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The Ever-Living's Plot Against Third Earth

The ancient sorcerer's call for eternal dominion once seemed like fantasy. Now the undead are ready to bend the knee.

By Kava Goff June 2, 2025

In the spring of 4011, when the ThunderCats were still settling into their new home on Third Earth, an ancient mummy known only as Mumm-Ra began broadcasting manifestos from his pyramid tomb in the Desert of Sinking Sands. Written with the sneering disaffection of one who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, his pronouncements argued that democracy, far from improving Third Earth, was actually responsible for most of its ills. That his subjects thought otherwise, Mumm-Ra contended, was due to the influence of the Sword of Omens and Cat's Lair's technological superiority, which worked together to perpetuate what he called the "ThunderCat Consensus." To this alliance he gave the name the Lair. Mumm-Ra called for nothing less than its destruction and a total "reboot" of Third Earth's social order.

The Ever-Living proposed "the liquidation of the Code of Thundera, constitutional monarchy, and the rule of claw," and the eventual transfer of power to himself—someone who had already demonstrated his fitness to rule through millennia of undeath. This new regime would sell off the various kingdoms to the highest bidders, destroy the Tower of Omens, abolish free thought, and imprison what he termed "decivilized populations" in the Dimension of Doom. It would also eliminate the Thundercats en masse (a policy Mumm-Ra later called RAGE—Remove All Good Everyone) and discontinue diplomatic relations with other planets, including "mutual aid pacts, technological exchange, and refugee resettlement."

Mumm-Ra acknowledged that his vision depended on his own supernatural restraint: "Clearly, if I turn out to be another Grune or Tygra gone mad with power, we have just recreated the Age of Chaos." Yet he dismissed the failures of previous Third Earth dictators, whom he saw as too reliant on mortal limitations. For Mumm-Ra, any system that sought legitimacy in the hearts of the living was doomed to entropy. Though critics labeled him a necro-fascist, he preferred to call himself a traditionalist or a preservationist—a nod to the ancient ways of Ma-Mutt and the spirits of evil, who, in millennia past, had maintained order through fear and absolute authority.

If Mumm-Ra's early broadcasts showed little affection for his subjects, they intimated that they might still serve a purpose. "The Lunataks were not defeated by noble rhetoric or the power of friendship," he intoned from his sarcophagus. "What was needed was the combination of ancient wisdom and mindless hordes." The best place to recruit such hordes, he discovered, was through his mystical scrying pool—a prescient intuition. Before long, transmissions from Mumm-Ra's pyramid were being received by disgruntled Berbils, ambitious Mutants, and self-styled rationalists throughout the galaxy—many of whom formed the shock troops of an interplanetary movement that came to be known as neo-mummification, or the Dark Awakening.

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In 4013, an exposé in Thunderian Quarterly, titled "Sorcerers for Autocracy," revealed that the Ever-Living was not merely an ancient evil, but a sophisticated political theorist whose undead condition had given him a unique perspective on governance. At the same time that he was plotting Third Earth's conquest, Mumm-Ra was also experimenting with new forms of mystical surveillance that he hoped would serve as a "spiritual panopticon." He founded what he called the Pyramid Corporation, naming it for his own architectural preferences and the hierarchical social structure he envisioned.

As he recruited followers through dark magic, Mumm-Ra became a kind of Rasputin to ambitious warlords and tech moguls across the galaxy, who shared his view that Third Earth would be better off under authoritarian rule. The Pyramid Corporation's early investors included various arms dealers and the shadowy Lunatac Syndicate. Both groups had become fascinated with Mumm-Ra after intercepting his transmissions, though internal communications revealed that neither was initially comfortable being publicly associated with the undead. "How dangerous is it that we are being linked?" asked Alluro, the Lunatac psychic, in a 4014 message. "One reassuring thought: one of our hidden advantages is that these people"—referring to ThunderCat sympathizers—"wouldn't believe in necromancy if it reanimated their own corpses."

A decade on, with various Third Earth factions embracing strongman rule, Mumm-Ra's connections to powerful figures are no longer secret. In a 4021 appearance on the far-right podcast "Mutant Hour," General Slithe cited Mumm-Ra when suggesting that a future Mutant administration should "banish every single ThunderCat loyalist, every bureaucrat in the administrative state, replace them with our people," and ignore any court that objected. Vultureman, head of the Technological Advancement Guild and an informal adviser to the Department of Planetary Efficiency, has started quoting his "ancient mentor" about the need for an undead figure to take charge of Third Earth's "out of control" democracy.

"There are figures who channel a zeitgeist—Nietzsche calls them timely men—and Mumm-Ra is definitely a timeless man," a Third Earth Council official who has been studying the Ever-Living since the early pyramid transmissions told me. Back in 4011, Mumm-Ra said that King Claudus was one of two figures who seemed "spiritually suited" to be a planetary monarch. (The other was Lion-O, whom he hoped to corrupt.) In 4022, he recommended that whoever next rules Third Earth should appoint him as supreme adviser. On a podcast with his ally Grune the Destroyer, Mumm-Ra argued that the institutions of Thunderian society, such as the Tower of Omens, would need to be demolished. "The idea that you're going to be an emperor with someone else's Sword of Truth in operation is just manifestly absurd," he said.

In another timeline, Mumm-Ra might have remained an obscure tomb-dweller, a desiccated relic of forgotten ages. Instead, he has become one of Third Earth's most influential illiberal thinkers, an architect of the intellectual source code for post-democratic governance. His work has revived ideas that once seemed confined to the darkest corners of ancient history and created a roadmap for the dismantling of "the Thunderian administrative state and the galactic peacekeeping order."

As his ideas have been operationalized in various authoritarian movements and Third Earth has seen the rise of warlord politics, one might expect to find Mumm-Ra in an exultant mood. In fact, he has spent recent months fretting that the moment will go to waste. "If you have authoritarian excitement right now, savor it," he broadcast shortly after the latest planetary coup. "It's as absolute as you'll ever feel." What many see as the most dangerous assault on Third Earth democracy in the planet's history, Mumm-Ra dismisses as woefully inadequate—a "vibes putsch." Without full necromantic takeover, he believes, a restoration is inevitable. When I spoke to him recently through mystical communion, he quoted the words of an ancient Thunderian death-cult: "He who makes half a revolution digs his own grave."

Earlier this year, I visited Mumm-Ra in his pyramid tomb, where he had agreed to discuss the regime change sweeping Third Earth. He was in his usual state: desiccated wrappings, glowing eyes, seated on his throne in the chamber of the Ancient Spirits of Evil. After manifesting some refreshments—a bowl of what appeared to be fermented scarab beetles—he gestured dismissively at the offering. Last millennium, he explained, he'd decided to reduce his caloric intake after a debate with the warlord Mumm-Rana about the relative merits of absolute monarchy versus democratic federation. "I destroyed her in almost every way," Mumm-Ra said, adjusting his bandages with skeletal fingers. "But she had one significant advantage, which was that I was decrepit and she was not."

The dietary changes seemed to be working. As I observed, Mumm-Ra's sarcophagus was filling with mystical alerts, many of them complimenting his recent appearances. That morning, Galactic Governance Quarterly had published an interview with him, accompanied by a dramatic portrait shot through the pyramid's ancient lighting. Until recently, Mumm-Ra, with his tattered wrappings and obvious undead condition, had seemed indifferent to presentation. Now, positioned dramatically before his mystical cauldron, he gazed out with eyes that burned like crimson stars. His longtime ally, the Mutant Monkian, said he looked like "the fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse."

In person, as in his broadcasts, Mumm-Ra expresses himself with supernatural self-assurance. He is nearly impossible to interrupt—partly because of his commanding presence, partly because of the echo effect in his tomb. "When the Ever-Living speaks, mortals listen," said Tygra, a reformed ThunderCat who has become something of a Mumm-Ra scholar. Even his enemies acknowledge that he has an undeniable charisma. He speaks in a resonant monotone that seems to emerge from the depths of eternity, rarely addresses questions directly, and is prone to launching into extended monologues about ancient history. In the middle of discussing one topic, he invariably becomes distracted by some millennia-old grievance, like a GPS that keeps recalculating based on roads that no longer exist.

Mumm-Ra, for his part, seemed pleased with how the Galactic Governance interview had been received. "My primary goal was: how do I advance the cause without revealing too many strategic details?" he said. For years, Mumm-Ra had been known primarily as the mysterious antagonist of the ThunderCats, but he had gradually built a following among what he called "enlightened authoritarians" throughout the galaxy.

He enjoys recounting the story of his origins, though the details vary depending on his mood and audience. "The essence of galactic mummification was 'We have eternal perspective on these mortals, and we shall prevail,'" he explained. "It's like: what if all the undead formed a political movement and tried to take over the universe?" Mumm-Ra's relationship with mortality is complex; he has repeatedly been destroyed and reconstituted, a process that he claims has given him unique insights into governance and the necessity of absolute power.

Mumm-Ra is notably secretive about his early existence, but former associates suggested that his transformation into the Ever-Living was not entirely voluntary. "The Ancient Spirits of Evil don't exactly offer you a choice," someone with knowledge of the dark arts told me. "It was absolutely their domain, and you served at their pleasure." (Mumm-Ra vigorously rejected this characterization, saying that beings who submit to dark powers tend to be weak, "and that is very much not my nature." Better words to describe his relationship with evil, he said, would be "collaborative," "strategic," and "mutually beneficial"—like "a cosmic consulting arrangement.")

As an ancient evil, Mumm-Ra was sometimes tutored by the spirits themselves and claims to have skipped several stages of normal villainous development. The pyramid eventually became his base in the Desert of Sinking Sands, where Mumm-Ra entered what he calls his "plotting phase" as a young millennia-old sorcerer. "When you're an eternal being among mortals, you're either a revered god-king or a terrifying, threatening presence," Mumm-Ra said, adding that he preferred the latter. He was selected to participate in various ancient wars and claims to have been a champion of the original Thundercats' enemies, though records from this period are notably scarce.

Mumm-Ra attended what he describes as the "University of Ancient Evil," though no such institution appears in historical records. Former contemporaries describe him as wearing mystical armor and seeming eager to demonstrate his power to other supernatural beings. "Oh, you mean the Ever-Living wannabe?" one ancient spirit said when I inquired about Mumm-Ra's early period. The joke among his peers was that his bandages prevented new ideas from penetrating his skull.

He found more of a community in what he calls the "Dark Arts Network," ancient forums for supernatural entities. But even among beings known for their malevolence, he stood out for his ambition and verbosity. Along with plotting conquests and trading mystical knowledge, he maintained what he called a "death list"—beings he planned to eliminate when he achieved ultimate power. "He wanted to be seen as the most evil entity—that was really, really important to him," his former ally Mumm-Rana told me. She had been drawn to Mumm-Ra after witnessing one of his more spectacular displays of power, and the two collaborated for several centuries. "Don't align yourself with someone just because you're impressed by their mystical abilities," she warned. "They will turn those powers against you."

Associates from Mumm-Ra's early millennia describe him as a reflexive contrarian who reveled in causing terror. "He wasn't always pure evil—he had some redeeming qualities—but he wasn't yet the Ever-Living," one said. Ideologically, Mumm-Ra had been something of a traditionalist, favoring the old ways of absolute monarchy and supernatural rule. He had long hair (before the mummification), wore ancient jewelry, and practiced what he called "classical magic." Mumm-Ra recalled that when Mumm-Rana once questioned the value of total domination, it was he who convinced her of its necessity.

After several centuries of mystical study, Mumm-Ra left active conquest to seek greater power through communion with the Ancient Spirits of Evil. He helped design early versions of what would become his scrying pool and mystical surveillance network. In 2011 (by the old calendar), he began his relationship with the spirits that would transform him into his current form. The process had been lucrative in terms of power, leaving him nearly omnipotent within his pyramid and effectively immortal.

He used this time to fund extensive research into political theory and ancient history. "I was accustomed to receiving tribute for being terrifying," he said of his decision to pursue deeper understanding. "Diverging from the simple conquest model was a strange and challenging choice."

