#I have this idea about Dick that is like a naturally formed mutation of a thought inside my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anhed-nia · 4 years

Text

BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment.

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

undefined

youtube

PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

#blogtober #2020 #society #brian yuzna #screaming mad george #woody keith #rick fry #billy warlock #Keith Walley #devin devasquez #david wiley #horror #black comedy #satire #body horror #social criticism

27 notes · View notes

joemuggs · 4 years

Text

DO YOU SUFFER FROM SPYMANIA?

It’s the 25th anniversary of the Spymania label, and to celebrate it they have released a record of unreleased tracks. It’s brilliant, you should buy it. In 2016 I wrote a history of the messy, messed-up, but brilliant Brighton scene that they found their feet in. Sadly it got lost in the archiving of the Red Bull Music Academy site, but I’ve still got the text, so here it is. And to prove I was there, here is me, in an inexplicably bad shirt, with the Spymania crew and friends:

Some Spymanians - far left is Hardy Spymania, next to him in blue t-shirt is Paddington Breaks, third from right leaning forward is MDK and that’s me in the bad shirt on the right.

25th Anniversary EP by SONGBIRD & WAFTA

From the town's 18th century genesis as a playground for aristocrats, Brighton has always been a space for outrageous hedonism. Being the closest point to London on the English south coast makes it an obvious place for escape and misbehaviour. With that has always come something grittier and grottier though. It's no coincidence that the best known fictional depictions of Brighton feature razor-carrying petty gangsters (Brighton Rock) and running street battles and hurried back-alley knee-tremblers (Quadrophenia). The novelist Keith Waterhouse famously said “Brighton always looks like a town helping police with their enquiries” – and it still does. Behind its facade of homeopaths, holidaymakers, students and media folk, it hides rampant corruption and organised crime, a heroin economy to match any British city, and sprawling estates that are among the country's poorest.

In the heat of the 1990s rave fervour when the world and its dog came down to Brighton to party their way through untold seven-day weekends, all of this ambiguity was expressed via a rather different electronic scene. While the superclubs along the seafront pumped to the sounds of handbag house, trance and big beat, hidden away in the nooks and crannies a techno style formed that became known on the European underground simply as “the Brighton sound” – and around it sprouted odd rave and electronica mutations that, though they might have seemed pisstakey or bloody-minded at the time, would alter the course of electronic music for a long time to come. All of this was surrounded by a dense web of art, theory, satire, in-jokes and meat-flinging cabaret, that could be perplexing, even off-putting, but has left a huge creative legacy from a tiny scene that punched way, way above its weight.

This scene of malcontents and squarepegs was by definition loose-knit – but if there was a centre to it, it was Cristian Vogel. Originally from the south Midlands, he and his friend Si Begg already had experience putting out cassette releases and primitive music software hacks (with the Cabbage Head Collective) before he came to Sussex University to study 20th Century Music in 1992. With a head full of Stockhausen and rave tapes, he was boshing out the techno, and by the end of 1994 had two releases on Dave Clarke's Magnetic North label and was resident at the Acid Box club nights in a little sticky-floored upstairs venue in Brighton's North Lanes.

This was the period when techno and hardcore were still part-fused, and along with headliners like Carl Cox and Luke Slater you could expect to hear Belgian hoover noises full-pelt gabber rolled into the more “intelligent” beats, all with nothing but relentless strobes and smoke to intensify the experience. It's a sign of how intense it was that the “chillout” in the backroom consisted of Richie Hawtin tunes playing and Tetsuo: Iron Man being shown on a couple of TVs, and felt genuinely laid back in comparison to the dancefloor. It could be shoulder-to-shoulder packed, or have ten people raving away, but it was pretty much always guaranteed to deliver mental obliteration. It's precisely this delirium you can hear in key early releases like Vogel's “Ninjah” or Tobias Schmidt's “Minus One”.

Si Begg and friends

Cristian, together with Si Begg founded Mosquito Records around this point, around which a motley crew of producers of monstrously banging but sonically razor sharp techno gathered. Neil Landstrumm, Tobias Schmidt (an ingenious pseudonym for one Toby Smith), Ibrahim Alfa and Russ Gabriel, as well as Begg and Vogel themselves, all released in the first couple of years. They were closely allied with the Scottish techno scene, notably through Landstrum but also the Sativae label run by Dave Tarrida and Steve Glenncross, and played to seething crowds north of the border, as well as absolutely huge ones in Germany, Poland and further afield. Yet even though the audiences were tiny back on the south coast, the local brand was inescapable: indeed Si Begg, who lived in London right through the nineties, recalls with some bafflement seeing untold German flyers with “BRIGHTON TECHNO” in big letters under his name.

All of this was great, but taken alone could simply have been another local flavour on the international techno scene. The four-to-the-floor certainly remained the heartbeat of the scene as The Acid Box became The Box, which became Defunkt, which became Freekin' The Frame, and the techno dons kept coming through: Blake Baxter, Shake Shakir, Claude Young, Beltram, Weatherall, Surgeon, Bandulu... but very quickly, things became about more than just that. There was a strongly disruptive element from the beginning in the form of a close alliance with the Brighton “clench” of the Church Of The SubGenius. If you don't know about the Church, that's a whole other rabbit hole to fall down, but for our purposes it's enough to know that the local bunch existed on the fringes of freeparty soundsystem culture and subverted its tendencies to crypto-mystical bollocks, and were big on collage and stencil graffiti, heavy punning streams of consciousness (“Bulldada” in the SubGenius parlance), mischief disguised as culture and vice versa.

Heavily influenced by this SubGenius mischief was Mat Consume, in-house designer, computer animator and frequent back-room DJ for the Vogel-related axis. His art, brain-bent ranting and noisily experimental sets became a vital part of the identity of the scene, helping coalesce obsessions with punk and Situationism and ambivalent embrace of digital progress among Vogel and compadres to the point where when they formed an umbrella organisation for their activities it was natural to call it No Future. Held loosely together by Vogel's partner and manager Emma Sola this acted as a booking agency for various acts, but just as much felt like a chaotic but fiercely independent joint art project between Vogel, Sola and Consume, throwing ideas and aesthetic forms out into the underground and forging alliances with equally bloody-minded creators.

Emma Sola

These included the likes of Canadian filmmaker and stencil artist Pablo Fiasco; animators and sound artists Ruth Jarman and Joe Gerhardt aka Semiconductor; non-techno eclecticist club collectives Mufflewuffle and Slack; the combative cabaret night That Stupid Club which would feature subcultural saboteurs like Stewart Home, Dennis Cooper and The Divine David; and another more rave-influenced cabaret night called Monkey's Lounge full of spoken word, off-colour comedy, offal-flinging and pints-of-piss-drinking, run and compered by... um... me (under the names Rimmington Snuffporn Esq and DJ Dead, with help from my music production and DJ partner Jeffrey Disastronaut). It was at a Monkey's Lounge session that Consume physically pushed Jamie Lidell – already widely known as a wildly innovative techno producer via the Subhead collective and their Growth parties – on stage with the house band Balzac, immediately kickstarting a long running residency as their singer and marking the beginning of a performing career that still continues.

Tom “Squarepusher” Jenkinson and Hardy Spymania

Possibly the most important alliance of all, though, was with the Spymania crew. Their social circle was a motley bunch of Londoners, Midlanders and most notably a large contingent from Chelmsford, Essex. Many of the latter had been to school with Tom Jenkinson, a musician known originally as Stereotype and then, when the Spymania label itself was formed by Paul Fowler and brighton-based Hardy Finn, as Squarepusher. Their ethos was preposterous in all ways, fuelled by unstable fusions of questing intellects and Essex swagger. As teenagers they first congregated around a Chelmsford club night called Club Trout, run by future scene mainstay Jane Mitchell (and later exported to Brighton as Smooth But Halibut); they smoked themselves sarcastic to early tapes made by their friends Cassetteboy; everything they did was shot through with skater-stoner-hardcore-raver pisstake attitude. Their rickety old website, which remains live today, still gives a hint of all this. http://www.spymania.com/pgs/hardcore.html

Yet these were musical connoisseurs too, assiduously collecting hip hop, acid, Detroit techno, British electronica, and especially in the case of Martin “MDK” Wood, death metal, gindcore and anarcho punk. This pile-up of musical expertise and sarky dicking about was there from the first release, Squarepusher's Conumber EP – which featured everything from a track that was nothing more than a timestretched Jenkinson asking “can anyone lend me a fiver” to the jungle-acid fusions that would literally redefine how electronica was made from the Aphex Twin on down for the rest of the 1990s. The Spymania records that followed touched on illbient mismatched time signatures, Drexciyan electro-funk, Deicide samples, eerily blissed out atmospherics, Cassetteboy's peurile genius (via offshoot label Barry's Bootlegs), and a dozen more awkward twists and turns besides, always brain-frying, always funny, never settling on any sound that offered the casual listener an easy handle on what was going on.

