#ohne moral
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Pervers versauten drexxxSSkin immer noch die Suche richtige und total verdorbene SSkinbruder treffen für kameraatshaften
#cruise#outdoors#skins uk#drecksau#aids#seuche#tabulose#ohne moral#cruel condom#anon fick#abhängigkeit#k9fucker#besame#skinhaed#verdorben#outcast#pds#dad son#discipline#incestuous#parkplätze#punk rock#junge teenager#heavy metal#hohe viral last#hep c#gonorrhea#sifilis#gaycest
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I like to imagine an au where the Spot takes pride of "creating" his Spider-Man (after he and Miles settle their differences much earlier and then team up to be the odd tag duo) so when both of them met Miguel at Spider Society and the movie events plays out (Man out for Miles because he doesn’t know what will happen), only for the Jonathan to become Miles Morales's most dangerous ally when his "greatest creation" is a mistake in O’Hara’s eyes
#spider-man: across the spider-verse#across the spider-verse fanart#miles morales#spider-verse#spider-verse au#jonathan ohn#the spot#atsv#atsv the spot
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mixing portal and spiderverse bc nobody will stop me
#this au makes no sense i just wanted to draw liv as glados#mixing my wives#spiderman: across the spiderverse#spiderman: into the spiderverse#satsv#atsv#olivia octavius#dock ock#johnathan ohnn#the spot#dockspot#is that their shipname#??#dock ock x the spot#help#olivia octavius x jonathan ohn#someone help me out#miles morales#spiderman#portal#portal 2#dani doodles
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What are Pearl's relationships with the main ATSV cast like ?
I'm not quite sure yet, but I can give you a general idea for some of them!!
Miguel O'Hara: She... doesn't like him very much. She knows how volatile he can be, and that scares her a LOT. She'd rather stay away from him, if possible.
Miles Morales: She's not super close to him, but she thinks he's really cool!! Pearl understands Miles' situation, and really relates with what he's going through. They might get closer later, but I'm not sure yet.
Gwen Stacy: I'm not really sure about Gwen yet. They might get along, but if Pearl knew how Gwen lied to Miles, she might think very differently of her. I will say, though, she may not get to know Gwen or Miles to that extent.
Hobie Brown: I'd like to think that Hobie has Pearl's back in the same way he had Miles' back. They're buddies :)
Pavitr Prabhakar: I think they'd get along pretty well! Because of Pavitr's personality, I think she would really enjoy being around him and getting to know him.
Peter B. Parker: I haven't really given much thought to their relationship, but he might be like a mentor figure for Pearl? I'm not really sure, though.
I'd mention The Spot, but Pearl has a close relationship with The Spot of her universe, not Miles' universe. The two are very similar, though!
My main focus for Pearl's story doesn't get into too much of the main cast, but it does get into Pearl's relationship with her universe's Jonathon Ohnn/Spot, which I'm very excited to explore!!
#miguel o'hara#miles morales#gwen stacy#hobie brown#peter b parker#the spot#jonathan ohn#atsv#spider man: across the spider verse#spidersona#pavitr prabhakar
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die misere der bürgerlichen demokratie in deutschland, s. 17-46.pdf
auf dem weg zu einer autoritären gesellschaft, s. 57-77.pdf
#oskar negt#keine demokratie ohne sozialismus#über den zusammenhang von politik geschichte und moral#edition suhrkamp#812#suhrkamp#1977#die misere der bürgerlichen demokratie#auf dem weg zu einer autoritären gesellschaft#über die probleme in ostdeutschland#sozialismus=sozialismus
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Spiderman: Into the Avatarverse (aka what elements the Spiderverse characters would be in ATLA)
Miles Morales: Firebender (specialty: lightning)
Gwen Stacy: Waterbender
Hobie Brown: Firebender (specialty: lightning)
Pavitr Prabhakar: Airbender
Peter B Parker: Waterbender
Mayday Parker: Firebender
Miguel O’Hara: Firebender
Lyla: Airbender
Jessica Drew: Earthbender (specialty: metalbending)
Ben Reilly: Firebender
Margo Kess: Airbender
Peni Parker: Earthbender (specialty: metalbending)
Spider Noir: Waterbender
Spider Ham: Airbender
Ganke Lee: Nonbender (Earth descent)
Gayatri Singh: Nonbender (Earth descent)
Gabriella O’Hara (alt): Nonbender (Fire descent)
Mary Jane Watson: Nonbender (Fire descent)
Jefferson Davis: Nonbender (Fire descent)
Rio Morales: Nonbender (Water descent)
Aaron Davis: Nonbender (Fire descent)
Miles G Morales: Nonbender (Fire and Water descent)
Jonathan Ohns/The Spot: nonbender (Earth descent and wants to master all 4 elements)
#miles morales#gwen stacy#hobie brown#pavitr prabhakar#across the spiderverse#spiderverse#atla#peter b parker#mayday parker#miguel o'hara#lyla#jessica drew#ben reilly#margo kess#peni parker#spider noir#spider ham#ganke lee#gayatri singh#gabriella o’hara#mj watson#jefferson davis#rio morales#aaron davis#miles g morales#johnathan ohnn#the spot
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The write-out to lyrics i said i'll do
Worte, die mich stachen,
(Words that stabbed me)
- Lamb being degraded as they're prepared as sacrifice
werden dann zu jenem Blut, das auf meinem Weiß dann ruht
(will then turn into the blood that rests on my white)
- Lamb covered in blood after striking down heretics or a bishop
Hey, weißt du noch, wie's sich anfühlt,
(Hey, do you still remember how it feels like)
- Lamb sitting in the Gateway, in the hand of a still chained Narinder, seeming not as cheerful but more thoughtful
das Gefühl sich was zu nehm, um’s zu geben anderswem?
(the feeling to take something to give it to someone else?)
- Lamb looking at Narinders face, momentarily pictures from harvesting bones from both crusades and dead followers before it fades to black
Doch, doch, doch, doch wird es wässrig
(But, But, But, But it'll get watery)
- Each "But" is a flash of Lamb's life, turning from a sacrifice to a leader, the last bit is them entering their cult
Und auch wenn ich es kau kommt der Geschmack nich
(and even if i chew the taste won't come)
- Lamb going into the Temple
Ist es nutzlos, interessiert’s nicht
(is it usless, it's not of interest)
- pride sin ritual
Dies und das ist doch vollkomm nutzlos, ohne Sinn bloß
(This and that is utterly usless, without reason)
- Some followers express their concern with the ritual
Denn ob Ja ob nein gar, am End da, zählt nur wie du es sagst
(because if yes or no, in the end it only counts how you say it)
- Lamb seems a bit taken a back at first before smiling and reassuring them
Throw Down
- Lambs smile in the cult turns into a rather uneasy expression in the Gateway
Kein Jemand ist wem anders gleich
(No one is the same as the other)
- Lamb in the Gateway, telling Narinder about the cult when Narinder tried to ease their worries amd guilt
Auch sein Wert kann nie der eines Andren sein
(and their worth can never be the same as another's)
- the lamb makes a motion as if to hold something that's steadily getting bigger
Throw Down
- segway back into the cult
Vergleichend welchen Wert was hält
(Comparing which has what worth)
- Lamb looking at a damned follower overtaken by sin, other followers are horrified and some even injured
und dies entscheidend dann, stech ich die Verzweiflung in den Tod
(and with that decision i'll stab the despair to death)
- Lamb gets this shadow over their eyes as they kill the damned follower
Es gibt sicher ganz genau so viele Wahrheiten wie’s Leben gibt
(Surely there's as many truths as are there lifes)
- Lamb in the gateway, showing and overlooking their cult from a perfectly created illusion of it Narinder holds in his hands
Nun beginnt das Ende auch schon, ist es fertig, werd auch ich erlöst, nicht wahr?
