#This wound up being so LONG

[tourettesdog]

DP x DC prompt where Bruce and Tim go to investigate Amity Park, with Jason in tow, all suited up. They’ve heard a strange claim about “ghosts” there, and trying to research the town revealed a concerning government presence and tampered records.

The moment they enter the town, the ectoplasm in the air starts rapidly filtering out the corrupted ectoplasm in Jason’s system and strengthening his underdeveloped core (kinda like To Join the Whispers). Jason doesn’t tell Bruce or Tim at first since he’s kind of freaking out about how the Pit is responding to the town. Then Jason’s arm goes through a table and they don’t really have any idea what is happening and are now all freaking out about it. Danny sees this happen and immediately recognizes the same sudden, uncontrollable power displays he had after the Accident. 

Danny is extremely torn because he wants to help (a new halfa?? or something close enough??? and he’s a vigilante???? hell yeah), but he’s also Terrified of Batman going anywhere near his fucking house. So he introduces himself as Phantom and tries his best to steer them away from FentonWorks while also trying to help talk Red Hood through everything and dump a lot of ghost facts on them. Going to see Frostbite is extremely tempting, but Danny’s pretty sure he can handle this. Pretty sure. (He does Not want Batman near the portal, since it means being in his gd house, and he doubts he can get Red Hood there without Batman following.)

The bats didn’t even know who Phantom was until they arrived in Amity and they’re all a Little concerned that this random, powerful ghost child is this excited about Jason essentially going through ghost puberty in record time. It’s even more concerning that Phantom doesn’t seem at all surprised that a human can be part ghost in any way, which means either Phantom is somehow human himself (somehow) or that this is just not a new occurrence in this town.

They came here to figure out wtf was happening in Amity, and Phantom’s raising about 50 more questions by the second. Bruce sees Phantom take down a mutant ghost bear ripping through town and now he’s pretty sure this ghost child (who may or may not be partially alive??) is a load-bearing feature of the town. He’s not a fan of that. Bruce is even more concerned that, upon mentioning the government presence in town, Phantom says the GIW is causing more problems for the town and is actively hunting him.

Jason’s just... having a time. He’s never felt so zen and anxious at the same time. He wants to feel skeptical about Phantom and what’s going on, but being anywhere near the kid makes him feel like he’s hanging out with his best friend since childhood, wrapped in a warm blanket and safe as can be. (And the Pit is quiet and his mind feels Clear.)

The only reason the bats didn’t attack Phantom and drag Jason away in the first place is because Jason doesn’t Want to leave and jumped to defending the kid oddly quick. They tried to drag Jason out of town but he’s turning partly-intangible now whenever someone touches him and they physically can’t.

Danny’s pretty much adopted Red Hood as his new brother and even if he doesn’t trust Batman as far as he can throw him (far), he feels like he’s doing a pretty good job juggling mentoring Red Hood and managing to derail Batman’s investigation at the same time. Tucker helped lure the Drs. Fenton out of town with a fake ghost hunting convention, and the online information for anything in Amity is so butchered (between Tucker, Technus, and the GIW each having their turn at tampering) that the bats are having to rely mostly on word of mouth for their investigation. 

He’s not doing quite as good of a job as he thinks he is, though. All it took was Phantom badmouthing the FentonWorks building once in passing for Bruce to look into it. They try to break into the place the moment they think Phantom’s gone-- only the house has some Surprisingly violent security systems and Phantom appears out of no where and drags them away.

They plan to go back the next day, cause there’s definitely Something there and they’re pretty sure it’s the answers they need. (Even just looking at the weird structure on the roof pretty much promises that.)

Only... Jason’s developing core (which isn’t fully formed and is soaking up the ectoplasm in Amity like a sponge) turns out to be an electric core. It starts going Buckwild with pent up energy, and Danny is having None of that. He goes from being very happy and excited to just-- terrified and flighty. 

Random sparks of electricity around the kid with the Worst track record with that stuff? Yeah, no thanks. 

Danny races home and just paces endlessly, confiding in Jazz that he doesn’t know what to do and wants to help and feels awful for bailing on them-- but he doesn’t feel capable handling someone with electricity sparking off of them like water off a duck. He thinks they need Frostbite’s help, which means letting Batman into FentonWorks, which means opening himself up to the possibility (probability) of Batman finding out more about the Fentons, Danny Fenton specifically, and Phantom.

The bats are panicking because, skeptical of Phantom or not, he was the only person providing them with answers and trying to help. Jason’s stressed to high hell without the calming feeling of Phantom nearby-- AND electricity now jolting from his hands uncontrollably on top of everything. The electricity is just coming and going at random, with him having no control over it.

They go to FentonWorks, their only lead, and this time a girl with red hair answers the door. She’s clearly stressed out about something-- and she has Phantom in her house, looking dejected and still very terrified as he keeps his distance. Why Phantom is in a house that is clearly stacked to the nines with ghost hunting equipment is... suspicious.

Jason’s powers act up almost immediately after entering the house-- causing some very scary damage to the nearest light fixture-- and Jazz is like “yeah no, we need to fix this Now” and marches them straight to the portal. The entire time she’s trying to explain her parents’ work and how they have friends through this portal that can help, and it’s Quite the sell to make on the fly.

They walk past a few family pictures on the wall on the way to the lab and it’s all Tim needs to see to be like “Soooo Phantom is definitely your brother-- hey um why is your brother a ghost??” He expresses this aloud and the way Danny tries to stammer and hide it is as good of confirmation as anything.

And then they see the state of the lab. All of the ghost-hunting weapons just lying around, and the giant portal to hell-- and how Phantom is still visibly keeping his distance from the sparks coming off of Jason. There’s just building rage in Bruce as he’s putting together the parental negligence and trauma. He wants to grill the two kids about their parents (why do they have all of these ghost hunting weapons when their kid is some sort of ghost?? WHY is their kid some sort of ghost???), but now he’s faced with a teenaged girl trying to convince him to go through a mysterious ghost portal to bring his kid to some strange ghost doctor.

Jason is leery as can be of the portal (it Looks a bit too like the Lazarus Pit, and it definitely feels like death), but this girl-- Jazz-- doesn’t seem afraid of going through the portal and is making it very clear she’ll just go into this “Ghost Zone” without them and grab this doctor if she has to. The thought of the girl diving through the portal by herself (and the sparks still flying off of him, making a mess of the lab equipment), is enough incentive to get Jason to go with. 

Transporting Jason is... problematic, though. He would absolutely destroy the Specter Speeder if he rides in it. They eventually settle on Danny dragging Jason through the zone by a line (wearing a giant pair of rubber gloves on top of his gloves because he is not playing around).

By the time they get to the Far Frozen, the situation is sort of... solving itself? Being in the Ghost Zone has filtered out the last of the Pit's gunk from Jason and his malformed core is settling down now that it doesn't have good ectoplasm competing with sludge. He still doesn't really have control over the electricity, and feels a bit overwhelmed with energy, but it's no longer firing on all cinders.

Frostbite's pretty bothered by meeting Jason. He recognizes him as something similar to Danny (Bruce isn't going to let the "Great One" nicknamed Phantom has slide also; hoo boy that's another for the Giant List), but... Off. He has a core but it's-- small. Delicate. It was dormant until he entered Amity, and even now it doesn't really have the power or even shape a normal ghost core should.

Frostbite is able to help with the electricity, at least, by just explaining that now that his core has formed (in what capacity it can) Jason has to be careful about pent up energy to avoid it striking out. That the electricity feeds easily off of available energy and, especially if his emotions are high, will lash out if it overflows. He has Jason let out a lot of energy in a secluded space and it feels immensely cathartic.

Jason is still not allowed into the Specter Speeder on the way back to FentonWorks.

Returning to FentonWorks (with Jason's condition stabilized after his GZ spa cleanse) opens the door for a very careful interrogation of the Fenton siblings. Each answer or non-answer they give is more concerning than the last. The straw that breaks the camel's back is learning that the portal itself killed Danny and that his parents are not in any way aware he's (half) dead because of the ever-real risk his parents will hurt him if they find out.

They haven’t even mentioned Vlad. There’s still so much.