A standardly Dada Spymania cover

This added up to a refreshing antidote to the chin-fondling seriousness and purism of much of the electronica scene. And when Finn, Wood and friends went raving at the Acid Box, they naturally found a kindred spirit in Mat Consume who would design almost all the Spymania sleeves, their grainy photocopy style a counterpoint to the garish clashing computer images and animated dancing baby skeletons of his No Future work. They in turn helped inspire Consume, with the urbane Lynton Million (a university friend of Jamie Lidell's), to set up Trash Records.

Trash was a label that would take the horrible and confrontational side of the scene to extremes, with anger and ugliness from label mainstays including DJ Paedofile, Chuck Shite and Shit & Cheap (aka Consume & Landstrumm – sample track name: “SuckingCocksForFishheads”), as well as impossibly intricate turns from the likes of Liddell and another Chelmsfordian Squarepusher contemporary and Rephlex recording artist, Matt Yee-King. Si Begg, too, was close to the Spymania team, and launched the rather more good-natured but equally ridiculous Noodles family of labels, featuring a slew of collaborations and AKAs (including Hardy Spymania's pleasingly literal Barry Pseudonym) from the No Future and Spymania families.

It was a messy and disparate little scene. The bulk of the rave action took place in the big clubs of Germany and the rest of Europe, but the creative processes were at least as much about what happened in smoky shared flats and workshops in Brighton's tatty backstreets as they were about big dancefloors. Vogel once described his metier as “the drug pub rant”, and a lot of work sprung from precisely these. Continually, though, the bulk of Brighton club culture, from the seafront clubs to the free parties on the beaches and Downs, tended to look askance at the belligerence and deliberate obfuscations of the No Future axis, or more often simply ignore it all. Perhaps the glorious cresting of the first wave of activity, and probably this scene's peak visibility in Brighton full stop, was at the Brighton Dance Parade of 1997. This attempt to replicate Berlin's Love Parade was never to be repeated – hippie mismanagement and Brighton's endemic corruption saw to that – but for one day only the ravers had their literal day in the sun.

The Trash crew: top - Consume, Hunter & Million / middle - Million & Consume / bottom - Cristian Vogel & Million

There, among floats pumping out free party trance and funky house, the No Future bus – stencilled all over by Pablo Fiasco with pictures of dead rock stars, and with a stunningly crsip rig playing weaponised techno whose angles and curves were a thousand times sharper and more present than any other music on the day – stood out like a septic thumb. This was also the year that Vogel's musical partnership with Lidell began in earnest – with Lidell's furious remix of Vogel's “(Don't) Take More”, which remains a brain-damage anthem to this day in some quarters, and their first release as the mutant electronic funk duo Super_Collider, “Darn (Cold Way O Loving)”. The latter track, amazingly, emerged on a major label, thanks to it being signed by Skint parent label Loaded, in turn licensed through Sony. It was a year to wave the freak flag high.

Despite untold hard drugs, fights and the incestuous nature of a town as small as Brighton, the scene and the various record labels involved remained vigorous and continued to diversify right through the last years of the nineties and into the new millennium. Super_Collider released one album on Loaded, and another on Rise Robots Rise, the label created by Vogel and Sola for ever more varied output including Catalan girl-punk and German dancehall. Lidell's ultra-experimental first solo album, Muddlin Gear, came out as a joint venture between Spymania and WARP in 2000, accompanied by deranged artwork and live films by Pablo Fiasco. Bands increasingly became part of the mix: whispering neo-Krautrockers Fujiya & Miyagi (on Paul Spymania's Massive Advance imprint), the terrifying Wevie Stonder (who he managed) and space-pop group Chungking (which I was in for a couple of years, and whose multi-instrumentalist James Stephenson played bass for Super_Collider live, creating a Chelmsford rhythm section with Matt Yee-King on drums - both of these two had also been in the aforementioned Balzac too).

No Future’s logo, designed with typical aggression by Consume

There were prominent fans too. John Peel asked the Trash collective to open Meltdown Festival in 1998. Thom Yorke and Radiohead's resident artist Stanley Donwood designed t-shirts for No Future. Vogel is namechecked on the Sabres Of Paradise Haunted Dancehall album, and Andrew Weatherall would frequently call him up, dumbfounded at his latest sonic advances. One memorable 1999 awayday for the Freekin' The Frame club to The End in London saw Róisín Murphy jumping on stage after the live Super_Collider show to duet with Lidell on an impromptu version of “Once in a Lifetime”, a very young Kieran Hebden repping UK garage, Chicks On Speed shouting their hearts out, and Chris Cunningham playing long segments of white noise to puzzled ravers, as well as sets from various No Future / Spymania stalwarts.

Inevitably, like all but the very biggest musical scenes, the micro-one in Brighton dissipated as people grew up, fucked up, or moved on – but its echoes continue. Vogel and Landstrumm continue to be significant forces in electronic music, both as influences on the post-Blawan generation and as musicians in their own right. Si Begg is a respected sound designer and composer. Matt Yee-King runs the computer music course at Goldsmiths college, and is a big noise on the “Algorave” scene. Paul Spymania is an artist manager and agent, and along with Scuba, brought dubstep to Berlin in the legendary Sub:Stance sessions. Semiconductor became artists in residence for NASA, among many other extraordinary commissions. Jamie Lidell supported Elton John. Consume is in Bristol, currently working on a giant mural of DJ Derek. Lynton Million lives on a small island, selling whisky. Ibrahim Alfa took several sharp diversions that are an epic tale in their own right, and is only now picking up where he left off with a Workshop issue of his “lost” album Once Upon a Time in Brighton. And so it goes on...

Unlike some electronic scenes, the one in Brighton was never particularly chic (although it certainly had massive cultural cachet in a few countries if not at home), and its records don't necessarily fetch silly money on discogs (like that's a measure of value, right?). But out of a tiny techno club and its committed few regulars grew something that filled an entire decade with utterly extraordinary art, music, humour and ideas, and which still has relevance and resonance for smart creative minds many years on. Those messy, aggro, awkward bunch of ravers and jokers somehow managed to hold it together just enough to build a creative world entirely of their own, with its own rules and its own distinctive identity: what more can artists hope for?

This history is dedicated to James Phillips, a vital part of this scene and always 100% one of the good guys. RIP

Some tunes:

Cristian Vogel: Ninjah https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ydOFHo9JtI

Tobias Schmidt: Minus One https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YjozNVF7_I

MDK: Sound of Saturday https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV3KQHGxmcg

Subhead: Ruction (produced by Jamie Lidell) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5vNX_ylRQM

Squarepusher: Sarcacid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IY6cvGnVCA

Cristian Vogel: Bite & Scratch (Blake Baxter Detroit Mix) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXIB7I3D7ss

DJ Paedofile: I was Rise in Clouds https://youtu.be/WcyrrAwqaQY

Buckfunk 3000 (Si Begg): Future Shock Planet Rock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp4b6PE0FkY

Cristian Vogel: Sarcastically Tempered Powers http://youtu.be/Q2G3204pfkY

Yee King: Goodnight Toby https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbnZuv3xHog

Super_Collider: Darn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh2kauFcGpw

No Future at Brighton Love Parade: https://vimeo.com/119001501

#brighton #rave #techno #electronica #drill'n'bass #spymania #wonky techno #experimental music #subgenius #maniacs #too much marijuana #white lightning

3 notes · View notes

the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Calling (47)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count - 127,743

MASTERLIST or Read on Ao3

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Forty-Seven - The Doctor Will See You Now

Jack Docherty, like all men was born with the potential for good and evil. There was no deciding factor ingrained in his DNA. At 06:24 am on December 3rd 19 1951 he was born a blank slate and his fate was to be decided by the man and woman the midwife handed him too.

Ian Docherty was a man of faith, a God fearing man. To him, the squealing babe in his arms was another miracle of the lord.

Emma Docherty was a woman who felt she was forsaken by God and her husband. To her, her infant son was nothing more than another burden.

The first three years of Jack Docherty’s life were unremarkable. Seven months into the third year, everything changed.

“Your father is sick. God is punishing him.” His mother told him.