(Now the end finally begins, is it finished i'll gain salvation, won't i?)
- Lamb looks up at Narinder and smiles painfully
Nun schließ deine Augen ohne Hast,
(Now close your eyes without haste)
- Narinder pets Lambs head in a comforting manner as good as he can
dann sieh dort vor dir deine Last
(and picture your baggage)
- Lamb hugs one of Narinders fingers tightly for comfort
und wünsche dir ein Selbst, das um zu helfen existiert
(and wish for a self that exists to help)
- Narinder comforting Lamb fades to Lamb back in the cult, looking back at the entrance
Egal, denn wer immer kommen mag, den gleichen Ausdruck ich immer trag
(No matter who keeps coming, i'll wear ever the same expression)
- Followers come to greet Lamb, Lamb smiles at them
Und grade weil ich’s nicht versteh hab ich auch keine Angst, so kommt’s mir vor
(And exactly because i don't understand i'm not scared, it seems to me)
- Lamb looking back at the door that in the end leads to Narinder
Throw Down
- Lamb killing Leshy
Moral ist doch nur Illusion
(Moral is just an illusion)
- Lamb wipes blood off their face back to after they killed the damned follower
Und selbst wenn das Morgen kommt, die Sünde bleibt
(and even if tomorrow comes, the sin remains)
- Lamb carries the body away with a heavy heart
Throw Down
- Lamb killing Heket, the view a bit more distorted
Wenn solch Gefühle, kalt und fahl,
(If such feelings, cold and muted)
- Lamb is inside the Temple, looking outside a window watching the cult with an empty look
in mir verbleiben gar, ob ich so dann wirklich sterben kann
(stay within me, if i can really die then)
- Lamb looking at their hands and clean clenching them into a fist
Throw Down
- Lamb killing Kallimar, even more distorted
Das Jemanden von Jemandem kombinieren
(combining the someone from someone)
- Lamb is harvesting bones from the dead, damned follower
Ist das, was dich am Leben hält
(is what keeps you alive)
- resurection ritual
Throw Down
- Lamb killing Shamura, very distorted
Die Einladung verbindlich ist
(The invitation being binding)
- Lamb extends their hand with a friendly to indoctrinate someone they found
und drum betrüg ich sie indem ich mit Hoffnung sie ersetz
(and that's why i betray them by replacing it with hope)
- Lamb smiles at the new follower the new follower as they lead them in the Temple where they get sacrificed
Throw Down
- Lamb enters gateway for the finale
Genug jetzt ist genug,
(Enough it's enough now)
- Narinder demands for the crown
denn loslassen kann ich nicht
(because i can't let go)
- Lamb holds the crown ans tenses up, their eyes turning red
Darum vergib mir bitte nicht
(So please don't forgive me)
- Lamb has tears in their eyes as they smile at Narinder, the crown turning into a sword
Und deshalb wünsch ich das End herbei für mich
(And that's why i wish for my end)
- Lamb gets in battle with Narinder
Throw Down
- Lamb lets themself be killed by Narinder, smile as they die, as the music fades out they close their eyes before as fades to black
Throwdown by Deco*27 & Rockwell (MILGRAM)
German Translyrics by Lolina
German ver
Original
#this is verse 1 skipped#bc i didnt know what to do with it lmao#cotl#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#angst#cult of the lamb
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My political ideal is democracy. Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the recipient of excessive admiration and reverence from my fellow-beings, through no fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire, unattainable for many, to understand the few ideas to which I have with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware that for any organization to reach its goals, one man must do the thinking and directing and generally bear the responsibility. But the led must not be coerced, they must be able to choose their leader. In my opinion, an autocratic system of coercion soon degenerates; force attracts men of low morality... The really valuable thing in the pageant of human life seems to me not the political state, but the creative, sentient individual, the personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.
Mein politisches Ideal ist das demokratische. Jeder soll als Person respektiert und keiner vergöttert sein. Eine Ironie des Schicksals, daß die andern Menschen mir selbst viel zu viel Bewunderung und Verehrung entgegengebracht haben, ohne meine Schuld und ohne mein Verdienst. Es mag wohl von dem für viele unerfüllbaren Wunsch herrühren, die paar Gedanken zu verstehen, die ich mit meinen schwachen Kräften in unablässigem Ringen gefunden habe. Ich weiß zwar sehr wohl, daß es zur Erreichung jedes organisatorischen Zieles nötig ist, daß einer denke, anordne und im Großen die Verantwortung trage. Aber die Geführten sollen nicht gezwungen sein, sondern den Führer wählen können. Ein autokratisches System des Zwanges degeneriert nach meiner Überzeugung in kurzer Zeit. Denn Gewalt zieht stets moralisch Minderwertige an, und es ist nach meiner Überzeugung Gesetz, daß geniale Tyrannen Schurken als Nachfolger haben… Als das eigentlich Wertvolle im menschlichen Getriebe empfinde ich nicht den Staat, sondern das schöpferische und fühlende Individuum, die Persönlichkeit: sie allein schafft das Edle und Sublime, während die Herde als solche stumpf im Denken und stumpf im Fühlen bleibt.
—Albert Einstein, Mein Weltbild (1934)
[Robert Scott Horton]
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Der tugendhafte Hund
Ein Pudel, der mit gutem Fug
Den schönen Namen Brutus trug,
War vielberühmt im ganzen Land
Ob seiner Tugend und seinem Verstand.
Er war ein Muster der Sittlichkeit,
Der Langmut und Bescheidenheit.
Man hörte ihn loben, man hörte ihn preisen
Als einen vierfüßigen Nathan den Weisen.
Er war ein wahres Hundejuwel!
So ehrlich und treu! eine schöne Seel!
Auch schenkte sein Herr in allen Stücken
Ihm volles Vertrauen, er konnte ihn schicken
Sogar zum Fleischer. Der edle Hund
Trug dann einen Hängekorb im Mund,
Worin der Metzger das schöngehackte
Rindfleisch, Schaffleisch, auch Schweinefleisch packte. -
Wie lieblich und lockend das Fett gerochen,
Der Brutus berührte keinen Knochen,
Und ruhig und sicher, mit stoischer Würde,
Trug er nach Hause die kostbare Bürde.
Doch unter den Hunden wird gefunden
Auch eine Menge von Lumpenhunden
- Wie unter uns -, gemeine Köter,
Tagdiebe, Neidharde, Schwerenöter,
Die ohne Sinn für sittliche Freuden
Im Sinnenrausch ihr Leben vergeuden!
Verschworen hatten sich solche Racker
Gegen den Brutus, der treu und wacker,
Mit seinem Korb im Maule, nicht
Gewichen von dem Pfad der Pflicht. -
Und eines Tages, als er kam
Vom Fleischer und seinen Rückweg nahm
Nach Hause, da ward er plötzlich von allen
Verschwornen Bestien überfallen;
Da ward ihm der Korb mit dem Fleisch entrissen
Da fielen zu Boden die leckersten Bissen,
Und fraßbegierig über die Beute
Warf sich die ganze hungrige Meute -
Brutus sah anfangs dem Schauspiel zu,
Mit philosophischer Seelenruh;
Doch als er sah, daß solchermaßen
Sämtliche Hunde schmausten und fraßen,
Da nahm auch er an der Mahlzeit teil
Und speiste selbst eine Schöpsenkeul.
Moral
Auch du, mein Brutus, auch du, du frißt?
So ruft wehmütig der Moralist.
Ja, böses Beispiel kann verführen;
Und, ach! gleich allen Säugetieren,
Nicht ganz und gar vollkommen ist
Der tugendhafte Hund - er frißt!
