#empires smp fanfiction

[actualori]

wrote a little fanfic based off a headcanon discussed in the flower husbands discord

summary: scott and jimmy have known each other for years but have never seen each others faces. they both had been mandated to wear veils to cover them, up until today

content warnings: low self esteem and highly negative view on self image, slight panic attacks, and a lot of spiralling

Jimmy’s heart was about to pound right out of his chest. Today’s the day. He’s been waiting for this ever since he’d started dating Scott. The day that’s been carefully planned out by so many different people, none of which being him. The day that’ll determine the course of their relationship forever.

They could finally take their veils off.

Veils were significant in both their cultures. For Jimmy, it was a symbol of honesty. Lovers wore veils throughout their whole relationship to ensure their partner would fall in love with them for who they are, and not how they look. For Scott, it was a symbol of purity. Elves are highly religious, and most forms of intimacy early in a relationship are strictly forbidden. Ancient priests had mandated veils to try and prevent it. Much to their dismay, the procedure was ineffective and as a result, the veils became optional, save for royalty.

(Rumour has it that their beauty is so unreal it’s terrifying. Scott had just laughed when Jimmy brought that up.)

So here Jimmy was, sitting anxiously on a chair waiting for his lover, having no idea what to expect. Scott had tried and failed to describe his face to Jimmy countless times before, every painting he’d seen of the elf looked different than the last, and all witnesses of his beauty could only claim his beauty was extraordinary and unmatched.

Jimmy shot up at the knock from the door. He adjusted his veil, strode over to the door, and swung it open. Scott stood on the other side, anxiously wringing his hands together. At least Jimmy wasn’t the only one nervous.

“Are you ready?” Scott asked after what felt like years of awkward silence.

Jimmy nodded and stepped back, allowing Scott to enter the room.

“Where do you want to be?” Scott asked.

Not trusting his voice to be steady when he spoke, Jimmy pointed to his bed. They settled on Jimmy’s bed, with Scott kneeling at the end and Jimmy squished into the pillows. He ran his fingers along the smooth sheets to ground himself and took a deep breath.

“We don’t have to do this,” Scott whispered, sensing Jimmy’s anxiety.

Yes, they do. They have to do this today. Jimmy wishes they didn’t- the thought of showing anyone his face makes him want to vomit. But he can’t say no, he’s not allowed to refuse. And even then, Scott’s been looking forward to this day for their entire relationship. Jimmy couldn’t rob him of this.

And there’s some small part of him that aches for this, just as much as Scott.

“No no,” Jimmy lied, shaking his head. “I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Do you want me to go first?” Scott asked slowly, taking Jimmy’s hand and rubbing his thumb along his scales.

“Please,” Jimmy whispered, barely audible.

After taking a deep breath of his own, Scott let go of Jimmy’s hand and brought it up to his veil.

Jimmy watched, entranced as Scott’s perfectly manicured hands unpinned the veil from his clothes. His breath hitched as the fingers disappeared under the white cloth. And in what felt like slow motion, the veil slipped off Scott’s face.

Scott is beautiful. Gorgeous. The rumors were correct. This was a type of beauty no painting could ever translate and no words could describe. Ice blue eyes gazed into Jimmy’s brown and plump pink lips turned up in a nervous smile. Pale skin and rosy cheeks matched his delicate hands, that clutched the discarded veil. Jimmy knew he was gawking but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover's face.

A cold realization flooded Jimmy’s body. How on earth could Jimmy compare to that? Scott was a literal goddess on Earth and Jimmy was, well, a fish. Cod weren’t known for many things, and beauty definitely wasn’t one. Even then, Jimmy looked a lot more fish-like than the other Cod, something he’d always been insecure about, and wearing a veil effectively hid it away.

His eyes were wide and far apart with a small smooth nose between them. His lips were thin and his mouth was wide. Hundreds of green and brown scales covered his cheeks and forehead, save for the small space reserved for his gills.

Nothing about that anybody had seen as beautiful.

“Are you okay?” Scott murmured, reaching over to hold Jimmy’s hand again.

“You’re beautiful,” Was all Jimmy could muster for a response.

Scott laughed softly. “That’s what I’ve been told. Are you okay with taking off yours now?”

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his racing heart. After a minute of shallow breaths, he nodded his head.

It felt so surreal watching his free hand lift up to his face. He felt detached from his body as his fingers unclasped the veil. There was no chance Scott would love him after this. He deserved someone much better. Glancing up, Jimmy saw Scott’s soft and understanding smile.

Well, it's better to get dumped now than later.

Mustering up all the strength he could, Jimmy ripped the veil off his face. A surprised gasp was heard from across the bed. Jimmy stared hard at the intricate blankets, convinced this was the last he’d see them. This was probably the last time he’d see any of this room, palace, or any of Rivendell.

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks. It was over. A whole year, the best year of his life, gone. The constant love and affection he’d received, now surely about to be taken away.

“Jimmy? What’s wrong?” Scott asked worried, his voice barely reaching Jimmy’s ears.

He is ugly. He is so ugly. He’s hideous and Scott is gorgeous and doesn’t deserve someone so atrocious.

The tears escalated into sobs. Jimmy’s hands ripped out of Scott's, earning a cry of concern. Shudders wracked through his whole body and he curled into a ball. This was a bad idea. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think this would ever work?

Cold hands reached into his cocoon of despair and were immediately swatted away. Scott’s panicked shouts sounded from a million miles away.

It was over it was over it was-

Comforting arms wrapped around him. Jimmy’s sobs paused as his body was pulled into his lover's lap, kept in a secure embrace.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispered into Jimmy’s hair “Why are you crying?”

Scott’s voice was gentle and sympathetic. Shouldn’t he be yelling at Jimmy? Shouldn’t he be insulting and berating him? This didn’t make any sense.

Jimmy dared to look up and was met with a face full of worry and fear.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m ugly,” Was all Jimmy could say.

Concern morphed into confusion as Scott glanced over Jimmy’s face.

“Ugly?”

Jimmy nodded. “You’re so pretty and I’m not and now you’re going to leave me forever.”

To Jimmy’s surprise, a soft laugh sounded from his lover.

“Petal,” Scott smiled “My beauty is rotten compared to yours.”

What?

Jimmy shifted in Scott’s lap and faced him properly.

“You really think so?” He whispered in disbelief.

“I know so,” Scott replied, pressing his forehead against Jimmy’s. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Why would I ever think otherwise?”

“Because… I look… weird?” Jimmy guessed

Giggles erupted from Scott. “So? I would never leave you for looking weird.”

Embarrassment crept through Jimmy, turning his face red. He groaned and flopped his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“I feel silly now,” Jimmy said, muffled in the fabric.

Scott hummed, reaching up to card his fingers through Jimmy’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered, shifting his head to face Scott. “I was scared to take off my veil because I thought that you were going to hate me for being ugly. I overreacted a lot and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you for the apology,” Scott cupped Jimmy’s face in his hands. “I promise I will never hate you for how you look. And I’m sorry for pressuring you to do this with me.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jimmy sniffled, “I feel a lot better about myself now.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Scott murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to Jimmy’s head. “Do you want to put your veil back on?”

“No. I’m okay now.”

“If you change your mind I promise I won’t judge you.”

Jimmy wiped his eyes and sighed. “I love you petal.”

“I love you too.”

[daisy-mooon]

Portraiture;

Portraits of the Emperors, and what those portraits mean to them.

Portrait Three - Lizzie

Lizzie is older than written history itself. Granted, she spent hundreds of those years, maybe even millennia, at the bottom of the ocean, but that doesn't change the fact that she is irreversibly and unforgettably old. 

They have archoelogists at the Crystal Cliffs, a whole array of wizards and not-wizards combing through libraries and ruins. Many things changed throughout the ancient histories of the land, things she knows from living through them and things she knows from reading the papers the Cliffs are always publishing. With such frantic enthusiasm, too. They ask her for clarification on Oceanic events, and she happily provides them. Lizzie is cited on thousands of journals and books, from anything from history to language to religion and mythology and magic and even biology, although that required a lot of weird poking on Gem's part. 

But... 

Her throat catches a little as she stares at the research that Gem is presenting too her. Or rather, the fresco.

A fresco that, with a little help from an ingenious magical theft from millennia go, went from ancient Pixandria to the primitive-Codlands to Mythland occupied Gilded Helianthia, then all the way into the heart of the modern Crystal Cliffs. She is sitting at one side, and on the other is Jimmy. Both of them are children. And in the middle of them both is... their mother.

Their mother died before they were born. Lizzie swallows. Hard. She supposes that the ancient worshippers who made this fresco- Gem tells her that they were a primitive but artistic and extensive civilisation on the shores of the Pixandrian desert- did not know that her mother was dead when they painted this. But then Gem is telling her something different-

"It was painted based on a prophecy, we think," Gem says, awe flooding every depth and tone of her voice. "Isn't it incredible? They were able to capture such a likeness of you and Jimmy before the two of you were even born!"

Lizzie stares at it. Her mother's artistic, horrifically monstrous form stares back. She's never thought about what her mother looked like- she's always been focused more on the fact that her mother was dead, her titanic godly form picked apart by sea creatures before she hatched. But she now realises that this is the only realistic recreation of her mother she has ever seen, not the flimsy carvings and sculptures that were clearly based on muses. And it is too damaged to know what her face looked like.

On the way home, it occurs to Lizzie that she has never, not once, had an official portrait made of herself. Oh, she's had portraits and paintings and frescos and mosaics and sculptures, half of which are accredited to Joel. But there are other artworks of her, who aren't as careful and adoring as Joel, and she begins to feel the overwhelming seep of panic that one day she might end up like her mother, reduced to artistic fragments and nothing else-

"Would you like to make an official painting of me?" Lizzie asks Joel tentatively. 

It is the dead of Mezalean night when she asks this, and they are both awake. Joel blinks at her. He looks adorable like this, his pyjamas crumpled and hair smushed and eyes only half open. He's still half asleep, bless him.

"Already have," he hums, and then promptly curls up next to her and falls right back asleep. He's snoring before she can even count to five.

The next day, when he is actually awake, she asks him again. Joel says yes in a heartbeat, and then hesitates. He asks how large he can make it. Lizzie hesitates, because whilst she loves seeing Joel go nuts in his artwork, she would also like an official portrait to be a little, well, official, so she says big but not too big, symbolic but not too ladened with symbolism, creative but-

Joel has her stand in one of the collonaded towers that overlooks the ocean, and begins his painting. The canvas is portable (thank the gods, thank her Mother, actually) but still huge and large enough that he needs a stool to paint the top. What on Earth is he going to do with it?

Lizzie doesn't really need to stand for as long as she does, Joel tells her. He's painted and sculpted her face so many times that he could paint her face with his eyes closed. Her heart flutters a little at that, but she stands anyway, just so that he can get the shadows right, and then longer so he can get the fabric right, and then a little longer because she loves to see him work. The way his eyebrows furrow. The way he takes in each and every detail and recreates them with such mastery-

The finished product is... a masterpiece. Painted Lizzie is the exact height as Lizzie herself, wearing the exact clothing of that day. She is depicted in glory, standing over the magnificent ocean ("To signify how much you rule," Joel informs her) staring head-on into the viewer's eyes. Even the tiniest, tiniest details have been reproduced - a tiny flicker in her iris, the refraction of light off the carvings of the quartz floors, the tiny crinkle of her lip that she'd been unable to hold back as she watched him. She isn't the Ocean Queen, isn't the demi-god of the ocean, she's Lizzie.

No, it is almost scary how lifelike it is. Lizzie's breath is stolen in a heartbeat.

"Don't touch it!" Joel shrieks as she almost pokes her finger at it. She grins at him sheepishly. He starts to whine "It's oil paint- and the good oil paint too. The not-magic but crazy oil paints. Best I have. And I prepped the canvas with egg yolk too, so it's kind of-

Lizzie leans forward and kisses him. He kisses back. When he pulls away for hair, gasping, cheeks flushed, she kisses him all over - forehead, cheeks, nose, hairline-

"I love you," she whispers. The painting seems to ripple in the corner of her eye. She only has eyes for the artist.

-

Historians note: Ocean Queen Lizzie, prima et novissima (first and last) might be one of the oldest beings to ever exist. The first reference to her is in the prophecy of the blue axolotl, which is believed to have existed in oral tradition for millennia before any of the primitive cultures from the archaic-era. The first known image of her is The Goddess and Her Spawn a badly damaged fresco dating from dozens of thousands of years before the golden age and end of her reign, depicting her sitting next to her Mother, the ancient goddess of Old Deep Fear, and her brother, Codfather Jimmy, ruler of the Codlands prima et novissima (first and last). It was likely made by the first civilisations of the primitive, coast-dwelling pre-Pixandrians. 