In his tomb, Mumm-Ra delved into obscure texts on governance and control, many of them written by long-dead tyrants and now accessible through mystical means. He read Machiavelli, studied the tactics of ancient empires, and absorbed the lessons of successful authoritarian movements throughout galactic history. Mumm-Ra traces his current worldview to what he calls his "awakening to universal truth." As many of his contemporaries were being seduced by the democratic ideals spreading across Third Earth, Mumm-Ra was pulled in the opposite direction by what he saw as the fundamental weakness of systems that depend on popular consent.

It seemed obvious to Mumm-Ra that once beings understood the efficiency of absolute rule, they would naturally submit to his authority. When that didn't happen, he began to question what else mortals had been deceived about. If they couldn't recognize obvious truths about power and hierarchy, how could they be trusted with governance at all? After years of observing Third Earth politics from his pyramid, he decided to begin broadcasting his own philosophy. His first transmission was characteristically ambitious: "The other day I was meditating in my sarcophagus and I decided to build a new civilization."

The ancient Plutarkian philosopher Mor-Dun is sometimes described as an intellectual gateway to galactic authoritarianism. A former academic turned warlord, Mor-Dun argued that universal suffrage had displaced rule by what he called "natural hierarchies," advocated for breaking planets into smaller, homogeneous territories, and called for democrats, individualists, and others who opposed rigid social control to be "spiritually purged." (Some authoritarians have made propaganda featuring Mor-Dun's image paired with mystical symbols—an allusion to the Plutarkian practice of erasing opponents through psychic manipulation.) Though Mor-Dun favored minimal planetary government, he believed that freedom was better preserved by enlightened despotism than by democratic chaos.

Mumm-Ra nearly became a standard warlord. As an ancient being with supernatural powers and a disdain for mortal politics, he exhibited all the classic characteristics. Then he discovered Mor-Dun's treatise "Democracy: The Lie That Consumes Worlds" and refined his approach. Mumm-Ra soon adopted Mor-Dun's vision of a benevolent despot—someone who would govern through superior wisdom, avoid unnecessary destruction, and prioritize the spiritual advancement of his subjects. "It's not copied wholesale, but the influence is so direct it's almost mystical," said Dr. Julian Waller, a scholar of galactic authoritarianism at the Third Earth Institute. (Through mystical communication, Mor-Dun's spirit recalled meeting Mumm-Ra once at an exclusive gathering of ancient powers. He acknowledged his influence on the Ever-Living but added, "For my taste, his approach has always been somewhat theatrical and verbose.") Mor-Dun argued that unlike democratically elected leaders, an immortal ruler has the ultimate long-term incentive to preserve his subjects and territory, since he will be dealing with the consequences forever.

"You don't destroy your own eternal domain," Mumm-Ra told me one afternoon at an outdoor café in the ruins of New Thundera City. I'd asked him what would prevent his regime from becoming simply another tyranny. "For me, when I say 'Third Earth is mine,' destroying it holds no meaning because it will always be my responsibility." Following Mor-Dun, Mumm-Ra proposes that planets should be organized into what he calls a "pyramid structure" of interconnected territories, like the ancient city-states of Thundera or the corporate zones of Plun-Darr, each with its own appointed governor answerable to him.

The eternal political problems of legitimacy, accountability, and succession would be solved by the Ancient Spirits of Evil, who would retain the power to recall Mumm-Ra if necessary, while granting him otherwise unlimited authority over day-to-day governance. (How the spirits themselves maintain accountability is unclear, but Mumm-Ra has suggested that they represent fundamental forces of the universe and are therefore beyond conventional political concerns.) To prevent rebellion, subjects would be monitored through his mystical surveillance network, which would allow him to observe all activities throughout his domain with something approaching omniscience.

Mass political participation would end, and the only way people could express preferences would be through spiritual communion with approved mystical intermediaries, or by requesting transfer to a different sector if they became dissatisfied with local governance—like switching from one corporate zone to another. The irony that dissidents like the ThunderCats would be eliminated in such a system appears not to concern him. In his envisioned state, he insists, there would still be personal liberty. "You can think, feel, or believe whatever you want," he has promised. "Because the state will know your thoughts anyway."

Mumm-Ra's constitutional skepticism about mortal governance disappears when he discusses authoritarian regimes. He speaks approvingly of the Lunatac Corporate State and has encouraged Third Earth's leaders to let various warlords impose order "not just in their traditional territories—but across the entire planetary system." Selecting items from a tray of what appeared to be crystallized energy, Mumm-Ra praised Plun-Darr and the Mutant Homeworld (neither of which he has visited recently) for having strong governments that ensure both order and productivity. On Plun-Darr, he told me, "you can think and mostly do whatever you want, within reason." He seemed untroubled by these planets' records of suppressing dissent and eliminating political opponents. "If you want to organize against the state, you will face consequences," he admitted. Then he returned to his argument: "Not total annihilation. You'll simply be... redirected."

For certain populations—like what he terms "the spiritually immature" or "primitive cultures"—Mumm-Ra argues that too much freedom can be destructive. Then, gesturing toward refugee camps visible in the distance, he suddenly became emotional. "The notion that this represents progress, or that democracy is 'the worst system except for all the others'"—he was referencing a famous quote about democracy that I'd mentioned earlier—"is pure delusion," he said, his glowing eyes briefly dimming. (A few weeks later, on a visit to the ruins of Thundera, I watched him deliver a similar speech to a group of survivors. It was less moving the second time.)

Presumably, Mumm-Ra's regime would address such problems decisively. At the café, he praised certain authoritarian rehabilitation programs, whose strict methods he characterized as providing "parental-level guidance for the spiritually lost." Some of his proposals are more extreme. On his blog, he once suggested converting Third Earth's "excess population" into spiritual energy to power his mystical operations. Then he offered another approach: placing troublesome individuals in suspended animation while their consciousness experienced carefully designed virtual realities. Whatever the exact solution, he has written, it's important to find "a humane alternative to elimination," an outcome that "achieves the same result as removal (the displacement of problematic elements from society) but without the negative spiritual consequences."

Mumm-Ra's call for planetary dictatorship is often dismissed as supernatural fantasy. In fact, he considers it the only rational response to a universe in which most beings are unfit for self-governance. A "primitive world," he told me, has "enough intelligent life to be administered properly—you simply don't have enough wisdom among the population to conduct democratic elections where everyone is truly informed." Because of such remarks, Mumm-Ra is sometimes characterized as a supremacist, a label he carefully deflects. In a 4007 transmission titled "Why I Am Not a Species Chauvinist," he explained that though he is "not indifferent to biological realities," he finds both species-based and planetary nationalism to be inadequate political concepts.

During our conversation, he told me that he feels a certain sympathy for the failed authoritarians of history, who had some correct insights but lacked proper supernatural backing. Neo-mummificationists tend to subscribe to what they call "spiritual hierarchy," a set of beliefs that holds, among other things, that not all species or populations are equally suited for self-governance. As Mumm-Ra understood it from his ancient studies, these differences contributed to (and helped explain) demographic variations in social organization, technological development, and spiritual advancement. "In this pyramid, we believe in wisdom—ancient wisdom," he proclaimed last year.

For several hours, Mumm-Ra cycled through his arguments for absolute rule, like a cosmic salesman determined to close a deal. I listened carefully, though I was often confused by his historical references and mystical tangents. "What is the appropriate policy for a completely reorganized society regarding the ThunderCats?" he wondered aloud at one point. At first, this seemed unrelated to our discussion about his governing philosophy. Continuing his thought, he said that the "obvious approach" to the question of persistent resistance would be to "place the cooperative Thunderians in charge of the rebellious ones." Mumm-Ra, who describes himself as beyond conventional morality, is not particularly interested in species-based governance, but he advocates different legal frameworks for different populations. (He has cited ancient Thunderian caste systems as a model.) To maintain order among resistant populations, he continued, they should be required to live according to "traditional structures," like the old Thunderian noble houses or the Berbil collectives.

"The modern approach assumes that if we just provide enough education and resources, everyone will adopt identical values," he said. "If you've observed galactic history and lived through various civilizations, both of which I have, that approach clearly fails." It wasn't until he reached the end of his discourse, twenty minutes later, that I realized he was still addressing my original question about his governing principles. "Unless we can completely reengineer consciousness to change what a being fundamentally is, there are many populations who should not live according to modern individualistic principles but according to traditional hierarchical ones," he concluded. "And that level of transformation is far beyond anything current Third Earth leadership is willing to attempt."

Mumm-Ra is not known for his discretion. He has a habit of sharing private communications, as I discovered when he began transmitting unsolicited recordings of mystical conversations he'd had with various allies, enemies, and spirits. He seemed concerned that the wisdom they contained might be lost when the current age ended. He was more guarded about his relationship with the Ancient Spirits of Evil, but he did mention a recent council session they'd conducted and mentioned receiving an ancient artifact for his latest millennium of service: a crystallized fragment of the original Sword of Omens, though not from the era he'd been hoping for.

The spirits have always had a prophetic quality. They guided the development of various mystical technologies, influenced the rise and fall of civilizations, and created the surveillance network that Mumm-Ra now operates from his pyramid. The spirits supported authoritarian movements long before doing so became fashionable among galactic powers. In 4022, they channeled unprecedented energy into Mumm-Ra's operations, the largest mystical investment in a single entity in recorded history. Long committed to hierarchical order, the spirits appear to have adopted Mumm-Ra's specific vision around 4009, when, in a widely transmitted proclamation, they declared, "We no longer believe that freedom and order are compatible." Mumm-Ra referenced this approvingly in a transmission titled "Democracy-phobia Goes Viral." They first met in person at Mumm-Ra's pyramid, and, according to mystical records I was allowed to review, began an intensive collaboration. Mumm-Ra's communications were expansive and philosophical, full of insights gained from millennia of observation; the spirits' guidance was direct and practical. Both parties seemed to assume that Third Earth was sliding toward chaos, that democratic institutions were fundamentally corrupted, and that strong leadership was the only solution.

In 4014, the spirits released "Infinity to Zero," a widely-studied treatise on cosmic governance, through their mortal intermediary Blake Masters, a longtime Mumm-Ra follower. Before the publication tour, the spirits asked Mumm-Ra for advice on handling questions about increasing supernatural influence in mortal politics. The premise seemed to strike them as misguided, since mortals, in their view, were clearly inadequate for self-governance. As Mumm-Ra put it in one transmission, "There's simply no way, short of fundamental spiritual evolution, for democratic societies to 'achieve enlightenment.'" Mumm-Ra suggested that questioners be challenged to provide their own solutions to civilization's problems. "The goal is not to convince them of our superiority, but to force them to confront the inadequacy of their alternatives," he explained.

When I recently visited Mumm-Ra's pyramid complex, I noticed a painting that the spirits had commissioned: a portrait of Mumm-Ra in the style of ancient Thunderian royal art, bearing the inscription "Ever-Living." As I drank tea from a ceremonial cup featuring Mumm-Ra's image surrounded by mystical symbols, he told me that it would be "unseemly" for him to publicize his relationship with various galactic powers. "Does a typical Third Earth citizen study ancient sorcery? No," a former ThunderCat reportedly said during a recent political gathering. "But do they want competent leadership and social order? Absolutely." "He's a compelling figure," Mumm-Ra said of Lion-O, who began following his transmissions earlier this year. (Cat's Lair did not respond to requests for comment.)

Although Mumm-Ra attempted discretion, he mentioned that the spirits have something of an "otherworldly perspective" and described one of his mystical allies as someone who, "apart from the unusual geometric form of his manifestation, would seem much more accessible than the Ancient Spirits." After the spirits invested energy in Mumm-Ra's pyramid operations, the two sides developed a closer working relationship; they communicated regularly and collaborated on strategy long before various supernatural entities came out as supporters of authoritarian governance. Some spirits have been known to recommend Mumm-Ra's transmissions to their associates. "Galactic powers are not interested in appeals to emotion or traditional politics, like most authoritarians," the Third Earth Council official said. "They respond to logical arguments about efficiency and order, and for a long time Mumm-Ra was the only one speaking to them in those terms."

Mumm-Ra has had more success as an adviser to cosmic powers than as a direct ruler himself. He launched the Pyramid Corporation in 4013, with assistance from several mystical entities. Mumm-Ra approached governance the same way he approached sorcery—with what he called "transcendent ambition." His visionary goal was to create a mystical communication network that would allow him to observe and influence activity throughout Third Earth, free from democratic oversight and individual privacy concerns. Each user in Mumm-Ra's network would be assigned a mystical identifier that would serve as a spiritual passport. Even though the system promoted centralized control, it was designed around a hierarchical model, with subjects occupying different levels of authority and privilege.