-- Heinrich Heine
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Kaj's Kink January #3
So. Gestern bin ich nicht dazu gekommen, weil der Tag unerwartet stressig wurde, aber jetzt gibt es die offizielle Liste der Prompts für Januar, wie gehabt erstmal ohne Pairings, die bleiben vorerst ein Geheimnis, auch wenn sich einige davon sicherlich durch einen Blick ins Dokument ermitteln lassen, falls sich jemand die Mühe machen will 😄
soft & healthy + watching s/o masturbate
voyeurism
punishment & aftercare + safewording
(semi) public
smoking
shibari
filmed + deep throating
praise + cockwarming
roleplay
D/s + in public + phone sex + needy
mile high club
first time + thigh fucking
jealousy + smoking
edging & aftercare + size kink
mirror + parallels
scratches + belated realization
size difference + car sex
subspace + overstimulation
seconds
familiar face
lingerie
blindfolded + collar
dub con + burnplay
praise + facial
watching
daddy kink + body worship
harness + quiet + power bottom
body worship
threesome + sex pollen
sex tape + somnophilia
vampire AU
Bonus:
[redacted] -> Cotta/Reynolds
[redacted] -> Jeffrey/Finnley/Peter
[redacted] -> Donatelli/Morales | Cotta/Goodween
[redacted] -> Reynolds/Jeffrey
[redacted] -> Cotta/Goodween | Caroline/Monique
#kink january#kaj rambles#i hope you're all excited#i'm mostly having fun#sorry @ everyone whose prompts i decided not to fill#there were a lot of prompts this year and i'm just one me and also currently clawing my way back out of a depressive episode#i did however deliberately omit the 'kink/boundary negotiation' prompt because uuuuh i have a wip of almost 7k about that#and hopefully it will actually get finished some time early next year#anyway#i'll go back to writing now
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Qué Maravilla CH.11 - 'The Forest Through The Trees'
Previous Chapter
Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader
rating: E for Everyone bby
warnings: none? bad words + shit proof reading
summary: purely exposition, Miles breaks into Alchemex labs. Jess Drew gets deja vu
!!art is not mine : @uzuriartonline on tumblr!!
-------- Ch.11 - The Forest Through The Trees ----------
Miles Morales kicked in the vent from inside the air duct. Using the momentum he propells his body forward, landing feet first on the floor of a pitch black room. The second he touches the ground he gags.
“What the hell is that smell?” He walks around in an attempt to locate the source while holding his breath. The only sound being of his footsteps echoing through the abyss.
“Would be great to get some light in here first,” the boy mumbles to himself.
He channels his energy into conjuring his electricity to his palms. It helps, but only illuminates about a foot in front of him. He wanders aimlessly for about a minute. From what he can see, the place is a complete mess. He passes beakers and vials half filled on the counter tops, some shattered on the ground. Notes and documents sprawled on desks and floors, some of which are ripped to shreds. Most of their contents lost to the liquids that had begun to mildew the tile floor.
Miles slips on the mystery substance, almost falling flat on his face. After a second of slipping, sliding, and flailing about, he finally regains his balance.
“That was clos-”
He trips again. This time on an array of wires sprawled recklessly on the floors and atop of any other surface imaginable. Sparks flying from the rubber insulation that has since worn out. Miles opts to follow the path of the cables. They all lead in wildly different directions, but one finally takes him to a large, bulky desktop computer. He gingerly clicks the mouse, thankful to find that it powers on without him having to enter a password. As its added light begins to brighten the room, he can see more of the carnage. Deep gashes and claw-like marks litter the wall. Dents in the infrastructure and even a broken light hanging precariously from the ceiling.
‘Whoever was here last, definitely left in a hurry.’
When he returns his attention to the computer he finds a disorderly mess of files cluttering the desktop. ‘God damn.Y’all work like this?’
At a loss, the boy resolves to click on random documents one after another. For a moment, he’s stuck shifting through useless junk. Pirated movies, some off color jokes about the working class, a recipe for apple pie. Soon enough, he stumbles across something that makes him pause.
It's a photo of a woman and a man posed in front of the Earth-42 collider. It takes him a second to recognize the man. His long hair reaches past his shoulders and his full beard and mustache obscure his face. Under closer inspection he could deduce that it was Jonathon Ohn, the well natured scientist he had just become acquainted with. The woman however, the woman he could discern as clear as day…
…It was Olivia Octavious, or as he had known her, Doc Ock.
‘Well that explains the messy desktop,’ he joked internally. Though it failed to quell the unease that followed. Jonathan and Doc Ock were co-workers? Or did he work under her? The Prowler mentioned something about a hit being placed on him by a superior of his. She couldn’t be the boss conspiring to kill him, could she? Surely Jonathon would know… right?
Miles clicks around fruitlessly again before he stumbles on another well of information…
A folder aptly named Rapture Video Logs… It couldn’t be that easy right?
He opens the folder and skims through a plethora of video files. Pages and Pages long. Dated from as far back as two years ago. He clicks the first file. When the video finally loads, his jaw drops and his blood runs cold.
The man on video fiddles with the camera, struggling to mount it on a secure surface. His face uncomfortably close to the lens as he mutters indiscernible nonsense.
“There it is!” He shouts excitedly, taking several steps backward to sit on a chair. He straightens lab coat, adjusts his glasses and ruffles his hair in the monitor as if he’s getting ready for an important job interview.
“Hello!” The man waves amicably.
“My name is Peter Parker. I am one of the head researchers supervising the production of the vaccine to combat the ongoing Rapture epidemic.” The man trots up the camera holding up the badge pinned to his lab coat.
“That’s me.” he states proudly pointing to the man in the picture before making his way back to his seat. He clears his throat before converting to a more professional disposition.
“Our goal is to make an accessible vaccine to counteract, or at least mitigate, the side effects of the Rapture drug and all its possible variants. As well as to dispel its more parasitic qualities that work to bind it to the user’s DNA. This project is in collaboration with Scorpion Pharmaceuticals and Alchemex Labs…Which is basically a Doc 8 subsidiary but… I just try not to think too hard about that.” He laughs weakly.
Peter’s small smile fades almost immediately. He twiddles his thumbs in a contemplative silence, staring blankly at the ground. Miles takes this opportunity to further inspect this version of Peter Parker. He’s a brunette like the Peter he’s familiar with, though significantly more grays litter his head and stubble beard. Deep stress lines have found their home around his mouth and forehead. His eyes are a striking blue surrounded by dark, sleep-deprived circles. He couldn’t tell if he was older or a young man under a lot of stress. The best way he could describe him was an amalgamation of the 1610 Peter he lost and his friend Peter which, in a way, he had also lost.
‘Ex-friend,’ He mentally corrects. A friend would never do what he did to him. What they all did. Friends don’t abandon each other.
A loud exhale from the video shakes the boy from his stupor.
“You know, A lot of people have asked me why I would associate myself with such controversial corporations. I mean, not that I blame them. These people are far from saints. But there's good work to be done here. People need this cure. Even if it's an … unsavory group of people attempting a good thing… Who am I to get in their way? The ends justify the means, right? How bad could it be?” The man smiles solemnly to himself.
“Cut to me weeks later ‘Oh it’s really bad,’” he jokes. If he was doing this pep talk to drown his guilt, it looks like it had worked.
“We’re going to help a lot of people,” he asserts earnestly. “I just know it.” Parker stands up then turns off the monitor, effectively ending the recording.
Miles swallowed hard, fighting the rising bile creeping up his throat (and that horrific smell was not helping). He scrolls down farther, randomly clicking another video.
This video starts with Peter already seated. This time he seems to be at a desk. “Alright so…” the man meticulously straightens the stack of papers in front of them as he collects his thoughts.