Bruce is already mentally signing the adoption papers. Tim and Jason have accepted they're getting two new siblings and are warning the family (and Jason's planning to be as careful as he can with these new powers so he doesn't freak Danny out because knowing Why it was freaking Danny out has him wanting to wear his own pair of rubber gloves and strangle their parents with them).

Danny is just a little shellshocked that these people are nicer than he thought and are willing to help him and not make his life worse.

Also notes: Jason wouldn't have a full roster of halfa abilities. No secondary form (though the white hair tuft prob glows more, and his eyes turn green more often), probably no true flight, and no ectoblasts. He mostly gets a grasp on the electricity and intangibility, and can use invisibility sparingly. The pranks he and Danny (and later Dani) get up to are the stuff of legend.

#this was rocking around in my head and I needed to write it down #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #dp #dp prompt #batpham #prompt #dogposts #dp fanfic #this also wound up being longer than intended but oh well lol #wanted to put Sam and Tucker in here somewhere but it felt too busy rip #Also I'm extremely incapable of summarizing things and shortening ideas so this got very long #dogprompts

[mayasaura]

There's something really hauntingly familiar about the way Gideon phrases it, when she's describing the torn-open vulnerable feeling of having opened up to Palamedes and been forced to confront the fucked up rotting parts of herself. Something. Hm.

Hey, Kiriona, honey? Do you wanna like.... talk about the chest hole thing? Maybe in connection to how escaping from the Ninth didn't change as much as you thought it would? No? Maybe a little?

#making me a little insane that the first person to pull her shirt open and take a good long look at the wound on-page was..... Palamedes #almost enough to make me wonder if the wound is still open because Kiriona can't LET it heal #she needs that hole that musty fucked up dead interior to show everyone exactly what she is #and she hates it she hates being so exposed she hates that people can SEE but #now people have to see #but you know #still mostly only if she shows them #the locked tomb #gideon nav #kiriona gaia #ntn spoilers

[ghouljams]

So you might’ve said something previously and I just missed it but I was reading the tags on your post about soap and Goose and goose had an accident? And Soap drove her to the hospital??? Have you said something before and I just missed it it’s 5am here I feel like I’m going insane trying to figure this out-

Goose's accident happens at the end of Soap's first summer with them and is part of Goose's story that I haven't talked about yet because, well, there's no good way to bring it up... but it colors a lot of how Price treats her on the farm as well as how close she and Soap are. Nothing brings people together like some solid medical need. We are also going to do some serious suspension of disbelief as I write moderately improbably situations and injuries, everyone be nice.

You never really bought the whole slow motion play in movies when characters get hurt. You've seen people get hurt, seriously hurt, and it always happens fast. It's quick and messy, and you've never needed a slow motion edit to know that it must have hurt like a bitch.

You get it now. That your brain must have been trying to find the right angle to record the trauma, that it must have been searching for some way out of this. Once you actually were hit everything sped back up, the pain sped back up. You try to lay still and stare up at the clouds, you're supposed to stay still until someone comes to patch you up. You're cold.

Soap drops to his knees next to you. You think that cloud looks a lot like a butterfly. He presses down hard on your stomach and the ringing in your ears grows louder until it pops and you feel the full burning extent of the pain. It's excruciating. Every nerve in your body lit up on high alert to make sure you know you've been nearly gutted.

People are yelling, Soap is yelling. You've never heard him yell before. His face is twisted into something unreadable as he looks at you. The world seem very fuzzy and watery, or maybe you're crying? Are you crying? You can't feel anything past the electric shock of ripping pain from the wound.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He's telling you, "I have to keep pressure on-" and you don't really have the brain power to parse the Scotts that he's speaking past that.

Your stomach, aside from feeling like its been thrust into a salted fire, is wet. That must be the blood. And there's something hard on your chest, something that's speaking in a calm tone.

You try to focus on your breathing, but that only brings fresh shocks of pain through you. It feels like every twitch makes you want to flinch away from your own body. You've never felt a pain so all-consuming before. So bad you can't even draw a breath to scream from it.

The flashing lights of the ambulance sure got here quick. Or, no, have you been down that long? Someone shines a light in your eyes like they're some sort of doctor. Soap is talking to them with short military precision. You've never ridden in an ambulance before, you'd almost be excited if you could think of anything but the pain. Actually, you can think of something else.

You think the Lucas' have to be the only morons in the state that don't have their bull's horns tipped.

#Soap keeps it together just long enough to throw up in the ambulance #war and treating wounded soldiers? fine nothing #treating his wounded sister? traumatizing the worst thing he's ever had to do #Price never forgives himself for being deployed when this happened #doesn't let Goose help out on anyone else's farm again #doesn't let her in the pasture alone #puts up a fight when she wants to compete in the rodeo #Soap literally stripping the shirt off his back to apply pressure #GOD They all love you so much Goose #Duck is working at the hospital and gets called to the ER it's the worst day of her life #Goose gets a cool scar out of the whole experience #oc: Goose #johnny soap mactavish #cowboy!141

[hella1975]

hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

#seriously another shout out to my mutuals #id particularly like to say thank you to boom who's always right there for me no matter what's happening or how insane im being #and also everyone in our little discord that wound up having to make a whole new channel for venting #bc i was there so often like 'today's weird ask isssss.... telling me about my cupsize!! rip them to shreds!!!' #hannah and theo especially being there and pushing me to finally turn off anon. war is truly over #and of course rori bc the shamelessness u show when hating on my anon asks has been genuinely really cathartic #sometimes u really do just need a rottweiler mutual to tell random people online to kill themselves 😭 #okay weird oscar acceptance speechcore gratitude over. i do just rlly love my mutuals #like i went three years not telling anyone about the worse side of internet popularity for fear of looking spoiled and ungrateful #so for the first time to open up about it and be met with outrage on my behalf and people saying in fact it's MORE fucked up #than i initially realised bc ive grown desensitised to it is. yeah cathartic i guess #they are singlehandedly reassuring me of the good this cursed app still holds #so everyone thank them and send them flowers NOW #okay im done i think. see you guys soon. i truly do want to come back asap bc like i said i NEVER EVEN WANTED TO FUCKING LEAVE #SOME ASSHOLES JUST HAD TO PUT GRENADES ON WHAT I ASSUMED WERE VERY UNIVERSAL AND OBVIOUS BOUNDARIES #if you're reading this like 'ohhh fuck i defo sent something invasive lately. i thought it was a joke/we were friends' #then 1) we arent friends if you're on anon. it immediately creates a power imbalance where you know me and any necessary context #but i have no idea who you are or how much you know about me. that's already a fucked dynamic #and 2) I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD. LIKE GENUINELY I HOPE YOU FEEL AWFUL AND HAVE A GOOD LONG LOOK AT YOURSELF #okay i think that's all. ta-ra lads??? how tf do u end something like this #ive queued this to reblog a couple more times throughout the day

[recitedemise]

𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵. That said, when speaking of his paramour with the mention of Mystra, it is not a slight. After all, Mystra, the goddess, wasn't just his lover; she, as she'll remain, controls the Weave.

As a scholar of magic for all his life, Gale is thoroughly enamored with it. He's always had the Weave, casting spells and enchantments for as far as his long memory goes, and there's no power on earth that can pale that devotion. When Gale says Mystra's name, in love, it is never with yearning. When he tells his lover that he forgets his goddess when he stands beside them, he means quite literally that he foregoes his faith. He doesn't mention her like a quality benchmark with which they've somehow surpassed, but to punctuate how wholly he has fallen for them. With a new, honest love, he is turned entirely from Mystra. In fact, so utterly bewitched, he's like a born again man. He isn't besotted by his goddess, held stalwart in her sway and seemingly, abundantly, and frustratingly stubborn. After that disastrous relationship, I promise you, Gale spares not a single thought toward her. She might have control of the Weave, and as such, stands still his only patron deity, but his new, doting lover? They become something of a new religion for him; he is most devoted, taken by, and so loyal to them.

He does not see Mystra. Do not assume he still feels for her.

He's a man of one love, and they will have all of him.

