#Across the void crossover

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Alien Raelyn and Scientist Hana

"Little green men, huh?" The extraterrestrial laughs good naturedly. "What a funny concept." Then they winked at Hana causing her heart rate to pick up. Did they have some type of pheromones that was effecting her? Hana knew more studies would need to be done, now how to convince this being from the stars to go back with her to her lab?

[criscura]

I want to get to the good part of this blastvoid thing I'm writing but i do NOT want to write the part before it and I'm procrastinating so fucking hard

Like i know what i want and it'll be satisfying but it's like the reverse of eating beef jerky, where this is the tough gross part you just need to swallow before getting to the fucking SPPIUCCE

[staysaneathome]

Yeah, no, the idea of Annabelle Cane showing up in Across the Spiderverse as the herald of the Fears, taking advantage of a prime spider-themed opportunity to ensnare multiple realities hasn’t gone away.

It’s grown.

I have a dire need for fics where Annabelle Cane shows up in your fandom and Makes Everything Worse (or doesn’t! Maybe she gets foiled! Or kept out! Or contained! Or maybe everything is already so bad she takes one look at it and immediately Nopes into the next universe!)

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

i think my favorite thing about Pearl is the way her arcs always come back to simplicity. over and over she rejects glory in favor of just living her life. she ends HC8 by losing everything she has, diving into the void with nothing but her friends to accompany her. in Empires her kingdom was defined by farming - the very symbol of a peaceful life. in HC9's Empires crossover she actively rejects being referred to as Santa Perla, saying how absurd it would be for her, a simple cleaning lady, to be a god. even when she does remember, she doesnt make a scene out of it. theres no dramatic shouting to the room or swearing vengeance for her kingdom having been burnt - the only outward sign she gives of her memory returning is her telling Sausage, a soft word to an old friend from across the room. then she goes right back to her simple job keeping the server clean. and then there's Decked Out - she doesn't win, and she doesn't get any recognition in the final day ceremony except for a brief sentence, but she's okay with that - because she knows, and the Dungeon knows, and Tango knows, that she's the one who really understood the Dungeon. in Double Life, her entire motivation is to not be lonely - something she only manages at the very end, when she, Cleo, Martyn, and Scott are a real team, and she ends her season with the act of forgiveness as her final words. in Limited Life and Secret Life, she states outright that she doesn't want to win - she makes her goal to have good friends and to get one of them to win. over and over and over again all Pearl wants is a nice life and a few friends to share it with.

[sicksadgames]

As the Sun Forever Sets - Terror in the time of the Telegraph

It’s nuts I’ve been working on this game for over 4 years at this point. As the Sun Forever Sets is for sure my biggest and most capital G Game. It even has a publisher and everything. It’s also my first game! Wow! It's been tough, though. We'll get into it!

Britain, 1899

As the Sun Forever Sets is a survival horror sandbox based on the War of the Worlds, utilises the Forged in the Dark ruleset, and is about ordinary people surviving a Martian invasion of Victorian era Britain. We play to find out how they rise to meet the storm of destruction, the ways in which it shapes them, and if they survive to see a new world emerge, or die amidst the rubble of the old.

In the last years of Queen Victoria’s reign, the British Empire stretches across a quarter of the globe, and under the guise of genteel progress and civilisation, it commits theft and murder on a global scale. Britain itself is on the verge of the modern era, the Second Industrial Revolution pushing people into the cities to drive the factories and forges owned by the greedy industrialist class. But beyond the common causes of humanity and unbeknownst to the men who impose their rule over it, vast wheels have begun their inexorable turning. Across 40 million miles of void, the Martian invasion hurtles Earthward. Screaming across the stars, instruments of annihilation unlike anything believed possible lie ready for assembly, alongside the Martians themselves. They are truly inscrutable beings, but their intent is as clear as it is terrible – they will suck the literal and figurative blood from the Earth, and nothing less than the complete and utter subjugation of humanity will be enough.

If this sounds cool to you... well, you gotta wait, it’s not done yet. Sorry! But you can come and hang out in the Sick Sad Games discord, where I post excerpts and occasionally organise playtests.

The Hard Times of (Old) England

Be warned, this is a long one - over 4000 words (if you don't have a Tumblr account, you won't get to the end before it starts bugging you to register one, so go read this on Medium instead.) It turns out when you work on a game for a long time, you have a lot to say about it. Strap in, grab your gin and laudanum, and let’s destroy an evil empire just by existing.

Thanks to the wonderful @hendrik-ten-napel for taking a look over my disorganised thoughts.

(Potential) Spoilers for: The Bear, The War of the Worlds, The Last of Us, Children of Men, Threads, When the Wind Blows, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, The Thing.

Roleplay in the Pre-Post-Apocalypse

TTRPGs love a good post apocalypse. It's understandable - gas up and ride glorious on the legally distinct fury road, run a commune of like minded weirdos in the ashes of the old world, go digging through retro-futuristic ruins to find retro-futuristic treasures. Who wouldn't want to do any of these? But As the Sun Forever Sets is about an apocalypse as it begins, not after it’s over. 

There's a lot of crossover, of course. There’s a focus on similar things - disaster and spectacle, relationships and trust, scavenging and survival. But the bonus of the world not yet being over, is that we get to roleplay out dealing with that terrible, inexorable reality.

HG Wells wrote a book about blowing up all the places he used to live, and it's a banger. I was surprised to find there wasn't a TTRPG based on the War of the Worlds, being the tantalisingly public domain ur-alien invasion story it is. As the Sun Forever Sets is very explicitly an adaption of it, to the point that before I came up with the name it almost got released as The War of the Worlds: The Roleplaying Game (lol). I'm glad I didn't, doing my own thing has meant both me and the people playing are way more free to fuck around without the expectation that it must adhere to a canon.

The book is good, strikingly modern feeling in parts, and obviously massively influential - so much science fiction can be traced back to our nameless Narrators tormentuous trek across the south of England. But Wells’ prose is typical Victorian - overly wordy and florid (any book that contains the word “ejaculating” meaning “to shout” might be difficult for readers who aren’t used to the style), so when it comes to recommending an actual adaptation, there’s only one true king. Whenever I bring up Jeff Wayne’s The War of the Worlds, the usual reaction from anyone outside of the UK is to say "... they made a what?"

My mom was very keen to get me into musicals, but nothing really stuck until she tried this, the secret best War of the Worlds adaption (sorry Steven Spielberg, but you were doomed from the start.) It's the bombast and drama you'd expect from a disaster film, the horror and pathos of Wells’ classic, all expressed through vivid narration and sick nasty prog rock - wailing guitar and crunchy 70's synths operating at full effect. It's not completely faithful to the book, it doesn't matter. It’s the best.

Ah yes, the film bro's favourite mid 2000's film. Did you see that sick oner? That’s six minutes without a cut, that means the film’s good right? Children of Men is a slow burn apocalypse, dressed up like a world that’s already ended. Plenty has been written about all the little ways the film is prescient about the state of the UK - the slow belly-crawl into facism and nationalist fervour, the particularly British decay and class divide exacerbated by the desperate times, even the willful ignorance and the explicit sense that everyone’s just given up, it’s all here.

All that thematic stuff seems like it’d be really relevant to As the Sun Forever Sets, right?

Unfortunately, we are in fact here to talk about the long takes. The unbroken moment-to-moment action scenes evoke The War of the Worlds to a tee. Theo navigates danger with the same fraught tactical tension as War of the World's Narrator - dashing between doorways, groping for an axe handle in the darkness, desperately trying to start a car as assailants sprint towards him. What’s the best way out of this situation? How do I get from here to where I need to be? He lives his life in rolling, fleeting 5 second intervals, because he’s forgotten what it means to think in the long term - about the future, and what it might hold.

I was always fascinated and terrified by the idea of nuclear war. I guess it comes from watching a lot of 90’s disaster movies, but those are often ultimately fun romps where the day gets saved at the end, or at least the main characters find themselves alive and well at the end of the saga of destruction. Instead, As the Sun Forever Sets asks you to reflect on the horror and sadness present at the end of the world. Things are going to change forever, and change is always hard.

There’s not many clips of Threads and When the Wind Blows online, so it’s a little hard to demonstrate their particular nuclear inflected pitch black darkness. They’re grim - Grave of the Fireflies grim - differing in focus but united in their horrible impact.

When the Wind Blows is a story of an elderly couple living in rural England when the bombs drop, based on the comic by Raymond Briggs. Yes, The Snowman’s Raymond Briggs made a film about 2 lovely grandparents dying of acute radiation poisoning. Jim and Hilda are completely unprepared for what’s to come, their only reference is the Blitz - terrible in its own way, but not a patch on the scale of death they’re about to experience.

