#the other for the mass effect fanfic

[binaryjayne]

More Venko. Forever Venko. I am STUCK on this pair.

First off, I wrote a thing. It's this thing right here:

After the war, the Alliance and press catch wind of their relationship and decide to "redo" their wedding, making it an enormous event in the process. Both James and Kaidan want just a tiny bit of it for themselves.

Pairing: Kaidan Alenko X James Vega | rated G | 2.5k words | Part of the Honeymoon series

CUE THE OVER ANALYZING OF THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS FIC.

Spoilers for my Honeymoon series (and this fic in particular), but honestly, if anyone read the first smutty one-shot, there's nothing new or surprising below this line.

Okay. So, in this fic, both of them have an idea of how they want their proposal and wedding to go. Let's walk through Kaidan's first:

He got his suit tailored.

He made a reservation at a fancy restaurant.

He hired a violinist.

Does any of this sound like something James would be into? No, I really don't think so. I'm not saying James is simple, but he certainly has simple tastes. James values his connections to people over anything else. It's important to him that the people he loves are happy.

Would that proposal make Kaidan happy? Absolutely.

James? Not so much.

That approach to him would be stuffy and too much. Kaidan would find it romantic and understated, while James would find it over the top. He'd find more romance in an impromptu proposal on the back porch of their home while stargazing under a blanket. Granted, he's never going to not be thrilled at whatever Kaidan's proposal was, because at the end of the day he was always going to say yes (ignoring the fact that they're already married). But a little more consideration for what he might like would be nice.

I mean, a violinist? Really, Kaidan?

~

Now James' wedding plans:

Backyard BBQ

Only friends and family

Tattooed wedding rings

There's no spectacle, no expectation, just good food and good company. Would James love it? Yes. Would Kaidan love it?

ALSO YES!

So why does James think he'd hate it? Well, he doesn't, but he feels like Kaidan deserves more than something as casual as a backyard get-together. Kaidan deserves the violinist and the fancy dinner and the ring in the champagne flute. Those are big gestures that show just how much you love that person. Just because he doesn't find it particularly personal, doesn't mean they aren't traditional gestures for a reason. James doesn't want to be on the receiving end of that kind of affection, but Kaidan certainly deserves that type of luxury.

He doesn't realize that Kaidan would be thrilled to be surrounded by his friends in a tiny ceremony. There's no expectation to be a certain person or act a certain way. Moments like an exchange of vows should be private and only shared with your loved ones. He might want something a little more than a backyard BBQ, but under no circumstances would he hate a small reception at the orchard. No cameras, no titles, just love.

Oh, and he'd want real rings, but could be convinced to get a tattooed one as well.

~

So why am I highlighting this? Because they've only been together for a year, give or take a few months, and they're still learning about each other. It's why the whole thing turns into a fight because they don't truly know where they stand with one another, only knowing they're in love. They're trying, they want it badly, and yet they keep missing the mark.

It takes time, sooooo much time to truly know your partner, and they got married in the middle of a war, as figureheads in the middle of that war. There wasn't any time to do anything besides cling to the fact that what they had was real and would fight tooth and nail for it to survive.

They have more in common than they think, but are two very stubborn people. I've written them specifically to have trouble communicating, because I'm a dick like that. But if Kaidan would stop interrupting, and if James would stop acting on knee-jerk reactions, they'd find more success at getting to know each other.

So they keep screwing up. They're going to stumble, they're going to be selfish, they're going to misinterpret the needs of one another. And you know what? That's okay. They've decided they want to be together and are willing to put in the work to make it successful. They're not perfect, no relationship is, but growing together is what is going to make them woven together in a way that makes sense for them both.

Will it work? Who's to say, but they're trying. They want to make each other happy, but it takes time for them to truly know just how to do that.

But there's time now, hard-fought and well-earned time. Giant spectacle of a wedding or stargazing at the orchard, as long as their together, it's time well spent.

~~

So that's my thought process. The explanation is probably longer than the three or so paragraphs that it pertains to, but there we go.