Jack crept into his fathers room and peered at him over the top of the bed. His once vibrant father was nothing more than a bag of bones lying on the bed, his skin sallow and sunken in, stretched over his skeleton. His chest rasped and wheezed as he tried to breathe. Jack reached up and with his little fist, grabbed his fathers hand.

Almost like magic, colour bloomed across his fathers flesh and life returned to him. For the first time in days he opened his eyes. There was a small thump from the next to the bed and he looked down.

“Jack? Jack? EMMA!” He yelled.

Emma Docherty rushed into the room, falling onto her knees next to her sons prone form. As soon as she touched the boy her skin took on a sallow palour. And so at three years and seven months old, Jack Docherty healed his father and killed his mother.

“God knew my wife was poisoning me and gave me a son to heal me and punish her for her sins.” His father told the church.

At first nobody believed him but when his son lay hands on old Mrs Carver and she was healed of her blindness they knew the truth. It didn’t matter to them that Jack was now blind. It didn’t matter to his father. Until he realised that the next person Jack touched would inherit the blindness.

That was the day his father started buying rats. It was also the day Mrs Carver saw her husbands transgressions with the neighbour and killed them both.

Not even four years old and Jack Docherty was dragged to churches up and down the country to heal the sick, no matter how much pain it caused him. And everywhere they went there was a trail of dead rats and ungrateful people.

When Jack Docherty was seventeen years old he laid hands on a man with a painful, terminal disease. And instead of passing it to a rat, he passed it to his father.

“When you see God, ask him why he would do this to me and not expect my revenge.” Jack hissed to his dying father.

Evil is not born in the womb, it festers over time, through tragedy. And humanity was evil, Jack Docherty knew this to be true.

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

Leaving Bucky behind was the only way to keep him safe, if you hadn’t then he would be in a cell next to yours and while you loved him, you weren’t quite that co-dependant. Besides, if you were going to get out of this then you wanted Bucky out there, looking for you.

So you went quietly, letting Docherty lead you to the helicopter. You had planned to kill him as soon as you were in the air and you knew Bucky was safe but he had planned for that and as soon as you stepped onto the craft you were hit with several tranq darts and tazed for good measure.

When you woke up again it was in a cage almost identical to the one you had grown up in, the only difference was the room around it. This room was dark and musty and your grandfather was sat waiting for you to wake up.

He’d never been much of a talker before, apparently he had a lot to share now though.

Of all the tortures Docherty had subjected you to over the years, this was by far the worst. You shoved your hands in your pockets and gave him a bored look.

“So you’re a mutant?” You asked casually, it had been the only part of his story that had picked up your interest.

“It never occurred to you I might be?” He asked, as if genuinely surprised you didn’t know.

In retrospect, it made sense. Your mother was a mutant, she had to have got it from somewhere. It also explained how he had poisoned a mutant with healing abilities.

“Honestly I never really gave much thought to why you were such a dick and I gotta say... Cool backstory, you’re still an asshole.” You responded with a shrug.

“Such fire. Stark was good for you.”He said mockingly.

“You thought if you could raise me like you were raised I would turn into a psychopath like you did? Well I bet you feel like an idiot now because guess what Docherty? It wasn’t your upbringing that made you the way you are, you’re just a dick.” You mocked back.

“I saw the depravity and selfishness that people posses. They don’t deserve to live.”He hissed.

“I saw it as well, courtesy of you and agree to disagree. There are good people in the world. I’m one of them, despite your best efforts.” You rebutted.

“Ungrateful child. My best efforts made you what you are, into a god! You have no idea what I had to sacrifice to make you into Vernichtung, to bring the world to it’s knees and make people pay for their depravity!”

“Sacrificed? You mean your daughter? My mother. The one you kept locked away, waiting for the right moment to kill?” You snarled.

He looked taken aback.

Locked in another cage by him, you didn’t feel as brave as you sounded. But you were channelling Tony because this pathetic, snivelling excuse of a man would never see your fear again. So you would trade barbs with him and rile him up and you would do it with a smile.

You thought of your father and he gave you the strength to smile at the man you hated above all else.

You thought of Bucky and he gave you the strength to stand tall in the face of your abuser.

“Sorry, did you want to dramatically announce that? Go ahead, I’ll even fall to my knees in slow motion when you do.” You quipped with a signature Stark grin.

“Yes, I killed my daughter. I needed the healing mutation she had but she was weak. So I gave Vernichtung to you, your natural mutations and super soldier serum made you strong enough to survive the multiple volatile mutant abilities in your veins.” He explained calmly.

“She wasn’t weak. All those years and she still remembered me! She loved me!” You exclaimed furiously, determined to defend her memory.

“She was a slave to her heart, to her emotions. She wasn’t like me so all she was good for was her DNA. She died to help make you into what you are supposed to be.” He said callously.

“You’re right. You went to a lot of effort, sacrificed so much and for what? You’re an old man who has achieved nothing. I’m never going to destroy the world.” You scoffed.

“But you will. When you let that mutant escape I saw an opportunity. I let you go, let you be free. And I never stopped watching, waiting. You needed to have it all before I could take it from you.” He said, holding up a picture of you and Bucky, the one of you on the balcony.

“That was your master plan? Let me befriend Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and then steal me away from them? They will come for me. Whatever dank hole you have us hiding in, they will find us.” You vowed.

He chuckled and walked over to a button on the wall, pressing it. You winced as the wall in front of your cell rose and the light blasted in. As soon as your eyes adjusted you looked out of the window.

“Motherfucker.” You swore.

This was why nobody had been able to find Docherty, he wasn’t hiding. You were looking at Stark tower, it was a literal stone’s throw away. Three, maybe four blocks at most. He’d been right under your nose the whole time.

“Do you see? You never escaped. You never could.” He told you.

You couldn’t look at him, you turned your back on him as you tried to get your breathing under control. This whole time, he’d been right here. Those first days at the tower, learning to trust Tony... He had been down the street. Every moment you spent at the compound, Docherty was here where he could get to Pepper. You weren’t afraid anymore. Not even close.

You were pissed.

“Are you with me?” You growled.

“I’m always with you.”He answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” You said turning around with a feral smirk.

You raised your hand and blasted the cell door open, sending it spiralling across the room in pieces.

“Vernichtung.” He breathed out reverently.

“Sorry grandpa, it’s still me.”You snarled.

“Impossible.” He gasped.

“No, it’s not. Because all of me hates all of you.”

You stood tall and let the black veins ripple across your skin but your eyes remained clear. You and Vernichtung were united as you advanced on him, ready to tear him apart and put an end to him once and for all. In this, in your hatred of him, you were one with your darker self.

For you, for your mother, for every innocent he had ever hurt... He was going to pay.

“The thing about Vernichtung my dear is it is not a natural mutation.” he snarled and grabbed your wrist.

As soon as he touched you, the veins fled down your skin and onto his hand, rippling up his body.

“It’s a disease. That’s why it turns your blood black.” He said victoriously.

“No!”

You could still feel her in your mind, snapping at the man stealing her power. He convulsed as it overtook him.

“You need the healing mutation to survive it. You’ll be ripped apart.” You warned him.

“Not before I rip apart everyone you love, and then you will have nothing. Then you may have your power back and you will finally be ready to use it.”

“I won’t let you do this.” You said desperately.

He only laughed and you were thrown backwards, the Deathwave being unleashed on you and rupturing you from the inside out.

Your broken body landed in a pool of your own blood and you realised there was nothing you could do, he was going to rip apart New York and with it, everyone you loved.

And then he would get his wish, because you would destroy the world if you lost them.

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

Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn.

The next chapter is the penultimate chapter, the big battle, the explosive finale before the dust settles. So strap in folks, next chapter is going to be long and painful.

Also... Jake Peralta: Cool motive, still murder.

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz@dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx@theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346@jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

#hattersmarvelverse #bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes

210 notes · View notes

gal-liveblogs · 5 years

Text

So we start off Homestuck 2 with a picture of space. Got some green space clouds. So far nothing I would not expect. Though I see there also appears to be a spaceship of some kind, zooming through all this space. Would this be Dirk’s ship?

. . . Yep. That’s defiantly Dirk’s ship. I’m sure Theseus has some really deep, literary meaning, but the reference flies right over my head. As does most of Dirk’s references. He’s too smart for me.

I find it funny that Jake continues the tradition of emblazoning his face on his things. We saw his alt-self of Grandpa Harley doing at all the time. Dirk, of course, has to scribble out the face of his ex.