They survive the blast and wait for the good old British Government to arrive to save them, as it did in the 40’s. Slowly liquifying in the nuclear fallout, they hold onto each other and keep their spirits up, eventually making the decision to clamber into the paper sacks they mistakenly believed might protect them from the blast. Clutching their medical cards and birth certificates (for the ambulance, sure to be along any minute now), Jim mumbles painfully through a final prayer that morphs into a misremembered Charge of the Light Brigade, and they slip into a perpetual slumber together.

The most tragic part is Jim and Hilda’s unshakeable faith that their government is there for them - ready to catch them when they fall - borne out of Britain’s post WW2 renewal but absent in the 1980’s of the film’s plot, and the Britain of today. It’s a masterful film, shockingly sad, but the shock is the point.

Instead of aiming for your heart, Threads aims for the head. It’s a drama that aims to be as accurate as possible to government research into what a nuclear war might look like, plainly and forensically setting it out without any thought of softening these hard facts for its audience. Rather than focusing on a personal story, Threads flits around several groups of characters - minor government figures and ordinary families. Like Jim and Hilda, they too are woefully unprepared for the end of the world, and those in charge know there’s no way the UK could ever be ready for such a thing.

As mundane life is quietly intruded upon by news updates detailing far off geopolitics and the subsequent escalation that leads to war, the tension rises subtly then suddenly, like a spacecraft on the launchpad. People we’ve seen pottering about their normal lives are maimed and evaporated in the subsequent shocking nuclear exchange, whilst stark statistics flash on the screen - the hundreds of thousands instantly killed, how long the millions more fatally irradiated have left to live, the woefully inadequate tonnage of stockpiled food to feed those who survive. Each zero hits like a gutpunch.

And when you think the film must nearly be over, it keeps going. 1 week later. 1 year later. Threads grinds to an excruciating halt 13 years after the bombs fall, after year upon year of failed harvests from a destroyed earth barely able to support a population level equivalent to medieval Britain. At one point, mute children watch a warped and scratchy VHS of classic kids educational programme Words and Pictures on a TV powered by a steam generator.

The friendly presenter spells out the word “cat” through the thick veil of static, accompanied by a picture of one - an animal the children watching will likely never see. As they watch with blank, emotionless faces, the image of the cat fades to one of its skeletal form. “A cat’s skeleton” the presenter enthusiastically intones. The unrelenting bleakness might feel like a punishment, but Threads doesn’t mean it to be. This is just what would happen, after all.

Love in the time of the Heat-ray

In fact, someone in a Reddit thread said As the Sun Forever Sets “wasn’t just endless misery” and I’m glad that comes across. I wanted there to be moments of tenderness, quiet joy, anger, frustration, love and loss to punctuate the action and the horror.

People are messy and complicated even at the best of times. Under pressure, this is amplified a thousandfold - a little crush becomes a whirlwind romance, small disagreements become full blown fights, and not fully understanding someone might transform them into an enemy in your head.

The little town Bill conspires to be left alone in ends up comparatively untouched by the horrors going on elsewhere, as untouched as anywhere can be in The Last of Us. He hated the world anyways - so he isolates himself as he prepares for it to end, and it makes sense that his life only really begins as the show does. When Frank arrives, Bill is forced not to just engage with the broader world outside of his little enclave, but in the act of truly living in it.

There’s no prepper’s guide to romance. A human heart can’t be field stripped for maintenance. By choosing to exist as a vulnerable, emotional being, Bill opens himself up to a different kind of apocalypse. Frank becomes the flowering vines that slowly crack the flat concrete wall of a world that Bill created, and when those vines die, the wall can only crumble. It’s so fraught and lovely, delicately yet absolutely gut wrenching. At least their apocalypse was one they decided to have together.

“I’m old. I’m satisfied. And you… were my purpose.” - "Long Long Time”, The Last of Us

While several of my TTRPG writing friends were gushing about how great The Bear is, Em Acosta, author of the wonderfully inspirational Exile pointed out something super interesting - a lot of the show is about how you deal with people you’ve found yourself stuck with. No matter how much they piss you off, or whatever they do wrong, there’s something that means you can’t ever let them truly exit your life. They’re there, like it or not, until the bitter end.

Turns out this is very similar to how As the Sun Forever Sets handles Player Character relationships. In both it and The Bear, nothing’s ever truly resolved between characters - every relationship is like a cooking pot perpetually simmering. You might’ve apologised, made a truce, or just ignored your issues for so long that they seem to disappear, but no matter what, you’ve got to keep your eye on that pot.

Because suddenly a crisis will hit, and someone says something, or a diceroll comes up bad and all of a sudden the pot boils over and things are once again fucked. You storm out, start screaming, throw a fork. Even in the worst case scenario where a Character leaves because they’re absolutely sick of the rest of the group, they might show up at the end of the game for one last scene. Who knows how you’ll all feel at the end - nothing is ever truly fixed, and only the dead are truly broken. 

“I quit, chef, is what’s going on. You are an excellent chef. You are also a piece of shit. This isn’t on me. Goodbye." - “The Review”, The Bear

I’ve talked about The Thing a little before, John Carpenters sweaty, paranoid antarctic masterpiece. Along with the incredible effects and the (mostly) restrained use of action and bombast, the thing that makes... The Thing work is that the staff of the stricken research base lack any and all emotional intelligence.

It’s sort of the ultimate reverse Dudes Rock movie. Nobody knows anything about each other, so when their bodies and minds are colonised by the titular chameleon from outer space, they’re just another stranger to the rest of the crew. I’d ask you a question only you would know the answer to, but uh.. I don’t know anything about you. Whoops!

Over the course of the film, the whole operation falls apart as they try their best to work together to deal with the alien interloper, but their complete lack of ability to trust or relate to each other - present even before the crisis they find themselves in - is their ultimate downfall.

That final excellent shot of MacReady and Childs sat in the snow at the end of the film as their compound burns around them is the subject of a lot of unnecessary theorycrafting youtube videos, which kind of misses the point. Each suspects the other, but ultimately it doesn’t matter if one of them’s a Thing. One stranger is the same as another. Why bother getting to know each other now?

“Well...What do we do?” “Why don't we just... wait here for a little while? See what happens.” - Childs and Macready, The Thing

Science Fiction Revenge Fantasy

I’m not a historian, but the parallels between 1899 and now are pretty plain to see. Increasing class disparity, a lack of political will to help those in need, rampant cronyism and profiteering. As long as you’re in the place for it, roleplaying in a fictionalised version of the past to air out the issues of the present can be super fun and cathartic. You’re not expected to get a degree in British history to make it work, either.

The title is a play on the phrase “The Sun Never Set on the British Empire”, and it’s plainly stated in the book that Britains Empire acted as a mechanism of genocidal oppression, and that the Martians are here to end it - intentionally or not. It’s appealing as a premise on the face of it, but it goes a little deeper. Memories of Empire echo across time in Britain like the ringing of a malevolent bell, a cause celebre for braying Tories and fascistic right wing cunts (two very close circles in the venn diagram.)

We used to be a great country before this woke nonsense. Things were better back in the old days. The DEI contingent is trying to destroy our noble past. Yada yada yada, fuck offff. I’m sure someone somewhere will accuse me of “wokewashing” the past for including explicitly trans and queer characters as part of the book, along with the historical facts around how we fit into the oppressive Victorian conception of sex and gender. Unfortunately for them, we’ve always been here.

To be a little pretentious about it, every game of As the Sun Forever Sets reaches back into the past and cuts the myth of a glorious and benevolent Empire, and the good old days enjoyed within it off at the neck, purely in the act of beginning one. That sparks a little joy for me. Destroying a racists dream is fun, even if it’s only in the abstract.

A horror game about the most literalist Victorian industrialist imaginable hearing the phrase “Eat the rich” and getting right on that. I’ve not played Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs despite fond (??) memories of playing The Dark Descent in a room full of jumpy friends, and seeing Dear Esther played live on stage, with a live orchestra and narrator - an exquisite way to experience that game.

The mechanical chops of Frictional Games mixed with the narrative verve of The Chinese Room, how could this game be anything less than incredible?

After The Dark Descent I fell off’ve the “scary guy chases you around” genre of game until Alien: Isolation revitalised it, and the reviews of A Machine for Pigs were mixed - kind of boring, middling gameplay, too dark - so I never went back. I was planning on writing a little about its vibe - dark, gothic Victoriana that rhymes nicely with As the Sun Forever Sets - but after a bit of research, Mandus’ quest for his missing sons strikes an unexpectedly resonant and terrible chord.