#HEADCANON. #Never go into the Gale tag because the fandom has such bad faith interpretations of Gale 24/7 #I say as another bad take makes me type this up. #Gale isn't still hung up on her GOD. Stop. #Stop saying 'Gale keeps mentioning Mystra when we're being romantic and it's so annoying.' #Dude. Mystra is his LITERAL god. He is saying YOU ARE HIS NEW FAITH. #Oh my god. Stop misinterpreting it. He isn't still ENAMORED with Mystra. #UGHHHHHHHH. #He got out of an abusive relationship and is finding out THIS is what love is #that this love IS something he can put his faith and heart in. #And you reduce him to... guy that can't get over ex tee hee? #Tell me why I shouldn't make your milk curdle. #Someone: the astral sex scene is just him reliving his moment with Mystra. #Or get this... he himself has basically largely only had sex and intimacy through that realm #and knows it to be pleasurable. He wants his partner to know pleasure beyond all imagination. THAT'S IT. #People make me [semi truck comically long honk]. #This man makes it a POINT that his heart is made ONLY for one and you all just?!?!? Talk like this!?! You wound Dean. [third person talk] #Anyway (breathes). I'm normal now. I will be on later cuz big things cane up at work. peace.

[shivunin]

Hi, I just wondered what your favourite part of the Fenhawke romance was? Like, a scene/moment that really made you fall more in love with him? I love your writing so much!!

Oh, that is very kind of you to say! 💗I'm glad you enjoy the things I've written. I've really been enjoying writing for this ship, especially the past few months c:

As for your question...

Man, that's tough. I have a hard time picking one thing---I mean, *gestures to all the fic* you know? But I can narrow it down to a couple of scenes/elements:

The fact that a romanced Fenris still calls you "my friend" even after the act 2 romance scene. This is just...the bedrock of their relationship to me. Yes, that night went very poorly (understatement, I know), but at the core they are friends and he trusts Hawke in a way he's likely never had the cause or opportunity to trust someone before. I believe he never stopped loving Hawke, and it was a matter of laying those feelings out and understanding them one at a time. Romantic love not replacing platonic love or eclipsing it, but building or twining together is just... *chef's kiss* that's the good stuff.

The moment during the romance conversation in Act 3 when you can see Fenris go from hoping (painfully hoping!) that there is still some way he and Hawke can be together to actually believing it will happen. There is a shift in his body language that I could watch (and...have) over and over.

The element of choice? This is not going to be coherent, but the fact that he is learning for the first time what it means to have options and preferences, and he spends a lot of time exploring and understanding himself...and after all of that, the thing he keeps coming back to is Hawke. I think it's gorgeous. A song with refrains of pain or fear and choruses of decision and hope. He's loyal to a fault, in many ways, but understanding how much of himself exists to share and then still choosing to share it is just...man. I said this wasn't going to be coherent lol, so there you are. "If there is a future to be had..." like he doubts its existence but he's willing to chance it for Hawke. Man.

But, honestly? I've played DA2 a lot of times and never romanced another character, even though I've played through multiple romance storylines in each of the other games. I can't shake the Fenris romance. Every time I open a new playthrough, I tell myself that this is the time I'm going to romance Isabela, and every time Fenris rips that dude's heart out and I just......alright, yeah. Okay. Here we go again.

#and okay yeah one more thing actually #when he is like 🥺 at hawke after he kills danarius and hawke says he isn't alone #i know people joke about it but it's about the capacity for immense violence and aching tenderness #the parallel of meeting him when he rips some guy's heart out and him being finally free to make a life for himself after the same #it's about the cycles. the repeating story #and now he is truly not hunted anymore and he can make some kind of home #could i pull this into a more coherent analysis? probably yes #but here it is nonetheless #i *do* love him actually. he is just so very himself. unbending and harsh as it is sometimes he is always himself #long post #da2 #fenris #ask response #goodness this wound up longer than i'd expected #thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble anon 💗 #i hate that the tl;dr of it all is just 'fenris being fenris' but. i am a simple woman

[peachyhoneyadventures]

EDOLISSE AND VARRICK

These Hands, If Not Gods by Natalie Diaz | Still from When A Man Loves (1927) | Snippet from Richard Siken's "Crush" | Still from Lodger (???) | Poem from Margaret Atwood's "You are Happy"

#a lot of references to religion though that's probably mostly on Edolisse's part #I imagine Edolisse and Varrick's attraction to each other is a little superficial in the beginning #she's clearly a very pretty twenty something and Varrick doesn't want to hold her back #Rabbitt themselves said that Varrick is worried about getting involved with the LDB due to not wanting to burden them #On Edolisse's end she's only really hung up on her past relationships #Her late husband and the nature of his death is still a fresh wound that takes a long time to heal #So they really start to relate to each other when they talk about their pasts and their previous partners #Both their previous partners had been killed and they both sort of blame themselves for it #Though most of Edolisse's partners have died so she's terrified something will take Varrick away from her too #It takes awhile but she starts to see his strength #both physical and mental strength #she starts to get comfortable with the idea of being with him then falls hopelessly in love with him #While they don't have an extremely long life ahead of them (Varrick is an older man after all) Edolisse is determined to make it last #web weaving #The credits to the other quotes are in the images themselves and I am LAZY #WickVeil #Edolisse Wickham #Varrick Veil #tes v skyrim #tesblr #At this point I feel a little bad for clogging up the Varrick's tag with my bullshit :((( #I JUST THINK OF THEM A LOT OKAY?

[dangoarts]

unfortunately for everyone especially myself i am still thinking about minecraft story mode

#long rant in tags up ahead oops #I AM. NORMALLY UPSET ABOUT ELLEGAARD'S DEATH. #i feel so cringe screaming about the show that gave me so much psychic damage but liek #ellegaard was an influential character that led a whole city #you'd. you'd think there'd be a memorial service. #or like jesse would be more visibly upset and emotionally damaged over witnessing her death and indirectly being the cause of her death #but no #the best thing we got was a brief scene of them going 'oh no she died! :( anyway the wither survivors tho' #i get that they're good guys n all and they were probably like 'i'm devastated by this but i need to pocket that to process later to get- #-these people to safety' but COME ON #justice for ellegaard #the playthrough i watched had ellegaard die if you didn't figure it out through this ramble #i probably would've been as attached to magnus as i was to ellegaard if i saw his arc at boom town but the playthrough chose redstone land #which like yeah samesies #ANYWAY. MAIN TAG TIME SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE IN TAGS (not sorry) #mcsm #minecraft story mode #AND THE FACT THAT THE PIG GOT MORE OF A MEMORIAL THAN HER REALLY RUBBED SALT IN THE WOUND FOR ME #sorry reuben fans i didn't care for him at all #yes this is a kids show meant for 10 year olds yes i'm overanalyzing it what else am i supposed to do on a monday #if i ever make a fix it rewrite story you have full legal permission to ban my tumblr account /j /silly #blood tw #tw blood

[goldkirk]

My five happy things for the day

• paper that has a good feeling texture

• things not feeling like an emergency EVERY second of the day, only part of the time

• the fact that these cheapo stamp ink pads from Walmart a few years ago somehow still have a bit of functioning ink not dried out?

• I’m able to track and retain conversations for longer periods of time again, I’m finally finally finally feeling some progress

• putting on a warm hoodie or coat when feeling chilled

#fivethingsaday #I still can’t believe people LIKE me!! ?! ?! ?! ?! #I’ve accidentally wound up dumbfounded with a delightful number of friends #like. wait. I thought you guys were playing a very long trap or were only liking me because of obligation or worth vs hassle ratio. #I thought I was just enjoying it before it vanished! but yowza!!! #apparently I DID get the chance for it to be real #and I am in the middle of living an adult life I didn’t think I’d see!!! #so anyway holy shit I apparently am not secretly a poison to people #these cool people I’ve been so admiring of and wished I could really have a life with someone like them as a friend #BITCH I DO IT IS ME #what the FUCK. #anyway I’ve got to go keep trying to wrangle my very uncooperative knee #and marvel at the slowly-dawning reality of being liked actually not just kept around #god grade school age social hierarchy lessons sure get roots down in deep #I’m so pleased as punch and totally in skeptical disbelief. I’m also delighted and horrifically embarrassed and feeling stupid and feeling #unbearably grateful and feeling quite particularly like I’m in the Truman show and also won the lottery #I’m going to do a lot of STICKING WITH IMPORTANT ROUTINES FOR MY WELL-BEING about it #add to journal

[thelastspeecher]

eregyrn-falls replied to your post: “I've been watching a lot of tornado related...”

tornadoes are something that terrified me as a little kid, no doubt due to television. (i can remember a nightmare from early childhood about a tornado.) i grew up in eastern PA, where at the time we didn't have any. so it was the IDEA of them that terrified me. honestly, it still does. i would very very VERY much prefer never to live in a place that gets them with any regularity.