“... The cure is making steady progress. Right now we’re sitting at a 42% success rate. Though there do seem to be some adverse reactions in some of the… subjects. Bouts of hysteria and panic and also…” He looks around to check his surroundings before leaning closer to the lens. He takes on a hushed tone.
“Okay look, now I’ve seen the effects of Rapture close hand due to… personal reasons. Whatever they’re using on these patients here is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Not even on the streets.” He starts counting his fingers as he lists off the symptoms . “Foaming at the mouth like rabies. Delirium, vomiting, diarrhea, hell even Seizures. The hostility is absolutely unprecedented. I’ve probably broken up more fights than a club bouncer this past week alone. And god the screaming. Some of them just won't stop screaming without being fully sedated.” He takes the pen from his lab coat pocket, clicking it excessively will continue to swivel in his chair.
“Where are they even getting this much of it? Especially of a strain this… volatile. To the likes which no one has ever seen before.” He reclines in his chair, a pout forming on his lips and his pen tapped absentmindedly against his chin.
“Something's off. Way off. They’re definitely hiding something here. And I’m gonna make sure I get to the bottom of it.” Peter reaches towards the camera, then the video ends.
Miles scrolls further down and clicks another one.
Peter starts the video holding the blowing raspberry out of pure exhaustion. All while vigorously scrubbing his hands up and down his face. His glasses bob up and down with the motion, threatening to fall off his face. His surroundings have changed once again. This time Parker is sitting in a lab. Shelves of labeled elixirs and test vials can be seen in the foreground as well as the table before him. On his right sits a microscope, sitting atop a stack of papers. On his left, a bunsen burner. When he’s done rubbing his face he takes a moment to let out a muffled scream into his hands.
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” he rectifies immediately afterwards. “Totally jazzed about…everything.” He pushes the words out through gritted teeth, as if it physically pains him to say aloud.
“The, um, the latest experiment was quite… dicey. Today they wanted to test the cures' effects on a patient with long exposure to the drug. So, we injected the subjects with Rapture and then waited. We waited to give them the cure.”
“The first hour was completely normal. Well, as normal as you can get when exposed to a drug of this nature. Violent bouts of anger, the screaming. You know, all the fun stuff. Same goes for the second and third hour. But as soon as we get to hour four…”
Peter chews on his cheek, hands clasped before him on the desk. “Someone had the bright idea of placing two Rapture induced volatile subjects in the same testing chamber.” His eyes are looking forward, but his gaze is looking vacantly past the camera. As if seeing the incident play out once again before his very eyes.
“The patients got into a violent stand off… some of my colleagues went in to break it up and then…” He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief.
“And as for the patients, one of them was…” His eyes gloss over, biting down on both lips. His chest rises and falls in a trembling manner.”
“…One of them was…cannibalized… And I just watched… because that’s all I could do…”.
Peter inhales sharply through his nose. His Adam apple bobs up and down in his throat. “There was this one moment… It was just a split second, when the patient made eye contact with me through the glass…The way it looked at me, I just-” Peters leans in closer to the camera. He pauses so his eyes can wildly see his surroundings. His breathing quickens even more so. Only after a nervous minute does he speak in a low hurried whisper.
“-This isn’t Rapture. Not what it used to be. This is something new, unprecedented. This is an instrument of war. This is a weapon. This is a means of mass-”
A loud siren blares, shocking Peter out of his train of thought. The screen is suddenly coated in flashing tones of red. Scuffling and hurried footsteps can be heard in the background. As well as raised, concerned voices. Their exact words Miles is unable to interpret.
Peter Parker immediately springs to his feet. “What’s going on!?” He speaks to someone off camera, his voice quickly fading as he rushes towards the commotion. The voices raise to nondescript yelling and screaming.
Then the video abruptly ends.
Miles' heart drops. Against his weak stomach, he continues to scrolls all the way to the bottom. He inspects the date. Wait, this is from a couple of weeks ago? He feels essentially obligated to watch it.
Video begins with Peter already seated. One hand holds his glasses, the other working to soothe his aching temples. He sighs deeply as he returns his glasses to his nose bridge. Miles notes the addition of the tape working beyond its means to hold his lenses. He looks like a total wreck, more so than usual. When he speaks, his voice is especially hoarse.
“Well…We did it. We found a cure” he announced, completely devoid of enthusiasm. “We created a single dose serum that not only severed Rapture’s bond to one DNA , but also built up immunity to the drug by 99%.” Parker throws his hands up vehemently.
“99%! Can you believe that? They couldn’t do that with Polio! And you want to know what they told me when I gave them this objectively good news? They said that it was too good. That a serum of this efficacy ‘jeopardizes the bottom line.’” he adds with air quotes for emphasis.
“And then they asked me to reduce the efficacy. They wanna dilute the dosage so that people need more medicine, so hospitals can buy more supply, all so they can make some more freaking money to fatten their greedy little pockets. Could you believe that? Turning medicine into a subscription service? What kind of late-stage capitalist bullshit is this!?”
Peter huffs loudly through his nose, his fists clenched angrily on his legs. He opens his mouth, about to shout, but stops himself. His defiant demeanor gives way to a defeated slouch.
“This is all my fault,” his voice is much lower now, almost a whisper. “They all tried to warn me. They tried to tell me. I was so caught up in my work, so naive. So stupid that I couldn’t see the forest through the goddamn trees…This was never about helping people. It was always about profit. Profit at the expense of lives. They’re gonna pull the trigger on so many lives… and I just handed a loaded gun and cocked it for them. ”
“God I’m so tired,” he mutters removing his glasses again to dry his teary eyes.
“As of this recording I’ve submitted my two weeks. The severance package should hold me over for a little while and then…,” he sighs. “I honestly don’t know. There's no one I can talk to about this. I wouldn’t have gotten the package without an NDA.”
“Nobody knows but me… No one. Except for you, whoever you are. If you're watching this and by some miracle you have an ounce of consciousness… Please. Tell someone. Anyone. Everyone. People need to know this. They deserve to know the truth. I would if I didn’t have a family to worry about. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to even look at my wife and daughter if they knew the truth about all these things I’ve done.” He stands up abruptly, eyes shut, to fight the tears threatening to spill. He dejectedly walks towards the camera, holding it by its sides. His jaded blue eyes looked directly into the lens and in turn, Miles’s soul.
“Hopefully, you can fix this mess I’ve made. I’m counting on you. Everyone is, even if they don’t know it yet. Whoever you are, we’re all counting on you. ” With a click, the video cuts to black, leaving the boy to face his startled expression on the black empty screen of the computer. Miles lets his hands drag down the front of his face.
It’s not like the video gave him any new information. But something about it being Peter. This alternate version of his mentor pleading to the void and not receiving so much as an echo… It really rattled him to his core.
Morales immediately starts opening drawers and cabinets, wilding searching. Stumbling upon loads of paper documents. Useful? Perhaps, but that's not what he’s looking for.
He opens a drawer and finds blank CDs (Who even uses these anymore?) and some floppy disks (He couldn’t figure out what to do with this even if he tried). He digs through endless piles of haphazardly stored outdated tech before he strikes gold.
“Ah Hah!”
He picks up the small chip and holds it triumphantly between his thumb and pointer finger. Finally some semi-modern tech he could use. An SD Card.
A Goober.
Definitely a silly name but it was starting to grow on him (Peter might have been an awful friend, but he could at least give him that). He shoves the card into its designated slot and starts dragging each video file into its storage. He tries to grab some of the other documents on the desktop. Hopefully there was something else useful in there, though he was definitely going to be coming away with some useless clutter.
