was speaking the truth with his recollections. It almost looked like someone had taken the barrel-like, deepend thorax of a horse and just tucked it under human skin. Muscles only somewhat obscuring heavy, well-sprung ribs.

Kay found themself raising a shaky hand before pausing.

"M- May I?"

Ruv nodded.

Kay pressed their hand against Ruv's bared chest. They could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage, the slight vibrations from his breath alone.

“Woah…”

“Ah, Ruv, Kay, how are you doinOHMYGOODNESS!”

The two’s heads snapped in the direction of a beet red-faced Sarvente.

“Ah, aahah, I’ll leave you two besorrysorry!” Sarv sputtered as she backed off through the doorway she had just entered from, eyes looking… anywhere but at her two companions.

The pair instantly realised how intimate they appeared to Sarv without any context. Ruv was hurriedly pulling his top on, his expression neutral but face flushed pink, while Kay was just covering their face, barely holding back an embarrassed squeal.

They would explain, or try to, later. For now, as they caught each other's glances briefly, they quietly filed away this memory.

They would only make plenty more.

#Self ship #Self ship fic #self insert x canon #Hope I got this right #Also #Is half of this just my general background/weird anatomy headcanons?#Yes #Yes it is #Karuv #Violence text #Gore text #Body horror text

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drjacquescoulardeau · 7 years

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CRUELTY, FROM HOLLYWOODERS TO EXTRATERRESTRIALS

From Hans Eisler and his “Hollywooder Lieberbuch” to Fritz Land and his “Metropolis,” there is only one step to jump to find ourselves in Geoff Nelder’s International Space Station invaded by Extraterrestrials on their way to conquer the world, and that is no entertainment, not even a film. Not even by Orson Welles adapted from H.G. Wells. Just some much entertainment for today’s audiences who want some blood and violence, vengeance and hatred, so that they can practice their empathy for as cheap a price as a ticket for the film and nearly nothing for a Kindle.

AMAZON PRIME – THE LAST TYCOON – SERIES 1 – 2017

The series is brilliantly produced, directed and acted. The smallest and lightest detail is perfect for final reception. Just as a series it is both dramatic and suspenseful. It deals with characters that are provided with depth and complexity, at times contradictions. And yet the subject of the series is grave and serious. We are dealing with Hollywood around 1936 when Hitler is arising in Germany and starting to open the concentration camps (Dachau is named). We are in the USA, and in Hollywood the debate about what we can say or show about Germany is raging. The Germans are heavily blackmailing American producers with the very dynamic cinema market in Germany.

That’s the first element. Some, like Monroe himself, have to hide their Jewishness by changing their names. The subjects dealing with Germany have to be absolutely apolitical. You can have the sound of the music but certainly not the sound of any protest in Germany or in the world against Hitler. There is a tremendous lack of courage among the people in the cinema industry at the time. This is a serious question that is pushed aside by many at the time.

The second dimension of the series is the hyper-realistic description of the ugly and often criminal atmosphere among the professionals of the cinema in Hollywood. They are ready to recuperate Fritz Lang, at least for a short while, as a Jewish and German refugee, but they are not ready to support any opposition to Hitler. And among them, we have family practices and professional practices that magnify the power of the bosses of the studios, then the power of the producers over all artistic professions, and then a dependency hierarchy with some who can block the system, like of course authors.

Then we have a professional environment made of rivalry, hatred, exploitation, ambition, ruthlessness, inequality and hypocrisy. They do one little good action to cover all their crimes and they show to the world a positive and beautiful façade that has nothing to do with their reality. They smile to photographers and they kill one another with daggers in the back all the time. And it is in this atmosphere that some beautiful films are produced and Oscars are won. And Oscars have their feet in blood, literally: the blood of assassinated people or people worn out and burnt out so much that they can only cut their wrists and take an overdose of opioids or whatever other drug they can put their fingers on and grab.

But the series is a real beauty and you will like it if you are not too sensitive to airsickness or vertigo. Be sure – and do not overlook the following fact – that the dead people on the screen correspond to dead people off the screen. Hollywood is not ethical and has no morality. It is all about money and fame, Oscars and domination. Hollywood is a control freak at the level of the global planet. And it hurts when some shares of this market evade them. It hurts so much they are ready to sacrifice a few sacred cows, or stars, to regain the ground they’ve lost.

Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

GEOFF NELDER – ARIA: LEFT LUGGAGE – 2011

Imagination, when compared to life, is so absurd that it becomes fascinating, mesmerizing and even hypnotizing. And Geoff Nelder really puts the smallest dishes imaginable into the biggest ones till the latter are overflowingly full.

The story is simple. Some extraterrestrials decide to take over the earth. So they deposit a suitcase on the International Space Station. The suitcase is taken down to earth, then opened by some reckless cat who will not even be killed by his curiosity. That spread a virus on the planet at the speed of light. This virus destroys the memory of people backward, so that they lose their memory from right now back on, one year in just a few days. And they reach twenty or more years in a few months. It creates an artificial Alzheimer and the consequences should be the extinction of the human race when the loss of memory reaches birth since then they will lose the memory of their basic needs like hunger and thirst, though the book pretends they will keep the memory of reproduction, at least the need of that type of physical contact, producing babies that would be forgotten as soon as being born. Destruction all around.

But later on, the extraterrestrials deposit a second suitcase on the ISS. The team decides to take it down themselves with their shuttle and they select a base in Wales that is entirely cut off from the rest of the world and where a band of uninfected scientists have taken refuge incognito of anyone. The second suitcase is then opened and it reveals it propagates a second virus that amplifies the memory of people to the very simultaneous remembering of absolutely everything down to the last detail since even before birth. This mental cramming causes serious mental disruption and at least people simply get psychotic with headaches to accompany the disruption. And from psychotic to psychopath there is only one step and the victim of this second disruption starts killing or trying to kill. But he is also endowed with enhanced humanity and life and he can even survive mortal wounds, hence death itself.

Then the conclusion is simple “Where’s there’s life, there’s hope.” It sounds like Obama and these uninfected scientists manage to travel all around the globe to another isolated area where some scientists have taken refuge in the south Pacific. Yes, definitely, they can.

The best part is for me the emergence of the first virus in a Boeing Dreamliner flying from New York to London. It is hilarious to see how the people who are losing their memory are also losing their consciousness of why they were travelling to London and so they hi-jack the plane to go back to New York, and the book reveals that this hi-jacking is impossible today because any plane can be taken under control directly from some air-traffic controlling center and then no one can pilot the plane from the cockpit and the plane can be taken anywhere the technicians in the air-traffic controlling center decide. The bully passengers who have taken over the plane thus find out the plane is directed onto a disaffected airstrip where it will be quarantined for as long as they will remember, and remember is interesting since they are losing their memory. Quarantine forever.

There are dozens of situations of that type that are dramatically humorous. And the escape of the English scientists and the ISS team from Wales to move to the South Pacific is just both incredible and funnily absurd, not funny ah ah but funny strange of course, like the famous joke of old about French cows who have five legs and not four like all self-respecting English cows.

But the author is titillating us with an important question: what is the role of memory in life? It is crucial since the loss of memory is the surest way to die, and at the same time, the preservation of memory will provide every living person with the consciousness that life is lethal since it leads to death anyway and at all times. You must admit it is crucial, isn’t it? Unconscious death as opposed to conscious death. The choice of the century.

And excessive memory leads to psychosis. Luckily the author avoided the now un-trendy if not politically incorrect term of schizophrenia. Psychosis means killing to survive, though survival is short lived in a way. But it also leads to self-preservation on the side of “normal” people who kill the deranged people with no pangs of conscience at all. Memory is the core capability of our brain and central nervous system that enables all other mental capabilities starting with sensing, perceiving, identifying or recognizing (naming), experimenting, speculating and conceptualizing without which no language is possible, no abstract thinking is possible, no human species is possible. Our memory associated to the mutations brought to us by the emergence of the bipedal long distance fast runner that Homo Sapiens was some 300,000 years ago gave Homo Sapiens the tools he needed to invent and develop our human articulated languages. No memory then no language, not even the simple set of eight or nine calls a standard monkey species have at their disposal.