Dirk. Dirk, are you wearing a villain cape right now? Is that what you’re doing in this moment? Dirk, please.

He is totally wearing a villain cape, complete with tattered edges. He is also wearing a Heart gi, because Dirk is nothing if not anime.

Jesus Christ, I already see the paragraphs of orange under this. You’re gonna make me read all this, aren’t you. Dirk?

Dirk proves to be as verbose as ever.

So did Dirk really write out all his narration on physical pieces of paper and scatter them over his desk? Did he do that just to be Extra, or is that something he has to do as an Author now? Do they only count in the narrative text if they are actual text and not just his own thoughts?

Whatever the case may be, Rose interrupts his soliloquy.

I have it on authority that decanting is sometimes necessary to ensure a wine is at its best. I like to think that the same was ultimately true of her.

Decanting of a person’s soul sounds particularly ominous, thought I can’t express the exact reason why.

ROSEBOT: I just imagined you wearing an apron over your god tier outfit and almost felt my facial fuselage buckle in such a way as to approximate a fleeting smile.

Glad to see being a robot and also assimilating all her possible selves Rose remains a sass queen.

DIRK: Alright we get it you are literally a robot.

DIRK: No need to keep pointing it out every chance you can get. I got enough of this with the Auto Responder.

ROSEBOT: I'm just playing along.

ROSEBOT: One of the fundamentals of bad science fiction is that any artificial beings must make their inorganic nature known at every juncture they can.

DIRK: Do overly precise and completely meaningless statistics that you pull out of your ass on the fly also count?

ROSEBOT: Oh absolutely.

ROSEBOT: That's one of the first things you just sort of spontaneously learn when being booted up.

ROSEBOT: For example, I've calculated that by making these remarks I have raised the base level of amusement in all my conversations by 36%.

DIRK: Well I don't personally find them very funny.

Dirk has some trauma with robots pulling out bullshit statics. Which makes it all the more fascinating he continues to build robots that can have free thought.

Jesus Christ, it wasn’t just the lighting, Dirk’s shades really are orange now. Hussie may not have known about Kamina when he designed Bro, but Dirk always wearing Kamina glasses has just become a part of his character. So much so that they are even colored like Kamina’s instead of black now. I have to wonder, had Kamina not been a character that already existed or if people hadn’t kept pointing out that Dirk/Bro wore shades similar to an anime character, would Dirk be so anime? Is being anime just a character trait that Hussie gave him because of a funny coincidence and he wanted to play up the joke, or was he always intended to be so anime?

Also is that trashcan literally an inferno?

ROSEBOT: I just thought you might like to know that we're getting pretty close to your chosen crash site.

Do they not know how to land the ship? Does the ship not have landing gear? Do they need to crash for narrative reasons and otherwise would be perfectly capable of landing normally? Is Rose just making a joke?

DIRK: Wait, crash site??

Oh, good, Dirk is as confused as I am. So that rules out narrative reasons.

ROSEBOT: A landing gear appears to have fallen just a little outside the realm of vital.

So lacking landing gear it is! God damn it, Jake.

DIRK: (God DAMN it English.)

Ha!

ROSEBOT: Don't be such a chud, Dirk.

I am afraid to ask what a chud is. Is that like a cuck? I don’t know what a cuck is either. I am also afraid to ask what a cuck is.

ROSEBOT: She's functionally mortal, remember?

Yeah, that really sucks that Karkat, Terezi, and Kanaya all lack godtier. Karkat would complain about his lack of flight abilities, but I’m surprised Terezi or Kanaya never brought up this fact. Especially Kanaya, what with her marriage to Rose. Kanaya would eventually grow old and die, leaving Rose to keep on living. Of course, Rosebot has decided to leave her loving wife behind so in this particular case that point doesn’t matter.

DIRK: You mean to say that you don't think we'd be in peril if it came to it?

DIRK: There's nothing about our situation that strikes you as falling within the bounds of precarity, as far as the rules are concerned?

ROSEBOT: Oh. You're right. I suppose I hadn't thought of that.

ROSEBOT: But I think we can remain calm in the knowledge that nothing particularly heroic is going on right now. At least, not that I'm aware of.

DIRK: ... Right.

Not sure if Dirk’s meaning flew over Rose’s head, or if she’s just choosing to ignore the possibility of Just deaths as a joke.

That doesn't mean this (*gestures to the narrative*) isn't still going to be a thing, though.

I don’t know why, but this tickles my funny bone.

All in all I think you'll find, as far as narrators go, I'm an excellent... hm. On second thought, maybe that's a bit of a problematic phrase. Yeah, yikes, that one's got a sordid history. Best we steer clear of it. We're all lucky I'm around to make those kinds of sensitivity judgements on everyone's behalf.

I’m glad you can recognize that Homestuck fans all have a fight or flight response that that memetic phrase, but I don’t appreciate you patting yourself on the back for being sensitive when you, as a narrator, could not use Roxy’s correct pronouns once they came to light.

It's time to get this story back on the rails, back to what it was always supposed to be. I know it, and you've somehow always known it too. There was something else, some other route that Homestuck was meant to take but then didn't, a way that wouldn't've spent so much time dicking around with stuff nobody cares about. Like seriously, why did we all have to sit through talking about everyone's most intimate and private feelings for two hundred thousand fucking words. That would never have happened in Act 1. Where did it all go wrong?

So Dirk’s grand plan is to go back to the asinine tomfoolery of Act 1? To do away with character relations and feelings and have people messing around with their sylladexes? I must say, I never would have expected this from the likes of Dirk. I thought he was all about the complex thought processes and inner turmoil.

Thank you for returning the narration to classic black, Dirk. It’s so much easier on the eyes.

Channelling my full potential as an ascended player of Heart, I expand my consciousness to commune with the boundless force of collective willpower that is the internet.

Wow, who knew Heart players could become the internet. I mean, I guess it makes sense. The internet is just a collection of people, and Heart is all about the soul.

I was really hoping the command box he made would be an actual command box. I missed out on the Homestuck days of old where the command box was a real thing. It would have been fun to be a part of that myself, but I understand the fandom is just too big for that ever to be feasible again. That’s why it was done away with in the first place, and that was when the fandom was smaller.

The writers came up with e good command, though.

Yeah, I have a feeling Dirk is going to decide to ignore this command and stop taking suggestions. Either that, or he’s going to inform us that he is not making Homestuck, he’s making Homestuck 2.

But I should have known better. People think you can run a story like this? This must be just about the stupidest idea anyone has ever come up with. I'll just have to make up the commands myself from here on out. Seemed to work ok for the other guy.

Yep, pretty much what I expected.

Oh Jesus Christ, what even is this room?

O.K., let’s take things from the top. Looks like we got the beta kids’ entry items, as well as their Aspect flags from Prospit and Derse. Why does Dirk have these things? There also appear to be some cruxite dowels next to them, but they are any of the colors we’ve seen before.

WOAH, HOLD UP, Are those Dave’s copies of SBURB? Or are they Bro’s? Clearly Dirk has just collected a bunch of items from various points in Homestuck’s timeline like some sort of museum. For what purpose, though?

Oh my god, there’s a Tab watering can. I assume it was alchemized, since Dirk mentioned earlier using alchemy to make his rad new shades. I wonder why Dirk has that Skaianet poster on his wall. I would have thought he’d want nothing to do with anything Jake had his fingers in. Then again, there also appears to be a kotatsu with Jake’s bedspread in the middle of the room.

I can’t tell what the green thing is next to the mutated kitten. Or what that other green thing next to the robot horse is either.

OH FUCK ME THERE’S A ROBOT CAL IN THE PROCESS OF BEING MADE. DIRK, NO. WHY. YOU HAVE THE NARRATIVE CONTROL NOW, YOU SHOULD KNOW CAL IN ANY FORM IS BAD NEWS.

Is that... Is that an anime body pillow there at the bottom?

I also keep my FLORA OF THE SUCCULENT PERSUASION in here, so's I can keep an eye on them.

Dirk grows succulents... That is not a character trait I expected of him.

> Continue

#homestuck 2 #homestuck 2 liveblog #liveblog #gal liveblogs

2 notes · View notes

fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

Text

@nxbulaholic

This is certainly one of the more unique profiles we’ve ever gotten… I like the flower flourishes, haha. A few things here… I’m not sure who Darcan is? You didn’t really clarify. I googled the name and all I came up with was this Broken–Pieces rp group? Which uses the same flower quirk that you do, so I’m assuming you’re working on a character for that! In fact it seems like you might’ve already submitted her? But that’s fine, we’ll get working.