He takes a step back and watches the download with bated breath. The green progress bar moving at a snail's pace. ‘4% Complete / Estimated Time : 26 minutes’
‘Stupid piece of junk.’ He grumbles frustratingly and smacks the side of the old monitor. Though he had to concede it was quite impressive the things they could accomplish with this archaic technology. Everything he experienced so far gave the impression of some 90’s cyberpunk futurism (with some limitations of course). Its mere existence seemed paradoxical in a sense. To be so far ahead yet so far behind.
“Alright, now the hard part.” Miles claps his hands together and mumbles to himself "If I were a super villain and needed to hide some top secret dangerous chemicals, where would I put them?”
He activates his electricity with one hand and feels against the mutilated walls with the other. With the extra aid of the dim computer, he finally is able to locate a lever on a nearby wall and pulls it downward. The lights flicker in an unsettling succession. One after the other. Slowly revealing the large lab before him in a blinding fashion. Just as when his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden brightness, a cacophony of screechs bombards him. Loud banshee-like sounds of yelping and clanging. Miles flinches at the abrupt and sudden noise, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.
When he opens them, his hands fall from the side of his face in disbelief. He sees cages. Cages upon cages of animals all erupting in panic. Howling, biting, scratching, clawing at the metals bars that hold them. Dogs, cats, pigs, birds, rats. Whether it be balding fur, open sores, bleeding wounds, or missing limbs all of them have at least one physical ailment afflicting them. Urine and feces litter some of their confines. Some lay even motionless. They weren’t…dead were they? It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots.
These are the ‘subjects’ Peter and Jonathon were talking about. They were testing on animals.
He stumbles through the lab, walking along the long wall piled high with tortured beings. His presence met with mixed reactions. Some cower in fear, others leap towards him clawing, biting and snarling only to be held back by the metal bars. Sticking their appendages out in an attempt to reach him. His heart breaks.
‘I can’t just leave them here.’
He ventures to the end of the cages to find a control panel in the wall asking for a six digit code. He stops to consider the obstacle…
“What if I just-”
…before smashing through its screen with an electric fist. All the cages and lab doors open immediately. The animals scurry out without a second thought, making their escape through gaps in the vents or cracks in the doors. Thankfully, even the hostile animals are more concerned with their newfound freedom than to continue their directed aggression at him.
He’s about to leave when he hears another noise, which stops him in his tracks. A jingling sound. Clinging metal, like the one a fork makes on a wine glass with someone is trying to gather the crowd for a speech at a party. He looks around to find the source of the sound. ‘It’s coming from one of the cages.’ he soon realizes.
The spider walks towards it cautiously. He slowly peers over the edge and sees a figure shivering in the dark corner. Miles squints his eyes for a better look. It's a dog, a spotted one. A small dalmatian, probably a puppy given its size. Once it sees Miles it begins to whimper.
“Hey buddy…” Miles coos softly. He squats to a crouch and attempts to reach out to the puppy. It barks and whines in defense. The boy recoils in response. Now that he’s getting a better look at it. It’s in pretty bad shape, patches of missing, open wounds, and an eye so damaged it was sealed completely.
“Okay…” Miles stands up, hands on his hips. “Every lab has a first aid kit. There's gotta be at least one somewhere.” He walks towards the nearest door, which leads to an adjoining room. It’s another lab, only this one has fewer computers and more elixirs. And, of course, a lot less like a complete and utter war zone. He recognizes it as one of the labs Peter was sitting in during one of his videos.
Miles finds first aid fairly easily. It’s in the first cabinet by the door. He holds the plastic red box in front of him with two hands, admiring his ingenuity. “Easy peasy.”
When he turns around to leave, a giant, clear door refrigerator catches his eye. Tucked into an empty corner of the room as if placed there as to not be seen. The soft hum of its dim internal lighting is the only thing between him and utter silence. Inside, sits numerous crates. He tucks the kit under his arm then moves closer to inspect it.
Miles opens the fridge and is confronted with a cloud of cool air which slowly cascades in a constant stream towards the floor. The dissipating smoke is quickly replaced by a new rush of cold air. He can feel the freezing sensation in his toes. He pulls out the crate by the handle. He pops open the latch like a briefcase, inside the insulated case sit six vials. A neon, almost fluorescent green. Identifying labels written in permanent marker onto painters tape sit underneath.
Rapture Ver.58 (beta)
‘Oh my god.’
Miles pulls out other cases and checks their contents. This one is blue. He reads the label underneath.
Anti-Rapture
‘Ohmyfreakinggod.’
This was it. All he had to do was bring back just one of each case back to Ohnn and the other Miles and then they could fight this mess. The sooner he got back, the sooner he could help them fix the collider. Hell, what if it was already done? His father was going to be sworn in early tomorrow and he had been gone for several hours now. Who’s to say Spot hasn’t already started his carnage? Each second spent here was a second left to chance. And that was a chance he just wasn’t willing to take. He had to go now.
Miles grabs two crates, one for each hand. As he stands up he hears a small thunk on the ground next to him. He looks down towards the culprit.
…Oh.
The first aid kit sits face up by his foot.
…Oh…
How could he forget the reason he came here? That dog needed his help. The dog needed his attention first. Could he do both? Spider man can always do both…
…Right?
Morales entered a silent staring match with the plastic red box on the floor. One he was destined to lose. I mean, it was just a dog. A dog or his father. It was a simple choice…
…In theory…
…But the longer and longer he stared at the box, the lower and lower his gut seemed to fall.
A dog or his father. A literal dog or his father…
With a sigh, Miles pushes the crates back into the fridge and shuts it. He bends down to pick up the kit.
A dog and his father. He could do both. Spiderman always does both.
As Miles walks back towards the dog’s cage he manages to swipe a stale, half eaten bagel off one of the desks. When he approaches the cage he sees the dog's nose peeking past its barrier, sniffing the air apprehensively. The boy breaks off a small piece of bagel and tosses it lightly in front of the cage. The dog jolts back, alarmed. Then the dog slowly exits its cage, squinting to adjust its good eye to sudden difference from its dark confines to the brightly illuminated lab. The puppy sniffs the bagel before licking it greedily off the floor. After he’s done with his morsel he freezes when he sees Miles, who is now holding out another small piece in his palm.
“Come here little guy.” he says, clicking his teeth. The dog doesn’t budge.
“It’s okay” he reiterated this time crouching even lower to the ground.
Nothing.
He whistles softly “Come here…uh…Fido?”
The dog titles his head in confusion.
“What’s your name then? Fluffy?” he blurts out, “How about Buddy? Dude? Spot?”
The word takes him by surprise, Spot… The word escaped his mouth without a second thought
"Haven't I had enough spots for today?” he wonders aloud. What was he doing here? Trying to coax a dog that wanted nothing to do with him? This poor thing probably wouldn’t trust anything after all it’s been through. He needs to be honest with himself about what his priorities are.
Miles is brought back to reality by the warmth on his hand. The dog shyly licks the morsel off his plam. Consuming it in full with just a few smacks of his teeth.
“You can trust me little guy,” he says with utmost sincerity. “I promise.”
He tries to feed the pup from his hand again. The dog accepts. He pets it gingerly on its back. The sudden sensation causes the dog to jolt. He stares at the boy for a second, then he licks his face. Miles roars with laughter.
“Alright! Alright! I like you too!”
Miles places another piece of bagel on the ground as a distraction. Then he pours the antiseptic onto a fresh gauze sheet. He attempts to disinfect its wounds gently, but despite his best efforts the dog lets out high pitched yelps.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Miles flinches upon its pained cries. He persists with his delicate nursing, periodically feeding him pieces of food to keep it at bay. It’s a painstakingly long process, with the constant flinches, yelps, and several nervous bite attempts. When he’s done, almost half of its body is covered in bandages. He scooches back to admire his work. Not the best, but not bad given he’s never had to bandage anyone up before, let alone an animal. It would have to do.