The writing and voice acting is phenomenal, Mandus’ split consciousness - the self you play and the other half of him that’s seen the horrors of the forthcoming 20th Century and is compelled to act, imbued into the myopic machine he built - is extremely compelling. He feels compassion for the poor and wants to save them, but they fill him with fear and disgust. He knows the industrialist class is killing the world, but feels a deep shame in the fact that he counts himself amongst them. So his machine grinds the rich into meat for the poor, who it distorts into grotesque pig homunculi and forces them to operate the machine’s inscrutable workings.

It’s Mandus’ twisted way of saving the world - kill the rich for their crimes, enslave the poor for their own good, all hail the new machine/god/manager of the 20th century. It’s a neat reflection of the way modern politicians contort themselves to the whims of big business and AI snake oil salesmen to avoid doing the simple and obvious things that’d better the world. It’s a nightmarish refutation of Victorian Liberalism, that only the upper class know how to fix the problems of the lower class. It’s brilliant, and we should play it. 

"Do you hear me Mandus? This is what you planned! This world is a machine! A Machine for Pigs! Fit only for the slaughtering of pigs! Whores, beggars, orphans, filthy degenerates. Pigs all. But I will purify the streets, cleanse this city, set the great industry free. I will clean the world, make it pure." - The Machine, A Machine for Pigs

Song of the Year, of the Century

Not long after I came out as trans, I was asked what (in an ideal world) would make transition easier. I replied - never having to leave the house. One day I'd shut the front door as a man and another day, months or years later, I'd open it again as a woman, neatly sidestepping the terror of being perceived in a notoriously transphobic Britain.

In 2020 I shut that door and didn't open it for 4 months. At work, I remember calling the nearby shelter to donate our excess hand sanitizer and toilet roll, figuring out at the last second how support workers could take calls from their already isolated clients via their mobile phones, and fixating on the steady stream of scared coworkers leaving early. Tearfully, I felt the urge to hug those that remained as we locked up, before we remembered we probably shouldn't.

I've never been more aware of the minutia of moving through a space on the way home - How many people had their hands on this handrail? Have I touched my mouth or eyes without realising? Is anyone in the office already sick? Or on this train? How many more people are going to die? - My heart was in my chest, I heard the blood whoosh through my head to the beat of my steps on the pavement. At home, I realised my boyfriend had to go into work the next day. After he went to sleep, terrified he might die, I cried.

"I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down." - "The Heat Ray", The War of the Worlds

Writing As the Sun Forever Sets was my way of coping with the disconnect with the world I felt, the fear of both Covid and the rising transphobia kept me inside even as the lockdowns eased. That feeling of throbbing death creeping at the window took a long time to wrestle under control, and getting deeply obsessed with a big project became part of that process. It seems incredibly maudlin to make a TTRPG dealing with darkness and death during a pandemic that killed (and continues to kill) millions of people, but I suppose I’m kind of a maudlin person.

“I haven't written a song in a month, So I'm playing the same chords again. I know I need to get lost in the moment, But I get lost before it begins. Fingers stretching out into space. Reaching as a thought slips away.”

It also burnt me the fuck out. After years of constant work and testing (beginning long before Evil Hat picked up the game), I ran out of steam. I spent the months after Evil Hat’s public playtest ended not really able to write anything ATSFS related at all. The game kind of froze - I knew what I wanted to change or fix or add, but the moment the google doc opened I couldn’t make myself start typing. It was incredibly frustrating to have the switch flip from endless obsessive writing to constant nothing, and I don’t think I truly recognised the burnout I was feeling until recently. It turns out spending years staying up past midnight writing is bad, who know!

A lot of Forged in the Dark games don’t get finished (or more accurately, get stuck in perpetual development), something that the excellent and dearly missed +1 Forward podcast recognised in their episode collecting their thoughts on the FITD games they looked at back in 2021. I think that’s because, at least to me, writing a Forged in the Dark game is like trying to hold a plate of spaghetti without the plate. It’s deceptively simple at its heart, but the system squirms when you poke at it - write one thing and it affects 3 other things. Tug one piece of pasta out and you lose a meatball without realising it.

When I listened to that episode, I took it as a challenge. Part of me now wonders if it was a curse. I'm being hyperbolic, of course. But a little part of me did think it might be better to give the game up.

That’s not going to be As the Sun Forever Sets' fate, thankfully. Evil Hat has been there to support me when I’ve felt guilty about shifting another deadline or replying to a check-in email with another late “Not much progress this month, sorry!” The frozen writers block is thawing, and I’m so tantalisingly close to finishing the final text. This blog is part of that process, another chip in the icy dam.

The wheels of dread Martian terror turn once again, and it feels good. Part of that is down to not beating myself up about a lack of progress. The more important part came when I realised I felt able to return to the world again - living in it, not hiding from it. Staying connected to it, even when there's times I'm not able to inhabit it physically. Covid, Britains particular brand of transphobic brainworms, and the shadow of Empire all continue to exist, and so do I - a weird maudlin transsexual woman - in spite of them all.

“The day seemed, by contrast with my recent confinement, dazzlingly bright, the sky a glowing blue. A gentle breeze kept the red weed that covered every scrap of unoccupied ground gently swaying. And oh! the sweetness of the air!” - “The Stillness”, The War of the Worlds

You made it!

Thanks for sticking with my messy thoughts. If what I talked about here sounds cool to you, please stop by the Discord, we'd love to have you. Look forward to seeing As the Sun Forever Sets come to a crowdfunding platform of Evil Hat's choice (I assume backerkit) at some point in the future ♥.

[burdigel]

So one of the most lore-indepth wildcards of Wild Life would be the superpowers that relates past seasons of the Life Series and acknowledges other series (eg. Hermitcraft and Evo) and their personal lore to attribute to each participant's power.

Starting alphabetically,

Bdubs power is essentially all related to time and his ability to manipulate the day cycle expentially. With the clock being his main motif across all Life Series, the ability to slow and speed time according to his will is easily solvable but with the inclusion of the Hermitcraft and Empires crossover event, his ability to speed time according to his sleep schedule becomes another layer deep. Besides the clock being a main symbol for Bdubs, the concept of sleep is another that has essentially been from the beginning of Hermitcraft. Always carrying a bed and sleeping whenever. The Empires crossover Bdubs was framed as a god of sorts of the Sun. Always bright and always there when the Sun remained as its brightest.

Bigb can summon creaking. He creaking. He is like a king or dimplomant to the players who invade their home and they view him as their kin so he has the responsibility and power to summon them.

Ethoslab based of Kakashi from Naruto is by definition a ninja. An escapee or fugitive at best. So with his ability to jump higher boosted by wind charges can be explained by his connection to the shonen series and the inclusion of the mace could be chalked up to typically stories of protagonists gaining resources or inventory to defeat the "Big Bad" or achieve some sort of goal that is to win the Life Series.

GeminiTay or GeminiSlay named by others intimidated by her, has slayed each participant brutally in the Life Series and on Hermitcraft rewarding her the reputation from her immense PvP skills. So with her power of astral projection, it acts retribution for the slayed to talk and apologise or instigate to those dead for her or others benefit.

GoodTimeWithScar is nortorious for being not PG friendly so the inclusion of one of his powers been the ability to ride people, it's self explanatory. Yet as Scar is commonly associated with and as a vex, his other powers of extreme knockback and thorns can be explained by the hostile and aggressivness of the mob.

Grian as essentially the grandmaster or orchestrator of the Life Series would have access to all the powers and mimic but not fully copy the others' powers. Yet because of his power chained by an omnipresent force, he's unable to fully copy the powers but imitate them for only short periods of time.

ImpulseSV and his teleportation powers could derive from his cyber-theme aesthetic for his Hermitcraft Season X base. With most series of fictions based around cyberpunk civilisations, technologies like teleporation and other advanced transportational devices are commonly utilsed. Resulting in Impulse's power of teleportation and the ability to swap the position of another with himself.

Martyn power is boosted hearing cause he's a Listener.

So Lizzie or LDShadowLady's inflicts blindless or a shadow upon the surrounding people in her radius and resulting her in temporary invisibility and blindess to others around her. But from her endless descent into the void in Secret Life, arises Lizzie with trails of the void clinging to grasp the light of the overworld. Causing the void remnants to spread to others and infect them with blindness in all for the hope to spread towards the light from the cold world of the End.