During her millennia-long reign (historians are unsure as to when her reign began, although it ended at the Rapture), the Ocean Queen had hundreds of thousands of artworks of her produced. Although her birth and ascendancy remain unclear, for this reason, she is the most well-documented being to ever exist. A substantial chunk of this artwork was produced by her husband, the Mad King Joel, (referred to as Joel of Mezalea by himself in his artistic depictions), and thus is extremely lifelike. The best-known painting of the Ocean Queen is uncreatively but accurately titled Official Portrait of Ocean Queen Lizzie by Her Husband, Joel of Mezalea. Despite her millennia-long reign over the Ocean Empire, the Ocean Queen only ever had one lover, Joel of Mezalea, who is the only artist to produce an "official" painting of her. Some minor damage was sustained after the Ocean Queens disappearance post-Rapture when the Mad King tried to burn it, but he reportedly "broke down in such a storm of tears that the palace flooded the warm mesa air became cold, and the hard clay and sand became grass and dirt. All fires were put out, and no fire would burn for a hundred years. The water never left." Although this is a dramatised account, the painting remains undamaged other than a singular, tiny burn in one corner, and some historians theorise that the Evermoor was situated on geologically altered borders of Mezalea.

Unlike a variety of pre-raptures which were rediscovered, this painting has been circulating the post-Rapture art world for millennia. It now sits in Kruoma National Museum alongside a large collection of Oceanic, Codish and Mezalean art. 

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

I do believe I am owed something/silly

Flower husbands with Jimmy being an adorable golden retriever and Scott just admiring his idiot boyfriend (I need more fluff and all my friends like is angst)

-@emtheforeverdm

Sorry that this took a while (I've never written any fics about these two before despite reading plenty of fics + I'm usually better at angst than fluff), but here you go! Ficlet is under the cut.

[Click here to read this ficlet on AO3 with additional commentary] (Also, OP, if you have an AO3 account, do you mind replying so that I can properly gift it to you in my cross-post?)

And considering I couldn't have nice things in the @mcytblingsbracket (my brothers in piracy lost out last round and would have had to go up against my other beloveds if they did win last round), NETTY AND STAMPY SWEEP!

"Petal, what's the Mangrovian word for pri-tze-ma again?"

"Jimmy–" Scott held back a chuckle. He just couldn't — not when those earnest brown eyes were staring into his own, halfway through a picnic of berry and honey cakes and Codlandic sugarcane juice in the little mountain cave he had built and decorated for them.

He couldn't say that his own Oceanic proficiency was great, especially since he hadn't used it much in the past several decades until very recently, but it was kind of obvious to trace the origins of the word 'prismarine' back to where the stone was harvested. "Can you say that again?"

"What's the Mangrovian word for pri-tze-ma– oh my gosh…"

[my-adhd-gremlin-blog]

JimmyVillainArcJimmyVillainArcJimmyVillain-

I wrote a fic.

It's my time to shine, folks. Nothing makes me happier than to write a bit of angst, and Jimmy's last episode was fuel for my angst fire 🤣.

I think it was in a stream that he said he wanted to fix the gunpowder farm so that he could "blow up the other empires", and you know I just took that and ran with it.

As much as I love Jimmy, though, he's a soggy biscuit and I don't know how well he could pull of a villain arc, so I'm manifesting with this fic, basically🤣.

(I don't usually write fanfiction, let alone share it, it isn't really my style, but Jimmy's villain arc has so much potential for angst that I had to give it a go. It's also been so long since I've been this invested in a fandom, so I actually had fun writing this. Enjoy 😁).

Edit: Whoops! I forgot to put cw: character death/suicide (in the Minecraft sense; they respawn)

____________________________________________

The tiny, mechanical heart thuds in Jimmy's chest as he rises from his bed in Tumble Town. Gem, the pacifist princess, murdered him in cold blood. What made Jimmy a target? Why were they out to get him? Straightening his hat, Sheriff Jimmy set out across the mesa, heading toward the gunpowder farm that they all so loved to tease him for. As per usual, pickings were slim. No matter, he thought, as that was about to change. Even if it took all night, Jim would get what he needed. Enough was enough; it was time to make everyone pay for making him feel so small.

It's game time.

•

Stratos was first. He and the god may have reconciled, but Jimmy hadn't forgotten who made him this way to begin with. No one was safe, not anymore. If he wanted to prove his point, the whole world had to suffer. It was a sunny morning when the Sheriff decided to pop in to visit God Joel. Early rise, just like he was taught. Joel wasn't alone; the goblin and that traitorous princess were with him, making trade deals and small talk. From the sky, they looked like good friends, catching up on the week's events. Friends. The word left a bitter taste in Jimmy's mouth as he soared lower and lower, just catching the end of Joel's conversation with Gem.

   "...dropped Hermes off with Daddy Sausage in Sanctuary last night. They've started asking questions about where babies come from, little tyke."

Gem laughed delicately. When Jimmy landed, no one payed him any attention. He cleared his throat, and the others looked around, unable to identify the source of the noise. Fwhip spotted him first.

"Oh, hey, little fella," he said, too brightly for Jimmy's liking. He crouched down to the toy Sheriff's level, and continued, "What brings you out of Trouble Town today?"

Jimmy said nothing. He just stood there, staring down the people who he once so desperately sought the approval of, feeling nothing at all. Fwhip stepped back, rising back to his full height. He was smirking like nothing was wrong, but when Jimmy was through with them, no one will be laughing.

"I think the Sheriff has gone shy. What's the matter, Jim, all tuckered out from playing with Andy?"

Joel chuckled. "Be careful, Fwhip. You don't want to be on the receiving end of Jimmy's short temper."

"Come on, guys, leave him alone," protested Gem. "It's a long journey to Stratos for a guy so small."

Still, Jimmy did not speak. Instead, he smiled. A smile that the others did not recognise. It was not his usual bright and toothy grin. This smile was cold and emotionless. It did not reach his eyes, and looked completely wrong on his face. The others' face changed, too. Gone was the playfulness, replaced with worry, and just a hint of fear.

"Uh... Jim? You doing alright, buddy?" Joel asked nervously.

"You know we're only teasing you, right?" Gem added.

"Yeah, it's just a joke, pal," said Fwhip.

Jimmy sighed. "That's your problem. You think this is all a joke. You think I'm a joke." His voice was rough and gravelly. It cracked from unshed tears. But Jimmy was not going to cry in front of them. He had too much left to say.

Turning to speak directly to Joel, he said, "You ruined my life, and you laughed. Again and again, you've humiliated me. You gave my son away!" Jimmy bowed his head, and took a deep breath. "All I wanted was respect, for someone to see me for me, not this twisted version of me that you turned me into. I wanted someone to stay." He looked at Fwhip as he spoke that last sentence, but he was thinking about Scar. The man who saw passed the stitches and stuffing, who saw the potential in him and his humble Empire. The world felt a little less lonely when Scar was around, but even he chose to leave him. No one wanted to stay with him, not even his rancher, his Tango.

If the world didn't want him, then he would watch it burn. "I'm so tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes. But I'll be the one having the last laugh. Stratos is rigged to blow."

The other leaders were rendered speechless. This was not the Sheriff they had gotten used to walking all over.

"What do you mean, 'blow'?" Joel asked, slowly.

Jimmy laughed lightly. "So glad you asked, poser. You're all familiar with the Tumble Town gunpowder farm? Well, you should be, you've mocked me for it enough times. That 'pathetic farm' has been working overtime, and has produced me enough TNT that when I light it up, this sham of an Empire will be blasted right out of the sky. If I'm lucky, Chromia will be taken as collateral damage."

The god, usually so strong and unshakeable, looked terrified. He dropped to his knees, and began to plead with the monster he'd created.

"Jimmy, please. I thought we were friends, don't do this. There are innocent people down there."

"Do you really think I care? Did you care about anything you put me through? No, I don't think so. Man, if they could see their god now. Trembling before a toy."

Jimmy pushed back his vest, revealing the stick of dynamite in his holster. He lit his flint and steel, touching it to the fuse. It began to spark immediately.

"I'm not a toy, Joel. Do you hear me? Are you all listening?! I - AM - NOT - A - TOY!"

Each word was laced with venom, and by the time Jim had finished speaking, the fuse had burnt out.

Smallishbeans was blown up by SolidarityGaming

fWhip was blown up by SolidarityGaming

GeminiTay was blown up by SolidarityGaming

SolidarityGaming blew up.

•

That tiny, mechanical heart began to beat again. Jimmy sat up in his bed, satisfaction growing as his actions truly began to sink in with the others.

Stratos was gone, and Tumble Town was as quiet as the grave. Its residents were long gone, not knowing what had become of their Sheriff. Not knowing how damaged he truly was.

Joel would be waking up at spawn by now, scrambling to salvage what was left of his Empire. The goblin and the princess would try to help, but there would be nothing left to save.

One down, eleven to go, Jimmy thought. I think Gobland will be next.

____________________________________________

(Notes: I felt like I had to note that Hermes was not in Stratos while this happened. No demigod children were harmed in the making of this fic 🤣. Also, I don't really know what kind of toy I imagine Jimmy as. I guess something similar to Woody, but if he was human before and was turned into a toy, there has to be working organs in there, right? So I imagined his heart as like, a tiny ticking clock, just in case that wasn't clear. Thanks for reading.)

[muuum-am-i-adohhhpted]

Let Me Be Your Light (Empires SMP)

Summary: Twin orphans, Gem and fWhip, are the newest hires at Circo de Fantasia, a travelling circus filled with performers who have various magical abilities. However, the Mad King has been following the circus around for decades to steal the powers of various performers to take for himself. Recently, fWhip has been the most recent victim. Gem, who was born without powers and who only joined the circus to be with her brother, consoles fWhip while also realizing she may be integral to defeating the Mad King and getting everyone's abilities back.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 6797

