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mrs-gauche · 1 year

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The “Flip it” Theory

(I’m sorry, it’s like 3am and I couldn’t come up with a better title. lol)

So.. Here’s another fun little DA tinfoil hat theory that you might have already heard about, but I don’t think I’ve seen it discussed on here before? It also probably sounds super unhinged, but at this point, can we even get any more unhinged in terms of theories? lol So, we might as well just embrace it. It’s just one of those theories that simply won’t leave my mind (especially when trying to sleep at 3am lol), so writing it down will hopefully put it to rest. 😁

Okay, so we all know that, in the Fade, the laws of gravity or physics in general don’t really apply and are all over the place, right? There’s no real sense of time or space, no real “up” or “down” as the Fade does not follow any rules of the waking world and is somewhat shaped by whatever the person dreaming expects reality to look like or quote, “is reflected by the mind of the living”.

So when we see the Inquisitor fall into Fade in “Here Lies the Abyss”, it’s even emphasized by how the camera movement in-game and the environment in the Fade has to “adjust” according to how the Inquisitor expects gravity to work, or rather, what the world’s supposed to look like to us, meaning the sky has to be up and the ground has to be down. lol

Additionally in Trespasser, we see that, not only is the Vir Dirthara scattered all over the place, but in parts also completely flipped upside down.

(I’m so sorry btw, I just now realized that looking at these gifs for too long can make you feel super dizzy. lol)

The reason I’m pointing this out, is because it keeps reminding me, for one, of this mural.

Of course, since this mural was first shown in the teaser trailer in 2020 and has been thoroughly analyzed by the fandom, it seems pretty clear by now that, with the way this mural is composed, particularly with the two upside down figures, BioWare intentionally encourages us to look at this image upside down. What’s even more intriguing to me, seeing as the Dread Wolf appears to break into the Black City here, “releasing” the raw magic of the Fade with its non existent rules of reality to the waking world and in doing so, figuratively and in some respects quite literally “turning the world upside down”.

Though while most people seem to focus on the two figures here (that are most definitely the two remaining Evanuris still sleeping/imprisoned or something like that, but that’s not the topic of this post lol), you might have heard of this other crazy theory suggesting that, when looking at this mural upside down, the shape of the Dread Wolf appears to roughly resemble that of a mountain.

(I warned you this leans VERY heavy on the tinfoil hat, but please don’t leave yet lol) Okay so, as far as I understand it, the theory suggests a potential connection to a particular mountain mentioned in the lore, called Belenas.

In a legend of the Avvar, it is said that Korth the Mountain-Father kept his throne at the peak of the mountain Belenas, which “lay at the center of the world”. The tale goes as follows:

Korth took his heart out of his chest and hid it within the Frostback Mountains to avoid being weakened by love. When his lack of heart turned him bitter and cruel, the Lady of the Skies sent her children to retrieve it. Though after all her children had failed to do so, the ptarmigan volunteered for the search. The Lady refused to give the tiny bird her blessing, as she thought the mountains was too fierce, but the ptarmigan succeeded where everyone else had failed. It found and freed the heart, allowing it to jump back into Korth's chest, where Hakkon Wintersbreath bound it once again. For her great deed, the ptarmigan was honored by the gods.

When Korth grew tired of heroes barging into his hall to claim the honors they thought they were due for climbing the mountain of the gods, he spoke to the Lady of the Skies, who then lifted Belenas from the earth into her realm, so no one could reach it anymore.

Legend says that Belenas was eventually destroyed during a battle between Korth and the serpent Nathramar, leaving only a vast crater behind that the Lady of the Skies “filled with her tears” and formed what we now know as Lake Calenhad.

Okay, so there’s a lot to dissect here, so I try to make it as brief as possible, but in short, people have noticed a number of intriguing parallels to different pieces of elven lore and theories in this tale, or what could be interpreted as such.

So I’m going to try and take this on one by one. Let’s start with this:

- Korth’s throne sits at the peak of mountain Belenas, at “the center of the world”.

- When looking at the mural from the teaser upside down again, it places the Black City (or the “Maker’s throne”, if you will) at the “peak” of the Dread Wolf shaped “mountain”. It is also known that the Black City sits at “the center of the Fade”, where no one is able to reach it.

- Korth takes his heart out of his chest and hides it within the Frostback Mountains. When his lack of heart turns him bitter and cruel, the Lady of the Skies sends her children to retrieve it.

- If we put in “Titan” for Korth and “Mythal” for the Lady of the Skies, this part is kinda reminiscent of what we know (or suspect) of Mythal, her conquering of the Titans (which would be the Frostback mountains in this comparison) and the theory of the ancient elves killing the Titans and obtaining their hearts, enabling them to create the foci/orbs/vessels of dreams that gives them god like powers. So Mythal sends out her “children”/army in the attempt to conquer the Titan and obtain its heart.

- After all the Lady’s children fail, the ptarmigan volunteers for the search. She refuses to give the tiny bird her blessing, as she thinks the mountains are too fierce, but the ptarmigan succeeds and retrieves the heart.

- Now, this part might be a bit of a reach, but when taking this even further and comparing this whole story to Mythal’s war against the Titans, looking at this tiny little nondescript bird defying the odds and ultimately leading the Lady of the Skies to “victory”, am I the only one who’s a little reminded of Greek mythology here (which, as I’ve mentioned numerous times before now, seems to be at least partially BioWare’s inspiration for the ancient elves), and how in Greek mythology, the Olympians’ victory over the (literal) Titans was the result of a cunning trick devised by Prometheus, who deserted from the Titans’ army beforehand.

And I know I’m certainly not the only one to have noticed a lot of odd similarities between the role of good old Prometheus in mythology and our very divisive Mr wanna-be-Wisdom Pride, aka Solas.

- For her great deed in retrieving Korth’s heart, the ptarmigan is honored by the gods.

- So while we’re at it, why not just compare the little bird to Solas then and assume that, for helping Mythal in her victory over the Titans and obtaining its heart, Solas is somehow honored and elevated to the status of godhood or at least into some sort of exclusive circle of those who the Evanuris trusted the most. (And even rewarded with his own orb, maybe? Might this be what we’re seeing in the mural depicting a Titan’s death?)

- When Korth grows tired of heroes barging into his hall to claim the honors of the gods, the Lady of the Skies lifts Belenas from the earth into her realm, so no one can reach it anymore.

- Now it gets a bit tricky.. If we take this part of the tale as Mythal “lifting” the now dead Titan into her own realm, meaning the sky, maybe it’s nothing more than a metaphor for Mythal mining the Titans’ blood and using the lyrium for her own empire (the creation of bodies for spirits?). Or maybe she literally lifted part of a dead Titan’s body into the sky and used it as a “cornerstone” to build the empire’s capital city Arlathan on top of it.

Which, again, would actually explain why the Black City *cough* Arlathan *cough* is depicted on top of the “mountain” in the 2020 upside down mural. Especially when adding that last part “so no one can reach it”, you know, just like the Black City can’t be reached within the Fade.

- Belenas was eventually destroyed during a battle between Korth and the serpent Nathramar, leaving only a vast crater behind that the Lady of the Skies “filled with her tears” and formed what we now know as Lake Calenhad.

- Again, this part could be interpreted in many different ways. I’ve seen theories spanning from Solas creating the Veil causing the magical floating Arlathan to fall from the sky and destroying the mountain in the process, to the Lady’s “tears” actually being Mythal’s (Great dragon) blood that somehow dripped in the lake when she was murdered, which is why centuries later, the actual Calenhad Theirin would gain special powers when he made a bargain with an old witch (Flemeth?) and drank from said lake.

So yeah, as you can see, there’s a lot to take from all this as far as unhinged tinfoil theories and strange parallels go. lol

And with all of this in mind, I’d like to look at the Black City in the 2020 teaser mural again, as you also might have notice that, in addition to the whole mountain shaped Dread Wolf, when turned upside down, the Black City appears to keep the silhouette of a city, no matter how you look at it?

In fact, a lot of depictions we’ve seen of the Black City share this rather oddly shaped silhouette.

There’s also this stained glass, depicting the city upside down and in both gold and black.

I actually don’t know what to take from all this. It’s just something I’ve noticed while gathering images. lol

But while we’re at it and flipping everything on its head now.. lol While I was looking at all the Trespasser murals again, I also noticed that, when flipped upside down, two of the murals actually form a full circle when put together.

And ohh, would you look at that, there’s the “mountain” (Titan) at the bottom again with the Black City “on top” of it, just like the mural in the 2020 teaser when flipped upside down?? 😂 (Also interesting parallel to note with Solas holding the orb(?) on both the left side of each mural.)

Now, I know I sound super unhinged and I actually don’t think this is supposed to mean anything and it’s probably just a crazy coincidence (..right??), but.... what IF we just go full on tinfoil here now and assume that it IS actually supposed to be looked at this way......

In all the murals we’ve seen thus far, the circle was always assumed to represent the Veil, right? So when looking at it this way, it would put the Titan inside the Fade within the Veil beneath the Black City, right?

So.. Here’s my crazy idea...

Even though we know the Fade is an ever-changing place not bound to any rules of reality or a set geography.. What if the rocky landscapes we see in the “raw Fade” are actually all part of a sleeping/dead Titan(s)?

And while we are looking at these rocks again, am I the only one reminded of the structures seen in the deepest level of the The Descent dlc, a gargantuan cavern located in the so called “Wellspring” within a Titan, which is grouped at the expedition table as a location within “the Uncharted Abyss”.

“The Abyss”, also called the Void in different cultures, myths and historical texts in DA lore, is said to be a place whose location is undefined, but believed to be somewhere within the Fade, “empty places between dreams” (or, according to Solas, the place where spirits are reborn).

So if we go back to the Wellspring again, where we’re looking at what appears to be a literal abyss, a vast sea of clouds.. What we expected to be the deepest and darkest place in the world is revealed to be a bright, seemingly endless “sky” beneath the earth, or rather a Titan.

And with all this in mind, it’s even more intriguing now to go back to the beginning of this post, where we established that, in the Fade, the sky is not set to be “above” or “beneath”. It all depends on the expectation or perspective of the beholder.

(And btw, funnily enough, I actually encountered a bug once at the Wellspring that made it look like the sky was actually “falling down” on me. lol)

And lastly, in relation to all of this, I also want to point out this little quote, said by Flemeth in DA2:

“The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss.”

While we all know our favorite old witch likes to be overly ambiguous and cryptic in her phrasing, maybe we should take this quote more literal than we previously thought? lol Maybe, with the Veil collapsing some way or another and the angry tainted Titans awakened, the world might literally lose its so called “Pillars of the Earth”, plummeting into the endless void we’ve seen in The Descent.....

Well, shit.

Anyway, I’m afraid that’s all I had to say lol, and if you actually made it this far, thank you so much for engaging in this insanity. 😁 (And sorry if this turned out to be a total waste of your time. 😂)

Though I do have to mention, what actually prompted me to write this post in the first place, was seeing how some people are expecting Solas to be at the White Spire now after reading the synopsis of the upcoming comic series “The Missing” (if you want to know why, skip to the end of this post lol). The White Spire being an Antivan mountain with a very particular shape (at least according to this illustrated map of Thedas that came with every copy of Tevinter Nights).

(I can see where this thing got its name from. lol It almost reminds me of a volcano? 😂)

Which just so happens to ALSO kinda resemble the shape of the “upside down mountain” shaped Dread Wolf from the 2020 mural....

So.. take from this information whatever you like, because I don’t know anything anymore... My head hurts from all this spinning. I’m out. 🥴

#tinfoil time #trespasser #solas #mythal #da4 #dragon age 4 #this is probably the most tinfoil I'll ever get lol #but this one is so much fun to think about for some reason 😂#anyway good night lol

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rockethorse · 1 year

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Someone mentioned here the other day about how TS2 lots these days tend to be mostly CC-free, which I’d pretty much agree with; and how interesting that is to compare with how CC-heavy lots used to be, and how that was often viewed as a good thing - something I’d also agree with. And it got me thinking, about the shifting state of the Sims 2 community, and of the Internet & fandom spaces in general, so, I thought I’d muse with the rest of us oldbies.