With the ability to fly, PearlescentMoon carries aesthetics relating to Greek mythology in both her powers and external design choices. As one of the Postmasters of Hermitcraft, Pearl is essentially the builder and additional redstone help of the trio for the postoffice and other aesthetic designs. Hermes the herald or messenger of the Olympus gods delievers messages to other celestial dieties and mortals similar to Pearl's jobs as a Postmaster. Other than the similar professions, both Pearl and Hermes wear a petasos which is essentially a wide-brimmed hat that is commoly adorned for shade and for Hermes, additional wings to the sides of the hat. Symbolising their shared ability to fly quickly and efficiently for a purpose.

As RentheDog is commonly interpreted as a dog-hybrid of sorts by the Hermitcraft and Life Series community, his ability to splice and copy the DNA of others to match their appearance could be an aftermath or positive side-effect from his hybrid mutation.

Similar to Ren, Scott has the capability to transform into any mob in sight and similar to Limited Life where he was depicted as a siren as part of the Mean Gills. His ability to shape-shift into any mob regardless if it's passive or aggressive could be similar to his mutliple origins from New Life SMP and Origin SMP and the reflect the changing nature of his powers.

So Joel with essentially triple jump could be hinting his slimely origins of his Shrek skin in the swamp. Where the swamp generally spawns slimes at a higher rate than other slime chunks and slime blocks harvested from the slimes can be used as jump boosts. Resulting in the triple jump.

After just breaking the Canary Curse two seasons ago, SolidarityGaming or Jimmy has the power to turn fully invisible until someone or something damages him. Ever since his debut to the Watchers back in Evo, Jimmy has been under constant surveillance by the Watchers as an object of their amusement. Always failing to reach even the finale and fumbling to keep alive. Yet when he broke the curse and relayed it too another, he was discarded. Seen invisible to the Watchers as he had become an object of boredom by reaching his resolution. So that's where his invisibility comes from.

Tango with his cowardly approach to things, has constantly ran away from situations but with this power, it supercharges his speed allowing him to become part of the fight and conflict instead of running away. And with his ability to frost-walk on ice, it could recall his Season 9's skin back when he was the Dungeon Master in Decked Out II and became an icy persona.

ZombieCleo and resurect dead people as she's a reanimated zombie.

----

part 32

im tired

[anotherghoul666]

i JUST started listening to sleep token and went to the tag only to find you there, please tell me more about this band?? collective?? i need more

You got it buddy! One order of a full Sleep Token beginner primer, coming up!

Sleep Token are a rock? metal? genre blending collective based out of England, tho nobody's 100% sure of where the members are from because they are also a masked and anonymous project. Their style of music varies greatly from album to album and song to song. From soft ballads, to electronic music, to indie, to progressive / prog metal, to post-rock / post-metal, and now with their newest singles, a definite shift into heavier sounds with roots in djent and -core genre elements like breakdowns and scream vocals, let's just say they are very diverse and there are not many bands that sound the same out there. Their blending is pretty unique, and imo will prove to be genre-defining in the coming years. They are signed to Spinefarm records and they're touring as we speak in Europe.

They formed in 2016 and self-released their first EP called One that same year. Their second EP aptly called Two was released in 2017 on Basick. They currently have two full length albums out on Spinefarm, 2019's Sundowning and 2021's This Place Will Become Your Tomb, which are the crux of the material you wanna look into. I always advise that you listen to the whole albums front to back because artists plan these tracklists deliberately, so we owe it to them to consume their output the way they intended us to, but! I also realize nowadays nobody does that because of Spotify and streaming, unfortunately, so: for Sundowning, I'd recommend Sugar as a first track because it touches on both the soft and harsh sides of the album beautifully; and for TPWBYT I'd say start with Alkaline (bonus points for a delicious video to get you into their visual side too). On January 6th and 7th 2023, they released two new songs to showcase their new sound, Chokehold and The Summoning. These two singles seem to be the optimal path currently to get into the band. There are rumors of a new album called Take Me Back To Eden to be released this year, there's a tracklist floating around online though we don't know if its legit, and there are also rumors for new singles coming out, at the time of writing this, tomorrow and in two days, on the 19th and 20th of January 2023. There's also a recording of an acoustic show called From The Room Below floating online, with new takes on their previous songs and a few choice covers like Billie Eilish's When The Party's Over, surprising crossovers that are emotional experiences.

Now, visually and in theme, you'll notice the band has a storyline of sorts. The lore of Sleep Token is this: the band was formed after an ancient deity called Sleep (a reductive name that doesn't encompass the deity's nature at all, but its true name cannot be spoken in any human tongue) revealed itself to the singer, Vessel, in his sleep. Sleep appears to be a powerful force worshiped in ancient civilizations, that gave them the blessing of dreams and the curse of nightmares. Since this apparition, Vessel's life purpose has been to worship and make offerings to Sleep via music. The members of the band are all called vessels, we can infer vessels for Sleep. The singer is Vessel I, but the fandom's moved to just calling him Vessel. The other members are just called by their numbers. II is on drums, III is on bass, IV is on guitar. They're all vessels. They wear masks to hide their identities, with what seems to be full body black paint and some variety of stage costumes including hooded coats and capes and now apparently full pauldrons and void wizard staves.

You'll come across some specific lingo when encountering Sleep Token content or in the fandom. These terms mostly come from their official social media so they use them themselves, it's not fan made. "Worship" is the tagline, kinda like "Nema" is with Ghost. You'll see fans telling each other that all the time. To Worship is to take part in enjoying the band in any way you can: listening to the music, watching videos, streaming their stuff, spreading the word, going to shows, buying merch, etc. Sleep Token's shows are called Rituals, like Ghost's. Pictures and videos are referred to as Sacred Moments, or Sacred Moments in Time. The bands they tour with are called Brethren. Sleep Token's songs are called Offerings. Because they are written as a means to Worship the Sleep deity. Offerings can also be in the form of instrument playthroughs, videos, etc. What the band produces. When you listened to new material or acquire merch, you also Consume. A note on their anonymity to finish: while there are rumors about who the band members are, nothing's confirmed and the band's explicit wish is to maintain this anonymity, so it fundamental to respect those wishes and not try to dig. They value art for art, they let the music speak for itself, and they explicitely wish for their music to be detached from who they are as people. Let's leave the magic in place both for them and for us!

Welcome to the fold! Worship!

[vm-haunts]

Crossover Headcanons: Worldbuilding Edition

A collection of DPxDC headcanons from myself and various posts, in no particular order.

Green stuff

Dionesium is, or is one of the main decay byproduct of, ectoplasm. It is the defining element in Lazarus water.

Lazarus water is a naturally occurring compound that amplifies certain effects of ectoplasm. Concentration of ectoplasm in the waters is surprisingly low despite the appearance.

College trio as the Doctor Three. Who lead the study on dionesium in Gotham University at some point.

Talons created by the Court of Owls are a special type of liminals, and communicates within themselves via a dialect of ghost speak.

Realms stuff

Infinite realms, or pockets within it, had been observed and accessed before, by different civilizations under numerous different names.

The Kryptonians used the realms as a means of banishment, which they called the phantom zone.

GIW stuff

GIW is operating under All Purpose Enforcement Squad (APES), headquarters in mount Rushmore.

Anti-ecto Acts is a set of old laws dating back to civil war era, only brought back into practice in recent years.

Liminals have significantly higher chance of activating metagene. May or may not be causing the metagene mutation in the first place.

Anti-ecto Acts might be intentionally exploited as a backdoor to meta protection acts.

Ring stuff

Pariah Dark's ring of rage turned into the phantom ring after Danny officially claimed it. It enhances all emotions of the owner equally.

Danny lost his ring at some point and it became known to the lanterns as the phantom ring.

In the hands of realm ghosts the phantom ring glows green regardless of the emotion it is enhancing, as ghosts are beings of pure will. Otherwise it is black with a faint white glow. (Can't believe this one matches up, I love lore stitching)

Balance stuff

Danny bears both Life Force and Death Force in equal amounts. His only way to accessing them is channelling a mixture of the two to power his ghost wail.

Ghost Wail infused with both acts like a simple sonic attack. But if powdered only by death force it's functionally the same thing as Void Wind, which 'negates the power and immortality of the gods. Enabling it to shut down any form of arcana used against it'.

Dark Danny only process death force as he no longer have a human side for balance. His death infused wail could be how he destroyed the world without much interference from magic users.

Danny's Wail can be infused with only life force instead, which would eviscerate ghosts. Possibly only possible when he is in human form.

Glitchy stuff (not really DC related)

Dark Danny's attack on Clockwork's tower created some pretty severe glitchs in time (ha) across all of the living realms.

As the clocktower take damage some universes collapsed together, and some timelines became contradictory and paradoxical (typical comic reboot am I right?😅)

After Dan finally calmed down he becomes the ultimate errand boy for clockwork. Showing up an fixing things he broke under the guidance of the ghost of Time.