​i realize they're old hat for you, and that's true for anyone who lives with a natural phenomenon. you come to respect it, rather than be terrified of it. but for me, i can't get past the suddenness of them. the fact that they can strike in the middle of the night when you might have almost no warning at all. while they aren't completely unpredictable (obviously there are observable weather fronts and stuff), to me, they feel that way.

the natural disasters that i can deal with are hurricanes, and blizzards. both of those are things you see coming for DAYS. you can get out ahead of them. you can take steps to protect your house and your pets and yourself. (i mean, both of those in theory, assuming you have the means and the financial situation.) earthquakes and tornadoes are too sudden for me and that's why they scare me.

oh you're not the only one who's had a tornado nightmare! one of the worst nightmares I've had in my entire life was a tornado nightmare!

I think that what allows me to continue living in a tornado-prone area despite my general anxiety over like, idk, life, is two things: 1) tornado predictions give a crazy amount of warning nowadays, and 2) I live in a tornado-prone area, I've had a few close calls, but it's not like I live in Moore, Oklahoma lmao.

most tornado warnings aren't even that a tornado has been spotted by someone or confirmed by radar. most of them are "radar indicated rotation", meaning that a thunderstorm with a rotating cloud has been detected on radar. which doesn't mean tornado. it does mean a storm capable of a tornado and more likely to produce one, but it doesn't mean a tornado. or even a funnel cloud!

very VERY rarely are people caught off guard by a tornado anymore. FEMA says the average amount of time between a tornado warning being issued and the tornado or storm striking the area is 10 to 15 minutes. plenty of time to grab your emergency kit and go to your safe place. we have tornado watches if the weather is favorable and often know days in advance whether we'll be hit by weather conducive for tornadogenesis.

and even when we don't know in advance, like I said, we still have plenty of warning! about a week ago, I woke up to sirens, then ten minutes later, heard them again. which I knew likely meant a tornado warning had been issued (the first time, I checked my phone and saw it was severe thunderstorm and just rolled over to sleep some more lol). and before I could check, my phone went off, blaring the same alarm as an Amber Alert. which I knew 100% meant tornado warning. and it was. my roommate and I had time to use the bathroom, grab the dogs and emergency bag, and even take the dogs outside really quick to pee before the storm hit us! and we didn't have a tornado watch in effect. there weren't supposed to be conditions for tornadoes that morning.

and like I said, I don't live in Moore. if I did, I wouldn't even DREAM of living somewhere without a basement. as it is, I fucking hate that my best option is a hallway on the first floor. we've gotten tornadoes before. some have gotten close to me. one literally lifted over a building I was in. but thankfully, we're not as prone as other locations in my state; the storms tend to lose some steam by the time they reach here. and the tornadoes that do spawn tend to be lower level, again, because of the storms losing steam by the time they get here.

I know a lot about the science of tornadoes and grew up in Tornado Alley (or adjacent, depending on what graphic you use), so I know that our current methods are so flipping good at protecting us. we DO have warning. not as much as for a hurricane, but generally speaking, enough to, like I said, use the bathroom and grab the pets. earthquakes...yeah those don't typically give much warning, but that's something scientists are working on. buildings in earthquake-prone areas are built to withstand them (much like many buildings in tornado-prone areas are built to withstand severe storms), and people grow up learning what to do in an earthquake. (which is find a table to hide under, essentially, btw.)

no, what scares ME the most are wildfires.

you're flat-out fucked over by those.

#eregyrn-falls #I recognize that I wrote out a long thing and likely didn't change your mind #tornadoes ARE scary. I get scared when I know there's a confirmed tornado near me. #last year what wound up being an EF4 was headed for the town I live in #I was watching its track and hearing the sirens go off and seeing reports of it being bad #I was on my phone with my parents the entire time trying not to completely freak out and failing #luckily the tornado didn't make it to us #and even more luckily no one was killed #but like. straddling the line of awareness and fear is really difficult and I don't always succeed #even after a lifetime of tornadoes! #BUT SERIOUSLY WILDFIRES ARE SO MUCH WORSE HOLY SHIT #I can handle ''shelter in place'' WAY better than ''YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES TO LEAVE OR YOU WILL DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH'' #response

[luthienne]

hey lovely hi! I wanted to ask you something about writing. First of all i love love love the way you write matt and Frank! So on point and detailed and so well observed. I wanted to know how do you understand them i mean what are your ways to study a character?

I hope I'm making sense and im sorry for being a bother 😭 love you.

hi first of all i love you sm for this oh my god?? you're not a bother at all, i could talk about matt forever. writing him true to character is the highest compliment i could ask for 🥹

several thoughts come to mind — first i think of the characters as they are individually, then as they are tied to one another; once tied together through the threads of the story, there is no separating them. just as there is no separating the choices they make now from all the choices in the past that led up to this moment. where do the boundaries of the character as laid out in the source material brush up against the boundaries of the character as i understand them & what archetypal role are they fulfilling (if relevant).

also the mutability of the boundary between archetypes: i.e. matt descends into 'hell' to bring frank out, orpheus role; matt hears & carries everything, god-like role; matt accepts this as a call to action, hero; matt takes it upon himself to punish these 'evildoers', devil; matt takes these sins upon himself, christ figure; matt is wounded in his noble pursuit, martyr figure. & how do his roles change in relation to the characters he shares a scene with — fisk (god-like in seemingly limitless influence) / matt (hero/martyr).

what life is there for a hero outside of their duty in a story like this? what room is there for him to be human? that's what i want to know. so i take what we know from what we've been given:

matt is the son of a boxer -> he grows up with the inherent understanding that two things can be true at once: hands capable of love can also be capable of violence

matt, as a child, saves an old man and loses his sight -> he accepts at a very young age the concept of heroic acts & their consequences (inevitability)

matt’s father chooses to die a 'hero' rather than live as a flawed but present father -> better to be a hero, to live and die by those familiar consequences than to be a flawed but present person (2nd ex. of heroes and their consequences, inevitability)

matt’s next father figure is violent but it is through that violence he learns to navigate an overwhelming world -> violence = love

stick leaves, like his father left, like his mother left -> to love is to lose (inevitability)

matt is only human, after all, it's what's most compelling about him as a character. and the show really did let us sit in those long moments of quiet witness to matt's undeniable humanity. he is flawed, he stumbles in fights, he can’t catch his breath, his faith buckles under the weight of his grief; he doesn't understand how to be human, how to maintain relationships, how to reconcile the darkest parts of the world and of himself with his faith in humanity and belief in redemption. the world is overwhelming to him on every sensory level. every touch is a modified blow? he lives that. he looks outside of himself for light (foggy, faith). when he reaches his breaking point, he breaks rather than turn to the people he loves because of the lessons he internalized as a child. stick left because matt loved, despite everything. despite everything, his love > his rage (bc his rage is his grief & his grief is another face of his love).

even after foggy finds out matt's secret life of physical violence, he still refers to him as "my soft-hearted partner" because it's true, matt cannot help but love & recognize humanity in others. it's because of this that he feels called to balance two unsustainably contradictory lives: using his voice to fight for redemption in court; taking it into his own hands when the law fails. taking their blood onto himself, by himself.

and that is the only touch he allows himself to experience—violence. blood on his knuckles, in his mouth, in his throat. and when his body is torn open and his secrets bared through his wounds, we get another glimpse into the reality of heroes and their consequences. foggy is not treated as an audience stand-in to giddily marvel at matt's abilities and how cool they are, he's heartbroken. he’s fucking devastated. his best friend is bleeding out on his apartment floor. he doesn't want matt to die. he doesn't want matt to be daredevil, he doesn’t want matt to be a hero — because foggy, more than anyone, understands matt's humanity and mortality. and foggy, more than anyone, selfishly wants matt to be his friend first. let hell’s kitchen take care of itself. why should matt die for a community that doesn’t love him like foggy loves him? that doesn’t know him like foggy knows him? he knew matt before he became a story. their time at columbia grounds their friendship & grounds matt to a life that is as close to normal as any comicbook story. they stay up late studying, they drink a little too much, they live together and achieve a kind of domesticity that comes easy to foggy but utterly incomprehensible to everything matt knew before foggy. we see a glimpse at a life with foggy that represents a gentle kind of safety and happiness — everything matt has been denied in his life until then. everything that the momentum of the story demands matt cannot keep (as hero).