Thank you to @mcytblraufest for hosting the event! Also absolutely huge shout-outs to my incredible artists @yoshiintheweb (art link)and @pidgedee (art here)!! The pieces look amazing!

~~~

Chapter 1

The Circo de Fantasia was a whirl of activity an hour before sundown—the time when the circus would officially open to the random city they had chosen. They were planning to stay for a week; it gave people living outside city limits time to travel to see the circus, but not too long that the performers got restless.

Multi-coloured striped tents littered the flat plot of land in organized chaos. The red-and-white big top, where the trapeze and tightrope apparatuses were set up, sat in the heart of the circus; all paths ended up there.

Gem hefted up her box of popcorn kernels further up her hip to keep it from slipping. She was heading in the opposite direction of the big top, towards the front entrance where the snack tent stood. Katherine, the strong woman, passed by with two large metal poles balanced on her shoulders like double fishing rods.

The snack tent was hard to miss. It was built to catch the eyes of anybody who passed through the main gates. The glass display was already filled with cookies, cupcakes, cotton candy, and slices of cake of all kinds of flavours. The choices were so vast that options had to be switched in and out on different days of the circus. Tonight there were oatmeal cookies, strawberry cupcakes, blueberry cotton candy, and carrot cake. The latter Gem had to be careful with—she was allergic to carrots.

There were other more exotic treats baked by the witch, Shelby: gum that, once chewed, made the consumer’s tongue a random, glowing colour; ice cream that made steam come out of a person’s ears and nose, the cone able to act like a goat horn to make various loud noises; and brownies that caused the person’s hair to float as if there were no gravity.

As Gem was putting the box of kernels away in the back as extra, Sausage appeared at the other end of the display case, Mittens the large boa constrictor twirling around his neck. The ostrich named Pippy was to his left.

Mittens let out a hiss, her tongue flicking out. Her triangular head bobbed in Gem’s direction.

“Mittens says you should check on fWhip,” Sausage translated, pursing his lips. Then, after a pause, “Tell him that, if he wants, he can help me out with my acts. I could always use more hands.”

“Thanks.” Gem gave a curt nod as Sausage continued on his way. She finished straightening out the snack tent before heading in the direction of the personal tents, way in the back of the circus.

The personal tents were much smaller and made of black material as they only had to house a bed, a dresser, and maybe a couple pieces of belongings. fWhip’s tent was right next to her own.

“fWhip,” she called out to her brother as she stood just outside his tent. “Can I come in?”

There was a muffled grunt from the other side that Gem took to be a “yes,” and so she entered.

The tent was sparsely decorated, which was to be expected. She and fWhip had only arrived at the circus two months prior, a little after their fourteenth birthdays, and they had been orphans living on the street. Not many personal belongings to spruce up the tent with. Gem’s only possession was a family picture of herself, fWhip, and their parents from Before.

fWhip himself was curled up in his bed, his red hair pointing in all directions. His face wasn’t nearly as pale as it had been a week ago at their last city, so Gem supposed that was one positive. Still, fWhip had been unusually quiet on their trip here. Gem couldn’t really blame him though—he was going through a lot.

“How are you feeling?” Gem asked quietly, sitting at the end of fWhip’s bed.

fWhip grunted again and dug his head into his pillow even more. He had mostly stayed in bed all day and the Ringmaster allowed it, saying that fWhip was grieving and needed a little more time to get back on his feet.

“Sausage told me that you could help him during his acts,” Gem said. “I know you like helping him care for the boars.” She tried to keep her voice as soothing as possible.

fWhip rolled over onto his back and his eyebrows were drawn down. “I don’t want another act,” he snapped. “I want my own one back.”

“Well, sleight of hand—”

fWhip grimaced. “I do not do sleight of hand—I mean did.” He stumbled over his words, the past tense clearly paining him to say. “There ought to be a way to get my magic back.”

Gem decided not to engage with more talk about the Mad King. Instead, she pivoted. “Just look at everybody who's lost their powers. Katherine might not be inhumanly strong anymore, but she’s worked out so much that she can still lift more than the average person can. False used to be able to fly, but now she does the trapeze. Jimmy could adjust his height at will, now he’s our contortionist.”

“But that’s the thing,” fWhip said. “Everyone already had those talents before the Mad King stole their powers. Katherine consistently exercised even when she could single handedly lift an elephant, False already swung around the forest like a monkey, Jimmy’s limbs were always freakishly flexible. Martyn didn’t grow up afraid of fire, so he can do non-magical fire acts. And Joel didn’t have to change much out of his act—just had to go on a tightrope without electricity pulsing through the rope.”

Gem had been wracking her head for an exception then finally landed on one. “Joey! He used to be able to control water and now he throws knives.”

“I don’t want to learn a new skill. I want my old one back.” fWhip finally sat up and he frowned, his eyes blazing. “You don’t understand, Gem. The magic that was inside of me, it was always there ever since I was born. I could always replace things with other objects, could always pull a pen out of someone’s pockets, put a coin in someone else’s. And now it’s just gone. You don’t have powers so you don’t understand.”

Gem blinked rapidly, not expecting her brother’s words to hurt as much as they did. Her lack of powers had been something she’d grappled with when their parents had still been alive; fWhip could do literal magic, she couldn’t. As they got older, the difference hurt less and less. Regardless, the bruise was still there.

Gem’s hands turned to fists in her skirts and she rapidly stood up. “Fine. I’ll just leave then. I’m trying to be nice and offer you some ideas on other acts you can do without your magic. And sure, I might not understand what it’s like to lose your powers, but I sure do understand what it’s like to be powerless.” Her nose crinkled as she grimaced. She yanked open the flap of fWhip’s tent. “It’s not so bad, you know, but you make it seem like the Mad King stole your life rather than your magic.”

Gem stomped away.

Chapter 2

By the time Gem changed out of her regular clothes and into her wizard’s costume (it was Circo de Fantasia; fantasy was in their name and the Ringmaster took it very seriously), the circus was about to open.

Above, dark clouds threatened to rain. Gem hoped it would hold off, at least until the end of the circus. However, despite the lack of natural light from the moon, the circus was properly lit up. Fire torches and electric lamps and fairy lights decorated the paths and tents. There was no shadowy area within the circus grounds, not even among the personal tents—especially among the personal tents.

Even though everything was well-lit (probably too lit for a night-time circus), Gem was still on edge. What if the Mad King found them again? Although he usually showed up one every two or three cities, the Ringmaster said the king was becoming more powerful due to all the magic he was stealing from people.

Scott, who was able to see a person’s magical aura due to his magical eye, said he could feel the power radiating from the King. When the Mad King had arrived last, stealing fWhip’s power, Scott had said the king’s flame burned bright and large—unnaturally strong. When Gem had questioned Scott about this when she’d just arrived at the circus, she’d asked him how it had all worked.

“It’s as if everyone has a candle inside them,” Scott had replied, looking at her with his blue eye and yellow crystal one. It had creeped her out at first; his yellow eye reminded her of a cat’s. Now, Gem was pretty used to his heterochromia. “Most people have regular flames. You know, tiny drops of fire that flicker every so often. However, others have a brighter flame, more immoveable. It’s hard to describe the difference, but those are the people with magical abilities. Those who have these abilities can train to make their fire within them stronger, but there’s a natural stopping point when it can’t get any bigger or more radiant.” Scott had shrugged.

Martyn, who had been previously rocking in his rocking chair, spoke up. His grey hair poked around his cowboy hat. He was the oldest performer at the circus by a long shot and his wrinkles grew deeper as he smiled. “Not me, though.”

“No, not Martyn,” Scott admitted. “Martyn used to be able to create and wield fire. But fire is alive and has a mind of its own. Without care, it can catch and grow out of hand. It actively fights against anything or anybody trying to control it. And, because of that, Martyn’s inner flame was much weaker since a part of his magic was fighting against the nature of fire.”

Martyn had laughed. “Now I just have to be extra careful when wielding fire; I’m not automatically fireproof nor can I douse fire with my mind!”

Returning back to the present, Gem sighed as she put in a bunch of popcorn kernels into the bright red popcorn machine behind the display of foods. Already, popcorn smell was wafting around the tent, all thanks to Shelby’s popcorn-smelling potion being released around the circus’ grounds.

The light jingle of bells announced Oli’s arrival, wearing a multi-coloured jester hat decorated with mini bells. His ukulele (dressed as a lute) was strung behind his back and multiple other instruments were hanging off his person. Trailing behind him was seven-year-old Hermes on a unicycle and wearing a similar court jester’s outfit.

“Gem!” Oli greeted with a kind smile and wave. He was a year older than Gem and that probably was one of the reasons why they got along well. “Ready for another night?”

“Of course,” Gem smiled, just as the popcorn began popping. She poured out a small cup and gave it to Hermes who took it eagerly.

Oli then became a little more serious. “And how’s fWhip doing?”

Pursing her lips, Gem responded, “Not exactly well. He’s missing his powers quite a bit. Lashing out.” She decided not to get into the details and what exact words were said.

“Dad was angry when the Mad King stole his powers,” Hermes said. “He tried to hide it from me, but I could tell it really upset him that he couldn’t do his usual tricks on the tightrope. He couldn’t clear the storms that could close the circus for the night.” The young boy frowned. “He’s happier now, I think.”

Oli patted Hermes on the back before pulling his ukulele around. He strummed out a chord and hummed along with it. He began picking at the strings, creating lyrics on the spot. Something about losing a part of yourself and never really being the same afterwards.

Tears pricked in the corner of Gem’s eyes and she sniffed violently to stop them from falling. She swatted Oli’s hat. “Stop that! You’re going to make everyone who steps inside the circus burst into tears.”

Oli placed his hands along the four strings of the ukulele to stop their vibrations before starting up a new song, much more upbeat than the last. A grin spread on Gem’s face as she felt the tune raise her spirits, joy rushing through her body.

“I wish the emotions you created stayed after you stopped your music,” Gem said with a sigh. fWhip could use some happiness in his life right now, even if it was fabricated and would evaporate as soon as Oli stopped singing or playing.

Oli shrugged, just as the first people entered the circus. “I’m only really good at temporarily changing emotions. It wouldn’t be healthy if it was permanent.”

“You’re probably right,” Gem said, readying her hands to fill bags of popcorn and hand out food for most of the night.

It wasn’t too bad, really. She liked seeing the people who entered the circus and, on the nights where they were opened multiple times in a single city, she enjoyed recognizing the people who came again and again.

People of all ages walked through the gate. A lot of the people entered were families with younger children, but older folks and adult couples oftentimes came too.

And it wasn’t as if Gem would be behind the snack tent forever. False was teaching her some trapeze moves and soon they could be a double act, flinging each other around in the sky. Gem wasn’t quite there yet, but it was exciting having future plans that weren’t just popcorn girl.

Abruptly, every light and flame in the circus went out. A dark fog appeared, making it so that the city’s light pollution was completely gone as well. There was only blackness. The brownie in Gem’s hand she was about to give to a child dropped to the ground.

Gem’s knees went weak and her mind began to race. Somewhere nearby, a kid began crying. Gem’s heart thumped, suddenly thrown back into her childhood where monsters lived in her closet and under the bed, and she had to sleep with a little light plugged in to ward away anything evil.

Panicking, she felt around until she was out of the snack tent. Light, she needed light. Blood was rushing in her ears and Gem began to run, hands out in front of her. She knew it was dangerous, that she could possibly run into someone or even a pole holding up a tent, but Gem couldn’t think straight; the only thing repeating in her mind was light. She was a moth frantically searching for a lamp.

Heat built up inside of her chest and Gem fell to her knees, gripping at her heart. Pain burned through her body, tears forcing their way out of her eyes. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Was she going to die here, in the unnatural darkness? Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright burst of golden light and Gem passed out.

Chapter 3

When Gem opened her eyes, fWhip was peering down at her, his nose practically touching her own.

She jumped, nearly smacking heads with her brother in the process. “fWhip!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly hoarse.

fWhip stood back, slightly sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Gem realized they were in her tent. “I wanted to see if you were still breathing.”

Gem squinted around the tent, in search of her clock. She finally found it, the hands telling her it was early morning. “What—what happened?” she asked. She remembered the darkness, the fear, and then the bright light.

There were footsteps outside her tent. “May Scott and I come in?” the Ringmaster said. “I can answer a few of your questions.”

“Sure,” Gem said, and waited until the Ringmaster and Scott entered.

“Are you feeling better?” the Ringmaster asked.

“Tell me what happened, please,” Gem said.

The Ringmaster sighed. “The Mad King has clearly grown stronger. He must have planned for a mass theft of magic last night. Douse all lights, steal the rest of our magic.” The Ringmaster worried his bottom lip and dark circles ran under his eyes.

Gem remembered her and fWhip’s first time at Circo de Fantasia, listening intently when the Ringmaster explained the circus’ purpose: to be a safe haven to those possessing magic.

“While having multiple magic wielders in the same space might not be ideal, the circus keeps us up at night, when the Mad King is the strongest,” the Ringmaster had told them.

“How does he find them?” Gem had asked. “How does he know who to steal from and who not to?”

The Ringmaster hadn’t said anything for a long moment. His eyes had gone far off, to a place Gem didn’t know, before finally responding by saying, “A type of hunting. Watching for inhuman abilities. Our witch, Shelby, casts a protective spell that follows the circus around and lasts a varying amount of time. She never knows when it fades away and, while she does try to reinforce it, the magic drains her a fair amount.”

Gem had furrowed her eyebrows, finding a rather large hole in the Ringmaster’s plan. “Then why are you placing yourselves all together? The Mad King has all of you in one place.”

“The Mad King steals powers easiest when his victim is asleep or unconscious—the magic flows freely then. In a circus, we’re up the whole night. Not only that, but he’s the most powerful at night when he can travel and manipulate the shadows. By day, we’re asleep and under Shelby’s magical protection.”

This conversation ran through Gem’s mind as she stared at the Ringmaster. Her eyes travelled over to Scott for a split second who was looking at her strangely and then to her brother who seemed to have decided that they were on good terms once again, their argument on the previous night forgotten.

“Okay, and? What was the bright light?”

“You,” Scott said, his eyes fixated on Gem. “Your candle’s flame is stronger. It doesn't flicker like it used to.”

Gem and fWhip instantly met each other’s gazes before Gem broke away to look at Scott. “Wait, what? Does that mean I unlocked a magical ability? Is that even possible?” The world spun; she felt like her tent was a ship’s cabin and she was seasick.

“Her power is light?” fWhip exclaimed, and Gem could hear hints of jealousy and awe in his voice.

The Ringmaster glanced over at fWhip and shook his head slowly. “Not just light. The sun.”

At this, Gem chuckled a little. “The sun?” she repeated. “It was nighttime when the bright light occurred. The sun had been down for hours.”

“The moon only shines because the sun’s rays reflect off of it,” the Ringmaster said.

Scott’s blue eye was frantic as he said, “you could be the key to defeating the Mad King. His original power is darkness and shadow, right?” He turned to the Ringmaster. “This could be a turning point. We wouldn’t have to worry about him stealing our powers.”

“If the Mad King dies, will I get my ability back?” fWhip said, his eyes lighting up; Gem hadn’t seen such hope on his face in weeks.

There was a slight lull in the conversation and Gem watched Scott’s yellow eye flick over to her once again.

“It’s possible,” the Ringmaster said slowly, turning to fWhip, clearly not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “But it’s also entirely possible that, once defeated, everyone’s powers die with him.”

The light in fWhip’s eyes suddenly dimmed and his mouth drew down in a frown. Gem wanted to say something to make him feel better, but what was there to say? He had recently lost his power and was now learning that his twin sister did have one when he’d previously thought otherwise. And, even if the Mad King was defeated, there was still no guarantee of getting his own ability back.

“At this point, the best we can hope for in killing the King is that no one else’s abilities are stolen,” Scott said. “We’ll have to get you training right away. You’re lucky False has been training you in the trapeze—being physically strong will help immensely. But Martyn might also be useful; he knows what it’s like to fight against the nature of fire. For you, Gem, you’re fighting against the nature of the sun.”

The Ringmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you could somehow focus a light blast similar to last night’s, aiming directly at the Mad King…that could be the end. Your light might be able to be the killing blow against his darkness.”

“This is perfect,” Scott said, and his voice sped up as he continued. “The Mad King has been able to extinguish any kind of light, fire and electricity, but with Gem’s power—he can’t take out the sun—we might actually have a chance of not running for our lives for an eternity.”

“There’s only one problem,” fWhip said blandly from the corner of the tent. Both the Ringmaster and Scott swivelled their heads to look at fWhip as he pointed to a bottle on the bedside table Gem had had Shelby create to glow for three hours after being shaken. “Gem’s afraid of the dark.”

Chapter 4

Gem truly thought she had grown out of that particular fear. When she thought about being scared of the dark, she remembered padding out to her parents bedroom until they bought her a mini nightlight and, even then, she’d keep her curtains open so the light emanating from the nearby buildings would keep the imaginary monsters at bay.

To be fair, Gem was no longer scared of monsters with horns and sharp teeth and one eye; it was the fact that she couldn’t see. She was completely vulnerable in the dark, unable to do anything about a hypothetical danger. Like a power-hungry king, for example.

When her and fWhip’s parents died and they were orphans on the street, Gem had just assumed the trauma of losing them overrode her fear of the dark.

Now, looking back, Gem just realized that, living on the streets, she was never truly in darkness. No matter how dark the alleyway was, there was always a streetlamp, or a building whose light was still on, or the moon and stars. Even if it was mostly dark, she was never in true darkness.

The next afternoon, Gem visited Shelby’s work tent where strange herbs and ingredients on tables were lined up in bottles and a handful of brewing stands were bubbling and steaming away.

“Do you think you could make a night-vision potion for me?” Gem asked, watching as Shelby ground up a pink flower. She was wearing a green apron with multiple pockets in the front, holding various tools and other ingredient bottles.

Shelby winced, brushing the pink dust into an empty glass bottle on the table in front of her. “It’s not going to be able to help you see when the Mad King comes back.”

Gem sighed—this was what the Ringmaster had told her earlier that day. “Still, it might give me some peace of mind, you know?”

With one hand, Shelby reached into her apron’s pocket for a bottle of mushrooms, with the other she flipped open a heavy book. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Her eyes ran through the words on the page as she unstoppered the bottle in her hands. “I have all the ingredients, nether wart…golden carrot—”

A lump formed in Gem’s throat. “Carrot? Like, an actual carrot?”

Shelby nodded offhandedly before realization dawned on her face. Her hands stopped moving and she placed all her attention on Gem. “Wait, you’re allergic to carrots, aren’t you?”