Years and years ago, I felt that CC-free lot which utilised a bunch of different EP/SPs were less useful than basegame-compatible lots filled with CC, because if I wanted the CC-free lot exactly as it appeared, then all I had to do was download the CC*. Conversely, requiring me to own a bunch of expensive EP/SPs to play the lot felt way less accessible.

(*Listen, let’s just ignore the paid-CC issue for now, lol. Ignoring how I feel about either of them, paid CC is a different conversation to pirated DLC.)

But nowadays, most people have all the EPs/SPs, one way or another- whether that’s because you just slowly collected them all on disc over the years (like me), because you got the Sims 2 Ultimate Collection when it was made free, or because it became easier to teach yourself how to access them via other means. So using multiple EP/SPs is no longer the barrier it used to be.

At the same time, decent CC used to be quite rare. The post I saw mentioned that downloading lots was often something we relied on to find new CC in the first place, and I definitely remember that era - being so excited to get a house full of shiny new goodies you’d never seen anywhere else before. But now, with the advent of Sims communities on social media with a faster, more accessible, and more personal turnover rate than the old Sims forums, it’s become easier than ever to discover, share, hunt down, and catalogue old Sims 2 CC. In addition, as the community still dedicated to the Sims 2 grows a bit older and wiser, we’ve learned how to make the new CC we’ve always dreamed of - TS3 and TS4 provided/are providing us with a constant stream of new material via conversions, more people are learning to make new content by piecing together existing TS2 meshes and textures, and some are branching out into making completely new meshes from scratch.

So not only do most of us have access to all TS2 EPs/SPs these days, but CC no longer feels as scarce as it used to. Random CC packaged with a lot no longer feels like the jackpot it used to.

With all that in mind - I can’t speak for anyone else, but personally, when I make my lots CC-free, it’s not because I presume other people don’t want to download custom content. In fact, it’s almost the opposite - I know most people’s downloads folders are already bursting at the seams, and I don’t want to contribute more CC to that, or force people to go through and remove/replace a million ming vases either.

I think all of us have curated our own personal preferences and standards for the CC we use in our game, and I think we enjoy personalising the lots we download like this, whether they’re CC-free or not. So if we all do it anyway - swapping out certain items for the bespoke alternatives we prefer - I think it’s easier on people to download a CC-free lot and only replace the objects that jump out at them, happily leaving everything else EAxis or letting default replacements handle the rest, than having to comb through a lot for every instance of missing CC.

And it’s interesting how even though my attitude towards CC in Sims 2 lots has flipped, I find myself in the exact same position I was in years ago now with TS4 instead. While I enjoy building in TS4, I don’t find myself coming back to it for the gameplay, so I don’t really want to spend money on any DLC for it since I won’t get my money’s worth. So while I make my own TS4 lots CC-free so I can put them on the gallery, I’m back in the position of preferring people would just use CC that I have the option to hunt down and download for myself than to require I own a bunch of overpriced EPs and SPs to play their lot.

Time is a flat circle, I guess!

#also of course we're a bit more savvy about how messy packaging CC with lots can be these days haha #so even if we do it 'right' I think people are just a bit averse to it. for better or worse #lonngnggg post

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jbeshir · 2 years

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On People Who Hate You and Effective Altruism

Something that I learned a while ago providing support for people doing online fiction, was that as soon as your fandom gets reasonably big, people will emerge who want to hurt you. There's something you've written or done they don't like, something in (what they believe to be) your messaging that they wish other people would listen to less, some way that they think you're crap and they have the personality type that finds it intensely frustrating when other people don't agree with them and wants to try to get others to do so. These people are a really small minority, but 0.01% of people is enough for an expected one once you have 10,000 people paying attention to you, an expected ten once you have 100,000 people, and so on.

And they'll be wildly unfair to you, send you abusive things, say things optimised to hurt you emotionally, go around trying to convince other people to hate you too. Sometimes put frankly remarkable amounts of work and time into it. And it's really important that you can disengage with people who want to hurt you, as far as you can.

A norm that people must engage with criticism, a never-shifted heuristic that everyone hates criticism and must continually try to engage more with criticism to try to be less that, a cultural assumption that whenever someone says a criticism isn't well-founded it means they're closed-minded and failing to give it enough charity is, I think, toxic, really psychologically unhealthy, and essentially community-mandated social anxiety. It's important that you're allowed to stop interacting with people being unfair and unpleasant to you, and that it's an allowable thought that they might be being that.

I'm pretty sure this dynamic doesn't actually change when you're a group like EA trying to accomplish good instead of just an artist or author. It now matters that you do engage with reasonable critics- a creator isn't really doing anything wrong if they just ignore all feedback but you can't- but the dynamic that produces people who hate you still exists, it's still very harmful for your wellbeing and functioning to be pressured into always believing they must be in-some-sense-right and you must be in-some-sense-wrong, and it's still very important you're allowed to say "this is wildly unfair, and I don't have to engage with it".

I think people wildly disagree about whether EA has a problem with ignoring critics. I don't personally think it does- "do we pay enough attention to critics" is a recurring topic, and my personal view is that it's rare to see anything even remotely grounded that hasn't been debated to death (e.g. "systemic change" discourse) get ignored in public. I think this post more or less aligns with my experience. But it's very reasonable for people to think this problem does exist and push for more attention to critics in general.

However, I think that some people who think it does, or might, are pressing for the opposite-mistake-to-that. They think the bigger problem is incorrectly ignoring critics, so any time they see someone decling to engage with something, they don't look at whether it's unfair, and mean, and whether that's a reasonable choice. They just jump straight to "that's closed minded and bad for the community".

And I think this, actually, is also a bad thing to do to people. It would still be a bad thing to do even if you were right about the broader trend. Having scrupulosity issues, anxiety, default assumption that anyone saying anything bad about you must be right, should not in fact be a mandatory part of being in EA spaces.

In judging whether something should be virtuously engaged with, whether the good thing to do is to spend your energy on it rather than anything else, you cannot escape actually putting the effort in to judge: Was this critique accurate or not? Was it informed, or uninformed? Was it, if none of those things, at least motivated by a desire to help, or by a desire to make more people hate you because they dislike you for reasons litigated elsewhere? And if it's not, and you try to press people to worry about it more, you're not being the good force for community health you think you are.

#effective altruism

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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(About: This and This ask) I know this probs doesnt need to be said but..... coming from a black (and aroace) person... PLEASE do n o t feed into these mentalities!! they are very otherizing for one and just terrible to hear about?

LOOK this might be irresponsible to say but idk if fandom racism does exist because wtf does that even mean and like ok how are you to deal with it effectively? as another anon said racism is systematic and will always pump out more? like forgive me if i cant give my full attention to the atrocities happening in fandom rn but like.. i heard another black person talk about panty and stocking and say that he liked the show just stop with the black caricatures and like that made me REALLY start to think about what fandom racism even is????

like i tried the show out because of what he said and well hes right its alright, the caricatures are uncanny but didn't really make me uncomfortable just some other things about the show made be drop it. so otherizing and centering black people as on issues on EVERYTHING even slightly involved with us is dumb because i wasn't warned of the other concepts of the show that made me drop it. putting black people in a monolithic box where they can only be portrayed in a way you want them to be is so dumb like i heard this somewhere before but the LGBT community is taking this really ugly turn where everything IS in little boxes where you cant act in certain ways but like THATS terrible people are complex and yadda yadda(you know how this goes) so if claire says theyre something or other believe them! ppls experiences are SO much greater than some arbitrary definition meant to help those UNDERSTAND not DEFINE that sexuality or gender.

so hang in with mehere when i say you absolute can not let people who say or do things like the peeps mentioned in those anons! an anon talked about them writing a character in their fic that was black and liked basketball because THEY were black and liked basketball so whether a black person is depicted right is dumb i care more on how you'd talk or treat me! if somebody said things in those anons to me id drop them, so you should too :]. i know things in this rant might have jumped around too much but one last point;

a space that i care to see isn't one where me being black is repeatedly brought up as reference in everything i do (even if its positive or what not and mainly what behavior i mean when i say othering) its one where bigotry is IMMEDIATELY called out and not tolerated and the best way i can illustrate this is my experiences in high school! recent graduate here so pretty fresh on my mind. in 10th and 11th grade i went to a school with at least half the population being minorities and anytime someone tried some nonsense or tried to get away with something they shouldn't it was instantly called out and the person would shrink back or immediately have to tuck that mentality back where it came from and it was great! you wouldn't have to worry about them coming out of the woodwork with terrible takes cuz it'd would be squashed. but during 11 and 12 grade i went to a predominately white school and that CHANGED things. like walking in the hallway hearing someone say nword hard r behind your back kinda changed and youd look behind you and they were both white and look these are kids who use tik tok that app KNOWN for radicalizing ppl towards bigotry so like please empathize with me when i say i dont want to see ppl that way. but yknowww, and this wouldnt be called out, just some lighthearted voice going 'omgggg you shouldnt XD' and dude this is the "texas" south the mfing my bus driver talked about sneaking guns into cali cuz she hated the laws against them south. the obnoxious white boy jokes about being a bass fish south and he could do it LOUDLY too. so yeah when i came home i didnt and still dont want to see or hear bigotry! all this to say;

just... just act normal! like the behavior in those anons arent NORMAL 'aroace people are uncaring and incapable of love' i know this was called out for what it really was , aro + ace phobic nonsence but what would this person think of an actually black person calling them out like wattttt anyway thanks for the soapbox i never get to rant irl like this bc few peeps have the context.

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ladymoonveil · 2 years

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Been venturing back into Reaper76 lately, and even though activity has died down a lot compared to when Overwatch was in its heyday, this is still probably my favourite pairing to sink my teeth into.

The fandom is also a much nicer space to be in, especially since that annoying, vocal group of people who loved to villainize Jack Morrison based on the colour of his skin has stopped harassing and policing people after it was canonically revealed that:

1. Gabe was the more experienced leader during the Omnic Crisis, but Jack was the one who held the team together and brought out the best in the people around him.

2. Jack was ultimately chosen as Strike Commander because Gabrielle Adawe and the UN found him to be the more suitable candidate for rebuilding, especially since this is now a much more political role after the war has ended. (Valkyrie short)

3. Unlike a lot of incorrect assumptions that were made, the promotion was not the main cause of the rift between the two characters. Gabe was, in fact, a supportive friend and teammate who didn’t jump to bitterness over this. If anything, it was Jack giving Gabe too much leeway and defending his sometimes questionable actions in the years that followed which resulted in his downfall.

There was a year or so that felt like stepping into a minefield where Reaper76 works were written by people who actively hated half the ship, and the sole reason for one character’s existence is to grovel for forgiveness. It’s character bashing but tagged as the main pairing. (Something similar happened to MCU!Stony, which is why I’m mainly into comics!Stony now.) Some of the excuses I saw trying to justify Reaper working for Talon, a literal terrorist organization behind horrifying acts (and not a double agent either), was mind boggling. It’s made worse because they don’t judge Jack by the same standards, and actively went out of their way to paint him as some useless white guy who barely contributed to the war effort and “stole” the promotion.

I remember some of my favourite creators being harassed and bullied to the point that they straight up deleted their stories and left the ship. The “moral high ground” fandom police held up their own headcanons as the be-all end-all for everyone (because I guess they never learned the basic fandom etiquette of “Your Headcanon Is Not Canon”), and if you disagreed with them you were called a bunch of names and had to deal with some truly terrible BS.

It’s such a disservice to Gabe and Jack too, because they’re complex characters whose relationship got reduced to one of jealousy and hatred, and the things that each of them were allowed to explore ended up being severely limited in fear of pissing off said fandom police.

Luckily this isn’t really the case anymore, and with a bit of digging you can find many fics that aren’t one-sided. My favourites have always been the ones that allowed them to explore their own shades of grey.

After many years of being in various fandom spaces, I feel like I’m generally not as interested in participating anymore unless I know that the source material is aimed at a mature audience, or the people I am interacting with will behave like adults. Some positive examples of this would be:

1. Hannigram, where the fandom has pretty effectively shut down policing (because seriously are you going to try and police the “murder husbands” ship that contains a cannibal serial killer?)