[melanie-ohara]

Love in Andromeda

Exiled from the Nexus and with nothing to her name but a ship and a sword, Dela Raisaris never expected to find a home in Heleus.

Sometimes, home is a person.

@amethystasari

[qweengiba]

SOOOOOOOOOOO, the brainrot refuses to leave (thankyouverymuchADDforthat). So I tried to write..... something???? Please do correct me if I have done the Clones or the GAR any injustice.

When the explosive energy of the Catalyst had surrounded and consumed Shepard, their eyes were already closed. Their body was far too gone to feel the pain of being ripped into a million atoms as they finished the job that they had set out to finish. Yes, they would die again, but at least this time, Shepard could smile. No matter what happened next, the main threat was gone, and the fragile peace that they created between every species was not their duty to maintain.

It took several moments, though if they were seconds, minutes, or hours, they were untellable to Shepard. But it took them several moments to begin questioning their own situation. Was there actually an afterlife? Were they just just stuck floating in nothingness without sensation and feeling? Would they be forever alone? And what the fuck was that whistling sound?

That last question sent a shock through Shepard, one that made what should be a still heart into a racing beat that thrummed under their skin. Opening their eyes greeted them with an unfamiliar sightfar below them was what looked to be a war grounds on a planet that was very much not Earth. In just a single instance, several facts slotted themselves into Shepard's mind.

First of all was that they were free falling from a considerable distance from the ground.

Second was that their armor was somehow in one piece again, helmet and all. Every readout was positive for functions and objects in their kit, omnitools registered and non active, full omnigel and medigel, hell even full ration packets for after biotics use.

Third was that they felt no pain, and their helmet feedback wasn't screaming at them, so they were pretty sure there were no more injuries for them at this current moment. Which was facanatincing because taking a reaper beam to the face was a whole new pain that they were glad it was over, hopefully.

Fourth was that far below them was what appeared to be a rather nasty battle between white and brown bipedal beings with lights flying between the two groups unequal in number. Two clear lines against each other with the whites seeming to be losing ground and cover.

One deep breath, their ribs expanding with ease instead of the burning pain they can remember from only minutes before, and then Shepard was acting. They sparked up in blues and violets as they used their biotics to lighten the mass to help with deceleration as they spread their limbs apart as far as possible. To slow down their descent to gain a bit more time to think. The helmet hud was scanning the environment below and was throwing up multiple errors and failures. No information on location from the geographic landscape, no System Alliance or Council beacons to connect to in near by space, no real technology at all that their systems were recognized as friendly or known that could be possible connected to, the only actual usable information being that those in white were 78% chance of being organic while those in brown had a 99% chance of being synthetics. And that apparently the strange giant brown lumpy thing with a long barrel attached was most likely either a tank or heavy artillery. The barrel moved, first swinging to the side before what appeared to be minor adjustments for angles before it reared back, and a short red beam left the muzzle. And then what had been some gray jagged piece of ruin that had two whites behind it was gone in an explosion of fire, only smoke and strewn pieces left behind.

And then the barrel was moving once more.

Shepard is the first to admit they are an impulsive person who acts just as much as they think. They know their next action will be against the tank because past experiences have them leaning towards helping organics over synthetics, but also because they are a bit of a sucker for the underdog. They ponder only for a few seconds, which of their load out would be most useful to take down something so big from the air before a singular idea launched to the forefront. It was stupid, peak of reckless, several people Shepard personally knew would call it insane. Grunt and Jack would love it for how possibly destructive and flashy it would be. It was a good thing they had their helmet back because Shepard knew the grin on their face was absolutely feral like a krogan.

They activated their omnitool and quickly set their personal shields into overdrive. It would drain their charge harshly at first impact, but that was all they needed. A glance at one corner of the hud gave them an estimate on distance left till ground and it was in the number that Shepard had trained for biotic jumps, though that still involved a lot more deceleration than what was next. Another deep breath, and then they were flipping in the air before stabilizing in a standing position.