So the basics of this character are that she’s someone with anger in her heart. She seems guided by intellect, but she’s actually guided by emotions. She’s a conspiracy theorist, dodgy, and involves herself in drama…. Alright, I think I can work with that.

Xamona Orcigo

I’m sure it’s uncomfortable to get a name change suggestion for an established character, but maybe… Ustakl Krygaf.

Ustakl functions as a reference to the Üst akıl (mastermind) conspiracy theory in Turkey, which expresses the belief that some external actor is attempting to systematically weaken and dismantle Turkey, up to implying that ripped jeans were a form of “code talking” and even that the external actor is responsible for the 2017 Turkish earthquake.

Krygaf is a reference to the etymological root of Crytology. It would basically mean Code Creator, which is in a way a reference both to her conspiracy theorist nature And the title I’m going to later recommend for her (because she doesn’t read as a breath player to me).

Age - 8 sweeps

Pronouns - She/Her

Nicknames / Other known Names - Mona

I think this can stay even if you change her name, because- get this- Mona Lisa conspiracy theories? Surprisingly common. And ambiguity is a common theme around the Mona Lisa anyways. Maybe there was a troll Monalisa in the ancient times that is a famous painting today and she’s nicknamed after it because of some of the uncertainty surrounding her and her smile.

Wriggling day - August 13th

Title - Mage of Breath

I want to make the argument that she’s a Sylph of Mind. She passively creates ideas from whole cloth by interpreting information in unique ways. She might be able to inspire action in others through these ideas and threads of logic that she’s creating. The people around her might be pushed to move in certain ways depending on the information she gathers and asserts.

Her inverse would be Prince of Heart, which is also fitting. This inverse implies that she would destroy Through heart as well as destroy heart. She would actively use her emotions as a tool to smash with and would hurt other’s feelings in the process. Destroying all these feelings in the way thus inspires people to act in certain ways or come to certain conclusions, wrapping back around to her passively creating thought.

Discourse also has a bit reputation with Romance Drama so her calling out her exes would be another way of Passively Creating Thought by actively destroying hearts.

Dreamer Class - Prospit

Considering her tendency to close off from others/not let people know her true colors, her involvement in a rebellion, her anger towards purples that presumably stems from her past, and her interest in discourse, I’d say she’s probably actually a derse dreamer!

Symbol -

Libus

~ Sign of the Vibrant

Which means I’ll be changing her sign to Libza, the Acute. I think this is a fitting title for her, because it means shrewd, but also means present in a painful or overbearing amount.

Blood color - Teal

I think she makes a really good teal. I think you should emphasize her ethical center, though!. Does she fundamentally believe people can’t change? If someone was called out 10 years ago will she continue to hold them in exile? Does she value a sense of moral superiority over the basic tenants of kindness and mutual respect? Is she one of those bloggers who is like, a total dick to people for no reason but never gets called out because she’s like, technically got good politics, but GOD she’s a dick?

Alignment - Darcan’s Rebellion

You should definitely elaborate how she found out about him and why she decided to join in your backstory.

Typing Style - all in lowercase and always uses prefered and more obtuse vocabulary, TYPES IN ALL CPAS WHEN PISSED OFF AND MAKES A FUCKTION OF SPELLING MISTAKES

I’m sorry to say that this is kind of an overused quirk by this point, especially for characters with explosive tempers. I think if you want to make a character who co-opts the social justice scene for her own social benefit and to manufacture a feeling of self-worth, you should look at the communities of people online who Really Do That, those people who take the sjw language for themselves and mutate other community’s language and smash both into a condescending bullshit pile.

Example: if you think goldbloods are just purple shills you. are. valid. unu

uhm okay you stupid fuckboy. purplebloods are inherently violent but go off i guess???? unu

OKAY LISTEN UP YOU MOTHERFUCKERS. YOUR HEMOELDER IS GONNA LEARN YOU A THING unu.

Use the ‘unu’ emoji at the end of every sentence and distort actual sj conventional speech as much as you can, basically.

Strife Specibi - taserkind

Edit: I really can’t stop thinking about this so I have to suggest it. You could also possibly have her have teakind as a backup? Like a literal cup of tea. For an “And that’s the tea” joke, of course.

Lusus - Quetza the 31st (a three headed snake lusii)

Honestly can I recommend a two-faced golbat-like lusus?

One of the uhhh bigger names in nasty inconceivable discourse right now has a golbat-themed blog (no namedrops here)- and there’s also the Leelah Alcorn scandal, orchestrated by the now deactivated user, Zubat. Seems like the zubat line is a little cursed by discourse >_>. golbats look like they’re Yelling so it’s great for a character like her who has a tendency to Erupt, and the two-faced nature implies her tendency to not present her True Self immediately.

Ancestor - Contessa Blackfin

I don’t know much about the narrative story you’re going for here, but maybe she could’ve been killed by a purple?

Personality - Xamona could usually be described as the type of person who would try logic and reason instead of violence, it’s actually the other way around when you get to know her. She has a deathly fear of Purplebloods and is basically racist towards that specific caste, she’s quite willing to go to extreme lengths to prove her points and is rather manipulative towards trolls who don’t know her true colors. If anything she could be compared to that of a conspiracy theorist.. or a Tumblr user with an extreme amount of history relating to discourse.

I’m guessing things are more egalitarian between the castes of landdwellers in this au in order for the prejudice narrative to make sense? Because otherwise being wary of a class of people who’ve historically exploited yours and who have powers Specifically meant to keep lowbloods down while inside a totalitarian highbloods nation is kind of good sense. Just a little.

Still though she’s such a dick I love this bad personality. I think she should be the type to hold a grudge and the type who accuses everyone of being out to get her.

Relationships - [TBA]

<strike>Nikalo - Is EXTREMELY suspicious of.</strike>

Strengths -

- Xamona is very agile and could dodge enemy attacks with ease

- Despite her seemingly fragile figure, she could put up quite a fight with those of higher blood than her

Keep in mind that her being a teal is starting to dip into the blueblood range, so she’ll be naturally stronger than Jades and below.

Also, make her someone who’s really good at preparedness. If she’s paranoid, make her someone who’s already ready for an attack. Make her the kind of person that when she walks in a room, she’s already thinking, “Where are all the exits? What can I hide under? What could I use as a weapon?” This helps her avoid situations where she’s backed into a corner- and makes it all the scarier when she IS helpless.

Weaknesses -

- If you get her to talk about her plans, she’ll keep talking and talking..

- If she’s cornered, Xamona will be at her weakest when it comes to fighting back

Backstory - [TBA]

Hmmmmm, maybe you could make her have romance drama with a purple that ended in a little bit of turmoil? Some eye-scarring turmoil?

Quote - “CALL ME A HIPSERT ONE MORE FUCKING TIME.”

Voice -

Mahiru Koizumi

Themesong -

Into the Basement

Design:

There really wasn’t a lot I felt the need to edit. I gave her horns that look more like her new symbol. I know this au isn’t especially concerned with canon compliance, but blind eyes are bright red from what we’ve seen! So I edited it to that. And I moved her symbol and changed it to the new one. We’ve seen that on Alternia, symbols always appear in blood color and never another color, even a neutral one.

I also did a new ref sheet?

Though not much changed there.

Thank you for sharing!

-CD

#nxbulaholic #xamona orcigo #ustakl krygaf #xamona #orcigo #ustakl #krygaf #tealblood #review #redesign #cd review #submission

4 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 7 years

Text

United We Stand (Part 3)

Prompt: This was inspired by 2 imagines! Reader and Raven have a sordid past that Charles is always caught in the middle of.

Pairing: Charles X Reader

Warnings: language, hostility, violence, angst,

Word Count: 2717

Notes: This is based around X-Men Apocalypse. The imagines were combined: Imagine instead of Jean, you went into Charles’s mind to fight Apocalypse for him. “Y/N! Please! I need you!” & Imagine having powers like Scarlet Witch and Charles being VERY interested in them. @marvel-imagines-marvel-fandoms

Also was beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @amarvelouswritings

Part 1

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart wrenched in your chest as the plane smoothly flew forward toward your husband. A million thoughts buzzed in your head. What was this man doing to Charles? Was he even a man? What did we know about him? Could we defeat him? Could we save Charles?

Of course we can, you scolded yourself. Don’t even think like that.

The rest of the flight you had to hear about what a hero Raven was to your kids and it made your stomach turn nauseously. Not only did your husband love her more than you, the children you were helping shape into adults looked up to her too.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you made it to Cairo. The dust cleared and you were flying in, Raven stood as did you, and you saw what was before you. The Earth was swirling around itself so it seemed. This massive pyramid was just before you as Jean spoke up.