“See? That wasn’t so bad was it?” The dog licks the boy’s face once more with gratitude. Miles softly wraps his arms around him.
“Welp. This is where we part ways.” He gives it a final pat on its head. “Stay safe out there little guy.”
Miles rises to his feet, taking a detour to collect the SD card before making a beeline towards the serum batches. As he reaches into the coldness of the fridge he feels a sudden pressure on his leg.
“What the-”
Looking down he finds the dog rubbing his side against him. Wagging his tail happily.
He scratches the pup behind his ears, it’s leg thumping against the ground in satisfaction.
“I love you too man, but I have to go.” The dog however remains oblivious, tongue sticking out its mouth as it pants happily.
“I’m sorry little guy.” He grabs the two cases and begins to walk away.
He tucks a case underneath his arm. Aiming with his wrist he clumsily shoots out a webs to a high point on the opposite wall and pulls forwards. When he lands, the case under his arm slips. He barely manages to catch it by the handles. The dog leaps underneath him directly into his line of sight and begins yapping loudly.
“Shhh. Be quiet!” Though the dog continues to complain.
“I don’t have time for this right now?” As if on cue, The dog’s barks switch to desperate whine. It's an unbandaged eye staring pleadingly.
He’s using puppy eyes on me. Of course.
“This isn’t going to work on me little man…”
The dog stretches its front legs onto the wall, pawing upwards in an attempt to reach Miles, then whining at the distance. The boy frowns under his mask as the desperate display continues with no sign of letting up…
“...Fine!” Miles relents with a sigh, releasing himself from the wall, landing next to the pup. “Fine. You win.”
The second Miles lands, the puppy pounces on him, excitedly clawing at his legs. “Okay! Okay!” He looks back and forth between the dog and the two cases. He needed at least one free hand for swinging lest he wanted to risk dropping his newfound passenger, his cargo, or both. It would be best that he carry the dog, but then what about the serums? He couldn’t take two cases…
Should he take the Rapture? That paired with Peter’s video logs could help expose this whole shady operation. What about the cure? Wouldn’t be best if Jonathon and Miles-42 made their own medicine to disrupt the monopoly. Ugh, choices.
After some contemplation, Miles finally gets his lightbulb moment. He opens both cases and swaps half the batches. Three green and three blue.
“Perfect.” He states proudly. Grabbing a single case and, with strained effort and much contortion, manages to web the container onto his back.
“I’ll try to make this as comfortable as possible, " he says, picking up the puppy. Then leaping onto the wall, he begins swinging his way back to his friends.
They would be so happy to see his successful haul. Hopefully, the same news awaited him as well…
- - -
Jessica Drew’s bike screeched as she leapt from the portal onto the streets of Earth-42. She wastes no time. Once her wheel touches the ground she shifts into high gear. Bobbing and weaving through streetcars and alleyways at breakneck speed to assess the atmosphere. It had been a little less than an hour, but Gwen giving any amount of time was more than generous. If she was lucky, maybe she had already found the boy and had already made their way back to his home dimension. Then one of the many spiders patrolling 1610’s Brooklyn could intervene. With the huge deployment Miguel had called for, they wouldn’t get far before being caught.
Speaking of Miguel…
She skids to a halt, quickly dialing the contact information to her boss. Once she navigates her way to the call button however, she hesitates. In this fucked up situation her loyalties clearly lied with Miguel. She knows she should call him, but their last meeting at HQ left a sour taste in her mouth. He was always aloof and stand-offish, but what happened there was a level of animosity she had never seen from him before. All that yelling, screaming, and clawing, was too much even for her. Was he right? Of course he was. We all made sacrifices. That was part of the job, but did he really have to slam that boy on the side of a train? Did he have to lose his cool in front of the entire society? Even if he had his reasons, it was not a good look.
No. She would not tell Miguel. Not yet. It would be best if she found Gwen herself and they handled this quietly.
She drives around for a bit longer before a dilapidated warehouse catches her eye. Which is saying a lot. The entire crime riddled city was a dilapidated , fiery, vandalized mess, but this building was different. This wasn’t just any wreckage, it was battle wreckage.
She accelerates through one of the large holes in the structure, landing with a sharp U-turn that emits a loud screech and leaves scorched tire marks on the ground. Her eyes fall on a man. He’s sporting a midnight purple suit and a welders mask. He’s holding a torch gun before a desk with a multitude of sophisticated tech and steel titanium weapons. The man is unalarmed. He doesn’t even acknowledge her at first, instead taking a moment to finish the careful straight line he’s welding onto…whatever it was he was working on . Once done, only then does he turn to her. He lifts his mask, looking her up and down. An exhausted look is plastered on his face. Jess also takes a moment to soak in his very… familiar features.
“Let me guess.” He rubs his temples with a sigh. “Your ah- You’re with those spider uhh-”
“-Yes. I am.” She sits up straighter while crossing her arms
“And you're from another dimension?”
“Uh huh.”
“And you’re looking for my nephew? Miles?”
“Yep. You got it!” she quips. “Great to know you’re already all caught up. That really makes this a lot easier for me.” She rests her hands on the handles of her bike, inadvertently showing her pregnant belly. The man’s eyes widen and his jaw hangs open.
“WOAH.”
She raises her eyebrow, perturbed. “Yes?”
The man points towards her stomach with his torch, “Are you uh-”
“Yeah?”
“Wha- How does that- How does that even...work?”
“How do I work while pregnant?”
“Yeah ” Flustered, he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Like, you’re not worried or anything? It doesn’t slow you down?”
“No.” She says pointedly. “Because I’m good at what I do.”
“Wow…” He chuckles. “That’s very-”
“-What?” Oh here it comes. The wave of concern everyone seems to throw her way. Everytime they see her large belly for the first time. “Dangerous? Irresponsible? Reckless? Unbecoming?” shes says in mock offense
“No. It’s… Amazing?” he laughs, stroking his finely trimmed, salt and pepper beard with his free hand. “I think that’s really… cool.” He rests his elbow on the bench, with a playful smirk on his face. “How’s the father? He’s not still in the picture is he?”
Jessica furrows her brows. “Is my very hot husband in the picture? Why yes, yes he is.”
“...Damn.”
“Excuse me?”
“No I mean- Great!” He lets slip his nervous laughter. His smug demeanor wavering only for a second before he recovers. “I mean that’s great for you. It’s good a good looking woman yourself has someone she can rely on. ”
“Mmmhmmm.” Jessica hums with a smirk.
“I mean…” he motions back and forth between them, displaying a cheeky grin “...I know some relationships allow for multiple shoulders to lean on if that’s what you’re into-”
“-We are a very happy monogamous couple. Thank you very much. ”
The man lifts his hands in defeat taking a step back. “Heard. Loud and clear.”
“Anyways.” She rolls her eyes “From what I heard, you’re Aaron Davis?”
He places a fresh cigarette in his mouth, taking a few attempts to light it. Taking a deep inhale before responding.
“I’m real popular today, huh? Worried there might be another bounty on my head.” The man lets out a deep, hiccupy chortle. Jess makes a conscious effort to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “But yeah, that’s what they call me.”
“Well Davis, have you seen a… blonde haired, blue-eyed teenage girl around? Blue shoes? Black and white suit with a pink hood?”
Aaron’s face contorts in confusion.
“She’s also got these, like, hot pink accents with a blue webbing design-”
“-No. Definitely not.” He takes another long draw from his cigarette. “There were these two other ones though. One of them was this super huge, hella bulky ass dude with a meanass resting bitch face sorta mug.”