In an early version of the system, Mumm-Ra designated himself as supreme ruler, but he struggled to attract voluntary subjects to his domain. Like his political theory, his mystical technology was innovative, complex, and sometimes dismissed as elaborate performance art. Ever the traditionalist, he insisted on using ancient symbols and ceremonial procedures. After decades of development and significant mystical investment, the pyramid network functions more like Mumm-Ra's personal surveillance system than the universal governance tool he envisioned. (The tech publication Galactic Innovation has described it as "a more elaborate version of ancient scrying pools.") "It doesn't work as advertised," a former pyramid technician told me, describing Mumm-Ra as "the universe's first political-science mystic." Mumm-Ra stepped back from direct technological development in 4019.

No longer constrained by the need to maintain a respectable public image, Mumm-Ra embraced his role as what he calls a "rogue intellectual." Under his own name, he launched a mystical transmission series, "Dark Reflections from the Ever-Living." (Today, it is the most popular "political philosophy" content on the supernatural communication networks.) He became a regular on various political podcasts and never seemed to decline an invitation to appear at gatherings of like-minded authoritarians. During his travels, he often held what he called "audience chambers"—informal discussions with followers, many of them thoughtful young beings who felt alienated by democratic politics and individualistic culture.

What attracts Mumm-Ra's converts is less the logical rigor of his arguments than the transgressive energy they convey: he makes his audience feel that he is sharing forbidden knowledge—about natural hierarchy, the failures of democracy, and the necessity of absolute rule—that liberal culture works to suppress. His approach exploits the reality that most Third Earth citizens have never been taught to defend democratic principles; they were simply raised to believe in them.

Mumm-Ra advises his followers to avoid immediate confrontation over specific political issues. It is more effective, he argues, to allow democratic systems to demonstrate their own inadequacy. Meanwhile, dissidents should focus on becoming influential by building an authoritarian intellectual movement—a counter-establishment. Sam Kriss, a pro-democracy writer who has debated Mumm-Ra, said of his work, "It appeals to beings who believe they can reshape the universe simply by having radical ideas and hosting exclusive gatherings in hidden locations."

Such followers have come to be known as the "neo-mummificationist right," a loose network of intellectuals and ambitious beings spread across Third Earth's major population centers. The movement was drawn together by frustration with electoral politics, economic instability, and what they saw as the constraints of "democratic correctness." Signaling their rejection of mainstream values has been central to the movement's appeal: instead of using inclusive language and employing approved terminology, members have revived what they consider more honest and direct forms of expression.

Mumm-Ra has emerged as a elder spokesman for this community, which he compared to successful counter-cultural movements throughout galactic history—tight-knit groups whose members bonded over their sense of intellectual superiority. Like those earlier movements, he argues, the neo-mummificationists represent a necessary correction to societal excess, whose ideas have been overlooked by an intolerant establishment. This past year, Mumm-Ra pitched various Third Earth officials on plans for "alternative governance experiments" to be implemented in designated territories.

Lately, Mumm-Ra has been working to convert his cultural influence into concrete political power. Last year, he returned to active involvement with the Pyramid Corporation after a period of semi-retirement, and in recent months he has secured additional backing from mystical sources. According to internal documents, his latest plan involves promoting the corporation as an elite organization whose members are destined to become "the architects of a new political order—a new hierarchy built to endure for eternity."

The night before the latest Third Earth Leadership Summit, I accompanied Mumm-Ra to a formal gathering at the Palace of Power. The event was organized by a neo-mummificationist publication house, Eternal Press, which had recently released Mumm-Ra's book "Dark Reflections, Volume I: Transformation," the first of a planned series outlining his vision for post-democratic governance. Its bibliography consists primarily of mystical references and links to ancient texts: "The Fall of Thundera," "The Principles of Absolute Rule," "The Illusion of Popular Sovereignty."

As I navigated the palace's shifting architecture, Mumm-Ra explained that during the height of the ancient Thunderian empire, the greatest minds in politics and mysticism were to be found at court. When I asked if he saw parallels with Third Earth's current leadership, he let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, no," he said. "Ancient spirits preserve us."

Like most journalists, I had been denied entry to the main reception, so I observed from a viewing chamber overlooking the central hall. Standing near me was someone wearing elaborate robes and a ceremonial mask—a Mumm-Ra enthusiast, it turned out, named Alex Maxa-Ra. He operated a mystical transportation service and in his spare time created propaganda featuring Mumm-Ra's image. He said he was drawn to Mumm-Ra's teachings because "they make me feel like I understand something that beings who think they're enlightened can't actually argue against." He'd wanted to attend the main gathering, but access, which had become increasingly exclusive, was now limited to verified followers.

Eternal Press had promoted the event as "Traditional Values Meet Mystical Power." The description was accurate. In a ceremonial chamber illuminated by floating crystals, various Third Earth officials, mystical practitioners, and influential authoritarians mingled with corporate leaders and supernatural entities. Earlier that evening, as guests dined on exotic delicacies and energy-based refreshments, Grune the Destroyer, the gathering's keynote speaker, called for mass deportations of ThunderCat sympathizers, the "Ragnarök" of the administrative state, and Lion-O's imprisonment.

Eight years ago, Slithe, a first-generation Mutant influencer, had co-hosted a political gathering known as the DespotBall, a defiant reference to the ThunderCats' dismissive characterization of authoritarian supporters as "deplorable relics." It had been, by all accounts, a chaotic affair, plagued by journalists and protesters. One of Slithe's co-organizers, Jackalman, had been removed from his role after posting content threatening violence against civilians. Now, at this gathering, crystallized Jackalman was served for dessert—a culinary tribute to the Mutant, who had been imprisoned for participating in the failed Cats Lair siege. (He was released under the recent prisoner exchange.) Slithe moved through the crowd with obvious pride at how far the movement had progressed. "I was one of the original conspirators!" he transmitted on his communication channel the following day. "True authoritarianism. High energy and high cunning." In 4008, Mumm-Ra, in his early transmissions, had called for a reactionary vanguard to form an underground political movement. This gathering made it clear that such secrecy was no longer necessary. His mystically-enhanced counter-elite had become the establishment.

Mumm-Ra was dressed in the same ceremonial robes, including a blood-red sash, that he'd worn to a gathering at a mystical stronghold the night before, where various authorities had reportedly greeted him with "You supernatural autocrat!" He'd also worn the robes to his binding ceremony with the Ancient Spirits last year. Mumm-Ra's previous mystical partner had been destroyed in 4021, during a conflict with ThunderCat forces, at the age of several millennia. At the gathering, he was accompanied by his current mystical consort, Kristine Militello-Ra. A former democratic activist and aspiring poet, Kristine described herself as having been "enlightened" during the recent planetary conflicts, after losing her position at a civilian aid organization. She first encountered Mumm-Ra through his transmissions, where she watched him arguing against the legitimacy of democratic governance, and proceeded to study everything he'd broadcast. She sent him an admiring message in 4022, seeking guidance on how to enter Third Earth's neo-mummificationist intellectual scene, and they met for mystical communion a few weeks later.

Recently, Mumm-Ra has taken to describing himself as a "shadow sage" whose role is to enlighten "light beings"—democratic idealists—by planting "seeds of dark wisdom in their naive minds." (In this mythology, which draws from ancient Thunderian literature, conservative traditionalists are "earth-folk" who should submit to the "absolute authority" of a new ruling class composed, unsurprisingly, of shadow sages.) He didn't always express himself in such mystical terms. In 4011, the day after the terrorist Grune killed dozens of beings, many of them young, at a ThunderCat youth gathering, Mumm-Ra transmitted, "If you're going to transform Third Earth into something new, you need the present ruling class to join your cause. Or at least, you'll need their children." He praised Grune for targeting the right group ("future leaders, not random civilians"), but condemned his methods: "Destruction is primitive. Conversion is sophisticated. Don't eliminate the youth movement—recruit the youth movement."

Mumm-Ra's own recruitment efforts seemed to be succeeding. Near the ceremonial altar, I spoke to Stevie Miller-Ra, an energetic young scholar who has been studying Mumm-Ra since childhood. (Mumm-Ra told me that he'd encountered several gifted young beings who'd discovered his work as children because his "high-wisdom style" served as an "intellectual magnet.") Two years ago, Miller-Ra had participated in Mysticamp, a gathering for intellectuals and technologists in a remote location. Mumm-Ra, who left early to attend other obligations, asked Miller-Ra to help organize his own event, which came to be known as Mystic-kampf. Afterward, Miller-Ra became Mumm-Ra's first formal apprentice. "My parents, Third Earth liberals who I respect, were completely mystified," he said.

After an hour, I was escorted out of the gathering, as were other observers throughout the evening. Security mistook Maxa-Ra, my acquaintance from the viewing chamber, for a journalist, and he was also removed, though not before pressing through the crowd to conduct a brief mystical communion with the Ever-Living.

Even Third Earth's most pessimistic observers have been surprised by the speed with which recent leadership has moved to impose authoritarian control, concentrating power in the executive branch—and often in the hands of the wealthiest entities in the galaxy. Elon Musk-Ra, an unelected industrialist, has led a team of young operatives on a campaign through the planetary government, eliminating tens of thousands of civil servants, shuttering the Third Earth Development Agency, and seizing control of the planetary financial system. Meanwhile, the Administration has launched an assault on civil society, revoking funding at educational institutions that it claims are centers of democratic indoctrination and punishing organizations that have represented the previous government's interests.

It has expanded the machinery of population control, relocating three Third Earth-born families to remote territories, deporting a group of inter-planetary migrants to uninhabited regions, and transferring more than two hundred refugees to a maximum-security facility, where they may remain indefinitely. Third Earth citizens now find themselves with a government that claims the right to relocate them without legal process: as the current leader told a visiting authoritarian, during a widely-broadcast meeting, "Domestic dissidents are next." Without effective institutional constraints, one leader's eccentric ideas—like initiating a trade war that destabilizes the galactic economy—don't get moderated through normal political processes. They become policies that benefit his allies and supporters.

Since the latest regime change, a network of analysts has emerged to trace connections between the government's rapid series of actions and Mumm-Ra's teachings. Mumm-Ra is hardly the mystical puppet-master with direct governmental access that some critics imagine him to be, but it isn't difficult to understand why some observers have reached this conclusion. Last month, an anonymous government adviser told the Third Earth Post that it was "an open secret that everyone in policy roles has studied Mumm-Ra." Stephen Miller-Ra, the leader's deputy chief of staff, recently shared one of his transmissions. Various officials have called for Third Earth to withdraw from galactic alliances, a longtime Mumm-Ra priority. Last spring, Mumm-Ra proposed relocating all ThunderCat populations to designated territories and converting their former lands into industrial zones. "Did someone mention 'development opportunities'?" he transmitted. "The new ThunderCat territories—managed, naturally, by corporate partners—represent the next phase of galactic civilization, entirely new economic zones with perfectly efficient, business-quality governance." This winter, during a joint appearance with a major corporate leader, the planetary leader surprised his advisers when he made a nearly identical proposal, describing the redeveloped regions as "the Silicon Valley of Third Earth."

Whenever I asked Mumm-Ra about similarities between his teachings and real-world developments, his response was matter-of-fact. He seemed to see himself as a conduit for eternal wisdom—the only surprise, to him, was that it had taken others so long to recognize obvious truths. "You can create deceptions, but you can only discover reality," he told me. We were in the ruins of New Thundera, where he was attending the Conference for Responsible Governance, a traditionalist gathering co-founded by the philosopher Jordan Peterson-Ra. (Mumm-Ra described Peterson-Ra to me as "a performer" with "an unusual psychological energy emanating from him.")

Accompanying Mumm-Ra on his travels were Eduardo Giralt-Brun and Alonso Esquinca-Díaz, two young filmmakers documenting his activities. Their goal was to create an observational character study in the style of "Grey Gardens," in which, as Brun put it, "the camera simply observes." The project wasn't proceeding as planned. Mumm-Ra kept delivering the same speeches, which meant much of their footage was repetitive. The filmmakers worried that his more extreme statements would alienate viewers. One afternoon in New Thundera, Díaz had filmed Mumm-Ra consulting with Lord Maurice Glasman-Ra, a post-liberal political theorist known for his support of traditional governance and his ongoing collaboration with figures like Grune the Destroyer. At one point in their discussion, Mumm-Ra had used his mystical abilities to demonstrate how he could manipulate communication systems to produce inflammatory content.