“He has the professor in the the center of the pyramid,” she said as her eyes got that distant look. Your mind and heart didn’t know how to react. Was this good that we knew where he was? “He’s going to transfer his consciousness into the professor.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped as you stared at her, your heart breaking. This...This...false god, false demon was going to destroy the man you loved.

“If he does that, he’ll have the power to control every mind in the world,” Jean informed, stressing the urgency. You didn’t need to know anything else. Your insides churned as you thought of this being invading Charles, taking him away from you. He would know every detail of your intimate lives together and destroy the world. This son of a bitch had to be stopped by any means necessary.

“What the hell is that?” Moira asked as the plane rounded the unusual pyramid.

Simultaneously, you and Raven said, “It’s Erik.” You two eyed each other for a moment but at this moment, you realized a pissing contest wasn’t needed.

Raven looked to the fearful faces of the kids and instructed, “You guys help Nightcrawler get inside the pyramid. Get Charles. I’ll take care of Erik.”

“How are you going to get through that?” Hank questioned, eyeing the magnetic field around Erik.

“I can get you in there,” Peter informed as he stood up. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

“The rest of you - get Charles, get him on this plane, and get him out of here,” she firmly commanded.

Kurt spoke up and said, “We’re not leaving here without you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up,” Peter promised, looking back to Raven.

Hank instructed everyone to hold on as he lowered the plane.

“Hank and Y/N, you go with the kids, Moira will be waiting on the plane,” Raven directed as she walked.

“Wait,” Scott started.

“What?” Raven questioned as she turned.

“Not all of us can fully control our powers,” he informed.

“Then don’t,” Raven encouraged. “You need to embrace them. We all do,” she said, changing into her natural blue form. A flicker of hope glimmered inside you as your long forgotten friend appeared and she eyed you for a moment before saying, “All of us.”

Peter took off with Raven as you, Hank, Scott, Jean, and Kurt all went to examine an entrance.

“There’s an entrance, it’s clear,” Hank stated as all eyes went to it.

A man with wings suddenly emerged from the dark clouds and headed straight toward all of you.

“Kurt, get in there!” Hank commanded roughly and the boy obliged by teleporting away.

You wanted so badly to go with Kurt, but you knew you would do him no good, you’d merely slow him down. The flying man launched his metal feathers at you but Jean held up debris to block it. A swell of pride formed inside you.

“In the pyramid, move!” Hank said.

“Go, go!” you instructed. You all began to run towards it until a girl landed in front of you, causing a dust storm to form around you. She kicked up a car and flung it toward the group, Hank catching it and flinging it back at the girl, until another mutant came in and sliced it in half. The storm girl cast lightning at the team, splitting everyone up. The girl with the pink mutation, able to manifest any tool she wanted, went after Hank. You figured your best bet was to go after the Storm girl. You cast your magic at her but she dodged it and shot lightning at your feet, knocking you back.

Hank was getting thrown around and you weren’t sure if Jean and Scott were okay, not to mention you had no idea how Charles was doing. Your mind was a wreck and although you knew it would disappoint Charles, you knew in your state that controlling your powers was going to be a hard task.

Suddenly, the red beams from Scott shot out at the storm mutant but they missed her.

Jean suddenly invaded everyone’s mind on the team as she said, “We’re losing him!”

“No!” you screamed as you tried to run toward the pink mutant. Right as you were about to reach her, Kurt grabbed you and you teleported into the plane with Charles.

“Charles! Charles!” you cried, tears instantly in your eyes as you and Jean leaned over him. Jean was doctoring a deep gash on the side of his head and he’d lost all of his hair. What had that fucking monster done to him? The darkness began to take over again. He wasn’t waking up and you and Jean exchanged a look of concern.

Moira got the plane off the ground but suddenly a noise came from on top of the plane and she asked, “What the hell was that?”

A moment later, that pink sword penetrated the roof in the back.

“Kurt!” Jean glanced around. “Everyone grab ahold of Nightcrawler!”

“I’ve never done it with this many people!”

Jean calmly instructed, “Get us out of here.”

Everyone grabbed onto him and you made sure to grab Charles arm as you looked into Kurt’s eyes and he attempted to teleport out but he kept losing strength. Jean pushed the plane forward and the two mutants fell back.

“Kurt, come on, you can do this. I know you can,” you said encouragingly, trying to harness the calming, supportive aura that your husband always seemed to have even in times of great stress.

“Kurt, hurry!” Jean begged. Finally, in an instant, you were all teleported to a room below as the plane crashed.

“Is he okay?” Scott asked as you crowded around him.

“It’s his energy, he’s drained.”

“He can make it, he’s made it through worse,” you vowed, recalling time and time again how Charles amazed you. You had to hold onto hope right now, even though deep in your core, you were screaming with fear, you knew you had to be strong for you and Charles.

“No, get out, get out! GET OUT!” Charles shouted as he writhed on the floor.

You held him in your arms as you shushed him.

“Charles, darling, Charles. Shh, you’re okay! You’re okay! You’re with me and the kids!” you informed. He woke up and looked at you longingly and held onto your arms.

You helped him get more comfortable as his attention was alerted and then Apocalypse suddenly called out, “Charles! Show yourself. Charles!”

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” you commanded, your hands on the side of his face. “Don’t give into him.”

“Peter?” Charles said, his face pinching up.

“Peter? What’s wrong with Peter?” you questioned, although you could hear his screams. It tore you apart to hear them, but until you had a plan, going out there was suicide…

“Raven?” Charles gasped and your heart imploded. You knew when it came to her, he would lose his wits about him. Whatever was happening to her, he would surely try to stop it.

“What do we do?” you asked, looking to your husband for guidance.

“I don’t know,” he quietly said, shaking his head as tears formed in his eyes.

“We have to think of something,” you said.

“I don’t know!” he shouted, his pained blue eyes on yours, searching for any idea as to what to do.

After a moment, you said, “I do.”

Charles and the team watched you get up and start to walk out. Most of them asking where you were going and what you were going to do, but you knew if you told them they’d either stop you or join you.

“Stay here. No matter what you here, stay here,” you commanded, pointing your finger down to the floor as you mainly looked to Jean, the strongest of the group. You knew she would obey you and you knew she would make sure the others did the same. You snuck out of the house in the back, and stealthy came around the corner of the house.

“Hey, you giant blue dick, pick on someone your own size!” you screamed from behind Apocalypse. This man fucked with the wrong family. That’s all he was - a man. A man with a fucked up god complex.

He turned to you and laughed.

“You think you can defeat me?” he asked, still holding Raven in the air. He stared at you as he called to your husband. “Charles! Come, rescue your weakling.”

You knew these words would kill your husband, but you fought all of that back.

“Let her go. Now!” You reeled your arms back then thrusted them, your red magic flowing from your fingertips. It blasted him hard enough to drop Raven where she scurried away, which was all you needed. You knew facing Apocalypse alone was rather stupid, but you knew it would kill Charles more if he lost Raven.

“Foolish child,” he cooed as he stepped forward and assaulted you with an amalgamation of powers he collected over the years. Trying, you fought back, but he was too strong. He had powers of the storm girl, of telekinesis, of telepathy, of every power you had encountered, except yours. Combining a myriad of powers overcompensated yours. Eventually, you were on your knees before him, as he continued to advance, his onslaught not stopping, your energy waning as you grit your teeth. He finally reached you and hit you so hard with his bare fist, you collapsed on the ground, seeing nothing but light. Yet, before he could hit you again, he stopped, his eyes rolling back in his head. At that moment, Raven ran up and picked you up and draped your arm over her shoulders.

Laughing weakly, you said, “I thought you hated me.”

“Yeah, well Charles needs you right now, we all do. So come on.”

The distraction was enough to get back inside the room where Charles was lying down, serene.

“What’s he doing?” you questioned calmly as you raced to his side and knelt.

“He said he was still connected? He said he could get inside his head,” Jean informed, her eyebrows scrunching together as she looked at you. Realizing what he was doing, he was getting inside his head, making him weak, trying to destroy him from the inside out. You gripped his hand and stroked his face.

“Come on, my love,” you encouraged sweetly as a tear fell from your bruised and battered face.

His face changed from serenity to pain and your chest tightened. The front of the building was being fizzled away by Apocalypse as he gazed in at you all, exposed, vulnerable. Advancing on you, his sights set, two large metal beams came down in front of the building, thrust there by Erik. Finally, he came through, you sighed internally.