~~~

“Were you ever afraid of anything?” Gem asked False as they stretched below the trapeze equipment. “And did you get over your fear?” Gem didn’t think False could be afraid of anything—not when she flipped and spun around in the air without a net and her power of flight stolen from her.

False thought about this for a moment, her legs straight out in front of her, her body bent forwards so that her head was touching her knees. “I used to be afraid of cats.” She turned to look at Gem with a wry smile. “If I thought I saw one out of the corner of my eye, I’d run the other way.”

Gem’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “And you’re no longer afraid of them? How’d you do that?”

“It took me a long time to get over that fear,” False said, then must have noticed Gem’s pinched face. “Fears don’t go away easy. You have to work at them constantly. And, even now, sometimes a cat catches me by surprise and I find myself taking steps backwards.”

Gem flopped down on her back and sighed. “Then how am I supposed to get over my fear? The Mad King could be here tonight and I need to be there to defeat him.”

False pursed her lips and put a comforting hand on Gem’s arm. “You aren’t alone in this fight. When the Mad King comes, everyone will be there. My advice for you? Go talk to Lizzie; she might be able to help. She did for me, and not just because she has cat characteristics.”

Gem still wasn’t sure. “How? Even if fortune telling could help me, she’s not actually a real one.”

“I know, but she gives solid advice. I think she might be helpful.”

“Well, if you say so.” If False said Lizzie could help, Gem would take her word for it. Clearly something had worked if False got over her fear of cats with Lizzie, a woman who was like a cat.

Gem and False then spent the next hour flying on the trapeze, letting go and catching each other in mid-air. She could feel the wind in her hair, her stomach dropping when she let go of the bar of a split second, then the satisfaction of connecting with False’s hands. It was nice to get her mind off of something that wasn’t related to the Mad King.

~~~

On her way to Lizzie’s tent, Gem passed the Ringmaster, hurrying in the opposite direction. When Gem turned the corner and walked a couple more steps, Sausage and the Ringmaster were speaking together in low tones, head bent together. While Gem didn’t know the specifics of the Ringmaster’s power, perhaps it was teleportation? Although, she had never seen this happen before.

Deep in thought, she almost bumped into fWhip.

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” fWhip asked. While her brother’s complexion was a little less sickly, there were still dark circles under his eyes.

Gem desperately wanted to go to Lizzie’s as soon as possible, but she couldn’t find it in herself to brush off her brother. She was so in her head about her own issues, but fWhip was also going through difficulties. “I’m heading to Lizzie’s for advice. Wanna come?”

fWhip looked just as skeptical as Gem felt, but shrugged. “I suppose. Nothing else better to do.”

As they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, Gem asked, “so, did you take up Sausage’s offer?” She felt like she knew the answer, but she hoped nonetheless.

fWhip snorted. “No.”

Gem sighed, but didn’t push further. She didn’t want to get in another fight. She needed her brother to be here with her, just like she knew fWhip needed her as well (despite thinking otherwise).

Lizzie’s tent was an elaborate deep pink and, during the nights, a fine fog emanated from it (curtesy of one of Shelby’s potions). Out front, “Mystic Mary’s Fortune Telling” was written on a sign.

Inside, there was a little table filled with strange objects, a glass ball, and a stack of cards. Lizzie herself was curled up in the back, in a nest of blankets. As soon as Gem and fWhip entered, her eyes shot open, showing off her vertical pupils.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” Lizzie said, and she unfurled herself so she could stand. She was shorter than both Gem and fWhip. “I assume you aren’t here for a reading.”

“False told me you helped her get over her fear of cats,” Gem explained as Lizzie sat down on a stool behind the table. Gem decided to take the other chair, leaving fWhip standing. “She said you might be able to give me advice about my current...issue. You see, I’m scared of the dark. I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough to handle being completely in the dark and focus a blast powerful enough to kill the King.”

Idly, Lizzie picked up the stack of tarot cards, beginning to shuffle them. Gem could see how people thought Lizzie was a legitimately skilled fortune teller. “Well, that’s easy.”

“It is?” fWhip said, and Gem turned her head slightly to see that her brother’s eyes were focussed entirely on Lizzie’s hands, moving the cards around. Yearning was clear in his gaze.

“Well,” Lizzie amended, “it’s quite difficult to get over fears quickly. There’s not exactly a way to shortcut those kinds of things.”

Gem deflated.

“But that’s not what I’m talking about,” Lizzie continued. “The Mad King is the strongest at night, right? So just don’t fight him then. Lure him out and then when it’s day—when you’re the most powerful—land the final blow.”

Chapter 5

Gem didn’t have to wait long for the Mad King to strike. In the two weeks leading up to it, her days consisted of being with False and becoming physically stronger, and being with Martyn to become mentally stronger and able to create balls of light between her hands.

“You’ve got to believe in yourself,” Martyn had told Gem, out in the back field behind the circus one afternoon. “You’re fighting against the sun; you’re taking light for yourself. Even using a miniscule amount needs willpower.”

Gem who, at that point, hadn’t been able to conjure more than foggy beams of light since that night she realized her powers was close to quitting for the day. “Why can’t this be easier? Why can’t the sun just let me take some of its light?”

“The sun ain’t exactly listening to your prayers,” Martyn had replied with, and he’d adjusted his cowboy hat on his head that he wore, even outside of his fire performance. “It’s a game of tug o’ war and you have to come out victorious.”

“Well, what did you do in the beginning to create fire and control it?” Gem had asked. “How did you even start?”

Martyn had given Gem a wry grin. “Anger. I focussed all the emotion I felt about being supplanted in my town into the palms of my hands. Fire really reacted to it; it crackled and popped so much so that I burned down a forest. But it was a start.”

Gem had frowned. “Doesn’t exactly seem very healthy.”

“Well of course it wasn’t. But it was the match strike I needed. Now I just think about the adrenaline I feel during each of my performances.”

It had taken a moment to search for anger, something to latch on to. Gem wasn’t a naturally angry person. fWhip had come to mind and the fact that all he wanted to do was wallow, but that really wasn’t fair. Gem wanted what was best for her brother and she couldn’t expect him to just get over it.

Finally, Gem had found something. The Mad King. The man who had taken so many people’s powers—probably too many to count now. Who had stolen from so many good people; who had taken from her brother. Who would continue taking until he had consumed all of it. And, if it ever got to that point, would the Mad King even be satisfied?

That had been the turning point. A great ball of light formed above her open palms.

~~~

Everyone knew distracting the Mad King until daylight would be difficult, but they all had a plan.

And so, when the circus descended into darkness, everyone was ready. All the patrons ran off once they realized it wasn’t a part of the show, afraid out of their wits. Lizzie, with her uncanny sense of who was around her, led half of the performers with powers away from the King while Scott, whose eye gave him the ability to see everyone’s flames—shrouded by darkness or not—took the other half.

Everyone else was on distraction duty.

The only exception to this rule was the Ringmaster and Sausage, who asked help from bats so they could navigate without seeing. The two of them went off on their own and Gem didn’t question it at the time, although now she was wondering if it was safe to do so.

Gem had tried to persuade the Ringmaster to have fWhip be with her; she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if something happened to him. But the Ringmaster assured her that fWhip was in good hands. Katherine’s hands to be exact.

Somewhere to Gem’s left, she could hear Oli humming a song under his breath, her anxiety about being thrust into the darkness once again lessening.

“Shhh,” Lizzie hissed, and Oli instantly stopped and Gem felt the hairs on her neck rising, her heartbeat speeding up. She gripped onto Hermes’ hand as tightly as he was holding hers.

Suddenly, there was a lot of jostling as people tripped over each other’s feet and, over the slight din of the nearby city, Lizzie said, “quickly. Turn left.”

Gem followed the group as best she could, feeling everyone around her adjust to Lizzie’s instructions. That was when she heard fWhip’s voice nearby. Gem couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying, but her body went stock still when she heard the next voice.

“You’re the little boy who I stole from last time at this wretched circus, aren’t you?” The voice was gravelly and deep.

Instantly, Gem yanked herself from Hermes’ grip and ran blindly towards the Mad King and her brother. She knew this wasn’t a part of the plan; the plan was to keep moving around the empty field and outskirts of town until the sun broke through the horizon. But the Mad King did not mention Katherine, and Gem needed to be there with fWhip if Katherine wasn’t.

Gem kept the layout of the circus in mind, forcing herself to take quiet breaths and knowing she was coming upon a turn. Slowly, she crept forward with her arms outstretched until she felt the smooth material of the side of Oli and Hermes’ clown tent.

“I see,” the Mad King said once again. “The silent treatment.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” fWhip’s voice came out hard and almost annoyed. “Haven’t you ravaged this circus enough? Aren’t you powerful enough?”

The Mad King laughed—and Gem stopped in her tracks. His laugh was terrifyingly confident, as if he already knew what would happen. That he would consume Gem’s power and he’d be able to steal people’s abilities for an eternity. “Boy, there’s never enough. There will never be enough powers to take. Nothing will ever be enough for me. Just how nothing will ever be enough to satiate the space in you that was previously filled by your powers.” There was a pause. “But I can make you a deal.”

Gem felt rooted to her spot, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of fear. It was dark, the Mad King was just over there, and he was speaking to fWhip, one-on-one. She could barely hear her own tumbling and twisting thoughts.

The Mad King continued. “I can give you any power you want, however many you want. Your old powers back, telekinesis, super strength, shapeshifting…” Another pause. “All you have to do is bring me your sister.”

Gem’s heart dropped to her feet. fWhip wouldn’t…would he? Ever since her brother’s powers were stolen, just how many times had he complained? How many times had he told her that he wanted his powers back?

“Any power I want?” fWhip’s voice was suddenly meek.

Gem’s mouth felt impossibly dry.

“Your wish is my command.”

