I WILL SHED THIS SKIN. I'LL BREAK FREE AGAIN. // I AM BOTH THE WOUND AND THE KNIFE. lab born eve. prev. warblossomed. originated in 2012 and remastered in 2025. beloved and cherished by bea. 30+ she / her / they.
∗ A STUDY IN . . . the curiosity of humanity, the consequences of free will, the hand of brutality, government versus the people, the quiet erosion of empathy, the commodification of survival, the fear of imagination, the true cause of rebellion.
TO BE MADE OF FLESH IS HUMILIATION . . . [ TO BE MADE OF FLESH IS SHAME. ]
→ ∗ this blog contains references to medical and scientific experimentation. please curate your space accordingly. if you choose to follow, make sure to read the guidelines.
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ONLY LOVE AND DEATH CAN CHANGE THINGS. a loveletter to the unfinished story of Mick St John from the show moonlight. a damned vampire private investigator. written and beloved by bea.
∗ #THE EYE HOROSCOPE . . . a concept! comment the muns or muses eye color below!
In Genia’s world, soul cycles are not only believed to reflect behavioral tendencies, but the condition of the soul itself. Though modern institutions publicly reject the existence of the soul as unmeasurable, the language persists reframed as psychology, neurochemistry, or emotional hygiene. Within this framework, the soul is not divine. It is considered a residual human artifact, something that once served a purpose but now interferes with stability. The belief holds that the soul should be quiet, regulated, and minimally expressive. Excess emotion, imagination, and empathy are described as signs of soul instability, a condition thought to make individuals vulnerable to disorder, unrest, and ideological contagion. Dreaming, in particular, is framed as a symptom of poor soul containment. Part of this culture is the belief the eye color of a being represents their personality resembling our current horoscope.
Brown eyes ( the most favored ), associated with loam, are believed to indicate a well-settled soul. Individuals with brown eyes are thought to possess a properly rooted inner life: emotions that remain functional, muted, and productive. Their souls are described as “balanced,” “grounded,” or “low-noise,” making them the most socially favored. They're noted as brave, beautiful and honorable amongst the other souls. A stable soul is considered safe.
Hazel eyes, however, are associated with soul permeability. Those born with hazel eyes are believed to possess souls that do not sit cleanly within the body : prone to seek out rebellion, this condition is sometimes referred to as soul disease a term officially disavowed, yet still widely used. Their souls are described as justice driven, protective and authentic amongst other souls.
Green eyes are framed as evidence of soul overgrowth, where emotional and imaginative capacity exceeds containment. These individuals are thought to feel too much, want too much, and dream too vividly. Their souls are described as volatile, beautiful, and dangerous. Admired in art, discouraged in governance.
Blue eyes are associated with soul dormancy. Rather than being diseased, the soul is believed to be deliberately subdued. This is seen as a desirable adaptation : emotional quieting in service of order. Institutions favor this state during periods of crisis, framing it as maturity rather than loss. Their souls are described as logical, quick thinking and good problem solvers.
Gray eyes are understood as soul residue, the aftermath of emotional or existential burning. These individuals are believed to carry memory without expression witnesses rather than participants. Their souls are described as soft, kind and gentle.
Within this cycle, Genia’s hazel eyes mark her early as soul-diseased. Her emotional depth, empathy, and dreaming are not seen as signs of health, but as failures of regulation. From the perspective of Unity Labs, her condition is not tragic.
"explain it to me one more time. pretend, for a moment, that i lack the mental capacity to understand things the same way you do." he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a huff, his other hand locked at his hip and an annoyed confusion starting to leak into his voice.
A SCOFF LEAVES HER LIPS AS HER wild red locks fall across her face as she frowned. “I need you to let me in,” she said, voice low and urgent. “If you hide me, I can make it worth your while.” Her eyes darted to the side, sharp with paranoia, before snapping back. “Just let me in. I’ll give you the number, and we go from there.”
Do you have any idea what they were arguing about?
FURROWED BROWS RISE AS SHE LOOKS THROUGH THE CRACK OF THE DOOR. Small locks slipped loose along her cheek as she peered through the doorway, their corner washed in trembling candlelight. Her hands folded in against herself as she crossed her arms, a small, instinctive gesture. Genia drew her gaze back to Zora. “I’m not sure,” she began, leaning closer, pressing her ear to the frame. After a moment, she pulled away, already knowing it was useless. “I don’t think it’s our place to know. Whatever happened, it didn’t go the way they planned.” Her mouth curved into a faint smile, fragile against the sound of raised voices beyond the door. “Shall we go outside for a walk?”
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All those mundane, boring things everybody has to do every day of their fucking life? You want to do that?
SHE HAD FOUND HERSELF HUMMING. Her small fingers working away at braiding some fabric. She heard the statement flung before her. Genia looked at Leon, one brow lifting. Mundane? Had he already forgotten the cage she had been trapped in. She brushed past him, her small shoulder clipping his frame as she went. Pride tugged her back a step later, and she turned to face him, those very human eyes fixing on his. They were the kind of eyes that had always gotten her into trouble. “Since when do you speak like this?” she asked, bold and unsoftened. They had spent months in Irasurgo. Sometimes she still missed the bite of salt in the air, the industrial rhythm Saltmire sang every day.
Her hazel gaze swept the room, checking corners, doorways, shadows, making sure no one lingered too close. “You’re starting to sound like one of them,” she whispered. A rebel. Filth of Dilabor, that was what they called her kind. She had hoped Leon would cling to what little remained of his Saltmire legacy. “Do not strip away what made you who you are.” Her eyes pleaded, even as her voice held steady. Irasurgo promised freedom, but her intuition, her dreams, had warned her otherwise. Anxiety, a foolish human flaw. And yet it had always kept her alive. Her dreams were never wrong. “…We have to remember why we’re here.” Even as she said it, she knew the truth. She could barely remember either.
good morning friends 🤍 i am feeling a bit under the weather and am planning to take the next few days to rest and recover. i have so many wonderful people here and while i wish i could have one on one conversations and send personal holiday wishes i wanted to share this with everyone.
this year has been the most dramatic life changing and also comforting year i have ever had. i truly want you to know how much i value you. i am so grateful to get to know such talented driven and kind people. i feel very lucky to have met you all and even if we do not talk often i am really happy you are here.
wishing you and your loved ones good health safety and warmth at home along with abundance and success in all the ways that matter. i hope the coming year brings us more peace ease and harmony than the last one did ✨
So it's kinda making the rounds but there's a blog titled dnihallofshame that is basically allowing and encouraging anonymous ppl to crop pics of peoples rules just for them to talk shit about them.
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2025 is coming to an end. Reblog this to let your mutuals and other roleplay partners know. That you've enjoyed every single interaction you've had with them.