and then there's frank. composed of rigid codes and immovable beliefs, just as much as matt, but on the other side of the line matt has drawn in the sand. that line represents matt’s faith in humanity and belief in redemption. despite living the worst of it, despite bearing the brunt of it. matt can't lose frank because matt never had frank; and yet matt and frank hold an inherent understanding of one another that no one else can. two sides of the same coin: unwavering & fatal sense of duty that walks them in a winding but inevitable line toward their respective fates; acceptance of the roles life has given them in what life has taken from them. it's not that they want to die, it's just that they’ve lived so long in the depths of their own private grief that they can’t see living outside of them.

so of course foggy doesn't want to matt to be a hero because there is no story where the hero comes home unscathed, there is no story where the hero is not brought to his knees. to love matt is to accept he could lose matt. either through death or through his inevitable transformation into something foggy may not recognize.

(now matt's unwritten rules by which he lives are bleeding into other characters' lives, consequences spiraling outward & outward)

a perilous thing began with wanting to explore this idea: a story that revolves around the moment when the hero is brought to their knees (figuratively & literally) that marks the separation of who they were before and who they must become after (transformation), if there is to be an after -> internal vs external consequences; forced passivity; how does the hero come back from that & who is he if/when he comes back from that. is he recognizable? i also wanted to look at the hero & the story through someone else's eyes, someone who could be more objective than me, more objective than foggy (whose love for matt clouds his observations, as it did in light perception). and who could objectively understand matt's actions & motivations better than frank? the anti-hero and matt's foil.

so i first look at the character through the lens of the story that’s been told and then the story i want to tell, i look at him through the lens of other characters and i assemble a picture from there. i look at matt through the events of his life, through his relationship with violence & his relationship with his very mortal body. unlike other superheroes he is not invincible, he is not bulletproof, he is not capable of flying, or softening a long fall; he is not capable of throwing his adversaries across a room, he is barely capable of saving himself from his own self-destructive choices. he has a damaged & unbearably human body. everything he can do he has fought tooth and nail for. he doesn't have superpowers like telekinesis or lasers that come out of his eyes; he has loss, he has grief, he has rage. we can all relate to that. he has a voice that is capable of giving a second chance to others (in court) but he lives and dies a thousand deaths inside of the silence at his core he can't find his way out of. his inability to communicate his grief or desires in a bearable way.

perhaps he finds redemption through saving others because he doesn't believe he, himself, is otherwise worthy of redemption. if he did, he would relinquish his duty as hero, he would live a quiet & happy life of domesticity with foggy. perhaps in another world he does. he lays down his mantle, or he lives in a world where he never had to take it up. he's just matt, foggy's soft-hearted partner.

#ask #anon #daredevil #mm #also lately i've been thinking about the parallels between foggy & matt w judas & jesus. as one does #i have so many more thoughts but this has already gotten so long. but matt finds meaning in being wounded torn apart etc #try try your whole life / to be righteous and be good / wind up on your own floor / choking on blood !!!! the mountain goats get it

[skunkes]

Im having feelings over my stupid vampire oc

#talkys #my clone who is nothing like me but also everything like me #the wounded aching heart on a leash outside my body #the unwillingness to get attached because once you are attached its over and boy is it over #thinking about how we wouldn't ever get anything done because once talon is attached its nonstop Long Goodbye #the ache over you being gone one day. and well. how could I not also cry about death. he IS my death phobia made vampire #you catch the previously constantly stone faced guy have fits of anguish and clinginess #repeating words and actions so he wont ever forget #howww could you leave his arms when he needs to remember how you feel in them #and that you like my face in your neck but not being bit there #and you like that my body is cold when yours is a furnace. you cant stand having your shoulders grabbed #you hate when wet hair touches your neck and i know where all the moles on your body are #and i know that you like me. and you like me. and you like me #(and the next day he's fighting the urge to cut you and himself up to ribbons for letting/making him feel this way) #(and how getting closer only makes goodbye harder) #(and god - time goes by so fast doesnt it. it goes by so fast.) #(itll hurt then and it hurts now. all it does is hurt) #oc text

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂

#welcome to another Mick Airs Out Their Grievances and by god is it a VERY long one #prob best if u don't expand the tags #am I being maybe a bit meaner about this than I would be for any other movie? maybe but pac rim is one of my favorite movies of all time #so I think I get a pass on this one. #one of the groups on campus is hosting movie nights & I went to this one bc I've only ever watched pac rim on my laptop and wanted to watch #it on a larger screen. yay yippee I love this movie! #there r maybe 10-ish of us in this room and a three person friend group is sitting on the couch one of whom has seen the movie and two who #have not. okay so far so normal. #and then the movie starts and they won't! stop! fucking! commentating! the whole fucking movie!!! I don't have a problem with doing that #when I'm in just my friend group because I know that I can tell my friend to stop talking or pause the movie or whatnot but not when I'm in #a large group w people I'm not good friends with ffs #and the comments aren't even funny or anything they're all oh this is JUST like in iron widow!! oh they're SO gay and autistic!!! and #they're talking so loud about this that it completely drowns out the movie audio which has already been turned up a few times #like. be considerate!! some of us want to yknow actually listen to what's going on and not whatever bullshit you're saying #I nearly walked out three or four times before I actually wound up doing so #I may have been a bit of a bitch at the end but I don't care. I got up to leave because this was not an enjoyable environment and one of #them offered to turn the movie down if it was too loud. this caught me a bit off guard since I expected them to still be so wrapped up in #their convo and. well. I may have said 'it's not the movie that's too loud' before closing the door #this also reminds me a lot about my issues with online shipping culture and it bleeding through into how we interact with media irl #this is probably heavily influenced by my aromanticism but I'm so sick of people constantly reading romantic relationships into everything #AND placing more importance on those relationships than any other form. I don't mind romance in media. I think if done right it has great #emotional impact on a story but when a movie is running and when other people who may not want to hear it are in the room watching it too #is not the time to be loudly saying 'he's autistic!' 'they're in love!' 'she has a crush on him!' #I have my own interpretations of the movie some of which agree with what they said and some of which don't but that's beside the point of #knowing how to coexist politely in public #anyway. I think they were awful and annoying and they ruined my night out. #I think I'm just so incredibly mad about this because I love the movie and I was looking forward to watching it in a group of people who #found it cool as well while still having some modicum of politeness #I almost wish I had been meaner but that's the extreme annoyance talking I think #hater hour over love u guys bye

[waywardsalt]

im thinking about possession aftereffects that linebeck experiences immediately after the events of phantom hourglass, so here are bullet points i have down for my own ideas

he’s out cold for roughly five days after the fight. he’s conscious for a bit after being freed, but it doesn’t take long for him to collapse once he’s transported back to the great sea. link finds him when he reaches his ship to see him again (he takes a lifeboat or w/e from tetras ship its a whole thing and not the point) and ends up having to take care of him for those five-ish days.

while he’s out cold, he develops a bad fever, and has a good few physical injures from being possessed; all of his wounds from being possessed manifest as burns, the worst wounds bring cauterized and mostly closed, while smaller ones are still open wounds. the largest wound is a large burn covering most of his back, which is cauterized by the time he passes out, and then there are smaller, still open burns on his upper arms and legs. (the smaller wounds are manageable by link when he follows some medical instructions, [there are some medical books on the ship] the larger one is also manageable, but takes a lot longer to properly heal).