"Well, I have always wanted to be a meteorite." Their biotic signature was able to latch onto the large mass of metal and energy, allowing Shepard to use said biotics to pull their gravity to the tank while also increasing their mass. The entirety of their body was encased in a blue and violet electricity, with a blue vapor near their body. The several barriers they were wrapping about themselves only made the ethereal light show brighter.

________________________________________

Stat was hiding behind a large chunk of something made of duracret with two fellow vod while the rest of the company was spread thin behind poor cover. That left them all just pretty little targets for the very much not included in any intel, Armored Assault Tank that was currently treating this like some little shooting range game. He was sure that Captain Tyto was injured but alive from grumbling commands on holding the line and trying to stay alive for backup. But those were hard commands to follow when every time the main cannon from that AAT fired, there was a loud CRACK-pop over the coms as another few vod were sent marching on ahead. 27 vod haven't been heard from since the last shot, and Stat could only pray to little gods that if his cover is next to be hit that it would be fast and painless.

Pyew fzzzzzzzzzzzztfump BANG. CRACK-pop pop.

The blaster in Stat's hands was going to start to crack from how tightly he grips it as he refuses to look to his left to see two more gone. 29 now silent vod. The line crackles alive, and instead of the call off, it was a question.

“Does anyone else have eyes on the sky? Because what the kark is that a klik up from the AAT?”

That got Stat to turn from pressing his back against the cover to facing it and leaning back. Anything in the sky means they were all spotted no matter what, and anything on the separatists side was always bad news. But instead of the expected ship or droid, it was an electric explosion of blue and purple and every shade in-between. It hovered in the air for a single breath before rocketing down at the AAT like a comet, a trail of blue streaking behind. The muzzle of the tank was still lining up to fire when impact happened, the brown metal folding and cracking apart. Then it exploded gloriously that any vod who had made one would have been proud. The view obscured by smoke, dirt, and fire, even the droids just stared at the destruction.

“Did that really happen?”

“The scanner says the AAT is gone.”

“That wasn't a jedi, right? Like, I'm pretty sure their magic doesn't do that.”

“No lights as far as I'm aware.”

“Blasters up vod, just because the AAT is out of the way doesn't mean we are clear yet. Backup is still two hours out at the least, and I want all those damn clankers dealt with now.” Ah, good old Captain Tyto, keeping focus on the target as always.

Someone else was just laughing quietly with a pitch of hysteria, though they had quickly switched off their comm.

The rest of the comm channel filled with chatter as they began to easily pick off the standing clankers. The commander droid must have been in the tank for how simple it was to pick off droids, no tactics other than straight forward. The line advanced and it was becoming clear that the droids were distracted by whatever took down the AAT because what sounded similar to slugthrower was coming from the still smoking wreck that was also in a small, very newly formed crater.

Stat was the first one to make it to the edge of the crater, droids falling before anyone fires. A glance over showed physical damage with no burns so not anything plasma, but slugthrowers and like normally didn't have the power to punch clear holes through droid heads and chassis. Looking over the edge showed a being covered cacophony of those same blues and purples from the thing in the sky, the comet that saved them. Underneath the unknown power was a humanoid covered head to toe in black armor unlike any seen, what could possibly be classified as a rifle in their hands as they fire at the last droid on the other side of the crater they created. Surrounding them were the twisted remains of the AAT. An all-clear was called out on the comms, and a thorough sweep would have to happen, but most if not all the droids were dealt with. The light show that surrounded the being in black died down, leaving only a whisper of color that lingered around their body. The rifle they held was one not known by Stat, but they pointed it down instead up at them, which was a good sign. Stat holstered his blaster, his hands going up to be held in the air in front of himself with fingers spread wide to show nothing in his grip. A nice, mostly universal sign for non aggression for fellow sentiments, to which the being in black nodded their head and put away their own weapon. With a flick of his eyes in his hud, external comms turned on.

“Thank you for your help.” Maybe not the correct thing to say to an unknown on a battlefield, but kriff it all if Stat didn't thank the person who single handedly turned a slaughter into a battle. “As a member of the Grand Army of the Republic I request you to identify yourself…. Please.”