2. A lovely Taiwanese Top Gun discord server where everyone is very well versed in their fandom etiquette of “Ship and Let Ship”, “I Am Responsible For My Own Content Consumption”, and the aforementioned “Your Headcanon is Not Canon”.

Things like this really make such a big difference towards having a good time, instead of dealing with all sorts of fandom wank.

#reaper76 #jack morrison #soldier 76 #rant

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first-only · 2 years

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You know, knowing that the majority of the world does not/ has not read fanfiction is such a weird thing to me. And I don't mean that in a 'why aren't people more like me?' or a 'those people are weird' kinda way

I guess it's just cause fanfic is something that is very important to me, and is something that has made me happy, it's one of my core interest. This isn't just related to fic, all of my interests are like that. Whenever I see someone who has no interest in art, or writing, or thinking up stories, it kinda of boggles my mind a bit. And I think it's because I, myself, could not imagine being happy without those doing those hobbies and interests. But other people aren't me, and that is fine! People have a wide range of interests, and what makes someone happy won't be the same as some other people. People are different, and that is a good thing

It is still something that's a bit hard to wrap my head around (which is fine, as long as I don't act like an ass to people who have different interests) but I'm trying my best

right on, anon! brains work weird sometimes but we do reign them in lol

this is actually a very interesting view to me (but valid! very valid!), because when i was like getting into fanfiction and fandom in general it really wasnt that popularized ya know? like very few people knew this niche interest and social group existed, and there was this intra-culture view that all this is sort of a secret, that this is 'our space', its 'just for us'. (taken as a mantra from rpf ofc which is a good practice). so i never expected anyone i didnt meet in such spaces specifically to even /know/ they exist, let alone enjoy them. ive had this situation with a friend with whom we'd been friends for like over 2 years when i casually (accidentally maybe i dont remember anymore) mentioned fic and they literally jumped out of their chair like YOU KNOW WHAT FANFICTION IS?!?! it's still hilarious, we were actual friends for /two years/ and we never revealed our Secret Society cards to each other lol. but yes as it /is/ getting more popular now its more understandable to assume people would've at least heard about it, but still many people and places where its not that much of a thing! that and a lot of people dismiss it as 'cringy' and worthless and obsessed fangirl work which. wig ig lol. and even in more fandom-adjacent circles you'd see people /surprised/ when a fic is actually good bc they never gave fandom a chance, and just dismissed it as a cringy hobby (which is also fine but no need to be patronizing ya know). Personal experiences will shape the way you think of things

as for weird brain refusing to understand rational concepts - i had this meet up with reality when i studied coding. i was in a novice class with a lot of other people and some of them just... didnt get it. not necessarily the problems themselves, but like.. the essential idea of /how code works/. it was very weird to me. they insisted i must have previous experience to catch on that quickly, and well i did, but they were stumbling at the first steps, something that never gave me pause. i was really really shocked then, i just couldnt believe people couldnt grasp a basic function, and i realized i was coming off as a bit patronizing myself. it got to me that i was expecting more of people that just didnt have the perspective that i did. that prompted a whole discussion on How People Think, because it was obvious that these people not getting code were definitely not stupid, this was just a way of thinking that didnt agree with the way their thought process worked as whole. so in this discussion a lot of friends shared a bit of the insides of their minds and it was fascinating - i tend to think with words and images, visuals appearing along with a strong internal monologue. but my friends shared about thinking in concepts, in feelings, with no imagery at all, by association and memory alone. when asked to describe how we think of a specific object we all described the thought process differently ("i think of where it is now" "i think of who it belongs to" "i think of what it would be like to touch it" "i think of what color and shape it is" "i think of what personality it would have" "i think of how i feel about it" etc etc). so what im saying is.. brains weird. brains different. dont punish yourself for your brain deciding that an experience has to be universal if its so helpful to it personally. as long as you realize that emotions and actions and needs and rational decisions are different, albeit connected, all's good. brains man.

#ask

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nohrian-skies · 5 months

Text

About Me / Disclaimer

Soft Xander ;w;

Hello!! You've found yourself at my blog, where I focus primarily on Fire Emblem content. You may call me Nohr, Minty, or my real name (Cassandra) as long as you don't shorten it! I'm autistic, with ADHD, major depression, anxiety disorder, trauma, and some childhood abuse. I'm aroace, and my pronouns are they/them or he/him. I'm still learning, but I'm a digital artist who loves to write. I also have two chihuahuas, Mango and Zaphod, who are my ESA dogs.

I come from communities where fanon and avatar oc's are the norm, and considering backlash I've gotten in the past from the FE community, I wanted to write a little disclaimer about my account and what it is I do. I don't expect everyone to agree with what I do here, but I do ask that you be respectful. I'm open to debate, as long as we can both remain open minded, objective, and accepting of others differences and opinions. I accept that the way you see the original content likely isn't the same as the way I do, that doesn't make your views any less valid than mine. I welcome interaction though, and you're more than willing to message me at any time. My asks will remain open, and I am on Discord. I don't mean any offense by this post of course! But I'd like to leave a disclaimer to avoid any misunderstandings and unpleasant interactions I've had with people in the past. Feel free to scroll past this.

Avatar OC's

One of my greatest joys is creating a balanced and complex character, and throwing them into an existing role in an RPG's storyline, while finding my ways to give them an arc of their own that holds tremendous meaning to me. I spend hours developing my avatars, figuring out how they work, what makes them themselves, and what their motives and desires are. Typically, by the time I decide to work on their relationships and arc, I already know what they'll do in almost every situation and I know what I want their story to be about. I first started doing this during my roleplaying days, then with Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, where avatar (hero) oc's were common.

I didn't really start to run into issues with this until I decided to jump on the Fire Emblem train. I've had people tell me that my avatars don't count because they're oc's, and others that they don't count as oc's because they're not original enough. This is extremely hurtful, as I spend weeks or months on these characters that hold tremendous value to me, then place them in a role that is intended to be a self-insert. It bothers me that I have been excluded from events and spaces for this reason, but not enough to stop doing it. My avatars have a piece of me, I often put my own experiences of neurodivergency, abuse, trauma, and mental illness into these characters.

I love sharing them with people, and will respect if you don't like them, but if you come to gatekeep or start drama, I would like to remind you that the back button is in the upper left corner of your web browser :)

OCxCanon Ships

I can understand why this might not be everyone's cup of tea. I've run into plenty of ocxcanon ships that I don't like. It can certainly be done badly, or it can be done very well. I do quite a few of these in my content, with my avatars in particular. You'll see it in friendships, too. This is the internet, and you're bound to find someone who disagrees with you. Which is fine! Again, though, if you don't care for it I would prefer you move on. My ships, like my characters, are very close to my heart for personal reasons. I do take criticism, yes, but it takes a lot for me to stop liking something, as I'm a very passionate person.

Character Interpretations

As I write a game's content, there is usually a singular character that I have my avatar focus their relationships on. Oftentimes, I may interpret or write their character differently than the fandom or even the original writers. It could be for a number of reasons... maybe I find their writing disrespectful or inconsistent. Maybe it better suits my narrative. Oftentimes, though, how I write the character will change over time as I become more confident and adjusted to writing them. The biggest examples of this are Xander and Dimitri. I do have some issues with both their writing (but will still talk about either on cue very passionately, as the good outweighs the bad) and as I've written them more, the style I write them in has changed.

When this is a conscious decision, it's not one I make lightly. I do plenty of analyzing and research and if I come to the conclusion that I want to interpret them differently or make a change, it's for a very good reason. For Dimitri, I find the way his mental illness is handled to be very disrespectful, and triggering for me, personally. Xander's inconsistent writing has been spoken of at length, and I make sense of it in a way I can understand; I try to prioritize his trauma, anxiety, and the soft sides of his personality. His relationship with my avatar is also a factor, as it's very different from his relationship with canon Corrin. Relationships with my avatar have the capacity to change the character's timeline or behavior, as different personalities will cause them to react differently.

Bear in mind, however, that I try to stay as close to the source material as possible! And I try not to downplay what a character has done, as long as it makes sense to me. It may not be what the writer intended for that character, but it's never done out of malice.

Headcanons & Fanon

When I write, I take the source material and mold it to fit my narrative. My characters have a separate personal journey that I want them to take. Relationships I want them to explore. I want to make them, break them, and build them back up again. Of course I recognize that my works are not part of the official canon, but I create a canon of sorts for my creations. I like to think of it as a parallel timeline. Mostly the same, but with a different character, with a different personality and history, where a few things are different. I value my ability to be creative. I implement a lot of headcanons into my work, and I absolutely love exploiting holes or reimagining things where I see an opportunity.

I can't speak for now, but years ago, this was a very common thing to do in the PMD2 community. PMD2 is a little vague and does have some holes, which the community as a whole loved to explore. Not everyone's take was the same, but that was the fun of it for me! I love reading everyone else's perspectives. The FE fandom is very different and I can respect that, but this is something I have been doing since 2010 and I enjoy it immensely.

Crossovers

I don't usually post these. Mostly because they're very self-indulgent and personal and I recognize that the majority of people won't care for them. But they do exist, and I put no less work into crossover content than I do anything else. Bear in mind though, although I like sharing my work with others, I write primarily for myself. I'm a hobbyist who creates what makes me happy.

You've reached the end!

Thank you for your time! I'll close with the statement that, of course, I am a human who makes mistakes. I try my best to learn from experiences and move forward. This post will probably change over time, but it will never be my intention to call anyone out or start drama. The experiences I've detailed in this post have been few, but for my mental health and others, I really need to avoid getting into arguments about fictional characters (outside healthy debate) anymore.

#disclaimer #oc x canon #fanon #headcanon #avatar oc #crossover #interpretation #fanfiction

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mcmoth · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

#dream smp #mcyt #fandom #fandom etiquette #fandom critical #tommyinnit #technoblade #tubbo #dreamwastaken #let me know if i should remove tjose tags - i'm not sure whether it counts as crosstagging or not sorry #long post #my own post

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lisartino · 2 years

Text

After days on it, here's my attempt at angsty fanfics with one dealing with the Void Overlord! AU.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Language: English

---

He fled throughout the Endless paths and exterior corridors, the spiraling stairs, and the everflowing winds of the Zone. Mord, a green-skinned ghost clothed in grey was fleeing from a horde of pitch-black wraiths fused with bioluminescent, crystal ranging from blue to purple, and held swords, maces, and axes made of sharp quartz and minerals enhanced with an ethereal aura reminiscent of bright clouds with small glitters, fading in and out on a random basis.

He took a deep breath and threw a yellowish-green ball fuming with a scarlet red smoke toward the misty specters. The spherical object exploded, triggering echoing screeches from the aggressors, flailing their lithoid arsenal to get rid of the blood cloud engulfing them. Mord saw a line of rocks and jumped away from the warriors and possessed one of these rocks. He covered his mouth and his breaths were slow and silent as not to alert the crystalline wraiths with his core. The cloud was gone and the specters looked in all directions, clicking similarly to an animal’s echolocations and after five minutes of cautious research, they left in a dark purple nebula with no bioluminescence.

When the clicks are completely gone, Mord leaves his mineral cover and looks up for potential sentient crystals floating nearby. None are seen in one of the many lone, floating islands of the Infinite Realms of the Dead: Only sick green grass and dried blood-colored trunks from a lifeless tree along with the ocean-blue rocks who served Mord as his cover:

“Finally...I made it”, Mord relieved, his left hand around his chest to feel his exhausted breath.

With haste, the grey-cloaked ghost spoke in an unknown tongue and poofed out of the small island. Mord teleported back to an isolated, wooden cabin found with the undergrowth of a luxurious temperate forest full of great, violet oak trees with toxic green leaves covering the realms’ sky. The small house is made from oak wood, making it able to blend within the dim-lit, natural landscape. Some of the wooden planks were worn out by the moss of the realms and others were recently placed to hold the cabin. Perfect for someone looking for a guaranteed shelter from prying eyes like Mord. He opened the worn-out door, leaving a loud creak in its wake:

“Home sweet home…” the wanted spirit spoke, slowly walking with Peace in his mind.