Jessica erupts with laughter. “That would be Miguel.”
So he was already aware. Shit. Not that she should care. In a way, wasn’t it a good thing that he knew. That he was on top of things? Though she couldn’t push out that nagging feeling in her gut (the other one) that had her worried. The disloyal disappointment and the guilt that followed in response.
“Didn’t catch his name.” Aaron's narrowed into a cold stare. “And you want me to tell you where they went?”
“If I said yes, would you trust me enough to say?” she phrased her words carefully, sensing the tone shift. The vocal equivalent of walking on eggshells.
He takes the mask off and begins wiping his hands clean from a nearby towel. “Yall don’t have phones or something where you’re from?” He flings the towel on the desk. “Why do you guys keep flockin’ to my pad?”
Jessica Drew simply scoffs, “It’s…complicated.”
“Well, since I’m on my way there myself…” He clips a fully stocked utility belt on his waist and securing his metal claws on his hands. “...I can show you the way if you want?”
“Show me the way?”
He strides over to a large tarp. He grabs the fabric, pauses to hold Jessica’s gaze (for dramatic effect) before ripping the cover off the contraption. A sleek Indio motorcycle resides underneath. “It never hurts to have company does it?”
She revs her bike loudly in response. “Don’t get any ideas,”
“Of course. Strictly business.” His mask emerges from the shoulders of his armor working to conceal his face and as well as his voice, which now came out robotic and distorted.
“I like to go fast so…Try to keep up.” He revs his motorcycle loudly, immediately riding through one of the many holes in the wall before making a straight shot towards the street. Jessica Drew swerved closely behind him. Behind the man who just so happens to look exactly like her husband. The harsh wind whipping in her face and the loud hustle and bustle of the city work to drown out her hearty and buoyant chuckle.
The multiverse works in mysterious ways.
#miles morales#jessica drew#aaron davis#peter parker#spiderman#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#beyond the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#astv
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even with that result of the proceedings, for some people till will remain a perpetrator. i kind of don't want it be know anymore that i like rammstein, because of being scared of how others will react.. but that's probably sth everyone will have to figure out for themselves, isn't it? i was curious of how you personally would go about it, if people accuse you of idk.. "protecting an offender" or sth similar?
The important thing is that no evidence or actual cases have been raised with regards to criminal facts: No evidence of drinks getting spiked, and no evidence of sex against people's will.
just out of interest i looked up the meaning of the word 'perpetrator', and found
"a person who carries out a harmful, illegal, or immoral act."
"a person who commits a crime"
well, for the illegal and crime no evidence has been found, so objectively speaking that is off the table. But 'immoral' is a different matter, i looked that up too
"not confirming to accepted standards of morality"
And this is, i think, where it gets 'greyscale' and not just black or white /right or wrong, after all, what are 'accepted standards'... apart from that being very different depending on your own background and culture, i also think that changes over time... for example (i picked some random examples, not related to Rammstein)
when i started working in an office, it was completely normal that everyone could smoke at their desk, ashtrays were available in every room, and frequently used. Later that wasn't allowed, but in every hallway there was a smoking cabine. Then the smoking cabines were reduced to one per building. Then one in every 5 buildings. Since this year smoking is completely prohibited where i work, not in buildings, not in your car and not outside, you have to leave the complex entirely and go to the neighbouring town if you want to smoke
when i was young, in my country (Netherlands) it was completelly normal for women to sunbathe with their top off, so 'oben ohne' (as they say in German 😊). Not that everybody did it, but if someone did, no one would look twice. Nowadays it occurs far less, both due to healthrisks (i heard a talk on the radio recently naming this as a reason), but also because because nudity is viewed differently these days. Society as a whole seems to have become a bit more 'prude' than it was years ago.
also in the NL since the early 1980's there used to be a publicly known society (so not just hidden away, all in the open) that strived for 'acceptation of sexual relations between adults and children' (yes, really..). That society has eventually been forbidden in 2012 and has been disbanded.
If you want my personal opinions on these:
as a non-smoker, i'm happy that smoking isn't everywhere anymore, but i do feel it is quite a leap that people aren't allowed ro smoke anywhere anymore on our complex. I would have stayed with the smoking cabines.
i have no problem whatsoever with nudity, ofcourse in places where it's appropriate. When you visit someone you go by the dresscode in that house, the same with public spaces, iow in a religious place you dress the way deemed appropriate by that religion. For healthreasons i can imagine that people tend to dress up in the sun a bit more, but imo nowadays nudity is too easily associated with 'sex', and for me those are two separate things.
I never 'got' that society, and always thought it a step too 'free-thinking' even for the free-thinking country i live in, but it did get me thinkin: where do you draw the line...
Now to the allegations...i think many people, the media, but also fans of Rammstein have reevaluated what they think is 'moral', what their 'standard' is... and i think it's not surprising that over the 30 years that Rammstein existed (and certainly seeing where they are coming from (DDR)) these standards have changed.
In other words, i can fully understand that something that is 'accepted' by some, isn't by others. Or, that was 'accepted' in the past, isn't anymore now.
I think it's very difficult to actually stick a 'right' and a 'wrong' label on it, but that is what people want to do, they want clarity, want to know who to cheer for and who to put down.
Rammstein have always liked to aggrevate people, to annoy, as Paul often likes to say, and they always crossed the limits of some people, but it seems that the lines they crossed in the past have now been redrawn. That while they crossed the lines a little bit, but still had the line in sight (Rammstein quality control imo always had a very good 'gutfeeling' about how far to go), now Rammstein is in the same spot, but that line has been moved further away.
Me personally...i have not moved...yet, i'm still where i was, a tiny bit inside where the line was, some of the Rammstein songs i wouldn't have done myself, but i see what they are doing and it's not that far out of my comfortzone. Some of the things that happen outside of the music are not my thing, but as long as everyone involved is consenting, i feel it shouldn't change because of me.
Now the line has moved...am i now outside the line too? Am i or the way i think immoral? That's what i'm still processing, and i think it's an interesting part of life to deal with. There are people who say things like "it has been fine for all those years, and everything should stay the same, so it still should be fine now". But that's not how it works either, see the examples above..
And after all, life is full of change, life is change, without change, life would cease to be.
But i am still thinking about it 🌺
And maybe it's the same with Rammstein; they are intelligent people, and six very different people with very different personal circles, i could well imagine this has them thinking and reevaluating too.. 🌺 Because i think Rammstein did change things over the years. What makes the sex and blood and stuff work for Rammstein is that they do it amongst themselves. Flake and Till simulating sex on stage (which is too much already for some), imagine if it was a woman gagged with a ball in her mouth (like Flake wore) and Till simulating sex with her...to me that would definitely feel different. Flake whipping Till on stage, or 'Frau Schneider' having the others on the leash, pushing and shoving them if they don't do what she wants...very different if Frau Schneider wasn't actually Christoph... In the past Rammstein did on occasion have woman on stage, also on the 'Bück Dich' small stage, but that didn't last long, and imo that was the right decision. For me the aggravating only works if it's Rammstein themselves. Okay, the DT video has women in it with the actual 'titten' 😊 but one of the ladies gives the horny granddad a slap when he gets frisky, so that's funny in that way. But for me even that video would have been better if the 'Richard' storyline had been more intertwined with the others.
Long post again wasn't it...but what i think i was going for: it's understandable that people reevaluate the standards and how they feel about it. And yes, some will draw the line and not like Rammstein anymore. But that doesn't mean that they are wrong and all the people who think that everything should stay the same are right. And it also doesn't mean vice versa.