Yet I think the description of this loss of memory is rather tamed by the fact it is seen essentially through people who do not lose their memory. When someone is severely hit by Alzheimer they may well lose the ability to eat and drink and only very basic physical functions will survive for a while, like breathing and rejecting waste. That leads some older people to the simple situation when they have to be fed otherwise they won’t do it on their own, and they won’t communicate anymore. They are not reduced to a vegetal state because a plant does not forget to breathe and their roots do not forget to work and the plant’s nourishment comes from the roots and the breathing of the leaves.

Highly entertaining though totally foolish crazy mad science-fiction directly out of Mad Magazine and their Alfred E. Newman. In a way, it is refreshing to know that on this planet some people might be slightly saner than most others, especially politicians.

Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

#hatred #cinema #science fiction

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loneberry · 7 years

Text

Who knows why thoughts sometimes lose their wings

11 juin // scattershot consciousness, or: a mind in motion [transcribed from notebook]

What does it mean to wake with a feeling, & why?

Nobody knows why. Nobody knows why life was given to us.

Sometimes you wade through junk self-help advice only to stumble upon curious nuggets of truth,

about love’s closeness to death

or how love lets us glimpse the soul beneath layers of flesh

As we decay–

what’s there?

that thing, stubbornly itself.

“Soul is hewn in a wild workshop.”

Yesterday I watched the plants blowing & marveled that something invisible acts on matter: wind.

Is that why we conceive of God as Breath?

The person touched by God is in a windstorm

blown

like the film character Wakefield dislodged from his low self.

In some other world, did I volunteer for this?

Like an astronaut: I volunteer—now make me born!

Was I counseled by a bureaucrat of heaven

was I an angel who came to Earth

on the Wings of Desire

to be human

gasping alive every time I step out of buildings into the sun, how the exits of libraries & my psychoanalyst’s office become birth canals.

Weep thinking about that grace.

Consciousness expanding & contracting—a sparrow beneath my chair.

What was that moment when all of life contracted to a single point of

pure life

Woke up from the dream of hanging succulents with the Agnus Dei liturgy on my tongue

“Jesus lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world

Have mercy on us”

When I was counseled, pre-birth,

did they tell me about this pain

did I wake inside the pain-joy dialectic

between babble & searing beauty

Who knows why

we wake to life

beneath a red umbrella, consciousness blooming

& somewhere, the tree beneath which we will rest for Eternity

Do you see yourself

stopping to admire the roses in the setting sun?

I remember, desert nights listening to “I Lost Something in the Hills”

gliding beneath the big moon.

It was not Jesus imbibing & transforming all human suffering that touched me in the liturgy

but the cry for mercy that is answered.

It is usually not answered.

On the floor of the world, a cry for mercy

& only the silence of God.

But from that unanswered cry—grace?

Just as soon as it arrives

it is gone.

They put a new date on the birth of our species

We are 300,000 years old, at least

But how did we come to this?

did we eat mushrooms to grow language

& how did we become bipedal

& what vestigial body parts still exists as phantoms hooked up to my neural map

& what pre-adaption invisible (potential) limbs can I control with my brain?

is it a memory of what was

or a pre-cognition

of what is to come?

How glorious that every form contains both what it once was & what it could be

The historian looks in one direction,

the artist in the other

Between archive & horizon,

we are floating on ourselves

There it was

in absolute clarity

rinsed myself of me

but now I want to sleep

Life not calm

life was

canceling itself

but we were

lobsters

once

“how elegant, your back” Alex said

I was.

He’ll be here tomorrow.

My head filled with the sound.

Life & then…I want to make a poem out of flowers.

“The poem is almost over"—where did this line come from?—the unconscious belting STOP THE POEM!

You can’t keep going forever

But…head, soup, nowhere

the Górecki symphony he listened to deep in his sorrow, when he decided to come back & fight for love

Now imagine an image shattering & the shards congealing to form a new image

He said going through the pain was like that—

that on the other side was clarity

I hear Michael Eigen saying, go all the way into it, push through until you reach the Ecstatic / there’s no retreating

you aged—you can’t summon what once was so easy, to feel, but I was alive, & more myself when destroyed.

You read. You imagine all the things you could write, your own book on female lust, wandering, flowers, ecstasy.