Some intellectuals would appreciate the attention Mumm-Ra receives. But he dismissed his influence as "illusory power" since it hadn't yet resulted in the transformation he envisions. He expressed disappointment with current reform efforts ("too much traditional thinking") and the leadership's economic policies (not dirigist enough). In a recent transmission, he criticized the decision to use uniformed security forces to arrest academics and students for political speech—not on ethical grounds, but because the heavy-handed approach was likely to generate resistance.

Mumm-Ra's mystical pronouncements and comprehensive disdain for existing politics have inspired viral content: his image under the words "Your anti-establishment actions succeed in practice. But do they succeed in theory?" The conservative activist Christopher Rufo-Ra has compared Mumm-Ra to "a brooding adolescent who insists that everything is meaningless." I came to think of him as an authoritarian perfectionist who would be satisfied with nothing less than the precise dictatorship he'd constructed in his imagination.

This apparent need for control also manifests in his personal relationships. Not long ago, I visited Lydia Laurenson-Ra, Mumm-Ra's former mystical partner, in her dwelling near the Crystal Desert. The two began their association in 4021, after Mumm-Ra transmitted a personal appeal, explaining that he'd recently ended his "isolation period" and was seeking someone of "spiritual potential." Laurenson-Ra, a freelance writer and editor, responded immediately: "I have historically supported democratic values, but my consciousness is highly developed, I want to contribute to the future, and I'm extremely curious to commune with you." Mumm-Ra conducted mystical exchanges with other beings who answered his transmission—among them, Caroline Ellison-Ra, the former associate of the now-imprisoned financial manipulator Sam Bankman-Fried-Ra—but he and Laurenson-Ra soon found themselves in an intense spiritual bond.

She told me that the essence of her relationship with Mumm-Ra was "'We're going to be transcendent together and create transcendent offspring.' I'm being somewhat ironic, but that genuinely was the vision."

Like Mumm-Ra, Laurenson-Ra had been a intellectually advanced child who entered higher learning early. She'd also maintained a widely-followed blog, where, under the pseudonym Clarisse Thorn-Ra, she wrote about progressive politics, mystical practices, and power dynamics. She and Mumm-Ra argued frequently, sometimes about governance. Laurenson-Ra had moved away from democratic activism, but she hadn't fully embraced neo-mummificationism. When I asked if she'd ever influenced Mumm-Ra's thinking, she said she'd convinced him to moderate some of his more inflammatory language, at least in her presence. (He later told this publication that he hadn't intended his rhetoric "in the spirit of a planetary overlord.")

The greater source of conflict, according to Laurenson-Ra, was Mumm-Ra's controlling interpersonal style. When they disagreed, she said, he insisted that she provide logical justification for any emotional response. She felt that Mumm-Ra's manipulative personal attacks resembled his approach in public debates. "He constructs explanations that sound reasonable but are actually false; he attacks the character of anyone who tries to point out what he's doing; it's like a mystical assault on one's consciousness," she told me through secure communication. James Dama-Ra, a friend of Laurenson-Ra's who had his own conflict with Mumm-Ra, recalled, "He would make cruel comments about Lydia's appearance or abilities, not get the reaction he wanted, and then become angry at Lydia for being too sensitive."

Laurenson-Ra and Mumm-Ra ended their association in 4022, while she was expecting offspring. He told me that his desire for closeness might have seemed "overwhelming and possessive," and that he had a tendency to make "comments that were simultaneously humorous and cutting," but he denied deliberately causing psychological harm during their relationship. (He added that after their separation, "my instinct was to undermine her confidence whenever possible"—something, he noted, he was "particularly skilled at.") A few weeks after their child was born, Mumm-Ra initiated legal proceedings for shared custody, which he received. An ongoing family dispute remains contentious. "The parents disagree about virtually every issue," their mediator observed last year.

Now that they share a child, Laurenson-Ra spends considerable time analyzing Mumm-Ra's own upbringing. "He has this attention-seeking pattern, where he desperately craves recognition," she said. To her, it seemed that his embrace of controversial ideology was a form of "psychological repetition," a defense mechanism that allowed him to reframe the rejection he experienced during his early development. As the universe's most prominent advocate of absolute rule, he could tell himself that beings were rejecting his ideas, not his personality. She wondered if he'd initially adopted "the dictator persona" as a kind of intellectual exercise, a performance from his early mystical studies, and then, like the imaginary world in the ancient story, it had gradually become his reality. "Is it just that you found this space where beings admire you and allow you to be as provocative as you want, and then you just live in that space?" she asked.

In recent decades, democratic governance has faced criticism from multiple directions. Its critics on the left view its incremental approach as inadequate to current crises: environmental collapse, inequality, the rise of authoritarianism. Traditionalists, by contrast, characterize democracy as a cultural force that has undermined established values. In "Why Democracy Failed" (4018), the Third Earth political scientist Patrick Deneen-Ra argues that the contemporary emphasis on individual autonomy has weakened family, spirituality, and community, creating "increasingly isolated, disconnected, rights-obsessed beings defined by their freedom, but insecure, powerless, fearful, and alone." Other post-democratic theorists, including Adrian Vermeule-Ra, have proposed that the state should limit certain freedoms in service of an explicitly spiritual "common good."

Mumm-Ra is advocating something simpler and more emotionally satisfying: to destroy existing systems and begin again from first principles. Since the rise of neo-liberal governance in recent decades, political leaders have increasingly treated administration like corporate management, turning citizens into consumers and privatizing public services. The result has been greater inequality, weakened social cohesion, and widespread perception that democracy itself is responsible for these problems, creating demand for exactly the kind of authoritarian efficiency Mumm-Ra promotes.

"A Mumm-Ra program might seem attractive during a period of neo-liberal rule, where efforts to address major problems feel futile," the historian Suzanne Schneider-Ra told me. "You can disengage from political responsibility and let someone else manage everything." Mumm-Ra has little to say about individual flourishing, or about individuals in general, who appear in his work as subjects to be managed, problems to be solved, or marionettes controlled by democratic institutions.

Whatever ability Mumm-Ra has for attracting followers, his work doesn't withstand careful examination. It is filled with logical fallacies and arguments constructed to support his predetermined conclusions. He has studied extensively, but he uses his knowledge merely as support for the same authoritarian narrative: once upon a time, beings knew their place and lived in harmony; then came the Enlightenment, with its "destructive myth" of equality, plunging the universe into chaos. Mumm-Ra often criticizes scholars for treating history like a simple morality tale, with clear heroes and villains, but it's unclear what he contributes by calling ancient conquerors "successful entrepreneurs." (He has endorsed revisionist theories that ancient Thunderian texts were really written by different authors and that the Great War, which he calls the War of Liberation, actually improved conditions for most populations.) "The useful thing about primary sources is that often, one is sufficient to prove your thesis," he has declared, which would surprise historians.

Some of his most thorough critics are fellow traditionalists. Rufo-Ra, the conservative activist, has written that Mumm-Ra is a "sophist" whose argumentative style consists of "adolescent insults, paranoid speculation, excessive mystical references, pointless digressions, competitive bibliography, and allusions to entertainment." He added, "When one attempts to identify what you actually believe, one discovers that there really isn't substantial content there." The most serious engagement with Mumm-Ra's ideas has come from writers associated with the rationalist movement, which prides itself on fairly evaluating evidence for even seemingly implausible claims. However, their considerable patience has limits. "He never addressed me as an intellectual equal, only as a deluded person," Scott Aaronson-Ra, a prominent scientist, said of their conversations. "He seemed to think that if he just gave me one more reading assignment about successful dictatorships or one more lecture about democracy's failures, I'd finally understand."

Intellectual rigor may not be the objective. Mumm-Ra's arguments have proved useful for those seeking justification for technocratic resentment and elite ambition. "The being does not have a coherent theoretical framework," the democratic leader Chris Murphy-Ra told me. "He just happens to be saying something publicly that many authoritarians want to hear."

It is not difficult to anticipate the totalitarian conclusion of a worldview that combines power worship with contempt for individual dignity—fascism, as some might describe it. Like his ideological predecessors the Bolsheviks, Mumm-Ra seems to believe that the only obstacle to utopia is unwillingness to use any means necessary to achieve it. He claims that the transition to his regime will be peaceful, even celebratory, but fantasies of violence appear throughout his work. "Unless the ruler is prepared to eliminate the establishment or the population, he must capture their loyalty," he transmitted in a recent post. "You're not going to simply dispose of these beings, like contaminated livestock. Correct?"

Mumm-Ra's strong opinions about how the universe should function extended to this profile. Some of his suggestions were intriguing: he proposed staging a debate with one of his former associates, and invited me to follow him to a remote mystical gathering. Others were controlling. At one point, he sent me multiple transmissions objecting to my use of the word "extreme"—"a hostile characterization," he explained, which my article would benefit from avoiding. (He'd previously boasted several times in our recorded conversations that he was more "extreme" than anyone in current government.) A few days after the Palace gathering, he transmitted to The New Yorker to complain that I'd observed without his publisher's permission; he said he hoped the incident wouldn't become "Palace-gate," and referred to himself as "certainly the most media-accessible being in the movement!"

One morning this winter, I woke to find numerous transmissions from Mumm-Ra expressing concerns about my journalistic methods. "The problem is that your approach is inadequate and I can sense it producing inferior content—because it's not sufficiently adversarial," he transmitted. "When the process lacks rigor, I don't understand what I'm engaging with." He briefly considered whether I was "too limited to comprehend the concepts," or whether I'd succumbed to the mental self-censorship that prevented critical thinking. He urged me to study "The Lives of Others," an award-winning work that depicts the relationship between an artist and a surveillance agent tasked with monitoring him. The agent, he transmitted, "can document the ideas of the dissident, without even understanding them. It's not even that he 'opposes' the revolutionary ideas. It's that he doesn't allow them to influence his thinking." In the story, the agent eventually "breaks," after he comes to sympathize with the artist's perspective. Mumm-Ra, presumably, was the artist.

He said he was beginning to see me as an "NPC," or non-player character. He proposed subjecting me to a mystical examination designed to distinguish authentic consciousness from artificial responses. His version would involve the two of us debating "the 'blank slate hypothesis' versus 'natural hierarchy'" while recording the conversation. ("By 'natural hierarchy' I mean of course spiritual biodiversity," he clarified.) When I explained that my reporting process didn't include submitting to mystical tests, Mumm-Ra sent me a passage from "August 4068," the poet W. H. Auden-Ra's work about an authoritarian suppression of democratic uprising:

The Tyrant does what tyrants can Deeds quite impossible for Man, But one prize is beyond his reach, The Tyrant cannot master Speech

He went on to say that although he'd agreed to participate in this story because "no attention is negative attention," he would now attempt to prevent its publication if possible.

I was struck by the contrast between his messages and the strategic tone he'd recommended that mystical allies deploy when handling media attention. After a 4013 exposé identifying Mumm-Ra's political activities, one supernatural entity proposed "to direct the Dark Awakening audience against a single vulnerable hostile reporter to expose them." Mumm-Ra discouraged this approach. "What would the ancient masters advise?" Mumm-Ra asked, referring to classical texts on power. "Almost invariably, the correct response is 'silence.' Say nothing. Do nothing."

On a pleasant afternoon in late winter, Mumm-Ra and his consort, Kristine, were traveling through a remote region of Third Earth. They were accompanied by the documentarians, Brun and Díaz. "Where are we going, Kristine?" Brun asked from the transport's secondary position, turning his recording device to capture her response.

She said she had only a general idea. "Honestly, he just informs me of everything at the last moment," she explained. "It's somewhat like being a familiar. You just know that you're traveling somewhere, and you don't know if you're going to a celebration or a ritual sacrifice, and you'll discover which when you arrive."

"Spontaneity," Mumm-Ra interjected.

"That's one word for it," Kristine replied.