The inner parts of the cabin are populated by an arsenal of light weapons hung up on walls, spare clothes tidied up in a cabinet, and ornate furniture: some like his bed are decorated with the skulls of his favorite kills Norse-style and others like the desk he used to sharpen his skills and create potions with alchemist tools nearby came with a Renaissance-themed architecture such as a lot of motifs and varnished wood planks. The hidden cabin hides a small, royal-like private room, which clashes with the outer appearance of the cabin. Mord put a lot of work into this little place he calls home.

He groped his way to a baroque wooden chair, backed it slightly away from a circular table, and sat there. He took a scarlet red and black, curved dagger with spikes with stains of a toxic green substance, still fresh from the latest deed Mord managed to pull. He examined the liquid...and he chuckled

---

He planned this for mouths: Countless hours to spy, lurk and neutralize those who suspected his existence. Mord finally reached him: A fairly young king by the name of Phantom, the ambitious green-skinned ghost deed unworthy to the throne. None of the kings are unworthy to him...because Mord fully believes to be the true King of the Dead.

The current king has an endless curiosity for the Cosmos, that is a known fact: Dozens of “space stations” were scattered around the Zone where portals usually open. He heard of one space shuttle retrieval coming soon where the King would come to welcome the latest explorers. Through intel, he went to the station in question. Infiltrating the futuristic laboratory was child’s play to Mord the Ambitious and came first to the arrival of the explorers. Mord welcomed the king’s sailors with a swift stab to the core with the same scarlet dagger, destroying each one’s soul. None of them survived and only luminescent dust covered the blue carpet.

After sabotaging the shuttle, he was about to leave when he saw him: Phantom himself with a guard of eight lithoid ghosts soldiers came early and was about to reach the remains of the shuttle. The current king heard the boom from afar as his face showed his worries. It was an opportunity Mord couldn’t miss. He lurked as Phantom remarked the attack, flying his way through the dust. Crouched, the King from beyond the Stars took a pile of each dust and knew something was amiss. Phantom ordered the crystal guard to search for any worthy clues and ask any of the workers if they saw anything sketchy. The eight specters left in a mist of shadow winds, leaving him alone...and defenseless. Mord gets his dagger ready...and he pounced close to the king’s back.

Without hesitation, Mord pierced Phantom’s neck with the scarlet dagger. The weapon’s lethality does not come from its sharp blade but from the poison extracted from blooming blood blossoms, a painful poison often used to repel the dead of the Zone. When the poison spread to the veins, Phantom let out a howling scream similar to banshees and grabbed the green-skinned with his clawed hands...He graved his ice-dagger fingers on Mord’s ribs and he too infected his assassin with a subzero acid manifesting through blacked veins. The ambitious one removed the blade and stripped himself away from the cold lord’s cold dead hands and fled. The King tried to pursue Mord but he fainted: Even strong ghosts are weakened by the blood blossoms and if not treated quickly, will kill him. Even if Phantom fell to the poison, the wail he unleashed alerted everyone in the station, including the crystal guard. The quartz wraiths quickly darted at the fleeing, green-skinned ghost concluding in whoever the culprit is and banded under the black wind towards Mord.

---

“Holy Death...I made it.” Mord realized with a crooked smile, wanting to take a drop of Phantom’s blood from the blade, only to put it back as blood blossoms is an insidious poison that spares no one...even the master of poisons like him. “I have defeated the king!”

The ambitious assassin left the poisonous dagger on the table and went to his bed, ready to take a well-deserved rest from the prowess he pulled. Yet, he still feels the pure cold, bleeding wound around his left ribs. He should heal that before something worse happens: Mord took a nearby piece of cloth, ripped it in half, and bring it above a candle-lit chandelier to warm it up. When hot enough, Mord wrapped the ragged cloth around the wound, removing most of the frozen shards of Phantom’s poison only to be absorbed by the rag. The acid’s effects faded to the hot cloth, disinfecting the wound. Mord only needs to wait for his regeneration to kick in and close it.

Feeling better from his self-medication, Mord the Ambitious lied on his bed, covered his body with a blanket made from a ghost bear’s pelt, and from there, he sleeps with a smile on his face.

---

It was a black landscape filled will neon magenta winds blowing away from a great, ornate black castle. Violet crows with scarlet red and black feathers cawed in unison as they fly above the nefarious towers of the keep. In front of the majestic gothic castle stands a crowd of skeletons, ghosts, and other races of the Dead, chanting “King Mord” or “The Nefarious king of Ambitions” as if they worship a god.

And then, he came out of the main window of the castle: Mord wearing a pure black cape made from ghost stoats covering his body. He now bears a black crown engulfed in green rose roots wrapping it and a black ring with a green skull on his right hand. He looked to his people with his signature crooked smile and opened his arms to the world before him:

“The White Phantom Horror has been slain by my blade!” Mord declared aloud with confidence, raising his greatsword stained with the neon turquoise blood of the Beast. “The Zone is now at peace! You can now come back to your daily life, knowing that the Monstrosity from the Starry skies won’t plague your mind anymore!”

The crown cheered Mord in celebration. Crows were thrown upwards before they flew above the crowd. Mord opened his arms to welcome every chant, eyes closed and still smiling. Minutes after, he went back to his apartments to reach his dining room. The Ambitious king is welcomed by a great feast he couldn’t wait any longer. He devoured everything the cookers game him: A quest against an Eldritch Horror sure makes you hungry and tired.

After a well-deserved feast, Mord walked back to his rooms only to be greeted by one of his counselors shrouded in a black and blue robe:

“Good day to you, Your Majesty.” The counselor greeted. “Would you like to play cards to pass the time?”

“Sounds good to me”, The Nefarious king gladly accepted.

Mord is always fond of the infinite activities and pleasures a king could do: He would do anything to have fun rather than to deal with the problems of the Zone unless his position and his access to his desires were threatened. He wanted to become a king out of greed and decadence, not out of righteousness, conquest, or kindness like so many kings would typically do.

He and the counselor played a simple game of poker and whoever loses would give their earnings to the winner. Although poker is a common activity with his nobility, he never played with this one: whoever was his adversary radiated with a fresh cold aura and his voice was calm but sharp and refined for a young man. Doesn’t matter, Mord thought: He would win by either luck or rigged deck.

Speaking of which, his adversary was very good at poker to the point he was about to win. The king had no choice but to add some of his trickery to the decks. Mord plunged his free right hand and moved his fingers. A small, red smoke slithers from below to the table, imbued with powers in the Nefarious King’s favor without the black counselor noticing it. Naturally, this tipped the game and Mord won the game, his large smile waiting for the black-robed rival to hand over his gold coins.

However, the counselor did nothing instead. He remained there, all silent, and didn’t move an inch:

“Listen, you braindead secretary: I have won. Hand over the coins”, Mord spat, frustrated by the act of defiance from whoever he was facing. “Unless you want to take a quick dive in my private pool for not paying me”

“You do not deserve them”, replied the black ghost, his voice now crystal clear with a pitch-black breath coming out of the night sky-blue cowl each time he speaks. “I won’t give the coins to a cheater”

“You dare call me, the Nefarious king of Ambitions, a cheater?!”, Mord roared at the noble specter. “I’ll make you eat those words!”

The king charged a bright, crimson sphere, crackled with amethyst sparks, ready to punch the rebel’s face. He pounced at him but the cloaked figure backed to the left and avoided the attack. Traitors are bound to be found within the ranks of the true king but Mord deals swiftly with them, ending them with the rebel agonizing from the assassin’s mastery over Poison.

Not this time.

The failed surprise attack only fueled the anger of Mord as he stood up to retry, only to be pinned against the jagged, damaged stone bricks. The cloaked figure held the king’s throat with firm, clawed white hands with a touch so cold it felt like absolute zero burning. The dark noble breathed a cone of pure darkness smoke and the face is now visible: two void black eyes with no pupils in a pale white skin gazed with a maddening hatred the assassin has never seen before:

“You do not deserve to wear this crown…”, He said harshly while his other hand took the black thorny crown and threw it to the ground, away from the assassin. He then grabs the false lord’s right middle finger with the ring, making sure it is well covered by his clawed dead grip “...Nor this ring”

Cold surges coming from the hand spread to the held finger. It felt excruciating to Mord as he lost all of the nerves from the middle finger...until a loud crack breaks the silence. The cloaked figure ripped the frozen finger with ease and the Nefarious king screeched like a pig being slaughtered by a butcher, watching as best as he could his right hand, now bleeding. After the figure examined the ripped finger, mint green mists cover the black ring and with the care of a jeweler, it is slowly pulled from the finger until fully removed. The ring is put with the crown while the finger is thrown to the open window:

“You wretched coward! You will pay for angering the king of the dead!” Mord threatened to the figure, still pinned against the wall.

The figure darted back to Mord and the cold grip gets more severe to the point the assassin’s throat has issues circulating the air into the lungs. His darkest breath covered the assassin’s face once more:

“Enjoy your last days in the Ghost Zone.” He responded with a solemn, severe tone, supported by other voices: echoing duplicates of the figure but angered or slithering at Mord. “The Abyss is calling your name.”

The figure further pinned Mord to the wall and his pale white skin headbutts with the green-skinned ghost. The figure made sure to cross Mord’s scared sight and screeched with a thousand wails of the dead so high that it invaded the assassin‘s senses with evergrowing darkness. The howl is unbearable to handle: The young figure’s voice was accompanied by hundreds of maddening screech of other damned ghosts and bellowed roars of unknown horrors Mord couldn’t fathom. The prolonged effect sapped the assassin’s sanity to the point it gradually killed him off. The Nefarious king couldn’t support it and without knowing, he began to scream too with no control over his movement. A desperate plea before the infinite wails engulfed his senses and his core with a void-black smoke and dragged him into the Abyss with the rest of the damned souls.

---

Suddenly, Mord screamed out of his blanket for a solid minute before regaining his head and senses to stop. He quickly looked around, still afraid of whether he’s still dreaming or not: No black smoke and no cloaked figure with a thousand screams. It’s only him and his faithful cabin. He remained in his bed for five more minutes before concluding he had a nightmare. Even with this rational reasoning, he still felt terrified at the sheer horror he had faced:

“Oh, mighty Death. What was that?”, Mord wondered, still bewildered and trying to make sense out of this

He looked at his right hand out of caution: His middle finger wasn’t ripped off nor frozen. He sighed in relief as all of this eldritch horror was nothing but a deranged nightmare:

“I should get something to drink...”, the assassin pondered as he leaves his bed, dedicated to whatever he had just dealt with.

---

Days passed by and Mord came back to his usual activities, sheltered from the rest of the world until the guard gives up on tracking him. Since his assassination attempt thought, certain events sprung out to shake the assassin’s afterlife to the worse:

The first of them is the progressive drop of the temperature around the cabin. Each day, Mord took time to warm himself up either through the pelts of recently-hunted ghost animals or stolen fire artifacts. However, nothing happened and the assassin would hide in layers of pelts from the cold temperature. The outer appearance of the cabin and the landscape around it began to be covered in a coat of snow and ice. No matter how fast Mord removed it, the frost always came back the next day. The worst of all is how the cold made the local afterlife forms flee from the cabin, making Mord’s hunts for survival harder.

The cold and inhospitable shelter wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the recurrence of the eldritch nightmare ending in the ghost’s “death” to the Abyss: He gets the same one every night and over time, he began questioning about him being in an endless nightmare he couldn’t wake up from only to face with simple pieces of evidence of the opposite such as the damages done not transferred to the real body.

Things get worse once Mord discovered something horrifying: unknown entities stalked him in every nook of darkness and black: from the unlit parts of his cabin to the black pools of the island, these unknown beings whisper harsh judgments toward Mord, shaming him for every vile deed that has been done with one event coming back: the assassination of Phantom. They all shun the assassin, deeming him as irredeemable even by the neutral chaotic standards of the Ghost Zone. Because of them, Mord now sleeps with lights on to ward them off.