“You betrayed me,” Apocalypse said as he turned to face him.

“No, I betrayed them,” Erik admitted. He picked up every metal object he could and flung it at him, but it wasn’t enough, he deflected it with a forcefield.

Hank turned to Scott and offered, “Let’s jump.” With that, they jumped out and Scott attempted to cast his beams at Apocalypse.

The team was ganging up on him but it just seemed to make him angrier.

Charles choked out, “Y/N.” He gasped some more, then said, “Help me.”

Understanding washed through you as you realized you needed to get inside his head. You’d never invaded his mind before, you’d hardly ever done it except once or twice on accident. You and Charles thought it was a fluke thing, but you realized now was as good a time as any to see if it would work.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on nothing but Charles. You blocked out the sounds of war going outside and found yourself that sweet spot between rage and serenity. Suddenly, you were there with Charles, in his mind as he was fighting Apocalypse back home, in the underground corridor where he kept Cerebro.

“Y/N,” Charles called out, rasping your name as he reached towards you, his face bloodied and cut. You were trying so hard to get to him, but your ability was to observe a mind, not manipulate it. “Help...me,” he pleaded before Apocalypse slammed his massive fist into his body.

“No!” you screamed but neither one heard. Your rage, your darkness, your power was beginning to build, grow, and spread like an inferno.

“It’s over, Charles, you’re finished,” Apocalypse cooed eerily as his fist settled on his body. “You’re mine now.”

Struggling, Charles responded, “You will never win.”

“And why’s that?” he urged, amused.

“Because you are alone. And I. Am. Not,” he said defiantly as he felt you break through the barrier of their minds and enter it completely.

“Let go. Unleash your power, Y/N,” Charles instructed. He knew this was difficult for you as you had let your powers go once or twice before and people always got hurt. “No fear.”

Standing up, you began walking toward the edge of the room, close to the opening of the building, Apocalypse ready to meet your attack. So focused, so driven, so filled with concentration, rage, hate, anger, but mostly love. Love for the man behind you, love for the children risking their lives for the world, love for even Erik and Raven who were risking their lives too, to save Charles.

The concentration walked you straight off of the floor and into the air, where your powers held you.

‘Unleash your power! Let go, Y/N! Y/N, let go!” he asserted as he yelled inside your mind and like a nuclear bomb exploding, you did. All fear, all inhibition, all worry, drifted away as you knew your friends, your family, and the world needed you. The power, the darkness, it took over.

Your hex orbs and chaos magic and red energy ignited around you and snaked down to the man below you, blowing off part of his outfit. The red blast on a magnitude so great, it stopped the blue fiend in his tracks as he yelled. Good. You wanted him to yell. You wanted him to scream for mercy just so you could have the pleasure of denying him that. Screaming as your energy exulted from your form, your hair whipping in the wind around you, you blasted all of your concentration at him.

Piece by piece he was being torn away and Erik thrust piece after piece into his body of metal and Scott shot his beams, but Apocalypse caught a second wind and started to shield up, until the storm girl intervened. With one final push, you thrusted at him, the team of mutants giving their all, he cried out as he was disintegrated. You backed into the room and checked on Charles.

Moira was trying to resuscitate him as you collapsed on your knees next to him.

“Whats wrong?” you demanded, panicked.

“We’ve lost him,” she said as she looked at you, her apology in her face.

“No! No! That’s impossible, I was just in his head!” you objected, staring at your battered husband. She was lying. He couldn’t be gone.

You leaned down and kissed him and he kissed back, mumbling, “Thank you, Y/N.”

#united we stand #charles xavier #charles xavier fic #charles xavier x reader #xavier x reader #xavier #xavier fic #x-men #x-men fic #mystique #raven #erik lensherr #jean grey #scott summers #magneto #quicksilver

71 notes · View notes

epic-games-official · 7 years

Note

Thanks for answering my ask about biological sex. I saw an intersex person's post earlier she said intersex ppl don't have different chromosomes than X or Y or different gametes than ovum or sperm so like that makes sense too I guess I don't understand why bio sex is now fake instead of just complicated??? sex=/=gender why does this matter to being trans we're trans we're not intersex

Yea, I’m happy to give a detailed explanation of this.

There is an estimate that about 1.7% of the population is intersex. However, a very large portion of that number (1.5/1.7 = 88%) is from a condition called “late-onset congenital adrenal hyperplasia,” which involves a mutation on one of the chromosomes (not X or Y, can’t remember which but I think it was 12 or 5?) that causes issues with translation of the enzyme 21-hydroxylase. (look at this pic) Because of the lower concentration of the enzyme in the adrenal glands, the reactant 17 alpha hydroxyprogesterone builds up, which inevitably goes along a different pathway to become testosterone. In the end, the person has an excess of androgens. In the early-onset cases, this happened extensively during prenatal development, and the baby often has ambiguous genitalia, as well as severe health problems related to salt wasting. In the late-onset case, the child will just go through puberty a little earlier (beginning to grow hair around 7 or 8 years old) and be hairier and shorter. In boys they might also have a bigger dick. In girls, about 10% will be infertile.

So essentially, the idea that “most intersex people don’t have different X or Y chromosomes” come from the inclusion of LOCAH in that statistic, where they make up 88% of the statistic. Yet, hardly anyone would ever consider LOCAH to be a form of intersexuality, except perhaps in the 5% of cases where it caused infertility. Otherwise it just seems like genetic variation in the population.

There are other forms of intersexuality that are caused by things other than different combinations of X or Y chromosomes, so I’m glad this is brought up. It’s actually sometimes argued that scientists shot themselves in the foot a bit by naming those chromosomes differently and calling them the “sex chromosomes.” In reality, those two chromosomes mostly code for biological sex, but they are not solely responsible. I’ve explained above how another chromosome codes for an enzyme responsible for conversion between hormones in the body. There are more of those, and there is a handful of forms of intersexuality with similar causes.

On the topic of “what is biological sex?” I’ll repeat what I said in that answer - there isn’t really a clear, single, satisfying definition, just the same as there is still no clear definition of “life.” The current definition of “life” has many flaws to it, and is still highly disputed. Same goes for sex.

Most sexually dimorphic traits exist along a bimodal distribution, like so:

Where on the left, you have most men falling within some range, on the right, you have most women falling within some range. But of course, you do have some women on the left and some men on the right. This is true for height, voice, etc.

This is even true for genitalia! That’s precisely what is meant when people say “ambiguous genitalia.”

Here is something called the Prader Scale, which shows you the degree of virilization that an XX female can have on her genitalia. At some point, she will basically have a non-functioning penis.

Here we have a case of a woman with predominantly XY genes in her body being able to give birth. What this should demonstrate is how it is not always going to be straightforward that XX will allow for typical female fertility and XY for typical male.

Also, I really disagree with the line of reasoning some people use, that because these are rare cases they don’t count. Sure, you can have a model that works 99% of the time. But if it doesn’t work 100% of the time, it isn’t a completely accurate description of reality; it’s just an approximate model. This is fine for the Layman discussing these things, but it isn’t for the scientist who is trying to be precise. For scientists, these exceptions disprove the rule.

So what I think makes sense is the following:

* You can define a binary in terms of gamete production and fertility for the sake of reproductive models. These models certainly have their uses in some fields of science.

* However, when describing the biophysical reality of sexual development, it benefits you to take a systems biology approach. This means considering sex to be the combination of multiple factors - genes, what hormones are present & at what ages, what hormonal receptors are present (does the person have an insensitivity?), has the person had anything done to artificially change aspects of their sex, such as SRS or HRT?, etc.

What the latter description means for trans people is that it’s impossible with current medical science to change your sex completely from one end of the spectrum to the other, but it is possible to medically induce androgyny. The silver lining is that one can do this in such a way that socially they appear to be completely on the other end of things, so they “pass” and everyone can just think of them as being that gender for simplicity’s sake.

So tl;dr I agree with you that sex is just more complicated, but not non-existent. Although I think “sex does not exist” or “sex is a social construct” is a linguistically messy way of attempting to say the same thing (that it’s more complicated). So I think the issue is more that they are trying to say something but they aren’t phrasing it correctly, which demonstrates a lack of clear understanding of the topic. You aren’t wrong for criticizing this.

Lastly, on that point “sex =/= gender,” I want to just say that the word “gender” is really ill-defined. Before the 1950′s, it was used exclusively for nouns in foreign languages. In the 50′s, sexologist John Money began using it to mean.. well, a weird mixture of ‘gender identity’ and ‘gender roles’ (he didn’t separate them well, because, y’know, 50′s values). Over time the word took on multiple adaptations within academia.