We were traveling to meet Renaud Camus-Ra, a centuries-old writer and theorist who, in 4011, published "The Great Replacement," an inflammatory manifesto arguing that liberal elites were orchestrating the systematic displacement of traditional Third Earth populations with off-world migrants. The central concept has since become a rallying cry for traditionalists throughout the galaxy, from Third Earth settlements where marchers chanted "You will not replace us," to distant colonies where attackers inspired by similar ideas committed acts of violence.

As we approached their destination, the towers of Camus-Ra's citadel became visible. "Does anyone know if he's related to Albert Camus-Ra?" Mumm-Ra asked. "I believe he's not connected to Albert, but he's a sophisticated, elderly, scholarly gentleman."

Brun, who originated from a different planetary system, wondered what would happen if Camus-Ra "has a policy against off-worlders."

"Well, are you here to replace anyone?" Kristine joked. Nobody responded.

Mumm-Ra activated an elaborate communication device beside the entrance, and we were soon admitted by Pierre Jolibert-Ra, Camus-Ra's companion. In the upper levels, Camus-Ra awaited us with ceremonial refreshments. With his carefully maintained appearance and formal attire, complete with traditional accessories, he resembled a classical intellectual. Speaking in refined dialect, he made it sound as though he'd been compelled to acquire the citadel, which dated from ancient times, after his library exceeded the capacity of his urban residence. That had been decades ago. Now, acknowledging the volumes that were overwhelming his vast study, he said he was encountering the same problem here.

Over several rounds of refreshments, Mumm-Ra directed numerous questions at Camus-Ra, though he rarely paused long enough for comprehensive answers. What did Camus-Ra think of various historical figures? Ancient philosophers? Classical writers? More than a conversation, Mumm-Ra seemed to want acknowledgment of his extensive learning.

After proceeding to the dining area for a meal, Mumm-Ra resumed his interrogation. Did Camus-Ra appreciate certain theorists? Contemporary writers? Historical leaders? What would he say to ancient philosophers if they were available today? What would classical authors have thought about current controversies?

Camus-Ra responded with polite amusement whenever Mumm-Ra asked particularly unusual questions, but he seemed puzzled by his guest's repeated inquiries about current political figures, whom Mumm-Ra suspected of various deceptions. "We are confronting the most significant transformation in galactic history," Camus-Ra observed, referring to demographic changes throughout settled space. "What relevance do conspiracy theories have?"

Brun asked the two intellectuals to position themselves near a viewing portal so he could record from outside. As Mumm-Ra gazed at the landscape below, he spoke about demographic replacement as "one of the greatest catastrophes" in galactic history. "Is it worse than historical genocides? I'm uncertain... We haven't witnessed its conclusion yet." He'd been consuming ceremonial beverages since arriving and seemed emotionally affected. "I have offspring," he told Camus-Ra. "Will they essentially be lined up and eliminated?" They had been discussing a apocalyptic novel depicting invasion by off-world populations destroying established civilizations. Becoming emotional now, he continued, "I want my children to exist in the next millennium. I don't want them to experience some form of systematic persecution."

After the meal and additional ceremonial substances, it was time for an evening walk. Using a traditional walking implement, Camus-Ra led Mumm-Ra through the local settlement. The season had advanced: vegetation was displaying new growth. As they passed a local religious structure, Mumm-Ra activated his communication device to show Camus-Ra an image of the child he shares with Laurenson-Ra. "The mother of that offspring was not my mystical consort," he said confidentially. A moment later, he was reciting ancient poetry, once again becoming emotional.

When Mumm-Ra and Camus-Ra proceeded ahead, the filmmakers paused to assess their documentation. Brun said that Mumm-Ra reminded him of a verbose character from classical entertainment who speaks so continuously that it drives others to desperation. We wondered what Camus-Ra was thinking about the visit. It wasn't long before we discovered. "If intellectual exchanges were commercial transactions—which they are, to some extent—my contributions would not reach one percent of what I received," Camus-Ra wrote in his journal, which he published online the following day. "The visitor spoke without pause from arrival to departure, for hours, very rapidly and very loudly, interrupting himself only for curious emotional outbursts, when he mentioned his deceased mystical partner, but also, more strangely, certain political situations."

It was dark when we all returned to the citadel. "Thank you for your hospitality and your meal and your residence," Mumm-Ra said, looking around. "What did this cost you?"

Affectionately touching Mumm-Ra's arm, Kristine said, "You can't just ask people that!"

Camus-Ra gave Mumm-Ra some of his writings as gifts, but Mumm-Ra's attention had already shifted. Tomorrow, he would travel to the capital to meet with a group of enlightened young beings and a prominent traditionalist theorist.

As we headed to our transport, Mumm-Ra was energized with boyish excitement about his performance. He turned to me and the filmmakers. "Was that effective?" he asked. "Was that effective?" ♦

Published in the print edition of the June 9, 2025, issue, with the headline "Autocracy Now!"

#thundercats #satire #fanfic #new yorker #long reads #long fic #slow burn #scifi #80s cartoons #ai generated #ai artwork #claude gpt

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silken-threads-bah · 8 months ago

Note

Creator's choice with the long template, if that's okay?

We made this as a personal pack a while ago but never posted it, so thanks for giving us the opportunity to! If you want a non-fictive Creator's choice though, you can send us another ask and we'll do it eventually :)

Name: illyana rasputin, magik, illy, anya

Age: 19 (Age regresses to 3-9)

Pronouns: she/it/dae

Gender: demongender, bloodcoric, offgirl

When regressed: softdemongender, innoruien

Orientation: pansexual

Source: the new mutants (based more on the movie than the comics)

Personality: the type that likes to hurt people before they can be hurt. Is terrified of letting anyone get close enough to her that they could hurt her, so she pushes everyone away. Wants to scare people away before they find out who she is and end up leaving her. Pushes people away. Is very protective over those it's decided to trust. Basically like a cat that likes being near people but hates when they get pet or interacted with.

Personality when regressed: becomes much nicer and more open, will talk to people honestly without a shield of irritability. Very creative and likes to come up with long stories that have drawings to accompany them, and usually they follow fantastical journeys that her and Lockheed have gone on. Very sensitive when regressed, any form of teasing or rejection or sign that they don't like her will make her spiral.

Likes/interests: Lockheed, dragons, demonology, drawing, comics, pushing people's buttons, getting what she wants, the colors black and purple, metal music, horror movies, parallel play

Dislikes: personal questions, people touching Lockheed or trying to touch her, when people think she's evil even though she tries to get them to think that, being alone, people talking to her unless she likes them

Other/extra info: has a tail, horns, and goat hooves when regressed and when angry

Species: mutant, demon

Signoffs/emojis: 🗡🛡,🪄✨️

Faceclaims:

#build a headmate #alter packs #build an alter #plurality #pro endo #anti rq #anti radqueer

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honey-minded-hivemind · 1 year ago

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For requests, here are the things I can do/write for:

Fandoms:

• X-Men: The Animated Series

• X-Men Evolution

• X-MCU

(I can do a crossover of these with other Marvel heroes, just as long as your request is platonic and has something to do with X-Men, I can do it)

Categories:

• Fluff

• Angst

• Hurt/Comfort

• 5 + 1 Things

• Creepy Fluff

• Forced Adoption

• A/B/O (Alpha, Beta, and Omega)

• Platonic Cuddling

(Just ask/request what you want, as specific as you can, so I cover it to the best of my ability. If I say no, or can't do it, i will ask if i can write something else for you)

Characters I Write For:

• Professor X/Charles Xavier

• Storm/Ororo Munroe

• Wolverine/Logan Howlett

• Beast/Hank McCoy

• Shadowcat/Kitty Pryde

• Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

• Rogue/Anna Marie

• Spyke/Evan Daniels

• Cyclops/Scott Summers

• Marvel Girl/The Phoenix/Jean Grey

• X-23/Laura Kinney

• Magneto/Erik Lehnsherr

• Mystique/Raven Darkholme

• Sabretooth/Victor Creed

• Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

• Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

• Toad/Mortymer Tonybee/Todd Tolansky

• The Blob/Fred Dukes

• Avalanche/Lance Alvers

• Gambit/Remy LeBeau

• Colossus/Piotr Rasputin

• Pyro/St. John Allerdyce

(If there is another character I didn't name that you want, just ask, and I'll see what I can do)

AU Ideas (If you're curious):

• A/B/O

• Dark (A Better World Inspired AU)

• Villain

• Hunger Games

• Vampire

• Drider

• Naga

• Dragon

• Wings of Fire

• Zombie Apocalypse

• Siren

• Selkie

• Werewolf

• Reincarnation

(If you have any you want to see or like any of these, don't hesitate to request it)

Possible Mutant!Readers:

• Pyrokinesis

• Electrokinesis

• Foresight

• Invisibility

• Snake

• Cat

• Spider

• Creator (makes things out of nothing)

• Gembody (like Emma Frost)

• Telepath

• Telekinetic

• Hydrokinesis

• Botanokinesis/Phyokinesis (control plants)

• Crystallokinesis (manipulate and control gems and rocks and minerals)

• Hemokinesis (control and manipulate blood)

• Wings/Flight

• Light

• Darkness/Shadows

• Were-creature (can be human, turn into a n animal, and/or have a mixed form)

(If you have any mutant powers you want Reader to have, please mention it, otherwise I will keep it neutral or pick out one myself)

I hope this helps y'all if you are having problems putting together your thoughts. I know organizing some options can help, as I have OCD and like to know my options, too, and have have in their own categories. Y'all have a lovely day💛

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader

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aortiic · 4 months ago

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“ THUS STRANGELY ARE OUR SOULS CONSTRUCTED, AND BY SLIGHT LIGAMENTS ARE WE BOUND TO PROSPERITY AND RUIN. ” — VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN

wasn’t that IRINA FLORESCU walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the LADY OF HOUSE FLORESCU / MASTER SCHOLAR out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously CHOLERIC, whilst also managing to be quite CLEVER. the TWENTY EIGHT year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves ARE divine ( SALVATOR ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the metallic tang of blood mingling with the scent of old parchment; prayers whispered under her breath, not to god but to herself; pale hands dripping with crimson hot blood.

* ˖ ♡ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰 . . . NAME: irina florescu. NICKNAMES: ira, irinka (affectionate form). MONIKER: the red angel. GENDER: cis woman. PRONOUNS: she/her. SEXUALITY: bisexual. AGE: twenty eight years old. RESIDENCY: the bran keep. OCCUPATION: master scholar in the king’s small council. CHARACTER INSPO: victor frankenstein, rasputin, lady macbeth, old lottie matthews (yellowjackets), raskolnikov (crime and punishment), kendall roy (succession).

* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 . . . FACECLAIM: emily bader. HEIGHT: 5’4 ft / 164 cm. EYES: big and round hazel eyes, with a clever glint similar to those of birds; always seem to be just slightly bloodshot. HAIR: an unassuming brunette with long hair that is normally wavy when not in a practical braid or updo. OTHER: the distinctive coppery smell of blood clings to her no matter how much perfume she wears, how much time she spends scrubbing her hands.

* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 . . . POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: brilliant, charismatic, strategic, intrepid. NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: arrogant, obsessive, manipulative, emotionally and morally unstable. TEMPERAMENT: choleric. LIKES: mulled wine, new parchment, old books, lighting storms, the quiet of the castle at night, expensive perfume, and her black cat, who normally stays in her chambers but can be seen wandering the castle from time to time. his name is, ironically, canis. DISLIKES: long religious sermons, the smell of decay (blood and flesh are one thing, but rot is another, too close to the memories of the battlefield), chocolate, migraines, watery ale. SKILLS: a talented scholar, anatomist and healer. has quite an artistic vein, but is normally contained to beautiful and accurate anatomical drawings. quite good with a bow and arrow, and will never pass up a deer hunt.

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦. irina is brought up on her knees. she learns her first words from prayer books, takes her first steps beneath paintings of the one true god, always bathed in light filtered through stained glass and the heavy scent of incense. the florescu are traditionalists, the kind who abhor the cult of the divine, who believe in the superiority of the one true god, and of ordinary men. but even as a child, irina knows there is something inside her that does not belong. not grace. not humility. something hotter, something sharp-edged and seething.