All these events forced the green-skinned ghost assassin to look back at his assassination. He did it to take the crown and the ring from the most unworthy of all ghost kings: It didn’t matter Phantom was a full ghost by the time he claimed it, Mord always saw him as this frail halfa from the Mortal realm who shouldn’t have stolen the spotlight when Pariah Dark rose from his prison... His spotlight. What Mord didn’t expect is the chain of events that will lead to his cherished shelter being turned into a hostile, subzero wasteland filled with entities that pollute it.

Whatever triggered them, the ghost had no choice but to leave the cabin he took years to build in his image and move somewhere else. Mord felt saddened but at the same time, he was tired of all of this:

Tired of the frost

Tired of the nightmares

Tired of the whispers from the darkness

He heard of a fertile lone island with a volcano and lifeforms from nomad specters. He deployed a magic bag able to stock anything within their infinite bag and threw every piece of furniture he wanted to save. It took him a few hours to pack it all and he finally set it off from this forest.

Mord levitates out of the abandoned frozen cabin and wanders in the forest to reach his new haven. As he was about to reach the end of the forest, the assassin heard the sounds of stomping hooves getting closer. At first, the green-skinned ghost didn’t pay attention to it. Then, the hooves were getting closer and Mord slowly picked up the face until it evolved into a full-blown run from whatever followed him at full speed. The assassin heard the guttering breaths and neighs of an equine creature and got the impression whatever this was could smell his fear. At one point, Mord glimpsed in the reflection of a black pool: an entity shrouded in green and purple bright flames. The most visible detail is what looked like a sword covered in a cloud of damned souls.

This glimpse is what betrayed the assassin. He didn’t pay attention to what’s facing him. To be accurate, a small root from one of the ectoplasmic oak trees his feet tangled in. Mord fell to the ground and his infinite bag was thrown a bit farther. He tried to stand up but his grey cape was trampled by one of the creature’s hooves, making him unable to move.

That’s when Mord met with the gazes of whom hunted him down: a bulked up, black alicorn with crimson red eyes, four fangs poking out of its muzzle, large bat wings, and a flowing, green fire mane and tail. From this vicious beast, an armored being got down from his steed, his steps were just as loud as the hooves, only more ear-piercing with each metal rubbing with each other from its movements, showing its true self: a great black, medieval paladin daunted with an amethyst cape of fire coming from his horned helmet and chest plate. His shoulder pads made him much larger and the knight’s smaller face was unseen aside from two green eyes piercing the darkness from the helmet. His sword was what catches his eyes and made him realize the current situation: a yellowish-green sword with a pumpkin-themed guard, imbued in pure, vile ectoplasms and could cipher wailing faces from the blade’s flames.

Mord couldn’t believe it: he was facing the dreaded Fright Knight and his steed. And yet, here he is, unable to move and forced to face him. He heard tales of him coming to take the lives of the livings as Dullahan but the souls of the dead? What made this legend track him down. The dark knight stares at Mord, looking for something quite specific. Fright remarked a burnt ragged cloth around the ghost’s left ribs, hiding what looks like blacked veins beneath the improvised healing bands. The paladin pointed the tip of his blade on the improvised:

“Remove this cloth at once”, the black ghost paladin ordered, willing to pin Mord with his cursed blade.

Mord wanted to plea but he held onto his life: If he did, the Fright Knight would have planted his signature sword Soul Shredder into his chest, sending him into his worst nightmares. He had no idea how he got into the sight of this legend of horror. The assassin took the cloth with his hands, shaking at the sight of the cursed sword as he untangled the knot holding it. After a few seconds, Mord slowly removed the burnt fabric and reveals the scar of five holes around the left ribs, all covered by a cloud of blackened, dead veins spreading to the shoulder and the waist. The Fright Knight removed his blade and put it back into its sheath. He crouched to examine the scar and nodded with a deep breath:

“We have finally found you…” He whispered as he caressed the numb, black veins. “...You pathetic assassin”

The cursed being channeled an amethyst aura akin to a liquid, shimmering ooze he molded into a long line of crystalline, jagged chain. He wrapped Mord in it and stood up to attach the other end of the magic chain into his faithful steed. The green-skinned assassin grew more worried about what the dark paladin planned to do with him:

“Wh-what-what are you do-do-doing?”, he begrudgingly asked with a stuttered tone.

“Your judgment is nigh, rogue”, The knight revealed as he mounted his steed. “I am here to take you there.”

One whip from the lead into the halter later and the demonic alicorn began stomping the ground at a slow pace, dragging the ghost behind him. Then, the knight whipped the lead once again and the beast galloped at full speed before flying from the temperate island. Mord was flailed around from the sharp violet chain around the realm of the dead.

What judgment? Isn’t the Zone supposed to crown the one who fought the previous one? Something doesn’t make sense here: Since he killed the king, Mord experienced subzero temperature, endless nightmares, and taunting entities from the shadows. Now, he is dragged to the unknown by the Fright Knight himself without being warned. Maybe he will be forgiven by the Ancients: He heard rumors about the Fright Knight serving the Ghost King but that doesn’t explain why he was ordered to remove the cloth who helped him heal from Phantom’s cryomancy.

---

After what felt like an eternity, they all arrive in a pitch-black cosmos and into a small flickering, blue spark. As the paladin gets closer, this spark gets bigger to reveal itself as a portal but not a natural one due to its rectangle shape. They all pass through the hole and enter into a long corridor plunged in darkness with only small blue lamps craking on some occasion, making them flicker. Some of the lights highlighted the architecture of this hidden realm: modern white walls made of metallic alloys with a simple sentence all written on them:

Welcome to INS-COLUMBIA.

Mord never liked the latest building prowess of the Living: too simplistic and disconnected to the more regal and heavily decorated ones of the Old times where kings ruled over lands. Yet, he could feel the liminal atmosphere of the place: Thousands of ghosts went there to work here but none of them are visible...or even present aside from him and the Fright Knight riding his stallion. Silence dominates this place, even with the heavy hooves of Fright’s legendary mount clashing with the metallic echoes from the white steel.

Then, they cross the path of a great, triangle-shaped, black door locked by three-tesla rods: At the center of it stand a singular, diamond hole linked to them. Fright stopped in front of it and unsheathed Soul Shredder. He inserted the blade onto the unusual hole, unleashing some of its cursed aurae into the three locks. Once the tesla rods ignite themselves in blue flames, they unlock the door and Soul Shredder is removed, coming back to its rightful owner. They were met with a bright, white dome larger than a tower with no windows, no furniture. It was so bright Mord blinked several times to accommodate his tired eyes to this place. His journey finally stops when reaching the center of this room: A great, pure black, glass disc framed by a dark grey railing graved on the very ground of this place.

Once they all went to the center, the Fright Knight summoned his eldritch shackle back from whence it came, leaving Mord free and alone. The assassin stood up from the extended time captured and stretched himself before getting back at the infamous Dullahan. That’s when he saw him exit the room with his faithful winged steed:

“Wait!”, he called him out, still filled with questions. “What is this place? Where are you going?”

“I have fulfilled my duty.”, Fright coldly responded without looking back at Mord the Ambitious.

“But I have no fucking idea what you just did?!” Mord darted. “Answer me!”

But the door closed on him, leaving Mord all alone, in this liminal, modern white dome with the framed white disc. He wondered what could be in this place: Nothing but white walls and small,5-row stairs leading to one, singular rectangle table looking like a roman curule seat. That’s when he looked at the massive white glass ground: The glass frame has seven square branches and all were ornate by seven unknown sigils on each. The green-skinned could swear he saw these somewhere despite their futuristic writing aesthetic. He got closer to one of the sigils, somehow still within the black ground:

“Looking at my latest satellite’s window?”, a kind and happy voice joined in the liminal space’s terrain. “It took me a few days to redesign it and it’s nice to see people appreciate it.”

From the curule seat, winds of void and glittering turquoise clouds wrapped into a medium-sized tornado until it resembles a humanoid body. The howling winds eventually faded out of existence, revealing a five-branched, white cape linked to spiked, long shoulder pads. Covered by a thick, black collar, the figure’s blue-tinted, white hair flows with an unseen blow, ending it with a puffy, long ponytail larger than half of an arm. His long, pointed ears twitched twice before standing up from his seat. That’s when where it clicked: Black shards of ice gathered around a circle held by mint-green smokes going down floated above the figure’s head.

The tall pale ghost who, until this point had his back turned finally glanced at his aggressor: The King from beyond the Stars is said to be covered by green nebulae moving along the pitch-black, nylon fabric on his clothing, only stopped by the greenish-white parts to show his benevolent side. This time, only a flat black covers his body and his face confirmed it: A white skin, pale as death itself gazed with disappointment and anger with his void black eyes and green iris. The most striking feature is a small, lightning scar around the left creeks made of light grey veins reaching up to the eye. An all-too-familiar scar...

Mord finally understood what is happening now: Phantom survived the assassination and he personally came here for him . Mord the Ambitious is getting more anxious: He tried to reach all of his pockets to get his favorite dagger. His pants, the endless bags around his belts but he found none. Mord remembered he stuffed the blood blossom dagger in the Infinite Bag, still lost in the lush forest he once lives in. The ghost’s legs are shaking: Despite his mastery over poison, he never used poisonous ectoplasms because he doesn’t have a poison core. Without his venomous arsenal, he’s defenseless. And there he is, against a being much stronger he dared to defy: One with the power over Space itself, ruling over the Zone...and Phantom saw it:

“Still, you’re not here for stargazing.” The tall king spoke, still keeping his chill despite his true feelings leaking out with a deeper voice. “You got the just of it, do you? Think I haven’t seen you reaching your pockets? You’re all alone, just like the latest dreams you had.”

“What dreams?”, Mord the no-longer ambitious assassin stuttered, still fearing for what’s to come. King Phantom is usually described as a lawful ruler with a golden heart, making sure everyone gets the respect they deserve, even his enemies whom he spares after a strong beating to teach them a lesson. What’s in front of him doesn’t fit what he had in mind: One with unseen wrath, covered by the coat of a cold mindset:

“Haven’t you noticed?” Phantom asked, trying to be helpful even with the very man who tried to kill him. “The black counselor from your dreams...the one you began running away from the moment you saw him, only to be pinned again and again.”

Mord stood up and took a step back. The king saw it and smiled sideways to the right: The assassin got the last piece and he’s shaking to the very core:

“Yup: that was me.” The white king admitted, eyes closed and arms crossed. “Even I was impressed with how I pulled this off while I was sleeping to recover from the Blood Blossoms you stabbed me with: I guess Dream possession from afar is a thing.”

King Phantom gets closer to the scared ghost, ready to give a proper beating. Mord turned his back and sprinted to the door, only to headbutt into an invisible wall, falling to the glassy ground. The impact showed a green wave of icy winds before dissipating to the unseen. The green-skinned ghost looked back at Phantom, his left hand opened with a sphere of mint-green plasma:

“Already leaving? I haven’t said anything yet.”, The space king of the dead wondered, still keeping his invisible force up.

“What do you want?”, The green-skinned ghost asked.

“Trying to know why you did it and find a compromise so to speak”, The taller ghost king genuinely replied.

Is this a joke? Phantom wanting to negotiate with him despite everything that happened? Him sparing the very man who not only backstabbed him but also killed his crew...Mord doesn’t see the point of forgiving him after such actions. Under Pariah’s reign, he would have been sentenced to be brutally executed. Something’s definitely off to him:

“You want to speak after your “dream projection” ruined my afterlife?” Mord inquired, skeptical of Phantom’s attempt at sparing him. “What do you have to say about that?”

“While this was meant as a lesson, I won’t deny that I...carried myself with how I marked you.” The ghost king replied, clearly shamed by his acts with a saddened face. “I’m sorry...”

“You’d better off killing me than sending me somewhere to rot for Eternity.” The assassin refused, darting his eyes at what he believes to be a false king.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Phantom added. “You can choose to end up in one of Walker’s prisons...or you can help me on my little space researches. Even if you will be watched by guards in case of hiccups, consider this offer as a way to be forgiven.”