There was a third painstakingly long pause before fWhip replied with a snort. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ll get over my lack of ability, but I could never forgive myself for giving Gem up to you.”

The Mad King didn’t seem all that upset. “Plan B, I suppose. A lot less dramatic, but it’ll have to do.” And there was a snapping sound.

The darkness dropped away. One moment, Gem was surrounded by nothingness. The next, the beautiful sky, stars, and moon, and the tents of Circo de Fantasia.

Gem, who had been at the edge of the tent, suddenly came face to face with the Mad King, floating a couple of feet off the ground. He was wearing all-black armour and only his mouth was visible. It curled into a satisfied grin. “Hello Gem.”

fWhip’s head spun around and his eyes widened. “Gem!” he exclaimed, and ran towards her.

Gem came to the too-late realization that the Mad King had wanted her to overhear him. If fWhip agreed to the King’s terms, Gem would have been beside herself and therefore an easy target. And, if fWhip hadn’t, Gem would still be within distance.

Like she was right now.

The Mad King still wasn’t moving, although his smile was more than a little unnerving. “It’s time for me to snuff out your light,” he said.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Ringmaster’s voice said, coming out from the tent Gem was standing next to. And he let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Another Ringmaster came out of the tent to Gem’s right, and the other tents lining the pathway. Sausage’s llamas came bounding around a corner, Sausage himself riding one with a sort of wooden staff in his hands, a cyan gem between the curved top.

Gem rubbed her eyes as a dozen Ringmasters appeared.

The Mad King looked at them all thoughtfully. “Do you like each time I consume a Pixlriffs’ power, my time travelling ability will grow stronger—?”

Sausage raised his staff and a blue light shot directly at the Mad King’s back, immobilizing him.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem turned to her as the rest of the Ringmasters began to surround the slowly descending King. “The Staff of Sanctuary, an old relic from Sausage’s past, won’t last long against him—he’s consumed too many powers. I know we wanted to wait until day, but it’s just not possible anymore. You must defeat him now.”

Gem shuddered and glanced up before looking over at fWhip who looked just as bewildered as Gem felt. He gave her a thumbs up. Gem returned it with a strained smile.

She was grateful the King’s darkness was no longer a factor. She was surrounded by friends—multiples of friends—and her brother. She was standing within circus grounds, with its comforting light and brightly coloured tents. This was her home.

Gem took a deep breath, feeling her palms grow hot. Instead of finding anger within herself to unlock her light, she found something else. Something harder to find, but stronger.

Hope.

She could do this. Even if it was dark, Gem had a feeling she could conjure light even then. Her brother would never betray her, despite being at first doubtful. But she never should have been skeptical of him.

Gem felt her eyes flutter closed. She didn’t see the light, but she felt it as it blasted out of her hands and into the Mad King. Her eyelids flashed a bright orange.

When she re-opened them, Ringmasters were gently fading into mist. Gem’s head pounded, her hands felt raw and dry.

“What’s happening to them?” fWhip asked to no one in particular.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem replied, “going home. They’ve been stuck here for years. Every time I’ve tried to see past the moment the Mad King tries to bribe you, I couldn’t see. It fogs up. Stuck in this moment.” He smiles. “Now everything’s changed.”

“And everyone’s powers?” Gem asked, feeling a yawn coming on.

fWhip grinned and Gem suddenly felt a heavy rock appear in her pocket. “Guess,” he said.

Gem smiled back, letting out her yawn.

“Alright let’s get to bed,” fWhip said, and the rock disappeared from Gem’s pocket. He steered her shoulders in the direction of her tent. “You should definitely rest.”

And, as Gem closed her tent’s flap to collapse into bed, the sun began to rise.

[lemonberry-conda]

In the weeks following the Royal Mezalean-Oceanic Wedding between King Joel and Queen Lizzie, things had been going decently well. When suddenly, once the royal couple returned to their duties from their honeymoon, the advisors of each empire's resident leaders noticed a shift. There was a certain degree of civil unrest, desperation, and curiosity running through the villages by way of hushed whispers and hurried signatures, and one day each advisor discovered what all the ruckus was about. The citizens of the empires wanted something from their regents and leaders, even the unmarried ones, and they put their desires in writing. The people had their royal wedding, and they were ready for a royal baby... how the rulers were going to acquire said babies would be left up to fate, and fate was thrilled to lend a helping hand.

Finally posting my Empires Season 1 Royal babies fic now that it's finished, my account isn't shadowbanned, and half of my WIPs feature some of these characters.

[seven-homosexual-dinosaurs]

Letters

The thing about being the evil twin is that it’s lonely.

It’s never been something that True spared more than a moment’s worth of thought towards. You see, not many people truly consider themselves to be evil, and not many twins will willingly classify themselves as the “good” one and the “evil” one. No one wakes up in the morning and thinks to themself “Oh, what a great day to be a terrible person!”

Keep Reading

[journeysfable]

OMG I HAVE POLLS

[baby-pegacorn]

little fic i wrote for lizzies new video! a story about what happened to the inhabitants of the lost empire during the rapture, and how that led to e2!lizzies origins!!! its also kinda like a esmp warrior cats au,,

ENJOY

Title: Thunder and Lightning

Genre: Adventure (with a bit of romance)

Author’s Name: Lotte BabyPegacorn

Thunderstripe cowered behind a tree as he watched the blaze raging through the Lost Empire. His father, the Tiger Blood Prince, had warned them of this prophecy, but not soon enough. He was one of the only tigers that managed to avoid the flames that ravaged across the once beautiful kingdom, turning the perfectly crafted temples to nothing but ruins. Thunderstripe jumped as a nearby pillar crumbled to the ground, the debris landing scattered around him. Ashes and smoke filled the air, making him struggle to breathe. How could he escape this horrible fire?

Suddenly, he heard a faint yowl in the distance. A spotted tail slinked up from behind a bush, a tail unlike anything he’d ever seen. He ventured further into the jungle to investigate, away from the destruction. His soft paws weren’t used to the hard jungle ground, and he struggled to push through the tall, thick grass.

“Hello?” he mewed softly, voice damaged by the ash that clogged his throat. “Is anyone there?”

A face peeked out through the leaves. Thunderstripe’s head spun as he tried to make out it’s features. But his vision was going blurry, and he felt his paws give out from underneath him. He collapsed to the ground and his eyes closed, but not before he got a glimpse of the ice-blue eyes of the strange cat that was staring back at him.

Thunderstripe awoke in a strange cave. His limbs felt shaky and his throat dry. He stretched his back legs and managed to stand up, almost slipping in the slimy green moss he was laying on. Paws sore and covered with burns, he painfully padded towards the entrance of the cave. Suddenly, a voice shattered the silence.

“You’re awake!!! Oh thank Pearl you’re okay!”

Thunderstripe turned to see the piercing blue eyes of the strange cat from before staring at him, wide and brimming with happiness.

“I really thought you wouldn’t make it for a moment there! Here, have some water.”

She carefully nudged his face with her tail, guiding him towards a small puddle on the ground. He bent his face towards the reflective surface, and began to lap up the cool, clear water. Once his throat felt fully refreshed, he gently croaked out,

“Thank you so much for saving me. What’s your name?”

“Lightningspot! What’s yours?”

“Thunderstripe, son of the Tiger Blood Prince.”

“Oh wow, our names are Thunder and Lightning! What a coincidence,” she laughed. “WAIT. PRINCE? You’re ROYALTY????”

Thunderstripe hid his face behind his paws bashfully.

“Well, yeah, I guess I am. But my father told me once that a great-great-great-and-a-lot-more-greats-granddaughter of mine will be the ruler of a fabulous empire, one that will bring animals from all shapes, sizes and corners of the earth together. So, compared to her, I’m not that special. Not like you, I mean, I’ve never seen a pelt like yours before! Spots?”

Lightningspot smiled and curled her tail around his.

“I’m an ocelot! We’re pretty common in jungles actually, you must have never left your home to have never seen a pelt like mine before! Cmon, I’ll show you around the REAL jungle.”

She began to make her way out of the cave, then turned to look back at him.

“You coming?”

[prismadog]

guess who just finished the refined line-art for their Jimnoth au...that's right, it's me, I got the character concepts drawn. they're still uncolored (and they'll probably remain that way for a long time, but hey, I got them drawn at least)

I also plan at a later date to make some posts regarding the characters' backgrounds, not seriously long posts like this (hopefully), but kinda just the basics like their family or empire - there is SO much that's locked up in my brain that needs to be spilled.

there's several images below - the full height chart plus close-ups - and I'm going to include some details below each image. this is going to be a bit of a long post, but hope y'all enjoy!

[from left to right] row 1: Shrub, Katherine, Joel, Fwhip, Gem, Joey, Sausage row 2: Pixlriffs, Pearl, Scott, Xornoth, Jimmy, Lizzie

Shrub - 4'3" / 129.5 Katherine - 5'4" / 162.6 Joel - 5'8" / 172.7

Shrub

Shrub has many scars from her childhood because she grew up in the Nether in a crimson forest. she was raised as a farmer but knew a good deal about fighting because a close friend used to be a warrior.

the piercings she has on her ears are made of gold - gold keeps piglins calm, though her earrings wouldn't have been enough. before coming to the Overworld, she had gold bands on her wrists.

the mushroom hat and boots are just for aesthetics because of where she grew up [these may be colored like the crimson mushrooms later on]. the gnomes of her village had mushroom accessories to help them blend in with their surroundings.

she has a very distinct lack of breasts due to her being a part of a very androgynous, "sexless" race - they still have the concept of gender but they don't have the male/female sexes. this means that Shrub essentially has pecs instead of breasts, very muscled ones because she is a tiny strong boi who could bench press an average man

Katherine

Katherine is a faerie with cat features - it is very common for the faeries of the Overgrown to have features of some sort of animal.

she walks around barefoot because she likes the feel of the grass on her feet, but also because it makes her feel grounded - she will wear shoes on occasion, specifically when she's going to other empires

Katherine has several piercings, something that was influenced by her childhood friend Scott - some are silver and some are gold.

the bands she wears are engraved with blessings from her people - long life, love, good will, strength, and courage. this is a common type of gift from one faerie to another.

due to her cat-eyes, she can see very well in the dark, and she has exceptional hearing thanks to her large ears.

Joel

Joel is a very chill guy who wears light, but very detailed clothing - those of Mezalea live in a hot and humid area and believe it would be suicidal to wear heavy clothing (like the real King of Mezalea on the youtubes)

he doesn't care much about shoes because he likes the feel of the clay and moss on his feet - he will however wear shoes on occasion if he's traveling to any cold biome (ie Scott's empire).

the symbol of his people and his empire is the Mother Tree [design was inspired by the Celtic tree of life] and he wears it proudly - it was the Mother Tree who allowed Mezalea to blossom and it was also the Mother Tree that breathed life into Joel himself [more on this later in a future post]

he is a bit on the thicker side due not only to how bountiful the food is in Mezalea - their main food source is horse - but also because he works a lot with large, heavy blocks of clay and moves statues around near-daily. [not shown] his hands and clothes are often stained with clay because he likes to sculpt figures and statues.

Fwhip - 5'10" / 177.8 Gem - 5'11" / 180.3

Fwhip

Fwhip is a mischievous guy that wears quite a bit of clothing for not only aesthetic but also out of necessity because of his work in the labs - the scarf was made by his (and his siblings') mother when he was little.

he, like his twin Gem and his little brother Sausage, have some form of dragon features because while their mother was human, their father was not - however, for much of Fwhip's life, he only had the horns, the wings came later on when the Grimlands blessed him with power when Xornoth tried to corrupt the land.

Fwhip broke his right horn in a lab accident when he was a teen - he thinks it makes him look badass.

[not pictured] he has some scarring in multiple places - burns and cuts - from various incidents during his experiments.

Gem

Gem wears thicker clothing because the Crystal Cliffs can get quite cold - any hats she may wear all have holes made in them to allow room for her horns.

unlike her twin, Gem does not have wings, but instead she has a near-endless supply of magic, something that neither of her bothers naturally possess - this was a point of contention between them all in their younger years.

the moon and stars she wears represent her empire of the Crystal Cliffs

she carries around a Wither Rose that's been preserved with magic - it's something that she and her brothers share, though they have their roses in safe-keeping in their homes.

Joey - 5'11" / 180.3 Sausage - 6'0" / 182.9

Joey

Joey is an avian with multi-colored wings [not shown] - his family is the only one in the Maztec empire that is avian, everyone else is a cat-person.

he is also fairly light, not bird-light, but just much lighter than the average person due to being an avian.

he wears very little, very loose clothing because 1) it makes him look hot as fuck and 2) the jungle he resides in is hot as fuck

the bands and other jewelry are common-place in the Maztec empire, as well as tattoos - tattoos are seen as a sign of strength and beauty, strength because it takes a strong person to endure the tattooing process and beauty because they're just into that.

the symbol that adorns all of Joey's clothing represents everlasting life - something his people worship unconditionally. the other symbol that sometimes accompanies the symbol of immortality [the flame/heart thing on the sash] represents the Eternal Flame, the Heart of the Maztec empire.