What sounded like a sigh came from the black armor as they shook their head while shoulders moved into a shrugging. Then a voice came from them, distorted by speakers but still clear and in a language unknown.

“Ey doont un derstan yew und eym gussin yew doont un derstan me eethr.”

[ferniliciousness]

what keeps garrus from killing gaia like the other gun runners he canonically kills on omega lol

Ohhh this is a good question. And makes sense if your not in my head lmao

Gaia owns a store on Omega, similar to the Batarian store you can find in game, just a much smaller scale. None of her products are illegal in the Terminus systems. She runs a business like anyone else. Her customers def do illegal things but there's no real way for her to control that or even prove it. It's Omega, everyone needs guns lmao.

Garrus, in general, goes after, gang members, large scale smugglers of things such as drugs, illegal substances, and probably people. In other words people who are directly and purposely hurting civilians and causing crime.

Sellings guns isn't illegal, and in my head cannon neither is making and selling customs parts so Gaia isnt doing anything illegal. The people who buy from her though 😅

Also were not gonna talk about her when she was younger 😅 Garrus def would have killed her then.

[venvellan]

i honestly like 2nd person but i think i'm one of like 3 people on earth that does. and it has to be done well

[kyratittyfish]

All I Need

This lil fic is for my dear friend @commander-krios. Why? Cause she's awesome, and she deserves some fluff featuring her Aurora Shepard and Joker. Who are pretty awesome too. Anyway- hope you like it <3 -Kyra

“Have you ever thought about moving planetside?” Aurora asked, her arm draped above her forehead and her slender fingers playing with the hem of her pillowcase. 

With how soft her voice was, barely loud enough for Jeff to hear it, he wondered if she truly meant to ask her question, or if she was merely thinking out loud. She tended to do that when she was relaxed, and he felt a little clump of fuzzy warmth settling in his chest at the thought that yes, she was indeed at ease now, lying next to him. 

Even after years since their first kiss he still couldn’t believe his luck and kept anticipating the dreadful moment of waking up and realizing their love had been nothing more than a convincing dream. He took a deep breath in, letting her familiar scent dispel his doubts and fears.

“When this mess is over, I mean,” she clarified, slightly turning her head towards his side of the bed. He mirrored her movement and rolled to his side.

Her hair was a sprawled mess that framed her head like a golden halo against the white bedsheets, and starlight reflected in her blue eyes, making the details of her irises shimmer like silver shards of moondust. He wasn’t a religious man, but looking at her, he could almost believe in angels. 

“Planetside?” he snorted, scuttling closer to her body until his hip met the warmth of her bare skin. No matter how many times he’d done it before, touching her was always like flowing through a relay. It felt like floating weightlessly through the fabric of space and time, in a place between worlds where the laws of nature meant nothing. It was intoxicating, and he knew that if he had one thousand years to live, one billion occasions to experience that same moment again and again, he’d still be pleading for one more day, one more time, one more flight, and one more touch.  

“Mhm.” Aurora shifted on the mattress to snuggle more comfortably next to him, and gently wrapped her leg around his thighs. “Earth. Or Tiptree, if you wanna.” Her words began to slur as sleepiness seeped deeper into her mind and body. He smiled as she nested her face in the crook of his neck and covered her hand in his as she slid her palm over his chest to rest it right above his heart. 

He placed a tender kiss over her head. Her hair tickled his cheek as he did so, but it was a pleasant tingle. “Nah,” he murmured into her blonde locks. “There are way too many people there. And bugs. And dirt. And the weather changes? Sorry, but I’ll pass.”

She didn’t answer right away, or even chuckle. Her warm breaths grew slower and deeper against his neck, and he thought she’d fallen asleep already. 

“S’alright,” she finally mumbled, after what could have been a minute or a hundred. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

[emrisemrisemris]

2917 words rated G

Finally the projector produced a coherent image, and Byron pulled himself to attention, and saluted. "Admiral Shepard."

She had an electronic cigarette with her this time, as well as the ever-present cup of coffee. She brewed it like rocket fuel; he'd gotten the taste from her. She looked exhausted, but was smiling. "You're never going to stop doing that, are you?"