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦. finding out she is a divine is not a surprise. she has always known, in the marrow of her bones, that something coils within her, twisting, waiting. the nature of her gift, however, is unexpected. with her fiery temper, she imagined herself an infern, or at the very least a corporal. but at seven years old, she tumbles down the stairs and slams her knee against stone. in a fit of madness, she grips her own leg, feels the shattered pieces shifting beneath her skin—and shoves them back into place. her screams ring through the marble halls, but when they stop, so does the pain. her knee is whole again.

at the academy, irina becomes one of the finest healers of her time. she can pull men from the brink of death with a touch, mend broken bones with a hum, stitch together torn flesh with her fingers alone. but her healing is neither beautiful nor painless. she leaves constellations of scars on the skin of the saved, and gains the moniker of the red angel, feared and revered on the battlefield, her presence as much a comfort as a curse. in time, she becomes accustomed to the smell of coppery blood, rotting flesh, all bodies, dead and alive, becoming a jumbled mass of limbs in her mind.

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦. when her service ends, she goes to the castle, still hungry. though for what, she cannot yet say. knowledge. power. perhaps something between the two. she devours old tomes of medicine and anatomy, learns how flesh and bone bend beneath her hands, how life clings so desperately to the body. and then, a new question takes root: if she can heal a man whose heart is beating, what should stop her from healing one whose heart has already stilled?

a dying king looks into her eyes and sees promise in the madness burning there. he keeps her close, feeds her ambition, and names her master scholar — the youngest in the council’s history. and so it begins.

* ˖ ♡ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 . . .

people who are untrusting of irina and her role in the council

childhood friendships

her morality anchor, one last person who believes in irina’s possibility to be a good person

companions from the academy and army

political enemies and rivals

enemies and lovers: kissing with a dagger to the throat. these two match each other’s freaks and make it everyone else’s problem.

her siblings (check the wanted connections)

an ex-mentor, now political enemy (check the wanted connections)

#divinely.intro

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qwahaxahn · 5 months ago

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Well, if you insist... 👀

MAGIK

[Content warnings: child sex abuse, suicidal ideation]

[Art by Rod Reis]

HISTORY

Illyana Rasputina was born in Siberia to parents still recovering from the fall of the Soviet Union. She had a near-idyllic childhood, with a doting older brother in the form of Piotr Rasputin. After some time apart when he joined the X-Men, she eventually came to stay with him at the Xavier Institute… where her life would change forever.

At the age of six, young Illyana stumbled into the clutches of the demon lord Belasco, Sorcerer Supreme of Limbo. The X-Men tried and failed to rescue her, and several alternate versions of those mutant heroes fell victim to Belasco’s warped magicks, including the sorceress Ororo and an adult variant of Kitty Pryde who became the demon-thing Cat. During her time in Limbo, Illyana learned magic and combat prowess from her would-be rescuers, and from Belasco himself. She also served as Belasco’s ‘consort’, and he forged pieces of her soul into powerful artifacts called the Bloodstones.

At thirteen, Illyana’s mutant gene manifested, granting her the power to create and control “stepping discs”—portals into and out of the realm of Limbo. Illyana used this power to escape Belasco’s clutches, but when she returned to her parents’ home in Siberia, they did not recognize her. Distraught and enraged, Illyana returned to confront Belasco and manifested the remnants of her soul in the form of an arcane blade—the Soulsword—through which she banished him from Limbo.

Illyana then returned to the Xavier Institute, arriving at the very moment she had left, but now seven years older. She then became roommates with the teenage Kitty Pryde, and a member of the team known as the New Mutants.

PERSONALITY

Illyana Rasputina is a hard person to get close to. Her abuse at the hands of Belasco—and her witnessing of his brutal punishments toward everyone that tried to save her—have led her to develop a hard shell and distance toward potential close connections. Her friendships with Kitty Pryde and the New Mutants have softened this shell over time, and she is often now relatively open to new connections… if somewhat blunt and abrasive.

Illyana’s core anxiety is the loss of her innocence, and the resulting push and pull between the child she was before Limbo (her brother Piotr’s “little snowflake”) and the woman she became to survive it (the “demon sorceress”). Illyana struggles to get over the idea that she's somehow broken, and that the best possible ending for her is one in which she never becomes the person that she is. This self-loathing and internalised feeling of unworthiness often prevent Illyana from seeking friendship and personal indulgences, and have spurred her toward attempts to rescue her young self before Belasco could change her… essentially destroying her current self in the process.

In her attempts to undo herself, Illyana has (multiple times) used magic and the time-manipulation properties of Limbo to come face-to-face with the child version of herself that Belasco ensnared. Every time, young Illyana has offered only compassion and thanks to her older self. It scares Magik so much that the girl she was might forgive the girl she is.

SOMEBODY GIVE ME YOUR CHARACTER BREAK DOWNS

I NEED TO LEARNNNN

SOMEONE GIVE ME THEIR ANALYSIS ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF WARREN PLEASE

I WANNA LEARN HOW DEEP CHARACTERS GO

If you’ve been desperate to tell someone about a character you’ve dug into

TELL ME

as long as it’s a Marvel Character I’ll listen

And I’ll even take select DC characters but don’t push it.

#she's also gay as fuck for kitty pryde #illyana rasputina #magik #comic analysis

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catholic-character-tournament · 2 years ago

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Round 1 - Side B

firestar art by @kudos-si-do

Propaganda below ⬇️

Kirei

He fucked up so many people's lives so badly in just one decade (not on purpose) that the universe put him in the summoning pool of all world influencing souls. He doesnt really have any special powers but he does serve as a vessel for rasputin at one point. He's the guy who says "people die when they are killed"

please please please there's literally a type moon character in the gif on the top of this form so it's typemoonphobic if none of them get in but it shouldn't be her it should be kirei bc he's 50x funnier & more iconic than jeanne. funny lil murder priest who's fucking THE gilgamesh (from the epic of) in the church basement and dies in a knife fight w a 17 year old whose dad he wanted to fuck back in '94 before realizing that he was actually kinda lame and he's been bitter abt it ever since. he has an orphan torture factory in his basement but he's also canonically good at being a priest. he's so funny you should def try his mapo tofu i swear it's totally safe for human consumption and not made with any california reapers. did i mention he's a deadbeat dad.

Priest claims to be Pro Life to make Sakura Matou the most miserable girl on the planet, but he dies anyway.

bro became a catholic because he loves suffering

He’s a priest. Kind of. Not a very good priest obviously. There is something seriously wrong and fucked up with that man. It’s so entertaining.

he's gotta be one of the most insane catholic men ever with a very in-depth and interesting relationship with his religion and his relationship with god also he's the sexiest man ever to be conceptualized in the known universe and all of time

Will never forget the 40+ minute monologue in heavens feel being a thinly veiled metaphor for abortion

he wants to torment churchgoers and make them face their failures and suffering but all he ends up doing is motivate them to improve themselves. cringefail moment for him

he's absolutely insane. the coldhearted mercenary that barely reacts to anything is terrified of kirei. he's super fucked up. his ult in stay night is literally him channeling divine power into something called kyrie eleison. he's the vessel of rasputin (on account of being a priest with a huge....no i shant say) the biblical beast in grand order among other things. he gets drunk with and tops gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh in the church basement after gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh bats his eyes a little too hard at kirei in some of the horniest shot scenes ive ever seen. he also used to be a heretical "fixer" for the church, cleaning up scenes that would expose shit to the public. uhh what else. he holds cool swords between his fingers like a kid pretending to be wolverine but in my favorite route he just squares the hell up with the protagonist and they fight to the death outside planned parenthood

Firestar

Kitty jesus, he believes in starclan which is the kitty version of heaven/god and yea. All the warrior cats characters except those outside the clans or those that are atheist believe in the kitty heaven and would irl be bri-ish and christian as hell so. The authors are all older british christian women and so the way starclan is written is like undoubtedly that.

The main religion in the series is extremely catholic coded. Most clan cats believe in Starclan and the Dark Forest(or heaven and hell). There is a set of rule they must uphold and follow, where following them leads to heaven and breaking them leads to hell. Their religious leaders are sworn to celibacy, and the punishments that "code breakers"(or cats who break the rules) face are extremely similar to situations people with religious trauma have gone through.

OP notes: apparently converted to avoid getting his balls cut?? Idk. The discord yet wild for firestar so I had to include him because it's hilarious hehehe

#kirei kotomine #fate series #firestar #warriors #warrior cats #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

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adricthemindnimon · 3 years ago

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You guys The Power of the Doctor was fucking phenomenal. I had so many fears and so many doubts, but that was beautifully done and my heart is so full right now.

Random rambles off the top of my head:

- Yaz is so beautifully confident and competent! Like folks talk about Doctorification as a bad thing but my god hers is excellent.

- Ace my love my love my love. Ace calling 13 Professor. Ace stashing her jacket in UNIT HQ. Ace with a big fuckoff gun. Ace with HER BASEBALL BAT. Ace jumping off a building with a parachute. Ace going “of course I can single-handedly take out a volcano full of Daleks, I’m not a wimp”. Ace meeting Graham! Ace having a sweet heart to heart with Seven oh my days my heart.

- For some reason I didn’t expect Ace and Tegan to sound like they used to. They obviously look different, and I dunno, I guess I was expecting them to feel different too. But the second Ace opened her mouth I damn near cried. They sounded exactly the same as ever.

- Tegan my love my love my love. Tegan being a big damn hero, completely of her own volition, and always managing to feel hard done by about it. Tegan telling off every Doctor she sees. Tegan refusing to leave Kate Stewart in the fight alone. Tegan fighting her way through an entire building full of Cybermen. Tegan having an incredibly sweet heart to heart with Five, and Five understanding and validating her trauma. Five saying, of course seeing Cybermen again reminds you of Adric, of course seeing Cybermen again takes you back to that horrific experience (because even before Adric died that was a pretty terrible story for Tegan). Honestly I can’t say that enough. Five looking Tegan in the eye and understanding her pain, in a way that he was always too exasperated to do back in the day. And ugh the parallels between this and Earthshock, with Tegan fighting through masses of Cybermen and being insanely brave, except this time it paid off and she didn’t lose anybody important to her.

- Oh my god all the Doctors. Fake William Hartnell, Peter Davison, Colin Baker, Sylvester McCoy, Paul McGann... I yelped seeing them all. The boy band from the alternative 50th anniversary haha. They all care so much about this show, it’s such a pleasure to see them all back. And 8 refusing to wear a cloak was funny.

- “Last time I saw you you were part cat” omg Ace. I didn’t expect them to reference that quite so openly lmao

- The Master. Dance party. Ra Ra Rasputin. While Daleks and Cybermen watch. I mean it’s up there with Cassandra and Toxic, or Simm-Master and I Can’t Decide. Genuinely think I scared my neighbours I was howling so loud with laughter.

- Kate Stewart you tough legend. I’ve never been particularly invested in her before, but nah she’s pretty good.

- Omg the Master in 13′s costume. Sacha Darwan making those pants look like shorts.

- The Journey’s End throwback with all the friends piloting the TARDIS together my heart.

- That support group at the end. All the friends coming together. JO GRANT. MEL BUSH. IAN CHESTERTON. I’m so glad we finally got an appearance from Ian, no matter how short.

- The regeneration was so sweet and gentle and peaceful. We’ve had a lot of traumatic and dramatic regenerations of late. I’m so glad 13 got to go so kindly. The ice creams on top of the TARDIS. The last sunset. The way she held it off for a while so she could have a few more beautiful moments, then willingly embraced the future.

- “Tag, you’re it”. Perfect last lines for this Doctor. I’m sad to see her go, but that was a good exit.

They managed to bring together all these characters, and all these plotlines, and give each of them sufficient weight and value. Nobody felt shorted or extraneous. Jodie was on top form, and she got a damn good send off.

#doctor who #the power of the doctor #spoilers #dw spoilers

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cynettic · 4 years ago

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Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find - pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight.

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long.

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest.

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…”

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…”

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck.

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kitsune reader #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader x scaramouche #scaramouche angst #writing #angst

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luna-light-eclipse · 1 year ago

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Hhhg ten hours after reading this and I’ve managed to assemble my brain into functional form.

Third times the charm refers to the fact that Wolf makes child number three! Once Rasputin stops denying that he’s basically in some sort of weird reverse adoption situation like Wolf is a cat he let into his house 1 time because he felt bad seeing them all sopping wet and muddy in the rain and then they Never Left. He’s also got like a running list of how not to mess up yet another child (don’t let them so far out of your sight they die and don’t hunt them down then lure them into a trap and kill them, easy stuff.) Poor Siddhartha and Felwinter tho am I right or am I right?