Stranger stuff

Dan got sentenced to Life (literal) in an alternate ending of glitch in time, which capped his destruction and eventually calmed him off.

Reformed Dan is doing social services as penance, in the DC multiverse he goes by the alias of Phantom Stranger.

[punmasterbaku]

Welcome to ME DRABBLING ABOUT A NEW AU IDEA "UnderPressure"

As the name states, this will be a crossover of Undertale and Pressure. With playing through the game a few times and reading documents, I thought to come up with this idea before anyone hopefully. This au in particular goes moreso through the pressure story set up but with small twists of my own.

That being Sebastian will still be there to help out and give advice. However its more my version of Sebastian / theories I personally have on the character alone.

With that being said let me give a small hint of the characters...

Crossovers:

Nightmare = Void Mass [ Appearance of half his corrupted self and other more voided mass of tentacles. Dark turquoise instead of purple to fit his negative energy]

Ink = Squiddle [ Has a squid like body covered in ink and dripping paint from his eye sockets. The expressions being different colours when flashed or close by]

Killer = Anglerfish [ Different stages of his soul represent the different variant of Anglerfish that are within the game. A light on his head and black streaks down his face. Gills can be seen on his neck and small scales across his bones. Stage 1. Angler with White Light | Stage 2. Blitz , Fast and hyper with a Blue Light and slowly developing tar like tears | Stage 3. Froger, very fast and more aggressive, has a light brown bulb with more hate pouring out his eyes and can rebound back and forth a few times before leaving. | Stage 4. Mutli-Monster, The highest stage and extremely aggressive, WILL INSTANT KILL and leave 5 seconds to hide. Light shines a DARK RED, hate pouring from eyes and mouth also is very fast. This stage is rare to see...]

Dust = Wall-Dweller [ A sneaky and silent individual who creeps behind the mains. He is seen with no arms, face covered with a metal like plate and hoodie covering most of his body. His back when exposed reveals the many holes and smoky texture as a side effect of the mutation.

Error = p.AI.nter [ Takes form of a computer like AI that has complete control over the Blacksite networks, CCTV footage and other machines including the Turrets. His proper appearance can be seen of him floating with a computer like head when interacting with the main characters trying to help ]

Swap = GoodPeople [ Deranged and mangle of bones kinda like an Amalgamates. Some bones melting into the floor and walls around them like a spider thread. He has a small mask over his face to cover the melting appearance he possesses after the experimentation]

Horror = Eyefestation [ Due to the mutation, his height spikes larger and more creepy with eyes scattering his body and inside the crack he wields on his head. The original eyes, having either completely disappeared or one with the crack. Who knows which one is his real one ]

Cross and Dream as the Protagonists of this AU, being the ones who are running through the facility.

THATS ALL FN, if you are looking forward to learning more feel free to ask and will eventually update more about this au once more has been written. Its a small project but love to see who else is interested.

PS: if you are wanting to join in with ideas feel free to let me know or even come up with designs, just tag me and will have a look for myself TEHE.

[wingedblooms]

Blooming with life

@offtorivendell and I were chatting about the cover for the next book and while there are several options for what might be depicted on the cover, the one that makes the most sense to me (and makes us scream) is the Cauldron (blooming with life, vines and flowers and creatures spilling from its iron lip). It hasn’t been used on a cover yet, and assuming Sarah will continue with one romantic pairing per book, it would align perfectly with what Elain and Azriel’s story would contribute to the overarching plot.

Let me preface this by saying that I do think the three Archeron sisters embody (or are vessels) for the three faces of the Mother, and they will likely need to come together at some point in this storyline (the dream). But if anyone���s story is connected to a force that once bloomed with life, and is tasked with uncovering its secrets to help it and the land bloom again, it’s Elain. The quiet, gentle gardener who glows like the dawn and smells like a promise of spring. She might even be able to use the language of creation to (re)write her own fate. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Azriel has been present or connected to Elain’s major moments involving the Cauldron (her forced rebirth, naming her powers, questioning the mating bond, using TT to rescue her family, being forbidden from going near the Cauldron, etc.). Their story is tied to the Cauldron and what we’ve learned about it (from the original trilogy to the spin-off books to the crossover). Sarah has left hints that it is still important, in general, and specifically in Elain’s journey with Azriel:

acotar

Feyre gives us our first glimpse of the Cauldron from the living (Spring Court):

I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.

I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colors, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the windows.

[…]

At first I could do nothing but stare at its size, the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this.

It told a story with the way colors and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of…of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No—not sparkling, but…effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world…(acotar)

acomaf

Elain emerges from the Cauldron. It tips onto its side by itself, as if influenced by an unseen force. Elain rises from the floor, like the earth in the mural, glowing with immortal light and beauty.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water.

And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer.

And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me—

Nesta began roaring again.

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

acowar

After Elain was Made in the Cauldron, Azriel is the one to name her power, freeing her from a murky realm where dream and reality entwine:

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” (acowar)

Feyre wonders about Elain’s new, inner sight and how it might be connected to the Cauldron.

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Feyre questions the mating bond system, wondering why Azriel and Elain aren’t mates and who determines it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…”

Azriel is the first to notice Elain’s absence and risks his life to get her back, inspiring Feyre to join him.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

With the shadows, he might stand a chance of slipping in. But there were wards to consider, and ancient magic, and the king with those spells and the Cauldron…(acowar)

Armed with Truth-Teller, the blade Azriel gifted to her for the battle, Elain—rather than the Cauldron—answered Feyre’s pleas, somehow appearing just in time to deal Hybern a killing blow.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

While connected to it through a living link, Feyre learns that the Cauldron adores Elain, gave her such powers (plural, baby), and would not harm her.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Both Elain and the Cauldron are described as blooms in bleak and barren settings, which seems to be a hint of their intertwined role/power that is reinforced in the spin-offs and crossover.

She was a rose bloom in a mud field…[…] If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta, she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (acowar)

-

The Cauldron shattered into three pieces, peeling apart like a blossoming flower (acowar)

acosf

Cassian reminds us that the Cauldron is hidden (and supposedly asleep) in Cretea, worrying that no one could control it if it awoke.

A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim Prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

Nesta reminds us of the time the Cauldron stole Elain and its song called only to her:

Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the two terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded. (acosf)

The Inner Circle discusses the Cauldron-Made Trove, and Feyre and Amren remind us that like calls to like, which is why the sisters can help find them.

“What does it have to do with the Cauldron?” Nesta pushed.

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. “Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker.” (acosf)

Elain offers to find the Trove when Nesta admits to her fears, and Nesta forbids her from going anywhere near the Cauldron.

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways.o You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It’s Elain’s choice, Nesta.” (acosf)

Nesta gives us a glimpse of the dusk service where priestesses worship the Mother and the Cauldron and the Forces That Be (Fate). A sacred, possibly interchangeable trio, which is deeply connected to creation and the earth:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Nesta finds the carved rose Papa Archeron made for Elain and places it next to a figurine of a primordial goddess:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

-

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

Nesta makes a bargain with the Cauldron, so it is at least somewhat awake and seems to be influenced by, or working alongside, a luminescent hand (maybe a gentle gardener’s hand?) that intervenes on Nesta’s behalf.

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore.

A bargain with the Cauldron itself.

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)

After their almost-kiss on solstice, Azriel dares to question the Cauldron, which he appears to revere.

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

Azriel ignored the question. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

hofas

In the crossover, we learn more of the Cauldron’s history. Life once blossomed from it, but—as if echoing Azriel’s question to Rhys—it was warped by the Daglan (Asteri).

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

-

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas)

The Under-King leaves us with a look at the Cauldron from the dead. It was misconstrued as a goddess over time, explaining interconnected, if not interchangeable, terms (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be), but she is a force and her name is Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos.

[…]

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Tags: @elriel-month 💕

What do you think will be on the cover, friends? Do you agree it might be the Cauldron, or will it be something else, like the Harp or even…a Pegasus?! Ramiel?

[jokeringcutio]

"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]

AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.

Summary: You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.

"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.

"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.

Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.

‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.

He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.

"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.

And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.

"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.

Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.

"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.

"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"

Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.

Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.

"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.

Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’.  In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.

You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.

The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.

You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.

"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.

“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."

"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?

"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.

"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.

“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”

“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.

"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?

"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."

"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.

But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.

What had that been all about?

You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.

The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.

"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.

"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.

As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.

"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.

That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.

Embarrassing really.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.

"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.

“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”

The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.

“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”

“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”

“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”

You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.

“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.

“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”

You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.

“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.  

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.