"No, ma'am," Byron said, grinning. "Happy birthday. For what it's worth."

"Birthdays are a human thing. Don't think Reapers have them." Admiral Shepard took a drag on the cigarette and stared contemplatively into the middle distance. "Hell, that's enough of a reason to celebrate. Thanks, kid."

---

Shepard and his mother mark each other's birthdays, before and during the Reaper War. new fic, or rather old fic; I started this I don't know how many years ago and dug it out recently to poke at again.

A lot of different Shepards turn up in my fic, but Byron Narragansett Shepard - spacer, soldier, war hero, sentimental renegade - was my first playthrough and the one I still think of as "my" Shepard. His mother Hannah is a perennially tired lesbian engineer.

[sleep-deprived-person]

So apparently KOSA (2024 edition) is getting either thrown out until next year or put into effect in six days. That was a guesstimate based on a different person saying that's when Congress is back in session and may be false.

Update that's going in the main post at the top: it has enough support to pass Congress.

It failed the last two times because people were voting against it.

This time, KOSA has traction among the pro-LGBTQ parties. Because nobody is fucking calling their bullshit and screaming from the rooftops that calling it the "Kids Online Safety Act" is misleading.

What will it passing do?

Nothing much, only prevent any education on LGBTQIA+ (it's that stupid fucking argument about us grooming kids again), shut down nearly every fandom space on the internet, and make it required for most big tech companies to have your ID.

Want to have resources for kids to discover their identity readily available? Yes? Then fucking speak up against this stupid fucking bill.

Fandom spaces like Tumblr, Twitter (? I thought the MAGA assholes liked Musk?), Tiktok, Archive Of Our Own, and any other website that hosts fanfic or fanart? Either shut down permanently, forced to uproot to a different country and down for a while (best case scenario, and they likely won't be able to send any data, and therefore fanfics, to the US), or gutted so that you only get to put G rated cishet ships on there, if any shipping at all. How to avoid that? I've already said it: Call your fucking representatives.

Want to avoid the fucking dystopic task of being legally obligated to give big tech your government issue ID? Again, cause an uproar. Call your goddamned representatives.

If they can pass this, the ripple effects could be catastrophic.

So, for fuck's sake, any Americans that can impact this stupid fucking bill and see this? Do everything in your power to shut it down because you have until February twenty sixth (26th) to send this bill back to where it belongs.

And if you can't do that? Reblog, copy my tags, and boost the signal.

Sorry not sorry for ranting, making you scroll through that, and swearing a probably excessive amount, but KOSA is a bill with a GLOBAL IMPACT being passed by ONE COUNTRY because some old people are scared of two guys with who were told they were girls kissing within five hundred miles of a child. Fuck this shit, I shouldn't have to worry about bad bills in America but I fucking do because I use the internet and would like to avoid mass censorship. Fuck this, fuck conservatives, and fuck the fact that some boomers make your country's policies.

Now, if you won't mind me, I'm going to be up until three in the morning downloading fanfiction or copying and pasting them into a a text file if I can't so I can read them by the end of the week.

[ladygwyndolin]

Have you ever wanted to read a story written by a published author just for you? Then you're in luck, because my COMMISSIONS are OPEN once again! I'm opening 5 slots with a maximum of 4k words apiece, complete with specific discounts down below!

WILL WRITE: fanfic, OCs, character/reader, analytical nonfiction, original concepts, furries, existing fic canons, kink, original stories, abo, etc.