Mord is baffled: the ghost king himself wants to hire him into his quest to find the Infinite Mortal realms in order to repent himself. To the ambitious assassin, Phantom is this innocent kid, unworthy to bear the crown and the ring to rule over the Dead. He only got both out of pure coincidence and the Ancients happened to praise him for that and how he used to protect the living. This inexperienced ghost thinking he can solve problems with diplomacy and kindness? Utterly pathetic:

“Stop being such a pussy and kill me!”, roared the assassin, tired of his target’s empathy and this situation. “I don’t want to join your stupid “space exploration” nor live behind bars! You’re still that pathetic halfa filth who doesn’t deserve the Crown of fire and the Ring of rage because you had the luck of beating Pariah Dark because of some desperate former enemy of yours . Kill me so that the Ancients will get rid of you and destroy your core for wasting your reign on stupid explorations into the Mortal realms you call planets without having the balls on conquering them, YOU FUCKING ABERRATION OF A COWARDLY BRAT !”

……

Silence dominates the white dome a solid five minutes: Mord stayed in his place, still shaking but more serene: Knowing that while dying, might as well choose his True Death. However, Phantom took one deep breath: One with a cone of absolute zero, black breath, with a few echoes coming from his angered tone. Something clicked and this smoke was the red flag:

“And here I was, trying to be nice and sort things out.” Phantom nodded before staring back at Mord’s soul will full black eyes with no lights reflecting them and his arcane changing from a vibrant green to the darkest shade of black highlighted by a subtle, indigo outer glow. “You see, I was first infuriated by what you’ve done to me and my obsession, hence my...latest powers leaking out on you thanks to your marked veins. Then, once I’ve realized this, I felt...tarnished because I’d done unnecessary harm led by ghost instinct to protect his obsession. That’s why I brought you here.”

Phantom came closer to Mord to the point of getting inches from his murderer. The other tried to take paths to get away but the invisible force field was still up and the scared spirit couldn’t get away from the white disc...from him:

“But you...showed me something: I am too kind to people like you.” He hissed his part of the monologue with a deep echoing voice getting...duplicated as if several versions of him spoke through this one body, tracking Mord in the black disc. “I should be more unforgiving to those ruining others’ obsessions...harsher towards those who hurt for no reason.”

The ghost king managed to bring the ghost assassin to a halt. His right hand pinned Mord’s chest with his absolute zero, clawed hand phased until it firmly gripped its core. He inserted his left hand with the void ectoplasm into the head until they reach the brain. Mord could feel the cold hatred of Phantom and wanted to remove them but he couldn’t. The sheer fear and maddening wrath coming from the hands was strong to the point the assassin did nothing but shake more violently, forced to face the void eyes of a king.

Without warning, the King injected uncontained, raw bolts of darkness into both the brain and the core accompanied by the most enraged screech an undead can produce. Although it took thirty seconds to pass, Mord felt the suffering passed for too long...until Phantom removed his hands and flew away from the disc, leaving Mord stunned by the eldritch blast of Hatred.

Once the ambitious ghost got back to himself, he saw the King charging a greater amount of Space powers mixed with the very darkness he was struck by:

“I first organized our little venting rendez-vous in the INS-Columbia to sort things out” The dark lord questioned to a lost Mord the Ambitious, fully transparent on his true emotions. “But your true nature gave me… a better idea.”

When his powers cracked with full power, Phantom sent beams of the blackest powers to the disc’s frame, imbuing it with cackled bolts and dark green fumes coming out of it.

“The truth is, Columbia is the redesign of a much older realm...One with an ancient portal.” He slowly informed, still sending void blasts and igniting the seven sigils one by one.

From then, each sigil light itself up in a brimstone red coupled with neon purple fumes. Once they are all on, a translucent veil covers the disc in a smaller dome, trapping Mord in while the King from beyond the Stars reduced the beams of pure void powers until they were no more. The assassin levitates towards the veil and tried to punch the veil, only to be met with small waves dissipating from the dome:

“Unredeemable, miserable fucks like you don’t deserve to be killed...” Phantom announced with that deep, harsh, and cold tone, still echoing with the evergrowing numbers of voice duplicates, ready to boom his voice. “You all deserve a one-way ticket to a͠ fa̷ţe̶ ҉w̶o̡r̛se t͠ha̛n ̡true̕ d͏e̕a͡th”

Then, something cracked...once

...twice

...thrice

Each crack gets louder and Mord made the mistake of looking down: The white disc he’s been walking shows signs of giving up: Each dark brimstone crack that appears reveals a world engulfed in shadows he can’t see beyond the frame. That’s what made the assassin panic: He vividly remembered how each time he would die to the Abyss: the pain of his decaying sanity, the damned souls, and the eldritch aberrations hellbent on preying upon him. This is too familiar to him…

“Don’t do this to me!”, Mord cried as he frantically punches the veil as a desperate hope to free himself from this grim fate, glaring Phantom with his red eyes, bubbling with warm tears. “I don’t want to join them! I’m begging you: Let me out! Let me-”

“So that you come back mouth later to finish me off with t͟h̨at sa͜me̴ blo͜o͠d̨ b͝lo̶s̷s͏om͢ dagger̢?” The king interrupted, his voice or even voices if you will booming with the wrath of thousand, howling winds no one was ever witnessed. “Everything from your dreams to your daily afterlife and even what you told me all points to this: You murdered and sabotaged Exploration 208-Hermes with the clear intent of D͏̕͠E̶͟N̕͢Y̷͢͜I̶̢Ņ̶͝G M̡̨Y̛ ͢͟͝Ơ͘B͏̛S͝E̸S̸͘S͏IO͜͝͡N̵ ͏̸͝ĄN̴̕D ͡͏D̡͟ES͠͠T̨͘R͘̕O̵̶̢Y̶͟I͜N͏̕G҉̴ ͝EV͜͟E̢̢͟R̵̕Y̶̕T̡H͘IN͞G I̵̕҉’̕V͜Ȩ ̴͝D̨Ơ̷N̶͢Ę ̵B̶Ę͟C̴A̸̴̵U̴S͜͟E ͢͡I̵ ̨͟R̡O̡̢B͘͝B͏͞ED ̡͝Y͡O͏͟U͟ O̵̷F̸̧ ̸͘Y̛͝O͏U͞R ̢WIS҉H T̶O̵̷ ̢B͜͝E̸͘͠ ͡A̴ ͘PE̸̡͏T̷T̨Y̵͟ ͡KĮ̴̶N̵G҉ ̸O̵͞N̴LY̛͟ ҉IŅ͏T͞Ȩ̸R͜͝͡E̛S̕TE̸̕D͡͏ ͞͠I͢͞N ̧͘P̛͞L̶E͜͝A̕͟S͜͠U͘͟͟RES̨̕ ĄND̛ ͟G͏҉R̴̕E̵͟E͟D̡͢!͟”

Winds from below Mord’s feet grew more violent and colder. Screams, roars, and otherworldly sounds pick up in strength as they get closer to the white dome. The king gave a quick glimpse to the black portal, unphased by what it holds beneath the shattered disc before coming back at the green ghost, still breathing this dark fume from his mouth.

“You are no longer welcomed in the Ghost Zone

Your soul and obsessions are so͏ ̶f̧̡o̕͠u̸l ̸͡an̷͘d ͠ḑep̸͟r͠a̸v͠͠e̷̡̛d̛͝

Not even True Death is a worthy punishment for you

As it would give you the pleasure of Honor

For that, there is onl͘͘y̸ ̨͘o̸͝n̷̸̡e̛ ̡p̵̢͢l̶̕a͏c͠e̶̸̸ ̸w̕i̡͢͝ll̛i͘͢n͝g ̴͢t̡o̢ ̶̸t̶a̴͜ke͢ ̸̶y̕͝ou

T̶h̷e҉y̶ ̕͠a͢r̢e̷ ̷̢̨c̷͞a̶ll̷̛in̷̶g̢͡ ̛̛͠y͘o̸ur̡̨ ͟n̨a̢͏me̶͟

T̕͘͜h̕͢͠e͢͡ ͝v̴̴ȩr̸y̴̕ ̢̧no̕ţ̛͞i̢on̷͝s ͜͠yoų͝ ͠e͏͜m̸͢͞b̡r̶̢̛a̴ce̴̡d̴̡

̵͝͡M͜a͢͏k͟҉e ̨yơur͝s͟e҉lf a҉̛t͝ ̢͝h̢͏o͟m͘e̶͢ ̕͜͏t͢he̶͠r͏̴ę̢͞

̕B̷e̵̸̢c̶̨a̷̢u҉̸se ̸th̨͜͝i͜s̶͝͡ ͟͟is͘ ̡y̵̧o̸ur ҉̕n҉ew̧͘ A̕͘f͜t̡e̕r̢̛life͢҉”

Steaming and oozing darkness with waves emulating faces of humanoid, animals and even unknown beings covered Mord’s legs. They crawl up until they reach the shoulders of the condemned assassin, petrified by sheer fright. The darkest substance whispers him to join them in the activities they indulge in, to abandon his higher self, and most of all, let go of his sanity in favor of appreciating the joy of eternal, unbridled, perverted desires. This corrupted liquid fills the magic veil held by the portal akin to a geyser, leaving a loud splash of damned souls before sinking back into the broken disc.

Before the leftovers of the psychotic slime or even Mord did any attempts at leaving the disc, Phantom channeled his powers once again: This time, blinding mint-green, arcane flames enveloped the dome. Rampaging plasma depleted each of the sigils’ energy, lowering them to the ground. Any drop of the darkest ooze screeched when reaching contact with the embers and either fled to the bottom or disintegrated into nothingness. The veil that kept the aberration captive followed the sigils, lowering until it became a flat ground, absorbing the very flames until it changed into a stainless and solid, white glassy ground with no cracks to be seen.

Mord’s name was never heard again in the Infinite Realms…

#danny phantom #voidoverlord!au #ghost king!danny #ghost king #fright knight #If you fuck with the Boi #you get to go to Unworld Brazil #Sick dark powers thought #Danny king of the Void #fanfic #a03 fanfic #one shot

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admiral-alby · 3 years

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bob fic recs galore

here’s the fruits of my labour. a working fic rec master-post containing multiple bob ships and many, many amazing fics. the writers in this fandom are absolutely incredible and their talent astounds me every time I read a new fic. all the kudos to y’all. keep on keeping on!

this is a long post. recs and some general notes are under the cut :)

(04/13/21) I’ll do my best to keep this list updated... or I’ll make a part 2 depending on length. if anyone has any recs that are not already listed in this post, please please message me! this is no way an exhaustive list and I’m sure I missed some fantastic fics out there - to get started I mostly just plucked from my bookmarks. I’d be happy to add on new fics for ANY pairing, rare-pairs included. I don’t really have much for rare-pairs in this rec because I haven’t read much yet but that will change soon when I have some more time on my hands to get into them :)

if you are an author on this list and you would like your work removed from it, please just message me. no explanation necessary I will take it off asap.

I’ll make the disclaimer that while I tried to include some general information about each fic, I did not include tags/warnings. so if you choose a fic, read the tags and proceed at your own discretion.

@capsparkyspeirs you’re a lovely human being and this is probably not what you were imagining when I said I’d be happy to rec some fics for you. I admit it got a little out of hand but there’s so many great fics out there I couldn’t stand to choose just a couple to send your way... so you get them all! you inspired me to do this, so this is for you and anyone else who wants to read some great fics but doesn’t know where to start <3

WINNIX (RICHARD WINTERS/LEWIS NIXON)

Long Ago and Far Away (Canon Winnix) by churchkey (Series) Rated T-E / Canon Era / 18013 Words (Total) / 4 Parts / Not Complete

Summary: “A few scenes exploring how Dick and Lew became the timeless cosmic lovers they were born to be.“

*Each part can be read as a stand-alone!

It Happened One Night by raquelelpillo Rated M / Groundhog Day AU / 7704 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Nixon gets the chance to do the day before the big jump over and over and over (or, Every Fandom Needs Groundhog's Day Fic).”