Sausage

Sausage, like his siblings, has dragon horns, though his are much smaller than theirs' because he's several years younger than they are - the three hellions of the Wither Rose Alliance are a few years older than one would assume.

the scar on his face was given to him in a training accident when he was a child - he almost lost his eye but thanks to the clerics and mages in Mythland, they were able to heal his eye.

he's a bit heavier than his siblings because Mythland loves their feasts and festivals, also he has quite a bit of muscle from how hard he trains with a sword.

the symbols on his gloves are a sign of his contract with Xornoth - he gave up his soul to the demon just as the demon gave their soul to Exor.

Pixlriffs - 6'0" / 182.9 Pearl - 6'4" / 193.0

Pixlriffs

Pixlriffs looks older than the other rulers, but that doesn't mean he's the oldest by any means, or does it? he plays the role of father to not only Pixandria but also his family/alliance members - Joel, Lizzie, and Jimmy.

he has lightning markings from his right hand down to his left foot - these aren't scars or tattoos but actually a blessing from the thunder gods marking him as their Champion. he is also blessed by the Goddess of Death and is Her prophet, though, he doesn't have any markings to represent that, not that he needs any. She instead gives him visions and a deep connection with the Vigil.

the clothing of Pixandria is simple, lightweight, and usually colored in neutral tones, specifically in the range of white to sand-colored. the designs are embroidered by hand and many include the symbol of Pixandria - the Death's-head Hawkmoth.

each of the charms and symbols on his clothing, minus the star on his headpiece and the copper symbol on his bands, are designs taken from the Death's-head Hawkmoth itself.

[extra fact] as well as beekeeping, Pixandria is home to Death's-head Hawkmoths and vultures, and both are seen as sacred creatures.

Pearlescent Moon

Pearl was originally a scarecrow built from cloth and straw, made by a lonely farmer who wanted to protect his crops. she spent many years protecting his fields and wished desperately to return the love the farmer had shown her through his tributes and gifts - the most extravagant being a simple pearl that he fashioned into a necklace.

the God of the Sun and of Life, granted her wish and she became the Guardian of the Harvest. from then on she watched over the farmer's fields, and later the fields of anyone who settled nearby. the people gave her the title "Queen" because they saw her as the protector and ruler of Guilded Hilanthia.

she has large golden wings that grew over time due to the magic in the land and the blessings of the Harvest. they, like the rest of her, are speckled from being under the sun for countless hours.

her clothes are very simple and light for ease of movement, whether she's strolling through the fields or protecting her lands and people from danger.

her symbols are the moon for the pearl around her neck, and sunflowers for her loyalty to her people and because it symbolizes the harvest.

Scott - 6'9" / 205.7 Xornoth - 6'9" / 205.7

Scott

Scott is an elf with large snowy owl wings, something that is fairly common in his family - there are other elves that have wings but they are the minority. unlike Joey, he is not an avian, he's just a winged elf.

the symmetrical golden antlers are a blessing from Aeor and mark Scott as His Champion.

beauty and fashion are very important to the elves of Rivendell and many will wear as much jewelry as they can. Scott is no exception - he has multiple piercings with glittering diamond charms, and to match his earrings, he had charms and jewelry crafted for his antlers.

the clothing of Rivendell is thick and trimmed in fur because while the elves are a hardy people, they can still get cold from living high up in the mountains. for most outfits, there are symbols of Aeor and Rivendell stitched into the clothing.

Scott, while being on the thinner side, is actually quite toned beneath the layers of warm clothing - he needs to be in order to support his large wings and fly with them.

Xornoth

Xornoth is currently a demon, though, they once were an elf just like their younger twin Scott. and like their brother, they once had snowy owl wings, but those were stolen by the God Exor - [not shown] there are ragged scars on Xornoth's back where their wings used to be.

Exor also blessed Xornoth with their own set of antlers, though unlike Scott's, their antlers are twisted and covered in thorn-like spines. after they were blessed by the dark god and became His Champion, their body twisted as well and transformed into that of a demon.

they have several piercings, a product of their previous life as an elf of Rivendell, though the jewelry they wear is far from fancy - it's just simple silver and gold. the bands they wear are engraved with their contract to Exor. the rings on their fingers are the only thing they kept after becoming Champion - the one on their left index finger is actually a gift from their brother.

Xornoth has many scars due to the hundreds of years they spent in exile in the Nether. they literally fought to survive, but was eventually able to become a force to be reckoned with that no resident of the Nether wanted to fight, save of course, for Shrub who's village was terrorized by the demon.

there's not many options to get new clothes so they wear a simple, stitched together skirt that they made with their own hands, not that they really care that much anymore about modesty. [I didn't wanna draw demon dick, hence, skirt]

Jimmy - 7'4" / 223.5 Lizzie - 8'0" / 243.8

Jimmy

Jimmy is one of two eggs remaining from a batch of hundreds - their parent was a mighty eldritch beast blessed by the Deity that ruled over the Ocean and the singular batch of eggs was a sign of their bond. sadly, the war between the gods Aeor and Exor killed their eldritch parent and crushed their seablings' eggs. he was raised by his elder sister, Lizzie, who hatched several years before he did.

[not shown] his hair is colored yellow to better fit in with the cod people but his actual hair color is a soft pink (much like Lizzie's minecraft skin), which goes well with the pearlescent pink scales that cover his body.

like his sister, he has quite a few scars gathered over the years from fights against the salmon, the worst one being the spiderweb scar over his left eye. this scar was one of the first he got, during the first salmon war when he was still a child, and because of it, he is actually blind in his left eye.

he's fairly muscular because swimming around in the ocean for hundreds, if not thousands, of years can really build up a person's body. though, he does actually have a bit of fat because the ocean is also a very cold place and fat is a natural defense against the cold.

his outfit is simple and lightweight, and fairly loose because he has the ability to transform his legs into a tail. he also has the ability to change his size, though it really only happens when he takes on his merfolk form [more on this in a future post]. he wears rain boots because 1) he thinks they're fashionable, 2) they're easy to take on and off, and 3) he lives in a swamp. as for his leggings, those were specially made for him and are designed to represent the Cod Empire.

he doesn't wear many accessories but what he does wear mean a lot to him - the cloth bracelet is stitched with symbols of his family/alliance - Lizzie, Joel, and Pixlriffs. the pins on his top and the buckle on his belt are gifts from the cod people, and the gold circlet on his head is a sign of his being the Cod Empire's ruler. the circlet is a direct replacement after the cod mask and helmet were stolen from him.

Lizzie

Lizzie is the eldest of the two remaining eggs from their parents, and has deemed herself Jimmy's guardian and caretaker - she did raise him from a hatchling afterall. she is actually the healthier of the two because during the destruction of the batch of eggs, Jimmy's was damaged and her's was not.

[not shown] her hair is sort of two-toned where soft pink gradiates into a soft blue. the scales that cover her skin are a pearlescent blue instead of pink like her brother's.

she's covered in scars from all the many years that she's lived in the oceans and fought off any dangers that would threaten her or her brother - the dangers in question are mostly from battles with the salmon that terrorize the ocean, but also fisherman and pirates.

because she's a merfolk, she doesn't have breasts like a human female would - there's no need for breasts, nor nipples to that extent, because merfolk hatch from eggs. she does, however, have what is essentially a nice set of pecs because she's very strong and gets quite the workout from swimming around the ocean.

her outfit is very loose and quite revealing because she, like many merfolk, doesn't really care much about being modest - they usually have tails anyway instead of legs so there's not really anything to hide. she really only wears shoes when she visits other empires, specifically those with more extreme biomes, ie, Rivendell, Pixandria, the Maztec empire, etc.

she doesn't wear much for jewelry but she does have a few pins - an axolotl and one from the Cod Empire. she also likes the fishing lures that she finds in the ocean - the hooks on the lures are filed down to a point where they're no longer dangerous. she does, however, have one main accessory that she cherishes and that's the cloth bracelet stitched with the symbols of her family/alliance - Jimmy, Joel, and Pixlriffs.

[daisy-mooon]

Portraiture;

Portraits of the Emperors, and what those portraits mean to them.

Chapter One - Xornoth

Historians note: Many of the portraits of the original 12 Empires were badly damaged due to the effects of corruption and because of the Rapture. For the most prominent example, we have little indication of what former Crown Prince Xornoth looked like before or after their corruption. There exists a miniature of them and King Scott as children, but most of Xornoths portraits were damaged by either intention or by accident. However, historical accounts indicate that in their pre-corruption adulthood, Prince Xornoth looked extremely like their brother.

Rivendell paintings are lovely. Elves live for centuries, and the Artisans in the Rivendell court paint alongside each other, constantly evolving, constantly reaching for perfection. To paint the Rivendell royal family is an honour not many can claim to have. Oh sure, they commission paintings constantly, but for the honours of the official portraits? Any artist would kill for those.

Xornoth steps past the official portrait of Scott. The winter king. The artist who did that must have been the best of the best, because for half a moment, they have the uncanny feeling that the painting actually is Scott. But the painting remains, simply, a very good painting. The details of his antlers, his jewellery, the contours and creases of his skin, are absolutely perfect, but they are still paint.

Which portrait are they looking for? They don't have time for- this. Walking around the empty hallways of Rivendells art displays. They scoff. It's night, and even if it was, there's more of a chance of Scott being somewhere in the warmer, Northern Empires, flirting away with his Codish lover. Their boots scuff against the marble tiles. Out of place. Nothing like the steady click of their formal shoes from years prior-

They find the portrait. Not the exact one, not the one with their parents in. They don't know why Scott would have the portrait with their parents tucked away, but the one with them out... they stare at it. Elder and younger. They stand above him. They are unrecognisable- both of them are, really, because Scotts antlers hadn't grown in when this painting was made and his wings were pure white instead of spotted with the darker plumage that makes his wings seem more alive. But they, Xornoth, are the one that is most different.

They raise a hand as if to skim the surface of water. It's lifelike. It doesnt feel that way at all. Their painted being has soft skin, purple hair, flickering eyes and a sense of... nobility. Xornoth is withered in comparison. An echo. They don't destroy it. They leave the painting be and walk away in pursuit of what they actually should be doing, which is to find out secrets. Always more secrets, always more plans, always more information for them to discover. Empires don't fall by themselves.

Scott finds the painting six months later. Corruption has plundered the hall, sent one tendril into the painting—right through their siblings face. Who did that? Exor, or Xornoth themself? Scott takes the painting away from the corruption, commissions an art restorer to salvage it, except... no one is sure what Xornoth looks like, anymore. He, quietly, asks the artist to restore the canvas but not the patch of Xornoth that had been lost to time, to themself. The artist does so.

After that, Scott keeps his paintings in more careful positions. For that portrait, he hangs it in his least used sitting room, and sees it only when he paces his rooms in the very dead of night.

[deityoftherain]

Flower Husbands ATLA AU Fanart&Fanfic

I was paired with lavenderjellies10 for @mcytblraufest this year!

phases of the moon

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M, Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 5,388

Summary: Scott is the Tribal Prince of the Northern Water Tribe and he's not allowed to leave Agna Qel'a. Oh yeah, and his health is connected to the phases of the moon. Jimmy, on the other hand, is an ambassador, traveling back and forth between the Earth Kingdom and Scott's home. He wants nothing more than to settle down and cement his life by Scott's side. There's just one little thing he doesn't know yet...

@lavenderjellies3 created the ATLA AU fanart as seen above and I wrote the Flower Husbands fanfiction inspired by/based off of it ^^

[mcytfanfictionappreciationweek]

Runs from January 21st to January 27th, 2024

7 days of fanfiction appreciation for all our fandom writers!

Everyone from all corners of MCYTblr are welcome to participate. No matter how large or small your favorite SMP or creator is, there is a space for everyone.

Many fandom events focus on providing tasks for artists and writers, but very little are made with the people who enjoy and appreciate that work in mind as participants. Lurkers and enjoyers and love posters are just as important to the fandom, so this is a space for us to do our thing and spread the love 💗

How to Participate

There will be 3 kinds of planned activities hosted on this blog, but there is no single correct way to participate, as long you’re uplifting others. The activities and prompts are meant to be a guideline and source of inspiration. You don’t have to burn yourself out by participating every day or in every activity.

Keep this space positive and abide by standard fandom etiquette. Be mindful of tags and if you don’t think you’ll like a work, don’t click and read it!