Life was once—& then, I grew a brain

Tho I was still myself before I was born

Now imagine matter exploding

Now imagine this big rock growing an atmosphere

Now imagine—

then the sadness breaks

who would have thought

that out of that primary matter

sadness would be born?

Who would have thought

we’d make a world without mercy for the afflicted, brains disfigured & reordered by toxins, war, trauma—

what one has lived through

& the proverbial roll of the dice

My brother mentally impaired by a brain injury caused by a difficult birth

& the thought: I could be in his place. In prison.

Remember Eigen’s description of Kurt’s documentary

about a single lost soul adrift on the planet

What consolation was there except the light

& why wake up weeping at the memory of stepping into the sun?

Because in that sun, I could love

& you remember

stepping out of Widener Library

into the glory that was the setting sun

the way it set all particles alight

turning dust & pollen into glitter that fell from the trees in slow motion

or the way the highway became a snow globe on that gentle day in early June

when the cottonwoods released their seeds.

On the bus you imagined a single airborne cottonwood seed blowing across the length of your life.

Don’t you see

nothing is more significant than anything else

I hear them cry: have mercy

the worm crushed on the pavement cries

mercy, mercy

I see the church spire from another angle

everywhere, spires of consciousness

jutting out of the soil

"Mercy, mercy” we sing to the transmogrification machine some call Jesus

Spires of mercy

How is it possible that billions of years ago a light appeared in that vast darkness

what symphony was made in that instant

a dog, a cat

a squirrel thrashing itself to death:

all waiting to be made.

Mercy!

The mind quickens

the shore creeps

some dance

others nap

Tops spin, monuments are erected

complexity, tessellation, pyramids amid sand dunes, waves of mass extinctions

& the world growing dimmer

human consciousness wiped out. We saw,

we woke up. & then, the wind. What edge did we find, an emotional cliff.

My heart—throwing it into the sea.

There was everything

& then you can see

the contraction of sorrow

growing ever denser

until it disperses as sparrows

Is consciousness an accident of nature?

How, out of the infinite range of possibilities, did the shape of the honeysuckle flower become perfectly suited to the beak of its pollinator? Without striving—how is there elegance of design?

Why make a written language?

Why use it for something as inconsequential as this: to write down what passes through my head.

I wonder if the world will be sorry to one day lose me as a witness

I was not coherent

but I did my best

Why wake up weeping at the thought of the universe without a witness?

Then, the shift in the 3rd movement of Górecki’s Symphony No. 3, when sorrow is released & transformed into grace.

How incredible

that some make symphonies

before one by one, the lights are extinguished

& all language is lost

My memories left me

I forgot

that terror

I walked across the field weaving my way around the the spires of splendor

Who was it that wrote

Medbh McGuckian’s language is made of flowers?

Oh how quickly the branches of the deciduous trees sprout new wings

But why do my thoughts sometimes lose their wings?

Why does consciousness sometimes flag, become a dark room without windows?

It is happening:

the future has already happened

because it will.

All I wanted was to stay awake long enough to feel—that’s all there is.

everything is as good as everything else.

Somewhere, someone weeping.

Why—this total equality of mercy,

even for the ones who wronged you

Who were you, touching across some distance?

What gift did you bring that I needed?

Why weep during the film Wakefield

when that awful man spoke the word “mercy”?

Did even he deserve it?

My heart aches for everything lost.

Mercy. How the word is an ax to the sea frozen inside me.

Mercy, they cry, have mercy.

I hear Cornel West quoting William James: religion is a cry for help.

Why cry for mercy in a merciless world?

Through the pain—mercy

what capacity for sensing the other was lost when he was in a rage

then found, when he looked & turned back from the path of cruelty

& in those moments hatred turned inside out & he emerged, disarmed.

Wind today shows no sign of abating

& still some are crying, mercy be this good weather

Lay your weapon down—

let the spires cut the wind

as ghosts rush through the forest

Here—in this moment.

What shatters

you know

that movement:

a soul in flight.

Someone raised the question—

what if the universe is one giant feeling being?

Weep for Kurt

& remember the profound equality of all things, how money distorts that fact.

Released from hatred.

In what ways did my wound make me merciless?

#mercy #angus Dei

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