You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.

"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.

"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.

"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.

"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”

He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.

This man was making you do weird things.

Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.

“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.

“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.

“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.

"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."

He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.

“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.

“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.

“Huh?”

Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”

You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”

"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.

"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.

“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”

When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.

“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.

"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."

His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.

“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”

"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.

"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.

"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.

As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?

"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.

"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."

"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.

The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al’ had left.

As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.

You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.

You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.

AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.

[mythical-illustrator]

Meet a new Oc

This time for the One piece fandom

Kassandra foxglove D. Halstrum

Paring OC x Law (possible second parrying to be determined later)

Historian and former assassin from the North Blue and member of the Heart pirates.

(yes there is an assassin creed influence here, yes this is important)

Kassandra was born to Kelda D. Solveig and Bodin Hlastrum.

She had a twin sister named Kari Nightshade.

Bodin was a ship builder for their town and Kelda was a historian by day.

By night she was apart of a group of assassins known as the Hidden Ones. Founded in Alabasta and spread across the world to protect the ancient culture of the void century and protect those who carry for the Will of D. (Yes this is a mild assassin's creed crossover)

Kelda is one of th village protectors of the ponoglyph hidden in their woods

Unfortunately there ancient enemy joined the world government and has been one by one been hunting all their tribes down.

Kassandra village, known as Skjuit, was in the far north Blue on an island known as Ice island (though it was once called Germa, the Creed moved in 300 years ago when German moved out)

Pissed that his brother betrayed him and being chased by Marines, Doflamingo received a anonymous letter about a village in the north who carried those with the will of D. Thinking it was from Virgo and pissed at the loss of the heart fruit, he journeyed to this village and decimates it.

There are only two survivors

11 year old Kassandra and the Assassin Ulfred. He takes the child to an offshore island of the lyneel kingdom and begins training them in the way of the assassin and the Creed.

He also began gathering as much information as he could using what little creed networks are left in the north about the Doflamingos empire. Unfortunately he is discovered by Virgo before he can complete it and is killed.

He dies passing off his notes and his devil fruit off to Kassandra and orders her to head to Alabasta for safety.

She finishes her training from 16 to 18 in Alabasta when Sir Crocodile moves in. Worried that a known war lord is on the same land as the creed, the younger members are given different historical documents and sent away, Kassandra one of them.

She meets law on their journey, having slipped his jolly Roger and wanted poster by a friend.

She attacks him in the street thinking he's a member of the Doflamingos crew. After a brief fight, they agree to share information and he offers her a temporary spot on the crew.

That spot would eventually stop being temporary.

She would travel as a heart pirate for 7 years, eventually earning the name Kassandra "the Sparrow" Halstrum

Much like Law she hides her D. And full name till after Doflamingo is defeated.

Her devil fruit is called jump jump fruit. It has been passed from assassins to assassin for almost 300 years.

It's a paramecia that allows the eater to travel or poof across distances as long as the destination is in their site. (Think nightcrawler) And will eventually evolve into a shadow fury like abilities as she awakens the fruit.

I've had so much fun designing this character, her ponoglyph tattoos, her cloths from her heart pirate look all the way to Wano and beyond

Her future kids because I'm a shameless OC maker.

Her kids are Cora Aster D. Trafalgar

And the mink they adopt, named Rhea who is a snow leopard and basically Law.

I love this character and decided to share it with the void

And a commission comic of Kassandra and Law post dressrosa by @sakura-rose12

Kassandra drawn by the talented @damdpunk

Both of these drawings are amazing and I love them so much.

Stayed tuned for screen shot redraws of Kassandra with various characters 😜

One piece master list

Art master list

Tag list

@clonemedickix @returnofthepineapple @dangraccoon @secondaryrealm @dickarchivist @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @sev-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @wizardofrozz

[imgibbon]

A "Brief" History of Shade, the Changing Man & Woman

In the beginning, ie 1978, there was Ditko, and he gave us Shade, the Changing Man, and it was good.

Rac Shade was a Bond-type agent of an advanced society on a world called Meta - not an alien planet, but the Earth-analog of another layer of reality, and journeying between them meant crossing "The Zero Zone" and trying not to run afoul of its Area of Madness.

Shade had been framed for treason and the crippling of his fellow agent and fiancé Mellu Loran's parents, high-ranking government officials. Escaping from prison and heading to Earth and making use of a bit of contraband experimental technology that was being held at his hideout for Earth operations prior to his frame-up, the "M-Vest", he tracks down escaped Metan criminals while also seeking to find the one who framed him, who has been hiding out on Earth by integrating into its mafia underworld.

The M-Vest allowed Shade a range of powers. With it he could manipulate gravity, employ enhanced strength, fire off energy blasts, and gave him an odd force-field that mitigated harm, but was also sensitive to the psyche of those around Shade, contorting to look like a weird image of their fears, as well as reflecting Shade's unconscious thoughts. He was a "changing man" as, to others, he was a constantly mutable and unnerving entity.

Across the 8 published issues (we got issue #9 later, and Ditko purportedly had up through issue #15 plotted out), Shade convinces his superiors of his innocence, returns to Meta, makes up with Mellu, and starts to make his way back to earth to deal with the criminal mastermind behind his framing infiltrating and taking over the Earth observation outpost that Shade's organization had been working out of.

And then the series was cancelled on short notice due to DC being in financially dire straits at the time.

A decade later, in 1988, Shade was rescued from the void of the Zero Zone by The Suicide Squad, joining their ranks in return for helping him liberate his org's outpost as if it were the next issue and he hadn't been absent from pages for a decade since we last visited that plotline. The mastermind is killed during the scuffle, and with him any chances of Shade being able to go home and formally clear his name. Waller and co offer to help him out while he figures out another way home in the meantime.

He ran with the Squad for a good twenty issues, taking part in the giant Janus Directive crossover, and even journeying to Apokolips and fighting the New Gods with them. During that arc, he is talked into making a bad call that betrays the team, though he helps them get out of the resulting mess. In the end, when everyone is zapped home by Darkseid's eyebeams, while the rest of the Squad is blipped to Earth, Shade is finally returned to Meta.

Six months later, mid 1990, Peter Milligan's first issue of the new Shade, the Changing Man hit news stands. And it was... different.

Milligan expanded on Shade's backstory, revealing that Shade had been an aspiring poet prior to being recruited into the agency that trained it out of him, and delving more into Metan culture, while also using Shade as a vehicle for exploring the weirdness of being in a familiar yet alien society he felt as a British man newly moved to America.

After returning to Meta and before he'd had time to reunite with Mellu, Shade's superiors had tasked him with going back to Earth to pick up an assignment that another agent had been on but failed at: figuring out where the Madness in America was stemming from, and stop it from leaking out into the Area of Madness and influencing Meta. Shade had to journey deep into the Area of Madness to get a bead on it, and ended up on Earth by possessing the body of a freshly executed serial killer, unknowingly leaving his original body an empty lifeless husk floating in the void.

He started travelling the States with Kathy George, whose parents were the serial killer's final victims, and the two eventually are joined by Lenny Shapiro, and sarcastic and witty woman in her own right. The three end up in what would today be called a polyamorous trouple, and eventually confront the living embodiment madness of America, which had infected the other agent, driven him insane, and transformed him into what manifested to others as the giant twisted skeleton of Uncle Sam known as The American Scream.

Shade's M-Vest has grown in power, and possibly is just a part of him now, vastly increasing his abilities to raw reality-warping levels. He can more or less just do whatever the story needs him to do now, basically.

Once the Scream had been dealt with, Shade died. Not that that really slowed him down at all. He wasn't even really aware that it had happened. His at this point powerful madness-riddled psyche was keeping him around as a ghost of sorts, and Kathy & Lenny found a recent corpse to posses, as someone had just driven their car into the lake near where they were staying.

They only discovered after the fact that it was a woman.

After a brief detour where Shade transitioned back into being a man (transmasc baybeeeee), he went back to Meta, finally reconnecting with Mellu after what was now some years, only to learn that the agency had told her that he was dead, and she'd met and wed someone else. She has a mental breakdown, asking in tears why he hadn't come home sooner. Taking this in, Shade returned to Kathy and Lenny, to let them know that he was dying again, said his goodbyes, and allowed himself to be killed by the same FBI/Meta duel operative who'd done him in before.

This is where the Vertigo imprint spun up. The next issue, under the Vertigo banner, picks up after a bit of a timeskip, where Kathy and Lenny are informed by the ghost of Kathy's dead ex that angels in heaven have plans for Shade, and they're sending him back, having prepared for him a body to use in the form of a adult man who's been basically braindead since birth and kept in a medical institution. But the angels have kept a bit of Shade's soul so they can exert some power over him, and it's made him a bit less hinged than he used to be.