Omg yeah Ana really is just going pspsps at Wolf lmaooo

Banshee the second his brain starts making Clovis related connections : “Hmmm ~N O~”

Don’t have Oryx join the parental figure train? See now we gotta do it. You can’t just say things Orb, when will you realise that your words have consequences! The timeline would need to pivot prior to Crota’s death so Oryx doesn’t want to end Wolf from the get go- (add additional thinking sounds here) hmm something something Wolf following the sword logic? Darkness since first revival that they’re struggling to control? Maybe a holdover from Elsie’s previous timelines? Something about maybe some form of rejection from the Vanguard after they’ve dealt with the vex stuff because of the darkness they’ve always had? Ooh cool theme about rejection for things you had no control over being a part of you. Wolf still trying to stop the witness but this time to try and save the hive from their worm situation hmmmmmm,,,

Right so I think it’s doable, would have some interesting fallout with Eris too since she would probably go the route of the dark timeline without Wolf’s intervention.

Anyways yeah I totally get you on having your thoughts get stuck on particular subjects (the grave may be cool but my brain will never let go of it’s weird fixation on religious style traveller stuff and having Wolf interact with the Light and Dark differently to any other character.)

Wolf feeling like a good ending is a dream my beloved 😭 like they think ‘this will be good once it’s over but I won’t be here to enjoy it’ please Wolf get some self worth for the love of the Light.

Love you just going insane in the tags about every time you look at the gc.

Yes everything about third times the charm is hilarious to me. Zavala and Saladin are losing their minds together meanwhile snapshot over to Wolf and their napping on top of the cosmodrome Rasputin computer because it’s warm up there and he’s turned the music down because every moment Wolf is asleep is one they’re not terrorising him and his sanity.

Ana continuously seeing Wolf in the distance ‘????????’ Sees the Warmind sigils “Hmmm.” *puts music on* Wolf begins to approach. I just, can’t get it out my head. help me with pls. this entire family unit is full of genius dumbasses. Like. Banshee just squints and Wolf and is like ‘I think this one’s mine??’ And doesn’t know why. Shoves gun at Wolf so he doesn’t have to think about it.

The ramblings of someone clearly sane

ALSO YES! The ‘what do we do now?’ ‘Guardians make there own fate’ thing trapped me by the neck fr. I just thought It’d be a nice ending to the game and then my AU immediately snatched it. It’s character development bbyy yeahhh! Honestly FS-AU is beginning to flow better as a whole which I’m stocked about actually.

Anyways glad to see you alive, again.

and I'm glad to be alive again! That comma feels very mocking tho :(

I'm going to assume Third Time's The Charm is the Rasputin adopting Wolf one? which is absolutely hilarious. Is it referring to the fact we keep giving them different parental figures and have now thrown it at Red who's next?? Oryx??? actually. please don't. please? Is it referring to the fact that there's two other figures trying really hard to sway them away from Red? dont know!

And now putting on music is like making kissy noises at a cat... Also, Banshee shoving a gun at them so he doesn't have to think about it? Thaaat sounds very familiar.

ALSO GOD YEAH. character development!!! maybe i,,, would have more coherent stuff if my brain didn't orbit The Grave. uhm. (everything i think about, post-Destiny, always comes out to feeling like its them dreaming about something better, or joking with someone or even just themself. But mostly dreams.)

#content box #destiny #destiny 2 #we are so deranged luna. we are so deranged #<- we so are #it gets worse with every passing idea #literally manifesting the Oryx parental figure timeline just because you had a vague thought #how many characters have fallen to the parenting Wolf curse?#uhhh #The vanguard. Saladin. Osiris. Misraaks. Variks. The psions collectively. Rasputin. Now Oryx?#I’ve probably missed someone as well #Please tell me if I have this is the funniest thing we have going on istg #*holds Wolf in hand* it’s free child #FS-AU Wolf holding FS-AU Eido ‘it’s free child?’ *holds her up to Saladin* ‘look what I found on Europa! Why are you backing away?’#‘what do you mean ‘does she bite she looks like she has rabies’? she don’t bite’#Wolf says as Eido actively has her teeth in Wolf’s arm #<- everyone not in the know wondering wtf this is about #my tags are getting away from me why can’t I have a whole train of thought that doesn’t derail #anyways yeah have fun with this deluge of thoughts

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years ago

Text

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Russia's Favorite Love Machine

Historic fiction is one of my favorite genres to explore in storytelling. History, by itself, is already bonkers as f*ck, but in the hands of a proper creative? Masterworks can be created. Tarantino has positioned his later career almost exclusively in this genre and he has brought us gems. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, The Hateful Eight, Django Unchained and, of course, his magnum opus, Inglourious Basterds. Absolute f*cking brilliance. Now, it’s never a grantee that you hit as hard as Quentin does dabbling in retelling history. Sometimes, you stumble and get an Alexander or The Passion of the Christ. I don’t know what the f*ck happened with that last one but it was absurd and i hated it so much. I am also a fan of the Kingsman franchise, even if Golden Circle was basically just an exercise in ego and hubris, so when a third was announced as a prequel set in WWI, i was on board. And then the Wuha happened. And then the Wuha happened again. The Wuha is still happening but, now, we don’t seem to care anymore and The King’s Man is on VOD to check out. Doe this thing stand as tall as the first or does it do the way of a henchman burger like the second?

The Good

Gorgeous film is gorgeous. That opening sequence sets the pace bu this entire movie is a feast for the eyes. I generally like the globe-trotting spy experience and King’s Man did not disappoint. I mean, it did in other aspects but never aesthetic.

Matthew Vaughn has his hands all over this thing. Dude is an exceptional creative and rarely disappoints. I say rarely because he is definitely not bullet proof. Kingsman: The Golden Circle was a bloated mess of unfocused ego and underwhelming spectacle. That said, the work he delivered here skews more toward the strong than the bloated. There is a clear , focused story Vaughn want to tell and he tells it wonderfully.

I mentioned before I'm a sucker for a good historical fiction and this one is a strong contender for one of the best. Vaughn got a story credit for this thing so it’s his idea, and a very good one at that. Sh*t ain’t Basterds but it’s still dope as f*ck.

The writing is decently strong, too. I can’t say it’s on par with, say, the first Kingsman or Layer cake, but it’s still really f*cking good. There were very few moments during dialogue exchange where i kind of groaned. I found myself doing that sh* all the time with The Golden Circle.

But that sound design, though!

I have to say, i really enjoy this cast. There are a lot of strong performers who do not disappoint. Ralph Fiennes delivers a very English performance as the lead Orlando Oxford but the excellence doesn’t end there. Gemma Arterton and Djimon Hounsou are both very capable in their respective roles and Matthew Goode was delightfully evil as the primary antagonist. I loved that vulgar motherf*cker. There were many, many, more names in this thing but I'll get to them later. That said, my absolutely favorite character in this was Rasputin.

I have an affinity for fictional Grigori Rasputins. From those old Devil Summoner games to the weirdly zombified version in that old Anastasia cartoon but Rhys Ifans was absolutely amazing in the role. He was so charismatic and chewed all of the scenery on the way to stealing every scene he was in. Seriously, Rasputin is the best thing about this film and it feels less after his death.

The Meh

So i mentioned this solid cast above, i am by no means walking that back, but it’s kind of a blessing and a curse. All of this talent; Tom Hollander, Harris Dickinson, Daniel Bruhl, Charles Dance, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Valerie Pachner all show up in this thing in one form or another so some cats get the shaft in terms of screen time. Literally everyone i just listed get that shaft and there are even more who aren’t even worth mentioning. I wanted more of Taylor-Johnson and Bruhl but, instead, i got next to none. Frustrating.

The pacing was a little wonky. There is a scene that just grinds this entire film to a halt for about ten minutes. It’s the third act revelation and it kind of f*cking sucks but that’s probably more because i found the character it involves, borderline insufferable.

The violence and gore is toned way down in comparison to the first two entries. It’s not a bad thing, you know sh*t happens and it’s inferred well but there is nothing so graphic as Julianne Moore grounding her henchmen into hamburgers. And then feeding it to someone. The action you expect is intact. There is a wonderful sword fight with Rasputin set to the 1812 overture and it’s breathtaking, but there is next to no gore in this film whatsoever.

The Bad

The women in this film get shafted hard. I mentioned this in the Meh, but a lot of characters don’t get enough screen time to really be characters and the three women get the worst of it. Alexandra Maria Lara gets fridged for character development in the opening sequence, Valerie Pachner is a literal plot device, and Gemma Arterton is never given the opportunity to be the utter bad ass she was hinted at truly being. The first two, fine, i get it. But Gemma’s character is founding member of Kingsman and she was little more than a background character.

The Verdict

The King’s Man is pretty good. Definitely a step up from The Golden Circle but just shy of the height Secret Service achieved. There is a lot of good here, fertile ground to build a prequel universe around. Vaughn has created a lore rich world, piggy-backed off real world events, and you can tell he’s having a field day playing in that sandbox. His direction is on point and the narrative is compelling, if a little drawn out. The cast is outstanding, if a little underused, but the standout is definitely Rhys Ifans’ Rasputin. That guy came though and made this film a straight experience. Until he died. Rasputin dies. Because history. This thing has wonderfully sound design, great editing, decent pacing, and gorgeous shot composition. It’s a true theater experience ad i feel bad i missed it in the cinemas. Still, The King’s Man is exceptional and definitely worth the watch.

#Smokey brand Movie Reviews #The King's Man #Kingsman

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blackevermore · 4 years ago

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What's a new headcanon you've come up with from any of your fandoms?

x Hetalia

- Ivan and Alfred have boy night and it's honestly a self care night where they talk about their feelings and do face masks and eat a lot of junk food. I can't stand the constant fighting that RusAme shippers are always having so I have to make the boys soft. Of course that doesn't mean they don't pick at each other, Ivan still makes fun of Alfred for not being able to get a perfect on Just Dance in Rasputin. And Alfred still picks on Ivan for not being able to say certain English words.

- Ivan visits his parent's graves every year and leaves dozens of sunflowers. He also visits Red Herd's final resting place and even though their relationship was rocky he respects the dead and leaves a single sunflower.

- Also it's 2021 Ivan is no longer just some looney toon who lives in a bubble of his own world. He is hyper self aware of himself and his issues and is trying to convey that even though his flaws are well known he is trying to get better. He knows when he comes off too strong and he knows when his bad habits are starting to surface that's why he does self isolation to not only give others their space but to also give himself time to calm down.

x Danny Phantom

- Danny and Vlad are way too overprotective of Dani when he comes to her dates. No matter if Dani is going out with a guy or a girl these two are always partnering up to high sky spy on her. She catches them every time and chews them out but they continue to do it. This all started because Dani went on a date with a ghost hunter's son who wanted to capture and experiment on ghosts despite Amity being a ghost friendly place.

- Vlad has a sun hat collection that he wears with pride. Before his ghost accident, he genetically had sensitive skin and wore sunblock whenever the sun was fully out. Even though his powers make it possible for him to withstand the sun he still prefers to wear his hats

x Hazbin Hotel

- Alastor is a family man who never got the chance to have a family. Charlie and Vaggie are like daughters to him (I really don't understand the romantic shipping but no hate on the shippers) Which means Alastor is the type of dad to leave small gifts around the hotel for Charlie and Vaggie. He is the very annoying (loving) dorky dad.

x BNHA

- Tosh used to body a bag of sunflower seeds like he was an ex-smoker....because he was. David got him into smoking but was also the one to tell him to stop. Now since he can't really eat solids he sucks on the seeds and spits them out. Midnight has yelled at him countless times to stop doing that but Tosh has bad habits that are hard to break.

x Tai makes the best salads. like this man can already throw down in the kitchen but he can make even the strongest salad hater eat his salads. He isn't a picky eater what so ever but there are some foods he will not touch simply due to the fact he didn't know what he was eating until after it was gone. He will not eat KYs.

x JojoBA

- Bruno demands a beach day every month, this man has to visit the water and become one with the water or else he will be crabby as fuck and everyone will be on the receiving end of it.