WILL NOT WRITE: Incest, adult/child relationships, etc. (please respect my comfort level)

FAVORED SHIPS (no discount, but ones I'm very familiar with and can do most efficiently):

-Suletta/Miorine (Gundam Witch)

-Noi/Nikaido (Dorohedoro)

-Rem/Misa (Death Note)

-Kyomami/Madohomu

-Any F/F Mass Effect ship (shiara gets a bonus)

DISCOUNTS ($5/1k words off for any comm of these ships):

-Any F/F ship, Reinhard/Kircheis (LOGH)

-Mireille/Kirika (Noir) or Nadie/Ellis (Cazador)

-Integra/Seras (Hellsing)

-Warmonger/Shaman (For Honor)

-Femshep/Liara -Any F/F ship (Murcielago)

-Any F/F ship (Soulsborne/ER)

(There are plenty of other things I'm happy to write, so don't feel limited by that list! If you're curious about whether or not I'm familiar with a piece of media, don't hesitate to shoot me a message and find out!)

Some examples of previous work:

SFW: "The Lives That I Have Loved (And Actions I Have Hated)" (Rennala/Marika) https://archiveofourown.org/works/45324904

18: "Not Yet Forsaken" (Lae'zel/Shadowheart) https://archiveofourown.org/works/49949596/chapters/126109429

Tips are appreciated but not required! Feel free to lmk if you have any questions or want to reserve a slot! Reblogs are also a huge help. I look forward to writing for you :D

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:00

↻ PREV ◁ || ▷ NEXT ↺

A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?” 

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-” 

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.” 

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown. 

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve. 

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand. 

Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two 

Lie-lie loving you, such words 

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

[a-little-buggy]

Hello! I wrote an Assassin's Creed fanfic based on @sulfies' ideas about the bleeding effect! (Plus some other HCs that he has mentioned thrown in for flavor) He has SUCH amazing art, you should definitely check it out if you haven't yet! This was actually my first time writing fanfiction, so feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Chased by Shadows

Word count: 2,699

Desmond raced through the streets of Firenze, bumping shoulders with people as he passed. Behind him, he could still hear the hurried steps of the guards. "Get back here! You'll suffer for this!"

He glanced back at his pursuers, but collided with a man carrying a heavy crate, which tumbled and busted on the ground. "Watch where you're going next time!"

"Scusami! I'm sorry!" Desmond kept running.

Ahead, he saw a stack of crates, leading to a number of poles and balconies. Surely the guards would be slow to follow. He leapt up, balancing himself briefly before taking another leap. Balance, leap, balance, leap, swing, balance; it was a comfortingly familiar rhythm. But Desmond was exhausted, and felt too at ease with the acrobatics. Relying on muscle memory that wasn't his. He reached for a clothesline, but it slipped from his fingers and he hit the ground.

He rolled enough that he wasn't hurt, (not badly), but the guards were nearly on top of him again. "Cazzo!" Desmond pulled himself to his feet, and was running again.

Ahead, the street was widening into a market. "Perhaps I can lose them in the crowd."

He slowed to mimic the flow of the people milling and shopping, weaving his way deeper into the stalls, always checking over his shoulder. The guards were always just behind him.

He passed through a group of monks, and turned again to check if he was still followed. The guards were further away now, but one of them turned and caught his eye. Desmond began backing away, preparing to bolt again, but squarely ran into someone.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He readied his blade.

"Are you alright, mi amico?"

Desmond wheeled around. "Ezio?" He breathed a sigh of relief. "Dio mio, it is good to see you! Can you help rid me of these guards?"

"What guards?" Ezio peered into the sea of faces.

"They've been chasing me all morning!" Desmond grabbed Ezio's arm, ushering him through the masses, barely steps ahead of his tormentors.

"Follow me then." Ezio took the lead, weaving and wending through the crowd, until they reached the edge of the marketplace. Here, the rows of houses began again. Ezio planted his foot on a windowsill, then leaped upwards. He climbed hand over hand, from the window, to the balcony, the banister, the roof. Desmond followed close behind, mirroring his movements exactly.

The two bounded between the rooftops. Desmond kept his gaze focused on Ezio's movements, but behind him, he heard the continued protests of the guardsmen.

"Up ahead!" Ezio quickly rounded a corner, and by the time Desmond had done the same, he barely caught a glimpse of Ezio's boots disappearing under the sheet of a rooftop garden. Desmond leaped in after him. He hadn't slowed down enough, but fortunately, Ezio grabbed hold of him before he could crash into the opposing wall.