Shade, Kathy, and Lenny, per the angels' direction, set up shop as managers of a hotel, helping the weird visitors who come to stay there. During their time there, Shade manages to get Kathy pregnant, and Lenny reunites with the daughter Lily that she had in her teens before running away from home.

But as Kathy comes to term and approaches the time to give birth, she is brutally assaulted. She dies, though they manage to save the baby. Shade, however, is not in his right mind, and rejects the child, walking out of the hospital to wander, while Lenny leaves with her daughter.

This, purportedly, was where Milligan intended to end the series. But for whatever reason it didn't, so it kept going, and the status quo was obviously massively different than what it used to be.

After another not-too-lengthy timeskip Shade decides to kill himself, not seeing the point in continuing, though the literal devil sends him back to posses yet another body. Shade, in an attempt to find meaning, sets up shop in a dimensionally transcendental crack in the pavement in NYC, spends some time existing as the floor in a dance studio, and finally goes to check up on his son, George. Who, it turns out, is aging extremely rapidly, due to not being fully human.

Reunitings with Lenny are had, George ages to death over the course of six months, his soul merges with Lenny's daughter Lily, Shade picks up a few more strays in the form of Angela and Sinita, the latter of which he starts a new relationship with, before everything goes tits up again and he decides the solution is to build a time machine so he can fix all of his (and his friends') problems. He prevents Kathy's parents from being murdered, prevents his younger self from joining the agency, helps Lenny out in her youth, etc.

The series ends with Shade and his now-daughter Lily visiting this new revised timeline's version of Kathy to see if they can strike up a relationship with her.

Things apparently didn't go well.

The next time we see Shade outside of cameos is a story arc in Milligan's run on John Constantine, Hellblazer, in 2010. Constantine summons Shade to help with some Madness-related issues he and his fiancé Epiphany are experiencing, and Shade, unable to get together with the new Kathy and Lily nowhere in sight, becomes obsessed with turning Constantine's bride-to-be into an idealized version of Kathy. It doesn't work, and Constantine is able to properly wed Epiphany, but Shade is shown to be crazy and depressed and have basically the powers of a god. In the middle of all of that we also met back up with Lenny, who has cleaned herself up and is now a school teacher, go figure.

The very next year, DC would cancel the Vertigo line, and everything else, and reboot their universe with the Flashpoint event. During it, in a miniseries from Milligan, Shade is forcibly taken back to Meta, where they reveal that A) the vest has grown to be a part of him, and can no longer be removed in a way that matters, and, B) because of this he is, to an extent, immune to all these reality rewrites. Or at least less affected by them. Shade is put in charge of a team, the Secret Seven, but the madness overtakes him (with a bit of help from some double agents for an enemy faction) and he winds up back in the Area of Madness

Afterwards, in the New 52, we see him trying to forcibly manifest a new Kathy with his godlike powers, but apparently not godlike enough, as she just melts when he's not around. He's interrupted by Madame Xanadu, putting together a team, the Justice League Dark, largely comprised of many of the members of the Secret Seven, and tasks Shade in a leading role to help her save the world from some threats she has foreseen.

Milligan wrote this series for the first 8 issues, and when he left, so did Shade (as well as Milligan's other OCs he'd brought to the table), but it served as a nice little coda to his era of The Changing Man that had begun some twenty odd years earlier.

It would then be another half-decade or so before we'd see hide or hair of Shade again. In late 2016, DC started up the Young Animal line, a young adult-aimed successor to the Vertigo imprint, with many of the same faces headlining its titles. And among them was Shade.

Sort of.

The new Shade, the Changing Girl, from writer Cecil Castellucci, starred young adult bird alien Loma Shade, who was raised on Meta and had adopted Rac's last name after becoming enamored with his poetry and counter-culture views while he was acting as a guest lecture at her university before disappearing form Metan society again.

Loma steals what is purportedly Rac's vest, which has been sitting in a museum, and uses it to transfer her consciousness to Earth, wanting to follow in Rac's footsteps, taking over the body of a comatose high school girl named Megan. And leaving her now empty bird alien body behind on Meta for her boyfriend to deal with, oops.

Living as "Megan", she learns about our culture, experiences dysphoria being in a body she doesn't identify with, and explores sexuality, hormones, and learns how to be a better person than she used to be (and than Megan used to be as well). Meanwhile back on Meta, we learn that Mellu, now getting up there in years, is the head of the agency that used to employ her and Shade, and becomes obsessed when learning that someone has stolen Rac's vest and managed to use it, thinking she'll finally be able to reunite with Shade again after all these years.

Eventually, Loma runs away from home, learns never to meet her heroes, has to deal with Megan wanting her body back, and Mellu wanting Rac's coat back. Her original body dies without her soul in it, and Megan's body dies in the process of Megan trying to get back in it. Shade ends up possessing the body of her favorite black & white sitcom star, Honey Rich, who happened to look a lot like Megan in her younger years, and returns it to youthfulness to attend Megan's funeral.

Mellu also gets the coat back and uses it to reunite with Shade, who had left behind the vest for Mellu and was waiting for her in the Area of Madness where time has no meaning.

It was at this point that Loma got caught up in a really bizarre crossover event that involved all the titles in the Young Animal line called Milk Wars, which was largely Doom Patrol focused, but saw Loma splitting in five, each color-coded and embodying one of her emotions Inside Out style, and serving as Wonder Woman's personal helpers in a world overtaken by a weird 1920s aesthetic organization called Retcon. It was very weird lol.

The series then returned with under the new branding Shade, the Changing Woman. We are subjected to a five year timeskip, during which Loma has grown and slipped into old habits, sleeping around with men and women, indulging in food, drugs, and other things to fill the void in her heart. Her friends have all graduated, gone on to higher education, and gotten jobs in their fields. And she still doesn't really know what her place in the world is. So she's been couch-surfing with Rac in the Area of Madness while she figures out what to do with her life.

And in the midst of all that, the giant interdimensional crayfish that destroyed her birth planet, causing her to be a refuge child on Meta in the first place, begin to attack the Earth.

By the end of the final issue in late 2018, Loma and Rac had become one person, Kathy, Lenny, and Lily had put in an appearance, Mellu got some closure, Megan had come back in a male body and tried to hijack Loma's again, Loma's old boyfriend had become a green lantern, and Loma ended up possessing the body of her dying black non-binary friend River.

And that's where the series ended.

And we haven't seen Shade, in any iteration, since then.

[noizybreadstick]

Ever since Warframe 1999 dropped I have been chronic. I wanna crossover Warframe and Baldur’s Gate 3, my two favourite things atm, but I need to catch up on my Warframe lore. For now here’s me spitballing.

Gale being an Orokin scholar and fascinated by The Void. Being one of the first attempting to see if The Void has any potential to aid the Orokin. Mysta as his benefactor and lover. She was of much higher standing. Of course it all ends with a bang and Gale ends up with a piece of Void in his chest.

Astarion being at the behest of an Orokin Cazador. As The Old War continued it was unsafe until a new opportunity presented itself. Cazador needed a weapon and an unwavering slave and attempted to turn Astarion into a Warframe. Astarion managed to escape.

Wyll being one of the children to survive the tragic fate of the Zariman Ten-Zero. Having to survive where everyday is life or death then returning to a world that hates and fears you. After the discovery of Transference and the Warframes Wyll became a great warrior and hero.

Halsin is a Grineer defector. Rebelling against the Queens and the Grineer’s brutal expansion across the Origin System. His main focus is on Earth where he tries to push back against the Grineer overtaking the nature that blooms there.

All I got for now <3

[amaryllis-sagitta]

DATV post-credit ("secret ending") is a Choice not only because of what it does to the world state, but because of other implications

I got my wildest crack crossover with Neon Genesis Evangelion confirmed in a way I did not expect or ask for. Pack it up, Solas, and pilot the Eva one last time, the Executors from across the seas are the SEELE. They want to complete the Thedas Instrumentallity Project and return everything to the peace and comfort of the Void. Turns out Your Mom and her Ayanami backups across the world tried as they might to push back against that incoming Devouring Storm, the renowned history nudger she was. To dance as long as music plays, one might say.

Here's the thing: Dragon Age has always had that New Age'y whiff.