(link asks tetra and her crew to stick around for a while to keep linebeck stabilized while he’s unconscious. when linebeck wakes up, tetra and her crew are good to leave because then linebeck can better report what’s going on, and knows how to handle injuries).

linebeck’s fever persists after he wakes up, and he experiences… pretty much every fever symptom, with especially bad chills and full-body aches. the aches are really bad for the first few days after he wakes up, he’s extremely physically weak and shaky for a while, too. that weakness and shakiness get better with time, but he doesnt go entirely back to normal without actually moving around and doing things to build that strength back up.

he’s delirious and struggles to stay awake for those first few conscious days, too, which makes that weakness and shakiness worse; he struggles to eat and drink water, and struggles to string together thoughts or words to talk to link, and both of them figure out pretty quickly that they’ll have to wait a bit longer before so much as an attempt to coax him out of bed can be made.

beyond existing problems with food, linebeck struggles to keep anything down while he recovers, and becomes ill pretty much every time after he eats anything, so a bucket is kept near his bed. with water, he obviously needs to drink a lot of it considering that he’s feverish, injured, and vomiting frequently, but while he’s sick he has a bit of an irrational fear of water (along with an irrational fear of air and the wind, which makes him hesitant to go outside while he’s sick).

he’s generally pretty irritable, which isn’t particularly new, but it makes him prone to refusing help with certain things. he’s less irritable when tired and just resting. he’s also especially nervous, and despite the overall fatigue, he struggles to sleep for very long while he’s sick, and as said before, is often delirious and even confused when things are bad.

along with the other difficulties eating, linebeck has a hard time swallowing for a bit, and salivates a lot more than normal while he’s sick. he is soooo fucking dehydrated the whole time and that really doesn’t help.

while the weakness and shakiness stays for the entire time he’s sick and even a bit afterwards, for the first few days after he wakes up he’s stiff and also experiences some muscle spasms and numbness in his limbs, and has a hard time keeping his balance the first few times he gets out of bed.

once the sickness clears up fully, linebeck has to still be careful with the scar on his back; it’s sensitive to touch for a while and hurts when exposed to the sun or air for too long and when he stretches his back too far, but eventually just reaches the point where it’s a bit sensitive but is otherwise just a large scar.

obviously he’s also going through the wringer in an emotional and mental illness sense too but those would require a whole new bullet point list.

#ask to tag #loz #legend of zelda #linebeck #phantom hourglass #this kinda just turned into early post ph chapter notes and you know what? i really needed it to be that way actually #post bellumbeck wounds manifest as burns bc i think that purple… ooze? from bellum is like fucking acid #also magic shit yadda yadda bellum burns those he possesses cuz like. melt skin so it fuses to whats touching it. yknow #salty talks #why does tetra’s crew leave when linebeck wakes up? linebeck wants them to leave and he wants to keep secret the fact that he got possessed #hes lucky that link doesnt say anything and lucky that tetra never saw any of it #he uses the story that he just got attacked by bellum and knocked out while link fought bellum #i might just leave his long term bellumbeck aftereffects at. huge burn scar on his back and some fun magic stuff #cuz he does go through all of this shit and survives what is basically literally fucking rabies its a lot of rabies symptoms #its like. mixture of real sickness/disease and Burn Wounds with a dash of. hmm what would he be experiencing as like #his body gets use to actually being in control of itself after that control is forcibly and violently hijacked by something else #also theres just some nasty shit in his blood/body in general which is why he vomits most of the time. get that shit outta here #also this whole scenario is ig a fun reversal since all of ph link is the one who gets injured/sick snd linebeck has to take care of him #so. switch things around. link is Going Through It as well this is DISTRESSING for him but he feels better while talking with linebeck #link being present seriously tipped things in linebecks favor. if he was alone he wouldve still survived. it wouldve fucking sucked tho #wouldve been really really hard but with enough effort and will to live linebeck could survive on his own thats important #seriously considering adding that at his worst he has seizures but i dont know enough abt those rn so maybe layer

[gwydionae]

I'm not saying I didn't like the scene, but I couldn't help but think "there was a teleporter and a telekinetic right there".

#marvel #x-men 97 #spoilers #being purposefully vague since it hasn't been that long since it came out #but #like #come on #XD #you telling me a telepath saw someone who'd just done THAT all episode #and thought it was a good idea to let them be in control of that moment? #or the catholic priest who'd just witnessed the very recent break down and had concerns even prior to it? #i'm ok with what the scene was going for but it felt a bit too scripted for me to fully buy in #i only note it because the show has done a good job of staying away from that so far imo #so it wound up being all the more noticable #still enjoyed the episode overall though

[ask-the-crimson-king]

A Fate Determined

What a fall from grace.

He used to be quartered in a finely furnished cabin, with an entire library at his fingertips whenever he chose. He could find other scholars of the Great Ocean and consult them or banter with them. He could create marvelous experiments with his brothers, even if they sometimes had less than ideal results. 

Now, he was sequestered away in the dingy underbelly of a beaten -- and most likely stolen -- warship that belonged to a band of miscreants and barbarians. Fitting, he reasoned, considering what had passed.

He was armored, even though today was not to be a day of skirmishing and combat. He had long since learned the value of maintaining some level of protection, especially in times between fighting. His associates, for he was not permitted to call them cousin nor even ally, were negotiating. With whom, the sorcerer did not know, for he was told it was not his right to know.

Being a sorcerer, most would reason that he could just pluck the information he wanted from the minds of the unwilling, and they would be correct.

If his new "boss" was not a member of the dreaded XII alongside most of the members of this miserable band. Though whether he could even refer to them as members of a Legion felt dubious. The change brought about from the Siege and these few... what, centuries now? had changed them so fundamentally. They were fracturing and breaking away. Most of the Legions were.

After all, their primarchs were beginning to abandon them, and they were without direction and unity. 

His own Legion had fractured long before the others. Recent events only broke them further. 

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts. He'd rather not entertain and remember what had happened. 

For now, he needed to focus. The leader of this warband had instructed him to formulate a ritual to summon forth a greater daemon of Khorne, and-

A knock at his door stops his thoughts. 

"Hey! Sorcerer!" comes a gruff shout. Pachua. A former member of the III, usually the one sent to fetch the sorcerer since most of the others in the band could hardly stand to be near him. The sorcerer once had a fleeting vision of Pachua holding the head of the current leader, Ukwtakun, and using it as a bargaining chip. 

"Yes?" the sorcerer replied, already rising from where he had been sitting. 

"You're called to the command deck," Pachua said. 

"Any particular reason?" the sorcerer asked as he opened the door. "Am I assisting in navigation again?"

"Don't know, don't care to know," Pachua said with a snort. "I have other things to attend to." Before another word could be said, the other Astartes stalked off, the dim light from the overhead lumens reflecting the garish colors and fresh trophies he had recently adorned his armors with. With a sigh, the sorcerer quickly made his way through the ship, coming to the doors that opened to the command bridge. 

Immediately he was greeted with an unfamiliar sight. Two Terminators, painted in crimson edged in silver, barred his way. Scripture was both etched into their plate and pinned to their armor in various scrolls. He took notice of several symbols meant to ward away the creatures of the Immaterium -- unsurprising, given that these two were of the XVII. 

"Greetings," the sorcerer said to them. "Ukwtakun summoned me."

"You are the sorcerer?" one asked. 

"I am." Perhaps the XVII were not aware of the changes that had befell his Legion. He knew his cerulean and gold plate seemed strange to them. 

"He is speaking with our Apostle," said the other. 

Apostle. The sorcerer was still uncomfortable with the word.

"May I ask that he be informed of my presence, at least?" 

"We've sent word along," the Terminator said, sounding annoyed. 

A silence stretched out between the three of them. While he awaited clearance to enter, his mind wandered, as did his other senses. Despite the suppression required to avoid getting killed, he could still keenly sense the auras of those around him.

A reliable talent to help avoid taking a fist or an axe to the face. 

He thought it a hold-over from his time as part of the Atheanean Cult from before the Fall. Such designations were archaic, now, and his mastery over the arts of old was giving way to new talents and curiosities. 

Some were not as new as he let on when he was still with the Legion, but he had wanted to keep up appearances then. Part of him did find it amusing that his ambitious brother had been right, in a way. There was more to the disciplines than what the Five Cults provided. 

Soon enough, the doors opened, and the sorcerer was allowed to enter. He gave a nod of acknowledgement and respect to the two Terminators as he entered, though who he saw left him stopped in his tracks.