Finding Our Way in the Dark by rilla Rated E / Canon Era / Soulmate AU / 8477 Words / Complete

Summary: “After Dick and Lew share their first kiss in Austria, they open their eyes to find a golden thread binding their wrists together.“

Mutual by miss_grey Rated G / Canon Era / 2105 Words / Complete

Summary: “Dick couldn’t help wondering to himself when exactly Nix had decided that Dick’s personal space had become their mutual space.“

Let Me Be Close by armyofbees Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 8679 Words / Complete

Summary: “Five things Nix loves about Dick, and one thing Dick loves about Nix.Or,The thing about Nix, Dick is beginning to learn, is that he doesn’t love in halves. Nix loves with everything in him, and sometimes that means moving to the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania for Dick. Sometimes it means making spaghetti with him because Dick came to New Jersey and planted tomatoes, of all things. Sometimes it means telling without saying.”

Let’s Start the New Year Right by slightlytookish Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 10523 Words / Complete

Summary: “Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass.”

Lancaster County by raquelelpillo Rated T / AU / 31500 Words / 17 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Nix is born later. Dick is there. (AU). Set in the summer of 1942 in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

**It is part of a series with the other works being small ‘extras’ set through the story. This is the main work. It ends a bit ambiguously.

SPEIRTON (RONALD SPEIRS/CARWOOD LIPTON)

The Desolate House by Howling_Harpy Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 26672 Words / Complete

Summary: “It's been fifteen years since Carwood has last seen or spoken to Speirs when they reunite suddenly at an Easy Company reunion and have both recently relocated back to the US. Carwood has promised to his mother to finish packing and cleaning the family's boarding house that's about to be put up for sale, and on a whim invites Speirs to help him. He didn't expect him to actually show up.”

and you on my mind by seabright Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 11081 Words / Complete

Summary: “’You say that you don’t want any of Easy to know that you’re in Boston but you give me your address.’ Following a relationship through the end of the war and beyond.”

Of Soldiers and Secrets by nanuk_dain Rated E / Canon Era / 62988 Words / 26 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “A series of moments in the life of the Easy men, from Foy until after the war, focussing on the development of the relationship of Carwood Lipton and Ronald Speirs.”

Erasure by Howling_Harpy Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 15255 Words / Complete

Summary: “Carwood takes time off from work to visit his mother to get away from his lonely life in Boston. Ron is deployed to Korea and has been for a long while, and after spending a year alone and even longer lying to everyone, Carwood is not sure he wants to live like this anymore.”

Fluences by masongirl (Series) Rated T-M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 12818 Words (Total) / 5 Works / Complete

Summary: “ Soulmate AU in which soulmates can sense each other's emotions if they are close enough.”

**Mainly Speirton centric. Part 2 is Winnix & Part 3 is Shifty/Tab.

A Thousand Kisses by Arwen88 Rated T / Canon Era / 1993 Words / Complete

Summary: “ A late night in Hardigny brings Carwood to the room where Ron is dealing with paperwork, but even with a comfortable bed, he can’t find his peace. Late night chats have Ron showing a side of himself that Carwood had not expected.”

stop the world by languageofthebirds Rated T / Canon Era / 3001 Words / Complete

Summary: “The way his hair fell in mussed waves over his forehead made Carwood want to reach out and run his fingers through it. He was sin personified, in that moment.”

**Did I throw in a shameless self promo? Sure did.

WEBGOTT (JOSEPH LIEBGOTT/DAVID WEBSTER)

rivers always reach the sea by bitchbutter (Series) Rated E / Canon Era / 40790 Words (Total) / 2 Works / Not Complete / Last Updated March 17, 2021

Part 1 Summary: “Joe breaks things off with Web in Austria. Of course, nothing with them is ever that simple.“

Part 2 Summary: “The end of the war could be the end of a lot of things. If Joe could let it be.“

if i know you at all, i know you’ve gone too far by starblessed Rated T / Canon Era / 2654 Words / Complete

Summary: “How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them... and that doesn't seem like the worst way to go.”

Teller of Tales; Song of Songs by thedastardly Rated E / Canon Era (Post War) / 8352 Words / Complete

Summary: “He hopes that he dreams about the mountaintop tonight. He isn’t in the mood to dream of the water, the shore, the everything after, again.”

the only noise beating out is ours by lakehymn Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 3470 Words / Complete

Summary: “Over the next couple weeks, Webster realizes that Liebgott has effortlessly invaded every corner of his life. Even on the days when he barely sees Liebgott at all, he can always find comic books or packs of cigarettes lying around somewhere. It’s almost disconcerting how ordinary it’s beginning to feel to stumble upon someone else’s belongings in his own house.”

push and pull by LT_Aldo_Raine

Rated T / Modern AU / 4115 Words / Complete

Summary: ““got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in” And David Webster never could resist the ocean. OR: Webster snorted, a sardonic sound that echoed across the hotel room. “You don’t know the first thing about what I need.””

hang in there, baby by rilla Rated M / Modern AU / 3116 Words / Complete

Summary: “Written for the Kisstober prompt 'upside down Spiderman kisses'. '“I don’t know what I was expecting when I asked you what your top fantasy is,” Web says, “but it wasn’t this."'”

In His Wildest Dreams by Impala_Chick Rated E / Canon Era / Dream Sharing AU / 3891 Words / Complete

Summary: “While David is in the hospital, he starts sharing dreams with Liebgott.“

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines by thelastfig Rated E / Canon Era & Post War / 10185 Words / Complete

Summary: “It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs. In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.”

LUZTOYE (GEORGE LUZ/JOSEPH TOYE)

The best laid plans by masongirl (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 52652 Words (Total) / 15 Parts / Complete

Summary: “Modern AU in which Joe and George find each other as college students and build a life together.“

each and every day (of the year) by bruce_the_shark Rated M / Modern AU / 21630 Words / 2 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Joe grins, lifts his hand from George’s hip to grip him by the chin, twists his face around to catch his lips in a bruising kiss. George relishes in it, likes how the taste of Joe’s preferred brand of liquor mixes with the taste of his own on his tongue. He grins against Joe’s lips, knows it’s going to be a good year.”

Babysitting and Other Rationales by aces_low Rated T / Modern AU / 3267 Words / Complete

Summary: “George Luz is a god damn saint, or at least some kind of kid whisperer. And Joe's just trying to keep his head on straight.”

who let the dogs in? by starblessed Rated T / Modern AU / 1869 Words / Complete

Summary: ““And he heard me shouting and I guess it inspired him or something, cause he full-on charged at me, Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he peed —““Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s our territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he won’t freakin’ leave.”

BABEROE (EDWARD HEFFRON/EUGENE ROE)

Call me sweetheart, please? by mariamegale (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 95865 Words (Total) / 12 Works / Complete

Summary: “A not-relationship in the making.”

**Each part could be read as a standalone I suppose... But it’s so worth it to read the whole series!

between the walls by CountlessStars Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 2275 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Eugene decides to paint his living room. It should be easy, it really should, but it doesn't go as planned (in more ways than one).”

Walking Wounded by papersky_pencilstars Rated G / Canon Era / Magic AU / 3501 Words / Complete

Summary: “Prompt: Canon-era; Either Gene or Babe have magic, or both. Maybe magic is known or maybe they need to hide it.”

JOHNNY MARTIN/BULL RANDLEMAN

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee Rated T / Canon Era / 22010 Words / 3 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.”

All My Love to Give by Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 8852 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny wants to screw around to pass the time. Bull wants to show Johnny how he feels without having to risk saying it”

The Red String by Arwen88 Rated M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 1834 Words / Complete

Summary: “He had to wrench his gaze away from the sickening sight, from the machine that was probably moments away from killing his soulmate. He would’ve thrown himself under that tank if that meant saving his lover, but he couldn’t do it. He had to take care of his men, and so he forced himself to stop looking, to order his men to retreat, to see that they did what he was screaming at them.“

Over Where You Began Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 2949 Words / Complete

Summary: “ The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.”

Simple as a Glass of Chocolate by ThrillingDetectiveTales Rated E / Canon Era / 2600 Words / Complete

Summary: ““It was supposed to be syrup,” Johnny muttered darkly. “Says right there on the can!”“Reckon it started out that way,” Bull shrugged, biting his lip against a smile when Johnny narrowed a glare over his shoulder.(In which Johnny and Bull try to sweeten up their sex life and it doesn't go exactly as planned.)”

CHUCK GRANT/RONALD SPEIRS

to Babel, in ruins by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era (Post-War) / 5114 Words / Complete

Summary: “Chuck knows recovery isn't a linear event. Knows there are times when words will leave him and the night will place him back beneath the dirt. Knows there are things he just can't speak about.Captain Speirs hears him anyway.”

pulse by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era / 4706 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Ron Speirs knows how to kill. Knows how to hurt, how to twist, how to maim. He doesn't think he's figured out how to love, not really, not where it counts the most, but the touches he reserves for Chuck Grant beg to differ.. “

AUTHORS

there are so many authors on this list that have written tons of amazing works for one or multiple pairings. as much as I would have loved to, I couldn’t rec all of their works... I had a hard enough time keeping it down to 3 or less works from the same author! similar to fics, I’ve only linked authors that I am familiar with/know have written multiple fics, so feel free to send me more people to add to the list :)

churchkey - is a sweetheart. has multiple amazing winnix works. she has recently gotten into super rarepair toye/malarkey. godspeed I’ll see you there when I read those fics.

ThrillingDetectiveTales - writes for multiple pairings. all of their works are fantastic! every time I see their name as the author I go !! and know it’s going to be good.

Howling_Harpy - has written so many fics. many different pairings. lots of speirton. they’ve ripped my heart out and made me cry but then gently kissed my forehead and put my heart back. I think that’s praise of the highest order.

masongirl - another fantastic author who has written so many amazing fics. tons of speirton and other ships too. also has made me cry and then quietly wiped my tears away.

mariamegale - baberoe queen. that’s all I have to say. I was tempted to just rec all her baberoe fics. check them out!

Muccamukk - another multi ship, multi works writer. i had a hard time only choosing a few of their fics to rec. they’ve got so much to offer!

Impala_Chick - writes lots of great webgott and other pairings too!

captainkilly - if i could rec all her fics I would. there’s some rarepair pieces that are fantastic. I didn’t list it here because it’s more of a character centric piece with an OFC and a little bit of ron/chuck dashed in mostly at the end, but read her form & void series. seriously. read it. I have nothing else to say because her work speaks for itself.

Arwen88 - another writer for multiple pairings with multiple works! love to see it. some great rarepair stuff and also fantastic popular pairings.

LT_Aldo_Raine - love their work! they write for multiple pairings.

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ultraimaginez · 3 years

Text

My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me! Ship: Mammon x gn! reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: T A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.

Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go.

And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.

Eventually you reach your breaking point.

You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.

It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.

But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.

This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall.

You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.

You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively.

A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”

“It’s me.”

There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.

“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”

You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks.

“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him.

You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him.

Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”

Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.

“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”

If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious.

“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’

You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”

It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”

He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.

You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him.

“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”

You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.

Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all.

At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...”

Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again.

“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you?

There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?”

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking.

“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.”

Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment.

The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x oc #obey me imagine #obey me imagines #obey me fic #fic #0-2k

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Did You Know Dragonflies Eat Bees?

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Mechanic, Scott

An old nemesis has returned. Luckily, IR have a new ally to counter them with.

Day 15 of @whumptober-archive “feed a cold, starve a fever” and I went with the rather odd but amusing prompt of bees. Not really much to say about this one, except that the concept made me laugh and when I hit on this interpretation of the prompt I was absolutely delighted! It was also supposed to be short, but it’s one of my longest whumptober days so far...

Langstrom Fischler was back. It was a name the Mechanic was vaguely aware of, although he’d never actually crossed paths with the other engineer, but from the faces of the Tracys as John made the proclamation, it was not a name with fond connotations as far as International Rescue were concerned.

One crash course of an explanation later, as Mr and Mrs Tracy all but threw him into Thunderbird One to help Scott on site – an unheard of situation – and he had some idea why the name of the man alone was enough to provoke a sea of displeasure. He also found out why he was being shovelled out to the danger zone.

Brains was presenting at a conference and was unavailable for consultation. The Mechanic had turned down an invitation to attend said conference and wondered if that had been a smart decision in hindsight. IR’s other engineer-minded brain, Virgil, was out with Gordon on another rescue.