Main thing is to always think for yourself, how *you* feel about things. Don't be afraid to reevaluate or to change. But also don't be afraid to love what you love if it feels right for you ❤️
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In diesen Tagen, in denen die Unvernunft und die Irrationalität der Linken noch einmal deutlich hervortreten, ob im Schweigen über die antisemitische Barbarei oder gar im offenen Befürworten, welches ein Vorwegnehmen des antisemitischen Massenmords ist, sind gerade das geistige Innehalten und die Utopie einer leibfundierten Muße, die das Substrat des offenen Denkens ist, gegen sie zu verteidigen. Wo die Pseudomoral der neuen Linken den politischen Raum besetzt, gibt es keine diskursive Gegenstrategie, denn sie setzen selbst nicht auf das Diskursive, das sie zur Ideologie erhoben haben. Ihr Mittel ist die praktische Moral, Praxis der erpressenden Gefühligkeit, nicht Sprache, die eine ist. Nicht ohne Grund gehört es zum wesentlichen Inhalt der Ideologie der identitätspolitischen Linken, der Sprache jede Trieb- und Leibgebundenheit austreiben zu wollen. Die Deklarationslogik ihres Sprechens wiederholt die Automatensprache der politischen Sphäre und darum auch deren affirmatives Verhältnis in der Sprache. Das Sprechen dieser Linken ist vom deutschen Befehlen nicht weit entfernt. Ihre »abgriffene Sprache« (Horkheimer/Adorno) ist voller Feindschaft gegen den Ausdruck. Damit verknüpft ist auch ihr Antisemitimus, dessen Element die Ranküne gegen alles ist, was sich dem autoritär-positivistischen Denkschema entzieht - das Geistige, wo es seine Beziehung zum Substrat, zum Leiblichen sucht, auch gegen Sprache, wo diese sich als volle Sprache um den Ausdruck des Objekts bemüht. Darum hassen sie das Denken. Zartheit, Schwäche, Mitleid kennt die Linke nur, wo sie diese instrumentell und moralisierend mobilisieren kann, Gefühl hat bei ihnen stets einen Zweck - in der Regel Mittel ihrer Pseudopraxis zu sein. Dieses Gefühligkeitsschema ist lediglich die hölzerne, selbstüberhöhende und selbstgerechte Variante der Anti-Intrazeption des Autoritären. Auch die Kunst, die in dieser Linken beliebt ist, man denke nur an einen großen Teil der »Performancekunst« mit ihrem Schema entblößter Körper und gewalttätiger Selbstmanipulation, die darin noch einmal die eigene verklemmt-autoritäre Sexualmoral wiederholt, der ganze Hass auf den Leib und den Sexus, könnte entsinnlichter nicht sein. Anders aber als etwa die Formen bei Kafka oder Beckett, die sich in der Entsinnlichung der Verdinglichung mimetisch annähern, sie damit ausstellen und entlarven, wiederholt diese politische, diese linke Kunst nur die gesellschaftliche Herrschaft über die Sinne, über den Leib, über die Sprache. Diese Linke ist begriffslos, ihre Praxis sind nur identitätspolitische »Sandkastenspiele« (Sonnemann). Das macht sie - gerade als politische und als akademische Klasse - für das Denken, für das utopische Denken in Zeiten, wo sich die Leute das Denken abgewöhnen, nicht weniger bedrohlich.
M. Schönwetter
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So: ddf!spiderman AU
Peter ist die obvious choice, Peter (parker/Shaw), got the whole vibe, humor, kinda seems like one of his ideas: "ohh lass mal ohne Support system criminellen hinterherlaufen! "
Aber desto länger ich darüber nachdenken desto mehr ist es Peter Parker=Justus Jonas
Nerd? Yeah. Knows to much about science? Yeah. Strong moral compass where it matters? Yes. Lives with aunt and uncle? Dead parents? Yes and yes. Will recklessly endanger themselves? Yeah. (OK but that applies to peter too)
So like yeah
Dead Uncle Titus/Ben
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Neulich in Notting Hill:
Die einzige Regel beim zufälligen Sichten eines Promis in London
von Anna Maria Bauer
Von der heimlichen Challenge, einem Star über den Weg zu laufen und dem Versuch, richtig zu reagieren.
Vor 14 Jahren – ich habe es nicht vergessen! – stand die Studienkollegin in der Londoner Student Residence mit roten Backen und leuchtenden Augen vor uns. „Oh, mein Gott!“, rief sie. „Ich war gerade mit Jude Law essen.“ Okay, kein Grund zu dieser Panik. Sie meinte nicht gemeinsam, bloß gleichzeitig. Dennoch. Oh, wie waren wir neidig!
Die Sache an London: Die Stadt ist voll von Stars. Und so gibt es die unausgesprochene Challenge, zufällig einen zu treffen. Ungeplant. Im Bio-Laden, in der Bar, im Park. So hip ist man, dass man die gleichen Orte wie Kate Moss oder Madonna aufsucht. Am Ende des Studienjahres konnte ich ... lassen Sie mich nachzählen ... oh ja: null Treffen vorweisen. Die Studienkollegin versuchte gar nicht erst, ihren Triumph zu verbergen.
Ha! Dachte ich mir also bei meinem Umzug nach Südengland. Doch trotz wöchentlicher Streifzüge durch stets andere Grätzel: Notting Hill, Soho, Little Venice: nichts!
Dann kam die Idee. Und nein, das war nicht geschummelt, bloß die Wahrscheinlichkeit erhöht. Auf ging es in jene Bars, die Stars gehören. Ich gönnte mir Nachos in „The Grapes“ (Ian McKellen), Sauvignon blanc in „The Fox and Pheasant“ (James Blunt), und gegrillten Lachs in „Bertie Blossoms“ (Ed Sheeran). Doch abgesehen von Gandalfs Stab hinterm Tresen: kein Indiz.
Und dann holte ich mir diese Woche im Café am Ende der Portobello Road in Notting Hill einen Cappuccino. Ich verharrte für diesen unangenehmen Moment, wenn man versucht, den besten Platz zu finden, ohne lange im Raum zu stehen.
Und da sah er auf. Oh mein Gott: Jasper aus "Liebe braucht keine Ferien". „Ihr müsst euch“, meinte die Studienkollegin vor 14 Jahren, „zwingen, sofort wegzusehen. Ich habe gezögert und es war peinlich.“ Pff, dachte ich damals. Anfängerfehler! Mein Kaffee in Notting Hill war schon kalt, da starrte ich Rufus Sewell immer noch an.
kurier at 15.03.2024
Anm: und die Moral von der Geschicht': die Kamera vergiss bloss nicht! .)
2009/Rufus in Notting Hill
"I wander over to Notting Hill whenever I want to buy something, but I wouldn't like living there - I would find it a bit too intimidating having to get my look just right before venturing out to the corner shop". RS
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Gottlos
Am Anfang, da gab es keine Schöpfung
Keine Lichtgestallt, die dies Wunder erschaffen
Gottlose, aus dem Pfuhl der Zeit gekrochen
Vergifteter Geist, des Menschseins Köpfung
Kein Meister, kein Richter, doch Kontrollsucht
Machtgier, Habgier, ohne göttliche Führer
Erhebt sich der Mensch als Schöpfer seiner Güter
Bald bleibt nichts, was man sich noch zu träumen ersucht
Ein Schmierentheater, beispiellos
Schauspieler und Publikum gleichermassen badend in Lügen
Vor der Realität des eigenen Daseins flüchtend
Ein Teufelstanz, ein Spektakel wie es sich uns nie bot
Gebote über Moral
Eure Lügen, eine Qual
#blackteastorm#deutsche lyrik#lyrik#poesie#gedicht#sonette#poetry#art#religion#atheism#god#gott#original poem#poem#poems on tumblr
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