Standing near to the brutualized warrior that was Ukwtakun was a face the sorcerer had not seen in centuries. Scripture marched down the left side of his face, his crimson armor left unadorned aside from the occasional lines of scripture or wards that looked similar to those borne by the Terminators who had stood sentry outside. A crozius arcanum rested near his feet.

"There you are!" Ukwtakun's voice ripped him from his momentary stupor. The warrior's face was nearly bisected by a massive scar that ran from one temple to the opposite corner of his jaw. A wild swing from a Blood Angel, he had said. It nearly took his eye out. The sorcerer gave a brief bow.

"How may I-"

"I called for you hours ago," the warrior interrupted. His lips pulled into a snarl. "Where were you?"

"In study and mediatation," the sorcerer answered carefully. His eyes flicked between the berserker and his guest. The XVII Legion warrior remained stoic. The sorcerer had caught a momentary glimpse of recognition flickering across his aura, but now his was being drowned out by the ever-burning rage his current "boss" held within him. 

His answer did not sit well. 

"Looks like I have to remind you that you come when called for, sorcerer," Ukwtakun snarled. "You're only here because you're convenient, but I'm sure we could always replace you."

The sorcerer said nothing to this. It was true. They happened to find him as he was fleeing, and they could have butchered him, but did not. 

"I understand," he said meekly. 

"I don't think-"

"Is this the time for this?" 

The voice came from the Word Bearer -- the Apostle -- that Ukwtakun was dealing with. It was soft yet commanding. Both the sorcerer and the berserker looked at him. 

"You're on my ship, Book Thumper," Ukwtakun growled. "If I have to deal with an insubordin-

"And you are requiring my word to resupply at Ghalmek," the Word Bearer countered. "And, if my assumptions are correct, this is the sorcerer that you require to uphold your half of our bargain." 

Silence. Uneasy silence. Ukwtakun's aura diminished slightly under the weight of the presence the Apostle emanated. 

"I'll deal with your bookworming later," Ukwtakun spat towards the sorcerer. He nodded, already beginning to prepare himself for what was to come. If he was lucky, he would only maybe lose a limb for this. 

"So you are his psyker," the Apostle said, now focusing his attention on the sorcerer. His eyes were dark, but they were warm. Open and inviting, matching the rest of his body language. "May I have your name?"

"I-"

"Doesn't deserve it," Ukwtakun said with a snort. "Ask him your questions so I can have him dealt with."

"Fine." The Apostle sighed. "You are experienced in diabolism, yes? Have you begun experimenting with the creation of bound weaponry or armor?"

"I... Yes, somewhat," the sorcerer answered. Something was strange. He recognized this Apostle from the times before the War... didn't he recognize him? He thought he saw a flicker of recognition before, but it could have been a mistake. 

"Somewhat?" There was no malice or derision in the word.

"I have not been granted the space nor the proper supplies to enact the proper experimentation," the sorcerer answered. He flinched as he felt a flare from Ukwtakun, who had reached for his chainaxe. 

"You filthy-"

"And if you were provided such materials," the Apostle went on, one hand gripping the arm of the berserker, "you could perform such experiments and yield positive results?" 

The sorcerer hesitated. His hearts were pounding. He had not felt this much stress since-

"Are you trying to steal my sorcerer?" Ukwtakun asked, breaking away from the Apostle. 

"It is not stealing," the Apostle replied cooly. "You promised me a sorcerer who would be able to assist in the binding and creation of weapons and armors, in exchange for repair and resupply at Ghalmek so that you would not have to go through the Iron Warriors while you are working with elements of the Emperor's Children." 

Silence again. 

"We still have need for him," the berserker said. 

"It sounded to me as though you are ready to replace him." The Apostle tilted his head. "Have I misunderstood your earlier declaration of, 'you're only here because you're convenient'?"

The sorcerer found himself stunned and blinking. He stared with his mouth slightly agape at the Apostle, whom he swore gave him the smallest of smiles. Again, recognition flickered over his aura. 

He does remember!

Hope flared for the first time in ages. Could he get him away? That's what it sounded like he was trying to do. He silently pleaded with whatever powers were out there that he was successful. 

The berserker was shaking with barely suppressed rage. The two had their eyes locked on each other; one's face a rigid mask, the other keeping calm and composed. 

"Fine!" Ukwtakun said abruptly. "Take the stupid sniveling rat. So long as you can get us our stuff, you can have him."

"Gladly. I'll have word sent that we are on the way." The Apostle grabbed his crozius and put it over his shoulder, looking to the sorcerer. "Come with me. I would like to have a conversation with you in private."

"Of course," the sorcerer said, offering a bow, "but my things-"

"Please, go retrieve them," the Apostle told him. "Allow one of the Annointed to accompany you. Abdima?"

One of the Terminators by the door put a fist to his breastplate. The sorcerer offered a salute and another bow, swiftly leaving while the Apostle and Ukwtakun shared some final words. 

His mind was racing. Hope felt strange and new to him. Freedom at last from the confines of his dingy hole, freedom from the ever-present stress of existing around trigger-happy berserkers. 

Freedom to experiment and allow his talents to roam free once more. 

They made it back to his current room, and he sensed the unease radiating from his Terminator escort. It was, admittedly, a mess. Strange paraphanalia and a stack of old journals and musings crowded the room, which was truly only about as wide as two paces for an Astartes.

Human quarters, obviously. 

For the first time in an age, the sorcerer unfurled his mind beyond the tightly bound cage he had made for himself, scooped up his belongings in a telekinetic grasp, and nodded to the Terminator. If he encountered any difficulties from the band, he expected the Terminator to help diffuse any open aggression. 

As they walked back to reconvene with the Apostle and the other elements of his retinue, he dared to feel excited. Anxiety, ever-present, also flooded through him. It was not fear; it could never be. But he was uncertain. This had to be too good to be true. There was something he did not see, surely.

The thought dampened everything, even after he saw the Apostle offer him a genuinely warm smile and even as he was welcomed aboard the Word Bearer's vessel. It was called the Unitas Abyssi, and it was decorated in just the way the sorcerer had imagined any ship of the XVII would be.

Thousands of mortals moved about, offering prayers and hails as the Astartes passed by. The smell of incense burned throughout its halls. The sorcerer felt the attentions of the denizens of the Great Ocean no matter where he went. The Apostle was leading him down to his own personal chambers at the heart of the ship, the two of them accompanied by an entourage of Terminators. 

The walk was a silent one, and the Terminators had been dismissed once they made it to the Apostle's quarters. Beyond the doors lay a great central chamber which had four other rooms that split off from it. The room itself was occupied by the beginnings of a garden, with various troughs and small plants slowly breaching a surface covered in strange mulches. It smelled earthy. A few benches had been arrayed around a focal point in the center, upon which a mosaic depicting the octed star of Chaos had been placed. The Apostle sat on one of them, his back facing the far wall that stood mostly blank and bare. 

"Now that we are away from that blunt berserker," the Apostle had said, gesturing to a bench near to him. The sorcerer went and sat down. "May I have your name?"

"I..." he paused. "I am Zikar-Sin, sir."

"Zikar-Sin," he said, nodding. "I thought you seemed familiar. I am sure my introduction is unnecessary."

"So you did recognize me!"

"Of course," the Apostle said with a smile. "How could I forget the Son of Magnus who challenged me in the middle of a symposium to defend my intellectual and theological honor?"

"And how could I forget the Chaplain to whom I served secondment with who dared to call Prosperine food 'too sweet' after sampling nothing but sweets for an afternoon?"

“That I sampled at your insistence, need I remind you.”

 Zikar-Sin smiled. "It is good to see you Ans'ar."

"The feeling is mutual. I had feared for your loss after what befell Prospero," Ans'ar said. Zikar-Sin's bright expression darkened, and his eyes turned away from the Apostle. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and when he looked up, he saw the face of an aggrieved friend. "I am glad to learn you live."

The sorcerer did not know how to respond to that. His mind was becoming full of thoughts of what had happened, and his brain uncomfortably reminded him of the complicity of the Word Bearers in the wake of the devastation of Prospero.

It was, after all, Horus who had ordered it done. 

"I did not mean to stir up hurtful memories-"

"It's fine," Zikar-Sin said shortly. He flinched, then curled a bit into himself. "I did not mean to interrupt you."