“Besides,” John had told him wryly as he yanked on an IR uniform he hadn’t even known existed – a dark brown version of Brains’ own, complete with iR insignia on the chest and a shoulder patch that seemed to detail a Scorpion Mecha – “if there’s anyone here who’s an expert in throwing dangerous machinery at people, it’s you.”

That wasn’t an unfair assessment and, unlike if it had come from Scott, felt more like an in-joke than an attack – although with John, he could never quite be sure. The space-dwelling Tracy was still rather an enigma to him.

For his part, Scott didn’t seem particularly perturbed at having him along for the ride, although when the Mechanic decided to stow some Mecha – now with the yellow paintjob of IR equipment and INTERNATIONAL RESCUE stencilled on in black, which was also something he hadn’t done – on board, there was a raised eyebrow.

No comments, or refusal to load them on, though, which turned out to be a good call by the pilot; upon disembarking, not waiting for the Mechanic to push his way out of the jump seat restraints, Scott was immediately flooded by several tiny flying things. It wasn’t easy to see what they were, but the younger man hit the deck in a way that clearly wasn’t planned and didn’t get back up.

Fischler was known for making dangerous technology, and this call out had been much of the same, according to John. Apparently it was even a revival of the same sort of thing they’d been called out to before – drones designed to increase crop yield and end world hunger. It was a logical assumption that those drones had been what had attacked Scott, especially as they were still swarming the young man alarmingly.

What they were transmitting, and how they were doing it, was a question to be answered after neutralising them. Small flying drones, meet big flying drone.

His Dragonfly Mecha was large enough to need Thunderbird One’s cargo hatch to open so it could drop out; the Mechanic didn’t know all the ins and outs of Scott’s Thunderbird, but he knew where the door controls were. They fell open seamlessly and his yellow-painted Mecha swooped down like the predator it had once been, before being converted to IR use.

The conversion hadn’t included removing the electrical discharges, nominally kept in all the Mechas for a quick and dirty disabling measure for hard-to-reach electrics. According to the stories he’d been regaled with on the flight over by both Scott and John, who seemed determined to make Fischler out to be the most dangerously incompetent engineer in the world – not that the Mechanic disagreed with their assessment from what he was hearing – Fischler’s drones were difficult to catch and even more difficult to shut down.

A short, sharp burst of over two thousand volts emitted into the centre of the swarm did wonders for short-circuiting the entire batch at once, electrical arcs flying from one to the other until the entire group were fried beyond repair.

He caught one as it fell out of the air and scrutinised it. It was an impressive enough piece of work, although clearly containing a fatal flaw if it was attacking people.

“My bees!” The man of the hour, or so the Mechanic assumed, came hurtling towards them, red-faced and clearly furious. He pocketed the device and set his Mecha, still sparking in a gentle suggestion not to get too close, patrolling the air around Thunderbird One, just to make sure there were no more drones that might target them and try to cause more damage.

Then he knelt down and checked Scott’s pulse.

“You destroyed my bees!” Fischler repeated, coming to a halt in front of him and wailing at the pile of mechanical carcasses. “You International Rescue people are vandals! Do you know how much money you’ve cost me? And my reputation! Getting funding is almost impossible since you obliterated my weather drones – everyone claims I’m ‘unsafe’ and ‘delusional’! It was only a minor malfunction!”

“Minor malfunctions don’t almost kill people.” The Mechanic stepped back as Scott’s limbs dragged themselves into some semblance of practical arrangement and pushed himself shakily to first his knees, and then his feet. A stumble against Thunderbird One sent currents arcing from the Tracy to the metal, and Scott groaned. “Your creations are too dangerous, Fischler. One day something you create is going to kill you.”

“Oh, phooey,” the hack engineer waved off, “you’re just jealous your lot can’t come up with anything this good. That flying monstrosity up there is awful – look at it! It’s bulky, no aerodynamics at all, and that paint job.”

That was the Mechanic’s creation he was insulting, and he was having none of it.

“It’s safe.” Scott’s defence of it was faster than he could find words, as cutting as a laser, and entirely unexpected. “That Mecha doesn’t go out of control, or try to kill people.”

It had done, once upon a time. Scott himself had been on the receiving end of it, as had most of his brothers. It was one of the reasons the eldest Tracy brother refused to forgive him.

But now he was defending it? Defending the Mechanic’s creation?

“My bees were totally harmless until you came in here with your third rate technology and upset them with its inferiority!” Fischler blustered.

Scott straightened up, legs trembling slightly and clearly struggling to hold his weight after the shock they’d taken.

“What’s their voltage and current?” the Mechanic asked, shifting slightly to draw attention onto him and away from the struggling Tracy.

“Their what now?”

How was this man an engineer? “How many volts do they discharge, and how many amps does it run at?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Ten? A hundred? An amount, who cares?” Fischler dismissed, and the Mechanic was starting to get tempted by the idea of introducing him intimately to a well-constructed Mecha. It wouldn’t kill him, probably – their current was theoretically non-lethal, despite the high voltage – but it might shut him up.

He wasn’t sure Scott would even mind if he did, judging by the thunderous yet resigned look on his face.

Electrocuting people was, however, a no-no in the big book of rescues, and even the big book of being a decent human being, which he was trying to follow. Still, there were other things he could zap.

“How many more of those things do you have?” he asked, gesturing to the dead pile of scrap metal.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Fischler pondered, hand on his chin in a thinking pose that was almost comical to look at. “There’s the F swarm, then the I swarm, the S swarm, the C swarm, the- hey, why do you want to know?”

Taking into account the man’s obvious hubris, the Mechanic calculated that at eight swarms. If the one he had destroyed already was one swarm, that left seven to find.

He sent his circling Dragonfly Mecha in the direction the engineer had come from, and set it scanning for charged equipment.

“Good thinking,” Scott praised, still seeming a little unsteady on his feet. The Mechanic wished he’d go back inside the Thunderbird and sit down before he fell down, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen of the man’s own accord and he certainly didn’t have the clout to make him. Undermining his authority in front of an idiot like Fischler would also be a terrible idea.

Full of clear resentment for International Rescue, and clearly more interested in fame than his creations, giving the man anything to latch onto could prove dangerous down the road. There was even a risk that the Hood, should he ever find his way back out of jail (he’d done it several times already; the Mechanic was half-expecting news of a breakout any day), might try to recruit him. He certainly hit the motivation boxes, if not the skill.

Then again, the Hood had picked up those teenagers and called them the Chaos Crew before letting them loose with technology they didn’t appreciate. Skill wasn’t always a requirement in the Hood’s pets.

“What is that thing doing?” Fischler demanded, fearlessly invading the Mechanic’s personal space to glower up at him. The saying about fools and angels sprang to mind. “Call it off immediately! This is vandalism!”

“This is a public service,” the Mechanic corrected, ignoring the nuisance in his personal space if only because stepping back would definitely be seen as an admission of weakness.

Hovering above his wrist display, the holographic imitation of the Mecha sent out a burst of electricity and numerous small electrical signals winked out of existence.

Fischler let out a sound that could only be discovered as a wail. It went ignored as his Mecha moved on to the next nearest area of signal density, and the Mechanic wished he’d brought more of them along. Neither the Scorpion nor the Ray Mecha would be any good for the remaining work, but as an afterthought he pulled out the Scorpion to patrol around himself and Scott, who still didn’t look great.

If he was honest, the Mechanic didn’t want to be in Thunderbird One on the homeward journey if Scott sat himself back in the pilot seat in that condition.

Fischler jumped back as the guard-Mecha passed near him, sparks flying threateningly from the stinger.

“No respect for genius,” the man muttered. “One day, one day I’ll show you what I can do and you will worship it.”

“Trust me,” Scott interjected, a grin on his face that the Mechanic was fairly certain was aimed at Fischler, and not sharing something humorous with him, “no-one will be happier than us if your technology doesn’t try to kill people the moment it’s activated.”

From what the Mechanic could tell, that would eliminate the majority of their dangerous technology-related calls.

Fischler huffed, turned around, and stalked off. Scott’s legs caved the moment he was out of sight, and the Mechanic grabbed his arm before he crumpled back down to the ground.

“Bees,” the man grumbled, hauling himself back upright and finally, to the Mechanic’s relief, staggering his way to the pilot’s chair, which he collapsed in rather ungratefully. “Of all the things he chooses to make, he goes with bees. John, how much more will it take before we can get him shut down for good?”

“I’ll call the GDF,” the ginger said immediately. “Are they all destroyed?”

The Mechanic looked down at his display again. “One more swarm to go.” The Mecha let out one more discharge and then the rest of the icons vanished. “And gone.”

“Good work,” Scott grunted. “Load them up and we’ll return to base.”

“You’re not planning on piloting?” he checked, looking at the shaking fingers and pale skin. “You-”

“I’ll pilot,” John interjected. “Don’t worry, Scott’s not piloting after that shock.”

“Hey!”

“No piloting until you’re checked over,” the ginger said unrepentantly. Not interested in getting any more involved in the discussion than he was already, the Mechanic turned his attention to his returning Dragonfly Mecha and directed the patrolling Scorpion Mecha to clamber back inside the Thunderbird, ready and secure for take-off, whoever ended up piloting.

By the time both were secured, Scott’s pilot seat had retracted into the Thunderbird, and the Mechanic climbed the ladder two rungs at a time to enter her belly. The brothers were still discussing the piloting situation – more of a one-sided argument that Scott was clearly losing – and he strapped himself into the jump seat again, ready for lift-off.

John was the one that took control in the end, much to the explosive frustration of Scott and the Mechanic’s internal relief. Not that Scott wasn’t a fantastic pilot – he was well aware that the eldest Tracy brother ranked amongst the best pilots in the world – but with shaking hands and an off-colour pallor, the Mechanic wasn’t even sure he’d stay conscious the whole flight home.

Thankfully for the Mechanic, as the only other warm body around and therefore the only possible administer of emergency first aid on the flight, he didn’t pass out. That didn’t stop the cluster of Tracys in the hangar once Thunderbird One slid to a stop on her mooring, however, with the elder generations leading the pack and fussing over Scott the moment he stepped out of his Thunderbird.

Even without the concern of Scott’s health, the Mechanic hadn’t been expecting any recognition for his first rescue. With everyone fussing over the pilot, he was certain that he wouldn’t be noticed at all, and slunk away to offload his Mecha and check the Dragonfly over for any wear and tear after the successive discharges.

A hand on his arm pulled him up short.

“So, how did you find it?” Mrs Tracy asked, a glint in her eye that he couldn’t quite read. Turning to face her, he was taken aback by the several pairs of eyes on him, all curiously awaiting an answer. Scott was leaning heavily on his father, who in turn had a tight hold on him. Behind them, it appeared that Virgil and Gordon’s rescue had concluded and they’d returned home, now standing alongside Alan and behind their brother and father. John’s hologram hovered out of Scott’s comm, and even Kayo was lurking in the shadows at the back.

MAX was projecting Brains to complete the set, and a lump settled in the back of his throat.

“The man was an idiot,” he managed, and a swathe of chuckles rippled through the family. He rested a fond hand on the Dragonfly Mecha, in hibernation while it awaited its checks.

“Did you like it, being out there?” It was Alan that said the question he could tell they were all looking for an answer to.

“Would you do it again?” Kayo added, making some of her brothers jump as though they hadn’t realised she was there.

The first question, he didn’t have an answer to. The second was somehow easier, the words emerging without needing to think on them.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her. “Yes, I would.” He’d never thought he’d want to do it – be on the front line, throwing himself into danger to save others – but seeing his Mecha defend people, save them brought something warm to his chest. This wasn’t what they’d been made for, originally, but it was what they did now, and it suited them so much more than their original purpose ever had.

Scott shifted, catching his attention as Mr Tracy tightened his grip on his son just a little more.

“In that case,” the eldest brother – IR Commander, distrustful even after everyone else forgave him – said without a hint of disdain marring the small, satisfied, grin that had crept onto his face, “welcome to International Rescue.”

#whumptober2021 #no.15 #bees #thunderbirds are go #fic #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #the mechanic #scott tracy #langstrom fischler #john tracy #thunderwhump #thunderfluff

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