Share the love; one goal of this challenge is to help authors who’ve been overlooked feel appreciated for their contribution to the fandom. If you’re up to it, try and use this challenge as a way to break from your comfort zone and uplift others who you haven’t seen get any attention yet.

Note: This doesn’t mean to not send love to any ‘bigger authors’ whose work you admire, and we are not entertaining any discourse related to the size of one’s following.

Use the tag ‘mcytfanficappreciationweek’ for your recommendation lists related to this event and we will reblog them here!

Activities

(Under the cut!)

Reading and Recommendation Challenge

Find a fic that fits the theme of the day and give it a read/comment! Then if you’re up for it, share the recommendation in a post on tumblr and use the event tag. You can make individual posts for each day, or create a wrap-up at the end of the week.

It is both allowed and encouraged to engage with fics whose authors don’t have any linked social media presence. This is not exclusive to authors on tumblr.

January 21st (Day 1: Something New)

Read and comment on a fic written by an author whose work you’ve never commented on before

January 22nd (Day 2: Hidden Gems)

Read and comment on a fic that currently has no comments

Or, feel free to share and recommend a fic whose only comment is your own

January 23rd (Day 3: Underrated Blorbos)

Read and comment on a fic centered on a character of whom you’ve never read as a main POV (the less fics the character is tagged in, the better!)

January 24th (Day 4: Rarepair Extravaganza)

Read and comment on a fic with a character relationship tag (that’s central to the fic, no cheating with ensembles!) that has less than 500 tagged works

For fandoms with <1000 works, use 50 tagged works as a threshold (or your best judgment)

For fandoms with <100 works, use 5 tagged works as a threshold (or your best judgment)

Can be either romantic (using the “/”) or platonic (using the “&”)

January 25th (Day 5: A Blast from the Past)

Read and comment on a fic that was last updated before 2023 (complete or in progress!)

January 26th (Day 6: Canon? Who is she?)

Read and comment on a fic with any ‘Alternate Universe’ tag of your choosing

Canon divergent fics or split timelines count!

January 27th (Day 7: Procrastination Termination)

Read and comment on a fic that you’ve had ‘saved for later’ or opened in a new tab but never got to reading

Or, finish catching up to a multichapter fic that you fell behind on and comment on it

Author Interaction

Send authors who are active on tumblr questions about their work! Ideas/prompts for each day are written below.

January 21st (Day 1: Something New)

Ask an author about future writing projects or ideas that still only exist in their head

January 22nd (Day 2: Hidden Gems)

Ask an author about one of their least-kudosed fics

January 23rd (Day 3: Underrated Blorbos)

Ask an author about something they’re excited or passionate about

January 24th (Day 4: Rarepair Extravaganza)

Ask an author about one of their favorite ships (romantic or just a platonic relationship!)

January 25th (Day 5: A Blast from the Past)

Ask an author about past fandoms they may have participated in or their journey as a fic writer in general

January 26th (Day 6: Canon? Who is she?)

Ask an author about an AU or headcanon of theirs

January 27th (Day 7: Procrastination Termination)

Ask an author about their writing process

Love Posting

Too shy to reach out to someone you admire directly? Write them an anonymous message in our inbox and we will post it and tag their blog for you! (Please be sure to include their blog name so we know who to tag).

Note: If we suspect that your message is back-handed or being hateful towards another group in the community, it will be deleted. If you believe your message was deleted in error, feel free to send this blog a DM about it.

And finally…. If you are an author remember that even if you don’t receive a message or new readers during the course of this event, you are still a valued member of this community. With the size of our fandom, it is impossible to give every single author their due recognition. You are appreciated for your contribution to this fandom, and every fic that is written makes our fandom a more vibrant, wonderful place to be. We love you for the time and effort you put in the art of your creation and we are privileged that you choose to share it for us to enjoy!

[muuum-am-i-adohhhpted]

The Path to Godhood (Empires SMP)

Summary: Joel is just an average, mortal, boy living with his single mother in what will become the Ancient Capital. The Rapture hasn't occured yet, but Joel is given a surprise when his father visits him, telling him a humanity-wiping event will happen in twenty years. He gives Joel an offer that includes safety from it.

Or, how Joel became a god that doesn't include the Fountain of Strength.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4511

Warnings: Death, death of a parent, bad parenting, lies, temporary amnesia, references to bullying, fire and smoke inhalation.

~~~

Even from a young age, Joel had been obsessed with the gods. He'd search out shrines of smaller deities in the outskirts of the capital, committing their names to memory. He'd sit with the older folk in town and listen to stories of adventure, morality, and jealousy. The gods were messy, and human-like, and they made mistakes just like everybody else. But they were just that: gods. And Joel was a mere human, tethered to the earth like a bird with clipped wings.

Keeping to himself and only interacting with elders put a target on his back. The kids his own age taunted him for his height and scrawniness, throwing dodo poop at his clothes and tripping him wherever he walked.

His mother said that children preyed on the weak, and that Joel was an old-soul. "Keep true to yourself, and they'll eventually tire of you. They're looking for reactions, and the best thing you can do without making the bullying worse is to pretend they don't affect you."

The thing was, it did affect him. A lot. His mother was on the shorter side, and Joel was too. They had a lot in common, in fact. The same untamable brown hair, and chestnut eyes. The only trait Joel apparently got from his out-of-the-picture father was his rather bulbous nose. Joel liked to keep it that way; he much preferred to look like his mother who Joel considered his one and only parent.

A lot of stigma came with being an only parent, and Joel was ready to fight anybody who even blinked at his mother the wrong way. But none came. The children had plenty of opportunities to say something rude about his mother but didn't, and no whispers came from the adults.

Joel didn't truly understand it. Until one night, sitting under a froglight tree in the orchard, a man appeared in front of him. He was wearing a pure-white chiton, blond hair and blue eyes. His entire being was ringed with gold, indicating his godhood. The thing that stood out the most to Joel was the man's nose. Large and bulbous—exactly like Joel's own.

"I must be dreaming," Joel muttered, and he quickly stood up. Because gods didn't just come down to the mortal realm. And if they did, they definitely made sure to be hidden, and they definitely didn't have children with mortal women.

"I'm afraid you’re not. Joel, I am your father."

The world seemed to fall away from under Joel, and he instantly sat back down. "What?"  This revelation felt like one of those hackneyed melodramas some of the older kids wrote and acted out in town square. All he needed now was an amnesia plotline, and he'd be set. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Joel could now place which god this was—the god of the sky. It was his job to paint the heavens blue every morning, and black in the night. Only when he was sad or upset did the sky end up a melancholy grey.

The god of the sky looked down pityingly at Joel. "The Fates have read of a terrible future, and it's quite imminent. It won't happen in this area, but it will affect the entire world causing earthquakes and rising waters. Nearly every mortal will die."

A shiver went through Joel. "How soon does everyone have?"

"Twenty years, at the most," the god replied. His lips were pursed and he seemed to not know where to look—at Joel or somewhere else.

Twenty years felt like a long time away, but Joel supposed if he was immortal, that period wouldn't seem nearly as long. "So. Everyone's going to die. Are you planning for me to be the messenger to tell everybody? Maybe we can build something? A safe house?" His mind was already running with ideas on how to do such a thing. Obsidian, perhaps?

The god shook his head. "No, the mortals will descend into chaos if they were to know. No Joel, I'm asking you if you would like to be granted the gift of immortality and live with me and the other gods. It will be safe up there."

“Immortality?” Joel repeated. “With you?” He could hardly wrap his head around the idea. The prospect of living forever, alongside the gods no less, sounded incredible. He’d be safe from whatever terrible event would occur in two decades.

“Is my mother allowed to come too?” Joel thought of his mother who cared for him, loved him, and also held a demanding job at the copper aging facility below the capital.

The god’s face turned pained, “unfortunately, that’s not possible. You’re half-god, and already have some claim to it. Giving mortals immortality is incredibly difficult; the other gods all have to agree and I haven’t exactly made friends with all of them.”

Joel’s mind was then made up. “I can’t leave her behind. I’m the only person left for her here; she’d be all alone for the end of the world and I can’t do that to her.”

For a long time, the god stared at Joel with an inscrutable expression. Then, he patted Joel on the shoulder. “Very well,” he finally said. “You’re a good son, Joel. I’m proud to have you as my son. Farewell.” And, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared.

Joel stayed sitting under the froglight tree until the sun came up once again. He pictured his father running along the sky, giving it a beautiful pink and orange hue.

Joel never told his mother about the meeting.

~~~

As Joel grew older, he struggled with whether or not he should tell the city that humanity was going to die. But his father had been right; if people were to know, everything would fall into chaos. Crime would run rampant, and panic would ensue. Besides, if the Fates said that almost everyone would die, there was nothing to be done. The world might as well live in ignorance.

And so life went on.

He was nearing adulthood and, while he had sprouted up significantly, he was still in the middle of the pack. Nevertheless, the bullying backed off. He wasn't sure whether it was because of his new height or because they all grew up. Either way, Joel was glad.

In the meantime, his mom was getting older. Spending so much time underground had faded her usual liveliness. Her wrinkles seemed deeper, her eyes foggier. Grey streaked through her dark hair. Joel was scared.

He took up a part-time job at the froglight orchard, eventually working there full time after finishing his schooling. In the blazing sun, constantly plucking froglights from the trees, gathering them in a basket, and carrying them inside to be washed, Joel slowly felt himself become stronger. When he had first started at the orchard, he could only carry seven or so froglights per basket, but now he found he could lift nearly twenty.

Joel was proud of the accomplishment; he liked the way he looked in a mirror. The bulk fit him in a way the scrawniness hadn't. Unfortunately, his new appearance did remind himself of his father who he hadn't seen since that night under the froglight tree.

When his mother took a nasty fall in the copper aging facility, Joel was finally able to persuade his mother to retire. At this point, Joel was making enough money for the two of them to live comfortably along with the money he had already saved.

On her deathbed, early in the morning, Joel's mother pulled him into a loose hug, her hair tickling Joel's neck. Her hair was nearly all grey now, her hands shaking and frail. "Son, I need to tell you something. It's about your father."

Joel's face pinched. "Shhh," he told her. "It's okay; it doesn't matter. He isn't here now, and he's never been here to care for this family." A part of him wished his father was here, so he could see what he could have prevented by allowing the both of them immortality. Joel was positive his father could have gotten the other gods' permission, but he hadn't even fought for it. Hadn't even tried.

"But—" his mother argued. 

Joel shook his head, and he could feel tears threatening to spill. "I love you."

Joel's mother gripped him tighter, pulling him closer into the hug. "I love you too, and I hope you know that physicality doesn't always denote strength."