His eyes flickered away from the Apostle. He felt him take his hand away from his shoulder. 

"Where have you been?" Ans'ar asked quietly. "How did you come to be with a group of World Eaters?"

"That is a very long story," Zikar-Sin said with a tired sigh. The Apostle snorted. 

"It is good, then, that I have a very long time to listen." He stood. "Wait here." He walked into one of the adjacent rooms. Zikar-Sin heard some light rummaging and the clinking of glass. When he returned, there was a bottle in one hand and two glasses for wine in the other. Zikar-Sin suppressed a snort of his own, but there was a definite glint of amusement in his face. Ans'ar caught it.

"What?"

"Are you going to light some candles and bring out flowers next?" Zikar-Sin asked with a chuckle. Ans'ar paused, then laughed himself. 

"Come, now. There won't be any flowers aboard this vessel for the next few weeks at least." He sat down and poured each of them a glass. Zikar-Sin recognized the vintage from its scent alone. It was sourced from Vharadesh. 

He took his glass with a small thank you. Ans'ar nodded and set the bottle down next to him.

"Now that I have cleverly socially trapped you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. "Let us hear your tale of woe."

Zikar-Sin looked down at the deep crimson of the wine inside his own glass.

He inhaled and exhaled, then took a swig of it that drained nearly half the glass. It had been far too long since he could enjoy anything with proper flavor in it. 

"Alright. Let us begin in the aftermath of Terra, and Ahriman's folly."

--

Lightning danced and surged around them all. Immense power, the likes of which had only been invoked a handful of times before, pulled at all of them. It felt as though his soul was being stretched thin and pit through a sieve. The world shook. 

He fell to his hands and knees, huffing and panting. His eyes burned. The tides of the Great Ocean beat against them all, smashing them upon unseen rocks and distant, unknown and intangible shores. It took immense strength to remember how to think and how to breathe. 

He did not know how long this sensation would last. He did not remember what happened between being on the ground and being back on his feet, potentiality boiling around him, and screaming for his brothers as their bodies and minds were turned to dust and sealed away within their armor. Sorrow and disbelief filled him; he began to draw upon the power still roiling around him when he felt it siphoned away. A greater storm was gathering in the Great Ocean. A hurricane of fury and malice, all directed and pointed towards the thing that had started this all. 

A father on his way to kill his favored son. 

In the wake of the disaster, there was despair. There was anguish. There were tears, though he would never admit it to anyone else. 

Despair fed into desperation. He hardly knows what he is thinking by the time he has everyone gathered.

Eighteen. Eighteen of his brothers, now damned into an existence of barely-sapient automata. Only three of his still-flesh brethren knows what he is about to attempt.

He prays. He hopes, so fervently, so desperately, that this will work. If it can work on them, then it can work on everyone, can't it? Surely it must!

The ritual begins. There is laughter. There is unfaltering focus. 

And it fails.

Eighteen souls are devoured. Eighteen souls are torn free and sent into the Immaterium.

And the one who conducted it all runs.

He flees, as far and as fast as he can. He even stole a ship to leave. He grabbed only what was around him at the time; nothing but a handful of grimoires and talismans, alongside the armor he wore. 

But he flees. To where, he did not know. He thinks that perhaps he will die in isolation. Or perhaps he can work on undoing his mistake, and undoing whatever had been done to the Legion-

And that is when he is found. His place of refuge boarded and searched by a band of warriors looking for things to scavenge. 

And my, what a prize he was. 

They were lost, having butchered their own mortal navigators and astropaths. They very nearly gave him the same fate before the Emperor's Child, Pachua, intervened. They needed a psyker. He was tired of floating aimlessly, he wanted to find a place of true war again. 

And so he had been abducted and forcibly recruited, acting as navigator for a band of insane berserkers. He had learned swiftly that his psychic talents had to be suppressed as far as he could, otherwise he was going to be fighting the warband each moment he was within eyesight. 

There he had remained, an exile and outcast, grieving and dreading the future of his Legion, left to fester in the underbelly of their miserable ship, until Ans'ar happened to find him.

--

Silence follows. Zikar-Sin finishes his glass of wine. 

"I knew the plight of the Thousand Sons was a difficult one," Ans'ar said, "but I also know you do not deserve such mistreatment."

"It matters little what I deserved."

The sorcerer shrugged. "Though, respectfully, I disagree. My actions led to the destruction of eighteen of my brothers. Total and complete, beyond what this... this Rubric did to them." He shakes his head, then hesitates. He removed one of his gauntlets, revealing a hand that was covered in feathering. Most of the feathering was small, and some scales had begun forming upon the segments of his fingers. Small eyes blink from between his knuckles. 

"Flesh Change?" Ans'ar asks carefully, leaning in closer. 

"Mutation from our new patron," Zikar-Sin said bitterly. "A reminder of my failures, and a reminder of the fate most likely to consume me one day. The ritual that Ahriman conducted was supposed to scour the Flesh Change from the Legion for good. It did. But it does not mean we cannot still be 'blessed'." 

The Apostle's face darkens. Most of what Zikar-Sin is speaking must surely sound like blasphemy and sacrilege to him. 

"I would like to offer you something," he says slowly. 

"Is it some escoteric item of note?" There is a small eye-roll.

"Better. I want you to formally join my Host."

Zikar-Sin raised a brow. "Was that not already the plan?"

"Not quite. I was willing to have you on in a manner similar to how Ukwtakun had you -- an auxiliary sorcerer we had on hand. But I would like to formally induct you into the Legion."

"You think I would forsake the Thousand Sons?"

"Have you not already?"

The question disarmed him. He was left blinking like a fool, his mind genuinely going blank. 

"I... suppose I have," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. 

"If you need time to think on it, then I will grant it to you. But for now I will arrange for you to be given proper rooms and a proper place for you to conduct rituals and experiments," Ans'ar said, offering more wine to him. Zikar-Sin gently declined, though the Apostle filled his own glass. "You will be given the respect and room you deserve to operate as you please. Within reason, of course, I am not going to let you take the mortal thralls and whore their lives away without purpose."

The sorcerer bit back a retort about the practices of the Word Bearers as a whole, and only gave Ans'ar a nod of acknowledgement. He handed back his empty glass and stood, sensing that their conversation was over, for now. 

"I will have Abdima show you to your new rooms. I would like to speak again in a day or so about your first experiments," Ans'ar said, affecting a more business-like tone. Zikar-Sin nodded again.

"As you wish." He paused. "How should I address you in front of the others? Surely they would take offense to an outsider calling you by your name."

"You may refer to me as Apostle, as they do." Ans'ar drank from his glass, then set the empty glasses down and stood, walking over to Zikar-Sin. He put a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him in for a quick embrace. "I mean it. I am glad to see that you are alive, old friend."

The sorcerer was caught off-guard, and awkwardly returned the gesture. "As am I to see you." The Apostle pulled back, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before he called for his Terminators -- his Annointed, as Zikar-Sin would learn to call them -- to escort him to his new rooms.

--

More freedom took some getting used to. Being able to unfurl his mind and senses and not immediately detect murderous intent aimed directly toward his person was a good change of pace. Of course, there was always suspicion, he knew it would be foolish not to expect it. 

He was an outsider, but he would only be the first of many to join the 17th Host. 

His presence became part of the background hum of the operations of the Host. The Annointed greeted him by name after a few short weeks, as did some of the Astartes he began working a little closer with. Some were diabolists, but they had learned sorcery through means similar to that of Kor Phaeron.

Having the natural connection to the Great Ocean and the decades of experience that Zikar-Sin could provide was invaluable. 

Eventually, Ans'ar came to him with the offer again. A chance to be fully and completely repatriated into the Word Bearers. The hesitance he had from before had mostly melted by this point. 

And so, Zikar-Sin was no longer Zikar-Sin of the Thousand Sons, former adept of the Cult Athaenean of the Fifth Fellowship. He became Zikar-Sin of the 17th Host, Master of Possession, as he would remain for the next ten millennia.

#its zikar-sin posting #thousand sons #warhammer 40k #aka how he wound up joining the WB #aka ans'ar saved his ass #sorry for it being so long #kinda got away from me