Feminists use it to mean ‘gender roles/expression,’ hence Judith Butler’s idea that “gender is socially constructed.” If you read on that idea, the discussion pretty much always surrounds nature vs nurture of gender roles.

Psychologists and trans activists use the word ‘gender’ to mean ‘gender identity.’

Biologists and, to be honest, most of society use the word to be synonymous with ‘sex.’ This is pretty much why trans people so often get obnoxious responses to saying like, them: “I’m female to male transgender, my gender is male” response: “But you have a vagina!!!1″ The person responding obviously defines the word to mean ‘sex’ (because that is how it was used in the middle & high school biology classrooms!).

tl;dr All around there’s a lot of confusion and everything is a mess. 8)

#long post #Anonymous

12 notes · View notes

goldengun13 · 6 years

Text

The NHM-iverse

This is, essentially, an excerpt of the history of BHDN - a little series of anecdotes regarding my involvement with Kyo and his creation of the NHM series of hacks. My involvement was fairly minor, so don’t think I’m trying to take credit for his masterpiece; however, it has been one of the most interesting episodes in my time with BHDN.

It all started very close to the beginning, on the original Bad Hacks Dot Net around 2008 or so. The site’s original owner (name redacted), who had seen many an offensive hack, was completely blown away by the content of NHMFTDN. The original hack was of the Super Mario Bros 1 & Duck Hunt ROM, so finding a file to patch the .ips to was a little bit of a hassle, but completely worth it.

I was a big fan of the original hack when it came out. Expressing my awe, I ended up emailing Kyo directly. He turned out to be the coolest, most easy-going guy, in stark contrast to the contents of the hack. That’s something that I would come to find out more and more as I spent time on BHDN - that the hackers themselves would always have personalities at direct odds with the bizarre or offensive nature of their hacks.

It was around this time that Kyo revealed that he was working on a new hack, a sequel to NHM, based on Super Mario Bros 2. He was looking for playtesters at the time, and offered to send me the beta ROM to try out. I leapt at the chance to try out the latest game before release, and I ended up playing more of it than I ever had of SMB2.

I gave Kyo some feedback on the hack, as well as some questions about the characters. I suggested that the weird, robot-looking outline character be given some sort of contrasting color, as the outline was hard to see when in the mirror-verse areas of the game. Kyo told me that this character was actually “Crazy Grama,” a character he’d created in childhood who existed in a world of incredibly violent kids’ doodles, killing nazis and terrorists with thanks and planes and machine guns.

For my efforts, Kyo immortalized me by adding several hidden “golden guns” throughout NHM2. The easiest one to see is hidden in the curtain on the character select screen.

This was the beginning of a long-lasting friendship that continues to this day. Kyo has released plenty more hacks since then; and while I haven’t always had a chance to do any play testing, I’ve continued to offer my support never I can.

Now, after NHMFTDN2, Kyo began plans for the third installment of the series. Knowing Kyo, he had to chose something big. Instead of the logical choice of hacking SMB3, or even SMW, Kyo jumped two consoles forward and proclaimed that he would be hacking SMB64! This was an incredible thing to hear, since up until that point anything but NES or SNES hacking was virtually unheard of. But, true to his word, Kyo began to produce a few alpha builds here and there. I can’t even remember how many builds he created, then started fresh from scratch (mostly due to hard drive or computer failures), but it was at least two or three.

In this interim time, roughly between 2010 and 2013, I began to discus the NHM-verse with Kyo: Who were the major players, and what were their motivations? What would the plot of NHM64 be? Who was the villain? He offered me a few tantalizing details, essentially all he had come up with at that point. I offered to write some ideas for him, to which he happily accepted.

I began to brainstorm answers to the biggest questions I had about the NHM series. Who were the Dick Nazis? Where did the come from? What was their motivation to conquer new worlds? Who was their leader, after HD was kicked out? I began to sketch a rough outline of ideas. The Dick Nazis were actual nazis who escaped from Earth in 1945 shortly before the defeat of the Third Reich by use of advanced, experimental portal technology. Hitler’s Dick himself was to be an actual clone of the real Adolf Hitler - albeit an imperfect one. My central character who helped pull all of this together was Ilsa Analverker - a female nazi scientist who created the Hitler clone and who designed the portal technology.

I was inspired by old exploitation movies like “Ilsa: She Wolf of the SS,” as well as the crazed nazi experiments in the PS2 game Bloodrayne. I’d read several articles about German “wunderwaffe,” experimental wonder weapons that were supposed to turn the tide of war in their favor; this also inspired some of my ideas for nazi tech and experiments. I wrote Ilsa as being pragmatic, resourceful, dedicated, and utterly bloodthirsty when needed.

The idea for the Hitler clone was based around the old song “Hitler Has Only Got One Ball,” a British WWII song created to make fun of the nazis. But, in doing further digging, I found that it was actually quite plausible that Hitler really did have only one testicle, following a groin injury he sustained during the Battle of the Somme in the Great War. Indeed, the Soviet autopsy of der Fuehrer’s remains could only find one testicle! This gave me the idea that Ilsa would mound a state-sanctioned expedition to France in 1941 to recover the missing gonad, in hopes of using it for a cloning project. After all, Hitler was surely paranoid about attempts on his life, so having a biological clone would give some extra life insurance to both him and the Reich. (Reichinsurance?)

The idea was that, much like some modern cloning techniques where a single cell from an organ can be used to grow a whole replacement organ, Hitler’s missing gonad could be used to grow an entire replacement Hitler. An outlandish idea to be sure, but the nazis were crazy for outlandish ideas. Searches for ancient artifacts of power really did occur, and they even enlisted the help of occult masters and alchemists to try to bolster their empire. So, in my concept, Ilsa would recover Hitler’s missing testicle (remarkably intact after over 20 years) and use it to attempt to grow a second Fuehrer. However, being the first human clone, there were some... side effects. The genitalia were a perfect clone, but the body itself... instead of being a human form, it more closely resembled humanoid genitalia with a face. Oops...

It was around this point in the backstory concept that the Germans started to lose the war. Fearing the worst, the real Fuhrer ordered Ilsa’s military and scientific force, dubbed the “Hodeninvasion” (rough German for “testicle invasion force) to mobilize to safety. Ilsa’s side project, a long-range portal, was activated, and the Hodenvasion forces fled to a world on a far side of the universe.

Don’t think that I forgot to add any intrigue or dark moments to the story. I came up with the idea that Analverker became strangely attracted to the Hitler clone, to the point that they were romantically involved. I suppose that devotion to one’s Fuehrer knows no limit. Based on real life-cases of German use of slave labor, I figured that the Hodenvasion base and portal would have been built by concentration camp laborers in deplorable conditions.

As for what would eventually become the Dick Nazi homeworld, I had the idea that portal scouts had somehow found an exact duplicate of Earth somewhere else in the universe. The same continents, maybe even the same vegetation and animals, but not humans for whatever reason. This would surely be the best option for escaping nazis to flee to - even better than Argentina!

But of course, a new world needs buildings, infrastructure, and all the benefits of a civilization in the midst of the industrial revolution. While all the scientists can bring plans and designs and schematics for factories and buildings, you need labor to actually create all those things. So, as you could imagine, the Hodenvasion/ Dick Nazis conscript Jewish concentration camp prisoners to build their new empire on the other side of the portal. As awful as this would be, I intended it to have quite a bit of irony: Even in their new “aryan” paradise, they could not be free of those they considered to be “untermench.”

Now, as for how the human Hodenvasion became dick nazis, I didn’t have anything that clear, but part of it all came back to Ilsa. Being a scientist, I figured she’d have a bit of the Mengele in her, creating biological monstrosities in the pursuit of perfection. The portal tech itself could have a bad effect, resulting in mutations. And the new Earth could also have some detrimental effect to human life. But, I think that perhaps the best idea I had was that the degeneration of the Dick Nazis/ Hodenvasion was self-inflicted. That their lives became hedonistic, depraved, and inhuman, and that this lifestyle manifested itself physically like a role-reversed Portrait of Dorian Grey.

There’s more to the story than just that, but this post has already gone on for way longer than I thought it would. I’ll continue these tales next time!

#bhdn #goldengun #golden gun #Kyo #Kyoverse #nhm #nhmftdn #NHMFTDN2 #Badhacks #badhacksdotnet #Naked Headless Mario #dick nazis

0 notes