"I know, I know." And this time, Joel couldn't hold the tears in. He felt them run down his cheeks like a waterfall and Joel could feel the exact moment his mother's heart slowed to a stop. "You are proof of that."

~~~

After the traditional funeral rites had been executed, Joel left.

He couldn't stay in the capital any longer. People looked at him with pity; they brought dishes upon dishes of food, saying that his mother was in a better place now. Joel seethed inside, knowing that this could have all been avoided.

It was the closest he had come to yelling that the world was going to end.

He travelled the world with only his thoughts as company. The places he visited were a comfort. They didn't know his mother was gone. They didn't know he hadn't always looked like this. They didn't know they would all die in just five more years. He hated seeing civilians pregnant with children, knowing that all was for nothing.

Everytime the cloud of grief began to be too much, Joel skipped town to the next one. And then the next one. He experienced new smells and sights, and met all kinds of people of different walks of life.

Too quickly, the five years were up, and Joel found himself in a snowy taiga village. That morning, the sky turned a terrifying red, and Joel wondered whether or not this was warning from his father that the end of the world was upon them all.

Groans rattled through the earth, shattering windows and scaring away livestock. Soon, the earthquakes arrived, and fire spread like the entire world was dry and parched. It didn't matter that snow decorated the ground, fire jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

Villagers rushed around, eyes wide, calling for their children.

Joel couldn't help but think that this village was lucky. The walls of most of the houses were made of cobblestone instead of wood. The walls wouldn't collapse on anybody. However, that didn't mean the roofs wouldn't.

"Pixlriffs!" A mother was screeching, nearly hysterical. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. "Pixlriffs! Where are you?" 

Another villager was physically restraining her from running back into the fiery debris that had been their village. "You can't go back in there—it's a death wish. All we can hope is that your boy has already made it out."

Joel stepped forward. "I'll go in," he told the woman. "I'll glance into the houses to see if I can see him."

The other villager violently shook his head. "The boy is either dead or safe with the other children. You shouldn't—"

But Joel was already gone. He couldn't stand and watch as another son was ripped away from his mother. If the boy was still inside the village, as his mother thought, Joel was going to reunite the two of them if it was the last thing he did.

The smoke coming from the wooden roofs and light posts immediately engulfed him, but Joel continued on. "Pixlriffs!" He called out, before doubling over and letting out a cough. Still, he went deeper into the village, holding a scarf up to his mouth and nose.

His ears instantly perked up when he heard the screaming of a young boy, the voice coming from inside the house to his right. "Help; anyone! Please! I'm stuck!"

Joel bounded inside, taking in the scene in front of him. A beam from the roof had fallen, sandwiching Pixlriffs' leg between it and the floor. He looked to be seven or so, with a blue cloak and brown hair filled with ash.

Joel was instantly at his side, and he heaved the beam up an inch—enough for Pixlriffs to wriggle out from under the beam. The boy's breathing was laboured, and Joel wasn't sure if Pixlriffs had broken a leg or not, so hoisted him up on his back. "We're getting you out of here," Joel said, determination laced in his voice.

He stepped out of the house, using one hand to keep the scarf over his face and the other to keep Pixlriffs on his back. "Pull your shirt up over your mouth," Joel instructed. "It'll help keep the smoke out."

Joel felt shifting on his back as Pixlriffs did as he was told. "I'm scared," he said quietly, and Joel nearly didn't hear him over the crackling fire surrounding them.

"It's okay," Joel told him. "It's going to be okay. You'll reunite with your mother, and everything will be okay." He wasn't sure if he was just telling Pixlfirffs this or also himself. To get Pixlriffs' mind off of their current situation, Joel began talking. "My name is Joel. Did you know that I'm a god? In my true form, I can wrestle the ender dragon and I tower over everyone I meet. I only look like a regular man now because, if I were to show mortals what I actually look like, everyone would be scared of me." It was more than an exaggeration, but Joel hoped it was capturing Pixlriffs' imagination.

"The capital where I live worship dozens of gods, but I'm one of the most important." They were nearing the outskirts of town, and Joel could just barely see the outline of trees, currently not on fire. They wouldn't be that way for long, but Joel focussed on them nonetheless. He needed something to walk towards. He could feel it getting harder to breathe, and his nose burned from the irritation the smoke caused. Still, Joel continued talking. "The capital has this massive catacomb with a huge statue of our main goddess. People ride along the streets on dodos instead of horses or donkeys. I'll take you there one day."

Finally, they were out of the village, and Joel could see Pixlriffs' mother run towards them, eyes shining with relief.

Joel tried to take in a breath of fresh air, but ended up in a coughing fit, Pixlriffs sliding off his back in the process. Each cough seemed to come out harder than the last and, eventually, Joel collapsed into a heap on the ground, his heart stuttering and slowing down, almost at a deathly pace.

~~~

When Joel opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar room lying in an unfamiliar bed. A man sat at his bedside, looking nearly the same age as him. With blond hair and blue eyes, he looked almost familiar but Joel couldn't place him. "Where…where am I?" He asked. "Who are you?" With striking realization, he immediately sat up. "Who am I?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," the other man said. "You've just been turned into a god; it might take a while to get used to it."

Something in Joel's stomach dropped, and the slightest wisp of this isn't what I wanted passed through him before dissolving, and he couldn't quite remember what it was he had just felt. "Oh."

"I'm your father," the blond man said, and he gave Joel a bright smile, teeth pearly white and straight. "You just turned 29 and I gifted you immortality for your birthday." In a playful voice, he said, "can't have five-year-old immortal gods, now can we? We often wait for the kids to grow up before stunting their growth."

Joel blinked rapidly, his thoughts and feelings like mush in his head. "I'm a god," he repeated, almost under his breath. Yes, that sounded about right. Almost. But who was he to question his father who just gifted him something like immortality? "Why can't I remember anything?"

His father patted Joel's shoulder comfortingly. "You spent all of your life down in the mortal world. When you arrive up in the god realm, your memories from down there are taken away so what you saw in the mortal world won't cause you pain. Don't worry, if you ever go back to visit the mortals, your memories will return."

Joel's eyes lit up. "Can I go back now?"

"Not a good idea," his father said with a sad shake of the head. "The mortal world is going through a tough time. Nearly all of them are dying."

"Can't anything be done?" Joel asked hopefully. While he had no memories of any mortals in his life or even walking among them, it felt wrong to not help them in any way he could. "Give them a sort of sanctuary?"

"If it would change anything, I would," his father sighed. "The Fates have foretold the Rapture would kill most of humanity. Anything the gods do would mean nothing."

"Most? You mean they'll be survivors?" Hope bloomed in Joel's chest.

Joel's father stood up. "Not many, but yes. Enough to repopulate the earth. Now, you should get some rest, son. I'm sure you'll be back on your feet in no time; then we can see what kinds of powers you wield."

~~~

Living with his father and the rest of the gods was exciting. He couldn't tell time passing as he met new people, and honed his thunder and lightning abilities. His father said only a couple of months passed, but it felt like days.

Whatever hesitancy he had previously felt about being immortal, he chalked up to weariness and thus promptly forgot about.

He enjoyed helping Peril with creating storm clouds for mortal farmers, and sparring with Jeremy among the clouds. Some of his favourite days were spent just hanging out with his father, accompanying him as he coloured the sky with a variety of shades he created in his home.

Still curious about the mortal world, Joel often asked his father how the mortals were faring down below. He wanted to visit to see if he could help in the aftermath of the Rapture. Joel could help move large debris or help close up cracks in the earth by filling them with boulders.

And, everytime, his father would say, "the mortals need to learn to care for themselves. If we always help them out when they are in times of trouble, they won't learn and evolve. It's better to visit when they're thriving, which is going to take a bit more time."

So Joel dropped the subject and continued on about his day until he would remember the mortals once more and bring it up again. It was a never-ending cycle, and Joel had no reason to think anything was amiss.

That is, until all the gods became translucent. Except for Joel.

"They're forgetting us; the mortals are forgetting us!" Peril exclaimed that day when all the gods gathered together to figure out what to do next.

Jeremy gestured to Joel, who was still solid. "Why isn't he being forgotten—he's our newest god! This doesn't make sense at all. No one could possibly remember him; he hasn't even been down to earth in his god form before."

Joel's father put two hands on Joel's shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes. "Joel, it is time. You must travel down to earth to help the mortals remember us. In our translucent forms, we are weakened and unable to travel there for long periods of time. I have no answers as to why you're not being forgotten, but we mustn't question it; you may not stay like this for much longer."

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat. He had no memories of ever being in the mortal realm before and, as such, it was practically a new experience. "Do we know how many mortals are still alive?"

His father shook his head. "We don't. You'll have to find them on your own. You must help the survivors remember and get them to give offerings to us; we're counting on you."

Joel didn't know how he could force mortals to worship the gods. He knew the capital he had come from was the main area where people believed in them, so he hoped descendents from his old hometown were still around. If not, and the survivors believed in different gods or no gods at all, Joel was going to have a tough time.

"I'll try my best," Joel said, and he managed a strained smile. Then, he descended down to the mortal world.

~~~

When Joel finally landed on solid ground, his head immediately felt like it was being split open by a cleaver. Instantly, he fell to his knees, gripping at his skull, and scrunching his eyes closed. Old memories came to him in waves, crashing into him like a tsunami, nausea rolling through him. His old bullies, his mother, his old home. His father giving him the option of immortality at a young age and gifting it to him later in life when Joel was on the brink of death.

Joel laid there for what seemed like hours, nursing his migraine and the rush of his mortal memories from who knew how long ago.

As the pain ebbed away, and Joel mentally sorted through his memory, he couldn't help but feel the anger burning within him. His father had forcefully turned him into an immortal god. He had lied about who Joel had once been. Did he want to save his father and the rest of the gods? Joel wasn't so sure anymore.

And so he walked. He had no idea where he was in the mortal realm—nothing looked familiar. Any sign of old architecture from his city or any of the other empires from his time were gone. Just how long had he been up in the god realm? His father had told him ten years, at the most, but Joel was beginning to think that that was just another lie. Chills ran through his body. Finally, as Joel was about to give up looking for civilization, he found a familiar hill. It was much grassier than he remembered, but it was the same one he remembered climbing as a young boy before the Greatbridge and his home came into view.

Joel crested the hill, and the familiar sight took over his senses. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as the bridge's path led to the gatehouse. The bridge was cracked and looked worn, but it was still there. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He couldn't believe that he was finally home.

Joel slowly made his way across the bridge, glancing down the side to see the water gently lapping at the stone pillars holding it up. The pillars were undecorated, probably destroyed in the Rapture or stolen by pirates.

He made his way through the gatehouse, the wooden doors already cracked open just slightly, before stopping in his tracks. Joel blinked at the scene in front of him. There were no buildings, just parts of the foundation roped off. Off in the distance, the froglight orchard grew wild. His home was…an archeological dig?

"Joel?" A voice asked, and Joel spun to the source, only to see a mortal man in a blue jacket and brown hair. "Is that really you?" The man looked awed, and he pulled off a pair of gloves, nearing Joel. "I didn't think I'd see you ever again."

It clicked, then. Why he wasn't being forgotten like the other gods. Pixlriffs had remembered him. "Pixlriffs?"

Pixlriffs chuckled. "The one and only."

"How long has it been? It looks like it's only been thirty years or something." Part of Joel was relieved that it hadn't been too long since he'd been gone. Pixlriffs had been quite young when Joel saved his life, and now he looked to be in his mid thirties. Maybe he had just arrived in the mortal world in a spot uninhabited by people. Maybe this was an archaeological dig sight because a landslide had covered the entirety of the town.

Pixlriffs went serious and he shook his head. "Joel, you've been gone for over 1000 years."

"1000 years?" Joel repeated. "But—but you're here. You're not an immortal god. This isn't possible. I must be dreaming."

"I can't explain it either," Pixlriffs said. "But, one day, I stopped aging. I don't know if I was always like this, or if it was a substance I touched or ate or if it was something else entirely. But Joel, it's been over 1000 years since you saved me. New empires have formed, and the others have no memory of the Rapture at all, only versions of it in their legends."

Joel's voice came out in a whisper as he said, "the gods are slowly fading away because nobody remembers them. I'm the only one not affected because you've remembered me."

Pixlriffs let this sink in. "Tell me about the gods," he finally said. "If I remember them, then they won't fade away. Still, you should find some villages too. Spread the knowledge around in case anything does happen to me. And," he added with a smile, "later, you can tell me what your ancient capital used to look like and I'll re-build it to its former glory."

And so Joel did. He told Pixlriffs about Peril and Jeremy and the other gods he had lived with for a thousand years without knowing. When he finally got to the god who painted the skies, with blond hair and blue eyes, and a nose like his own, Joel paused before making up his mind.

"And I'm the god of the skies and thunder and lightning."

~~~

Later, after Joel and Pixlriffs finally parted ways, Joel found himself in a grassy field in a village that had taken to his godhood quite easily. The sky was clear and, as Joel looked up at its endless blue, Joel pictured a sparkling marble empire in the sky.

He hadn't wanted to become immortal for the sole purpose of being with his mother, but she had died before the Rapture occured and there was no way to take it back. Now, the only way he could die was if he was erased from mortal's minds and wiped from history books. And Joel wasn't ready for that yet.

Joel exaggerated his feats and his traits to the people living in Lower Stratos; he didn't want to be forgotten. Memory was too precious to him—he would never go back to the god realm ever again. He wanted to make a name for himself here. Not only to prove the bullies who had picked on him wrong, but also for his mother who had always been there for him. Every morning to pep himself up for the new day, he told himself in the mirror he was strong. Both inside and out.

[lemonberry-conda]

Cub and his husband Scar lead a very honest, very humble life in the forest with their daughter, Jellie. More accurately, Cub and Scar live in poverty. Cub and Scar can't seem to find honest work in the nearby village due to the citizens fearing them and their "strange" magic. With no money, their humble home is in disrepair, being managed and tidied by an overwhelmed Jellie. The family can't get much poorer, but the villagers are certainly getting angrier and their desire to be rid of the dark magic beyond their borders is getting stronger. Thankfully, a mysterious letter arrives one night from a powerful foreign wizard, and not a moment too soon.

Almost 11k words later, here is the Empires Convex fic. Empires Jleo fic will be next, published hopefully before the sun explodes.

[rockcattomato]

One really interesting thing about this fandom (hermitcraft/life series) is that the characters have no depth. Like, yeah, you can project depth onto them while you’re watching or thinking about them. But, at a baseline level they are the ‘fun’ personas of people, which really isn’t anything at all.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing in my opinion, but it does mean that every time that they’re written, you need to give them depth. In many fandoms, the characters come with it, when you’re reading a fic, they start with backstory and context from the moment you see their name on the screen. But with these people, you have to make them real manually. Because the only emotional context they can truly start with, is either the slivers that are actually there, or someone’s impressions from already being in the fandom space.