Feeling Somewhat Physically Ill Because I'll Never See The Mechanisms Live, Please Send Time Machines.

High Noon Over Camelot, Red Dead Redemption cross-over fanfic.

Life hack for Rdr2 fans!!! So you guys I just discovered this super cool thing called denial-

i dont think anyone participating is like a new fan or whatever. everything ive seen so far suggests that we're all sleeper agents who heard the trigger

WHY IS THERE AN IHNMAIMS RESURGENCE HAPPENING THIS IS SO FUNNY TO ME 💖💖💖

tim as oedipus in udad 🥰🥰🥰 hes looks so pathetic <3

the mechanisms: you now have an emotional attachment to these space lesbians

me: ok

the mechanisms: do you promise to love them

me: yes of course

the mechanisms: THE LESBIANS ARE NOW IN MORTAL PERIL

me: 😭

favorite mechanisms fandom gag is slapping "sp" onto the beginning of words to remind you that it's the SPACE version. 'spibuprofen' will never not make me lose my shit

ULYSSES DIES AT DAWN! AT LEAST, THAT’S THE WORD ON THE STREET FROM THOSE WHAT SAW WHAT WENT DOWN AT CALYPSO’S. NOW LISTEN UP, 'CAUSE WE’VE GOT A LABYRINTHINE TWISTED TASK OF A TALE TO TELL, AND IF YOU DON’T KEEP UP, YOU MIGHT GET LOST. FIRST, TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS ALL GOES DOWN, YOU’VE GOT TO KNOW A LITTLE ABOUT THE PLANET WE’RE TALKING OF. SEE, ON THIS PLANET, THERE WAS A CITY, GRIM OLD CITY, SORT OF PLACE THE RAIN BEATS DOWN LIKE COFFIN NAILS AND THE AIR WAFTS WITH THE CIGARETTE STENCH OF BETRAYAL. MY KIND OF TOWN. NOW THIS CITY, GRIM OLD CITY, IT STARTS TO GROW. AND WHEN IT MEETS WITH OTHER TOWNS, OTHER CITIES, IT TAKES THEM INTO ITSELF, ABSORBS THEM, UNTIL SOON ENOUGH THERE’S NO LAND LEFT, SO THE CITY SPREADS OUTWARDS INTO THE SEA, AND WHEN THERE’S NO SEA LEFT, THE CITY SPREADS UPWARDS INTO THE SKY, AND WHEN THERE IS NO SKY LEFT… IT BURROWS INWARDS. LIKE A CANCER INTO THE BOWELS OF THE PLANET. AND EVENTUALLY, THERE IS NOTHING BUT THE CITY. AND SO GENERATIONS LIVE AND GENERATIONS DIE IN THE WARRENS AND THE TUNNELS AND EVEN THE LOWER LEVELS OF THE SURFACE, AND THEY NEVER SEE THE SUN. AND IT’S IN ONE OF THE DEEPEST, MOST SECRET OF THESE TUNNELS WE MEET OUR HERO. GOES BY THE NAME OF ULYSSES. CURRENTLY BEATEN, BATTERED, BLOODY. UNBOWED. SPITS OUT A MOUTHFUL OF TEETH AND DISDAIN AND LOOKS UP TO SEE FOUR OF THE MEANEST BASTARDS OF THE MEANEST STREETS OF THE MEANEST PARTS OF THE CITY. ALL IMMACULATELY TURNED OUT IN PINSTRIPES. WE’LL CALL THEM THE SUITS. YOU MIGHT ASK HOW THINGS CAME TO SUCH A PASS—I KNOW ULYSSES IS. WELL, IT STARTED IN A BAR, AS THESE THINGS SO OFTEN DO. CALYPSO’S—A RUN DOWN OLD GIN JOINT, PAYS ITS MONEY TO DIONYSUS—OUR HERO SLUMPED OVER A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY, TRYING TO DROWN ENOUGH SORROWS TO CHOKE A HORSE. AND ONE HORSE IN PARTICULAR.

[ID: Two people. One of them has an arm wrapped around the other's shoulder and is shouting and gesturing. The other one stares off expressionless. End ID]

Trektober prompt day 8: Space Horror

I’m not above Trek camp. Give me stagnate skeletons and goofy props any day.

you may as well call me Jon Archivist because Martin Blackwood is the love of my fucking life