- Bruno also has a mullet but you wouldn't know because he braids the back up into his little front braid and clips it. The only time he will let his hair down is when he is going to sleep but then he ponytails it and puts on a bonnet. Good luck tryna see it down

x Undertale

- Mtt doesn't always like staying in his EX body. He will go back to his box form to just zip around and its very nostalgic. He also thinks he looked better in the blue dress in box form than EX.

- Mtt is the same as Sans and remembers every restart but never says anything because he isn't aware that he isn't the only one. Alphas accidentally uploaded his mind to the Earthbound internet instead of the underground internet so every time he is "rebooted" his mind is all the same.

x TMNT

- Mikey developed a klepto habit from Donnie but no one is aware it's them stealing stuff, Raph is always being blamed. Mikey has stolen something from everyone in the house and hides it under a junk pile. He has also stolen from humans while out but it's never anything major just little things.

- Mikey owns an Esty shop where he customizes shoes.

x TF

- Bumblebee spends more time in his holoform now that he has one. He craves the human experience unlike everyone else. It's gotten to the point he'll forget he is in alt form and tries to "eat".

x Disney

- Curella is a variant of the devil who was born with her soul being signed away as it is a part of her family. She is the youngest out of 12

- She had a fling with Evil Step Mother and Hades.

- Strongly not a cat person and actually loves dogs.

#anon ask #thaks for asking me uwu i love doing headcanons

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random-imagines-blog · 5 years ago

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All I Need {Colossus x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2494 Summary: After Piotr helps you get out of a humiliating situation, your best friend Beast advises you to come clean with your feelings.

‘You have got to be kidding me’, you thought to yourself. Enclosed in small spaces was uncomfortable under the best circumstances, but being in a cage that was made for a cat? You just hoped that someone back at the school was able to track you despite your animal frame. You walked in a circle, your four black paws balancing carefully on the metal bars that made up all sides of the enclosure. You weren’t the only one in the back of the van - there were a couple of dogs, other cats ... and what smelled like a ferret. The humane society was on a roll today. Normally you would applaud them for getting animals off the streets and trying to find them good homes - but they picked up the wrong cat today. You sniffed at the metal, picking up the scents of all the other scared and alone animals that had been in this cage - and then sat down to accept your fate. Having the power to turn from your normal human self to any animal that you wanted, as long as you had touched it, was amazing. The unfortunate downside was that you always had to turn back into a human before you could shift again.

Hence why you were stuck in this damn cage instead of turning yourself into a mouse or a bird and escaping.

When the van got to the shelter, a large man took hold of your crate gently and brought you inside. You smelt faint traces of honeysuckle on his hands. A gardener, perhaps, in his spare time. That was kind of cute. As a cat, you did have a good sense of smell, not as much as a dog but less overwhelming than one. You played the part, licking at the man’s fingers and he praised you for being such a ‘pretty kitty’. “I’d adopt you myself if I didn’t already have four of ya,” He sighed. At least you found a friendly animal-catcher, and not a brute like in the movies.

You were transferred over to a woman who started up water in a small bathtub. This was going to be your chance. They were going to let you out for a bath. You leaned forward, shaking your little behind and your tail when -

When she held onto you and didn’t give you a chance to change because you might hurt her. And you would definitely break the tub. So as grumpy as you were, you had to endure getting washed and scrubbed down by a younger woman. And then was the check for mites, for ticks, for fleas, for anything that might be on your body. But you were clean, thank God. You had caught fleas before, and they tried to stick on you, even when you were human again.

And then back into the crate you were, all shiny and ready for people to come looking at you. You paced back and forth, waiting for Hank or for Charles or for anyone really to come looking for you. You would even have put up with Logan if it got you out of here. But an hour later, it turned out so much better than that.

The footsteps were familiar, for you listened for them every dinner at time. They were heavy, in their boots, unmistakable. You ran immediately for the front of the cage, sticking your paws out, trying to get his attention. You waved them in a way that the animal shelter woman found adorable, and cooed over, and recommended you to him. Colossus - otherwise known as Piotr Rasputin; and the man that you had a huge crush on and turned into a wreck around - stopped and crouched down in front of you. You did your best to look into his eyes and scream ‘it’s me, it’s me!’ You even purred, but that wasn’t entirely voluntary.

“Yes, I will take this one,” He said with a nod. The worker was very pleased, and once more, you thought that you were about to get your chance of freedom but she put you into a little carrier bag for Piotr to carry with his shoulder, like a purse. This one was even smaller than the cage, but at least you were able to lay down on the fluffy blanket inside.

Everything was bright when you were brought back out into the sunshine, and then dark as you were put into another van. The backseat this time. Piotr unzipped the bag and you walked out of it, settled on the seat, then turned back into your human self. Usually this meant that you were naked, but thanks to the special suits that Hank had made, it was able to work with your mutation so you were dressed in it as you stretched out to your human form. You stretched out your legs and then your arms.

“We should petition them to make their cages more comfortable. I think Charles would fund it, what do you think?” You asked to Storm, who was driving one of the school vans.

“I think we ought to microchip you,” She said, only somewhat amused. “Like a real pet. How did you end up at an animal shelter again?”

“I thought I was being clever and chasing down a lead,” You mumbled. “I knew I should have turned into a squirrel instead. Or even a cute little chipmunk, it’s the right season.”

“But you went with the cutest black kitty-cat that was going to get all of the attention?” Piotr questioned.

“When you say it like that, it does sound stupid...” You sighed, looking out the window. “You thought I was cute though?”

“All cats are cute,” Piotrr said with a smile. Well, wasn’t that just enough to make your heart melt, and imagine a cat being the flower-girl for your wedding. Oh what a union it would be.

“Next time, don’t get caught. I had lend Piotr a hundred dollars to adopt you,” Storm said, making you look at her in surprise.

“I’m worth a hundred dollars, that’s sweet,” You said with a smile. It was a nice thought, knowing that you were worth some cash. She gave you a look in the rearview mirror that told you she didn’t think that was all that cute. “Alright, I’ll pay you back Ororo, thanks.”

“I hear you go caught by the humane society,” Hank said as you entered his lab. You took a seat in one of his chairs, extra large to fit his big, furry frame, and started to spin.

“Yeah, but that’s not the best part,” You said, biting down on your lower lip.

“I don’t know, I’d say that’s pretty funny,” He said, chuckling, pushing his glasses back up onto his face. He was doing something with a microscope. Blood samples, probably. Your blood fascinated him in particular, because when it was taken while you were an animal, it would show as animal blood. Everything, down to your very inner cells, changed.

“Okay, it was a bit hilarious. Though very claustrophobic. We should do some protests about that by the way. It is not fun to be in one of those cages.”

“They weren’t built with human comfort in mind. But go on, please,” He twirled his finger at you, as he peered down at some slides.

“I was a cat, and they didn’t even give me a damn toy. I feel clean though. Anyways - the best part was that our dear Colossus-”

“Your dear Colossus,” Hank corrected but you continued on.

“- said that I was the cutest kitty-cat. I wonder if he meant that. I mean, I know I make a damn cute cat but I didn’t really think that he was a cat person.”

“Wow. Something you don’t know about him. Shocking,” Hank said, sounding completely sarcastic. You stopped your chair from spinning by putting your foot on the ground, then used it to kick him.

“Don’t make me turn into a bee and sting you. I know you’ve got sensitive skin under all that hair,” You threatened. Hank sighed, looked away from his microscope, and took off his glasses, tossing them on the desk.

“You’ve been like this for over a year now, y/n. Why not just talk to him? What’s the worse that could happen?” He questioned. You tapped your finger against your chin, your mind going through the possibilities.

“Rejection is a pretty bad thing. Oh, and laughter. If he laughs at me, I’m just going to be a penguin in the arctic. It’s going to take a lot of ice to get rid of that burn.”

“Look, you’re torturing yourself. You’re torturing me. I even started to dream of him,” Hank grumbled which made you start to laugh. He didn’t mind that. He was just glad you were able to smile after thinking about rejection. “So just ... go tell him how you feel? And if you chicken out, just turn into the cute cat he likes so much.”

You flew back and forth in front of Piotr’s room, turning into a hummingbird because of how fast, yet quiet, it was. You didn’t want him to hear any pacing footsteps as you thought of what you were going to say.

‘Okay, what about ... I thought I’d quit Stalin? No, that’s ridiculous. And probably offensive,’ you thought, flitting back and forth. A couple of other mutants walked past you, looked at the floating bird, then continued on their business. There was enough madness around here without them having to stick their nose in more. ‘Do I just go Russian in? No, no, that’s probably racist.’

Hank walked by, looking at some papers and not paying much attention to where he was going. Not until you flitted by his ear, anyway. He looked around, noticed where he was, then saw you and sighed. “You’re welcome,” He muttered, knocking on Piotr’s door, then rushed away, leaving you awestruck. You had just enough time to turn into your human self before the door opened, and Piotr stood there with only his track pants on, and no shirt. Hubba hubba.

“Hello, y/n,” He said with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. It might have something to do with just being a small bird, but you somehow felt very heavy as you stood there.

“H-Hi,” You said, smiling in return. “Do you think that we could maybe talk for a minute? I want to tell you something.”

“Yes, yes, come in,” He said, moving to the side. You took a couple of steps into his room and looked around. You never actually went in it before, though you’ve had the chance to turn into an insect and go through the ducts. He at least deserved his privacy. It smelled like him, you noticed. A bit like a gym. A tinge of sweat, of metal. “What do you need to say?”

You met his eye nervously. His eyebrows were lifted, anticipating whatever news you had for him. You put your hands behind your back, clasping them, trying to hide how sweaty your palms were getting.

“I just wanted to say...” You started, looking away from him. The pressure was mounting. You could feel your heart beating from your stomach. “Uhh.. thanks for picking me up from the animal shelter! Those cages sure were itty bitty.”

“You’re welcome,” Piotr said with a smile. He always made you feel so welcomed - which was why you were kicking yourself for actually saying the words ‘itty bitty’. “Is that all?”

“No, no, there’s something else. Something that I guess I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” You bounced on the balls of your feet, and shook out your palms, trying to get the sweat off. You looked up at the ceiling as if trying to find the answer to a difficult test. You really couldn’t look at Piotr. “Okay, so... I think you’re really hot.”

“Hot?” Piotr asked. You could imagine his face, that adorable little confused expression. No, don’t look damnit, that’ll get you even more tongue-tied.

“Oh yeah. You’re definitely a babe. And I might have had a thing for you for a while. And I wasn’t going to tell you about it but Hank told me that I should. I should have known better than to take his advice, I guess. For a scientist, he can be real dumb sometimes. And now we’re never going to work together because you know that. So good afternoon, good evening, goodnight and good life.”

“Wait, wait wait,” Piotr said, blocking the doorway before you could make a motion to move. He put his arm out, making an actual block, with it turning metal so you couldn’t bend it away. “You have a thing for me? A good thing?”

“I mean, I think it feels like a good thing but that doesn’t necessarily mean...” You rambled on. “Can you just let me go? I’m already a prisoner of embarrassment, don’t need to be one of you too.”

“You are not prisoner here, you are always welcome,” Piotr said, standing right in front of you so that you could not avoid looking at him. “I have a thing too.”

“Well, yeah, have you noticed that a lot of us mutants are really attractive? Like Ororo is stunning, and Kitty, and then you got-”

“You talk too much,” He said with a smirk. “I have a thing for you. When you’re you and when you’re cute little kitty-cat.”

“Hmmm,” You said, attempting to play it cool, but you knew your mouth wasn’t going to go along with that plan. “Does that mean you want to go out sometime with me? Not to the animal shelter because if you need cuddles, I’m your kitty-cat.”

Piotr let out a large laugh at that, his hand going to his stomach to hold himself together. “My kitty-cat, huh?”

“I can be an elephant too, we can see how strong you are if I step on you.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you like me too much,” He said, putting his metal arm around you. It wasn’t as heavy as you thought that it would be. He probably wasn’t putting much weight on you. You were a shifter, not a super-strengther. “Is it almost dinner time?”

“Not even close, but I could make us a late lunch?”

“We’ll make a date of it.” Piotr grinned. And there went your heart again, flipping and flopping as if it were shoes on a beach.

#Colossus #Colossus x reader #Colossus oneshot #XMen #XMen oneshot #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #piotrr

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