In some capacity, the whole game series seems to be about the manichaean concept of the perennial war between the Light and the Darkness, though until Veilguard it has been more subdued and mostly passed on through lore. We've had the Blight as the main force of darkness that tainted the perfect realm of Light, the Old Gods as those who dwelled the Darkness, etc. In Inquisition we sang that "The Dawn Will Come". And Veilguard almost attacks us with the allegory of Light being under constant siege from the forces of Shadow, with the Black City bursting at the seams, the Blight slowly taking over the world, the Lighthouse being the last bastion against the Elvhen Gods, Shadow Dragons & Lucerni working underground and what not.

Then, there's the Fade, the quasi-platonic "repository" of thought forms, emotions, experiences and memories. The library analogy in respect with the Fade became more apparent with the introduction of The Vir Dirthara and the archive spirits. In this shape, the Fade most resembles Akashic Records, a concept brought in through Helena Blavatsky's theosophy. Then, we have Lyrium and the Titans, entities of the Sentient Magical Crystal, and its chosen Valta and Harding are enlightened to experience Oneness with their cosmic Source. There's the possibility of reincarnation made explicit in the Avvar culture and now semi-confirmed in elvhen lore. There's the undeniably Archon-y vibe of the Old Gods & Evanuris (gnostic sects), and Arlathan is basically the elven Atlantis (a myth from Plato's dialogues Timaeus and Critias, romanticized throughout the ages). There is literally a primordial Abyss in gnostic and Hermetic writings. I haven't delved into this yet but there's also something to say about Solas/ Mythal and the gnostic Yalbadaoth/ the Demiurge, two characters directly responsible for the descent of the world from pure form into matter through an intrigue of error and moral corruption.

At first, the esoteric inspirations seemed closer to some older themes woven into the lore. It was fun to make comparisons as long as these were comparisons with texts and ideas from antiquity, or something that didn't immediately remind you of shit your neighbor might say.

In this context, consider what it looks like to learn that the inspirations for this series now reach down into the conspiracy theory bog that informs many New Age beliefs. Especially since now, in the XXIth century, New Age seems to double down on the Manichaean concept of the ongoing "spiritual war" between the Light and the Darkness. It also incorporates a lot of the XIXth century esoterical ideas with little thought of its origins or implications. And the implications are, among others, that Western esotericism has INSPIRED WHITE SUPREMACY AND CONTINUALLY HAS A THING GOING ON WITH THE FAR RIGHT.

This is not a joke. It is Not. A. Joke.

So, I'm squinting, instantly hit by the whiplash -- not because of what the Executors twist does narratively to the worldstate of the first three DA games, but because Dragon Age IP has just unabashedly announced that it wants to go there.

An important question to ask here is: in the context of all the esoterical references in the series, do we really need ideas such as

a secret cabal of elusive, shifty entities that can get into anyone's mind and control them

that prevails throughout history and steers its outcomes from the shadows, and

a tease that it is now imperative for the world's heroes to disclose the said cabal and to fight it. That this might be our new duty, new cause to unite people, new adventure, new grand world-saving experience ---

[*edit: turns out I was wrong about the mind control part, and the writers explained on BSky that they purposefully chose the wording to make that faction merely "inspire" past events -- which doesn't really affect my main point...]

DO WE REALLY NEED TO TEASE SOMETHING LIKE THIS AS A COOL LOOK IN THIS TIME AND AGE??? Especially considering how the only people who oppose Rook's "Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan" tinfoil speak are framed by the narrative to be unconditional assholes?

Is this their idea of an "impactful story"? Did no-one in that writing room and no-one among the executives consider this twist to be tone deaf and in extremely poor taste? Don't they see that it's now completely indefensible to claim that this is "just inspired fantasy worldbuilding" and not a social pastiche that (inadvertently???) romanticizes prevalent polarizing mythologies?

(I wrote about this in the feedback forums, so fingers crossed someone in there sees it and has fire lit under their ass.)

This is so sad, Manfred, play Komm, süsser Tod from The End of Evangelion, I need a moment in the Memorial Gardens.

[ancientforgcd]

An eye for an eye makes the world go blind.

🔴Indie Multi-Muse Blog. 🔴Semi-Selective 🔴Featuring Muses from the Cthulhu Mythos, Honkai Series and many more. 🔴Plenty o’ memes, edits, musings and shitposts. 🔴Crossover, AU & OC Friendly. 🔴Mun is 25. 🔴Written by Joy Boy.

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Glossary of Terms & Explanations often used on the Blog:

Vacosian: Vacosians are a near-extinct natural born species of Warriors that made their home in the Ultimate Void, on planet Voidal. A majority of the race was exterminated by the God of Destruction Cerveze, however a handful managed to survive, rendering the race close to extinction. They play a cental role in the Cyverse metaseries, where it is revealed that Ruby and Blair are Vacosians who were sent to Remnant. The best way to describe a Vacosian is to think of them as Outer Gods in humanoid forms. Sometimes they have tails and horns too, but it depends from individual to individual.

Dracontine: Dracontines are a natural born species of highly adaptive warriors that were known among the earliest race to have draconic roots, if not, the earliest known trace that had direct ancestry from Primordial Dragons, before the subspecies division of draconic races had occurred. The Dracontines have been relatively under the radar for a good while after the Draconomachy, in which the total population of the Dracontines took a steep decline. However, at present time, the Dracontine race seem to sit very comfortably, with replenished populations, both in Universe 1 and 12, each residing in their own version of Planet Dracorex on both Universes.

Super Vacosian: Super Vacosian, occasionally known as Ascended Warrior, is a legendary transformation unique to the Vacosian race of both the first and 12th universes. It is the signature transformation of the Vacosians relocated to Remnant, all of whom have been able to achieve the transformation, but was famously first awakened by Ruby Rose during her battle with the evil Fall Maiden, Cinder Fall.

Explanation: It’s why some muses have multiple FCs. On that note, they’re not shapeshifters, but rather think of it like Super Saiyan, just changing hair & eye colors.

Universe 12 Kaioshins: The Kaioshins of Universe 12 are the four divine protectors responsible for maintaining balance across their respective quadrants. Purple Heart, the North Kaioshin, is a calm strategist focused on cosmic order. Black Heart, the South Kaioshin, takes a more direct, forceful approach, often resolving issues through combat. Green Heart, the West Kaioshin, is connected to nature and seeks harmony, intervening only when necessary. White Heart, the East Kaioshin, is known for her fiery temper and battle enthusiasm, yet remains deeply protective of her quadrant. Together, they ensure the stability of Universe 12.

Universal Government: The Universal Government (UG) rules over Universe 12 with absolute authority, led by The Boss, UMI, followed by the 5 Celestial Dragons, the Fleet Admiral, and a strict military hierarchy. The UG governs countless planets and species, enforcing its control through a centralized system that regulates trade, taxes, and resources. Its military is vast, with Admirals and Vice-Admirals crushing rebellion and ensuring compliance across the universe. While the UG ensures peace and order, it does so at the cost of personal freedoms, ruthlessly suppressing dissent to maintain its grip on power throughout Universe 12.

God-Key: God Key (or Grand Key/Divine Key when translated) are ten tools/weapons created by Azathoth, that when brought together, would allow entrance into her domain and  ████,  while  granting each of the 10 wielders  ██████.

Blanchimont Kingdom: The Blanchimont Kingdom, ruled by King Blair, is a vast, continent-sized realm located on Remnant. The kingdom thrives on a balance of tradition and progress, with a strong emphasis on military strength, magical innovation, and a diverse economy. Major cities like Montclair (the capital), Valeford, and Ironvale are hubs of trade, magic, and industry, while the Wyvern Spine Mountains and other natural landmarks provide both resources and defense. Though the kingdom follows the voluntary worship of the Sun and Moon Gods, Blair herself is secular, focusing on personal strength and fairness in her rule. The kingdom’s military is a blend of knights, mages, and specialized forces, all reflecting Blair’s martial prowess and strategic brilliance.

Remnant Dragon Balls: The Remnant Dragon Balls are wish orbs created by the Guardian of Remnant, Kami and were later enhanced upon request by said creator after Ruby asked her for an upgrade. These balls are mainly used on Remnant and were the first type of Dragon Balls used in the metaseries. They have played a major role and impact in the series, being used by a variety of characters, including main protagonist Ruby.

Cosmology: The Cyverse is an expansive universe that draws inspiration from a variety of beloved franchises—such as the Cthulhu Mythos, RWBY, the Dragon Ball series, and the SCP Foundation—infused with my own creative twist. These diverse elements come together to form a distinct and cohesive narrative that stands on its own. Originally, the concept began as a role-playing blog on Tumblr under the name phantxmthief, later evolving into Ancicntforged. Over time, the characters and their stories have captivated an audience, with many eager to explore the life of the Cyverse’s central protagonist, Ruby Rose, along with other key figures. Now, let’s delve into the world of the Cyverse!