The two assassins sat there, sheltering in the shaded box, waiting with hitched breath. Desmond could hear footsteps, murmers, "Did you see where they went?"

"Well," Ezio said, as he started dusting himself off. "That should take care of -"

"Shh!" Desmond slapped his hand over Ezio's mouth and rose a finger to his own. "They'll hear you!"

Ezio glared at him, but frustration was quickly replaced by perplexion and concern. He gently removed Desmond's hand, then clasped it in his own. He entwined their fingers together, staring fixatedly at the blackened hand, as if by some strange. . . burn? Ezio returned his gaze to meet Desmond's, then gestured his head towards the curtain, mouthing, "I'll check." He released the seemingly charred fingers, giving them one last reassuring stroke, then crept over to peer from a corner. He shifted and peeked out another corner, and then another curtain. Finally, he stood up.

"We are the only ones on this rooftop." Ezio looked down at Desmond, who was sat in the corner, wringing his hands. In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Ezio gave him a sly smirk and added, "Unless those pigeons are the pursuers you spoke of."

"I. . . I was. . ." Desmond shook his head, then rose to his feet to look for himself. The rooftops were empty. He gave a deep sigh, then straightened up. "Bene," He said, as he started dusting himself off. "Those lurido porci must have finally given up!" Ezio was still staring, and it was starting to make his skin crawl. "What is it?"

"I do not intend to seem rude, but. . ." Ezio trailed off, then leaned back against a corner post, folding his arms. "Have you always spoken Italiano?"

Desmond scoffed. "Of course I have!" He said, gesturing furiously. "Why wouldn't I speak my own-"

Oh.

Desmond slumped back down into the corner. He began wringing his hands again. His hands. Then why didn't they feel like his?

Ezio knelt down in front of Desmond, and lifted his face towards the dim light. "You look tired, Desmond. When is the last time you really slept?"

"I dunno. . ." Desmond shook his head, then gave a weak chuckle. "What year is it?"

"Not the answer I was looking for." Ezio's hand still rested on Desmond's cheek, his thumb gently stroking the other man's chin. Ezio lingered, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "Exhaustion can do funny things to a man."

"But don't fret, mi amore." Ezio lowered his hand, now playfully tapping Desmond's chest. "I know where to find the very best beds in this city!" And with this, Ezio rose, and doing a triumphant turn thrust open a curtain.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Desmond responded, and reached his hand up. Ezio in turn clasped Desmond's forearm, and pulled him to his feet, the two colliding slightly.

Ezio again held open the curtain, and with an overly dramatic bow held out his hand and said, "After you."

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Such a gentleman." He took Ezio's and climbed over the low wall. Ezio climbed out after, and they made their way back down to the streets.

Ezio led the way, making idle conversation as they went. "Now, normally, I would be going to La Rosa Colta, but if the intention is to actually sleep, there is a lovely inn a little further to the east, where. . ."

Desmond couldn't stay focused on what Ezio was saying. The streets were too busy; too many faces and voices. They all blurred together, taking on shapes that were old and familiar. He would have sworn that he caught a glimpse of Lucy. Or that he saw Rebecca sitting on a bench. Had Shaun just called his name? He turned around to look, but all of these people were strangers. His friends were not to be found here.

Someone grabbed his arm, and he flinched.

"You're lucky I didn't wander off without you." Ezio started to scowl at Desmond, but abandoned it quickly, instead examining Desmond's arm. "I. . . didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No! No, 'course not." Desmond pulled away, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just. . . I'm feeling pretty out of it. That's all." He pleaded to whatever powers may be that if his eyes were wet, Ezio wouldn't notice.

"Well, I would hate to lose you in this crowd," Ezio said, taking Desmond's hand.

Desmond wished he could feel it, could take comfort in the sensation of Ezio's fingers wrapped around his own, but his charred skin had lost all feeling. As they walked through the busy streets, Desmond couldn't help but feel disconnected from this world. As though he wasn't really a part of it, or wasn't even really here. Some piece of him was grateful for the anchor to Ezio, leading the way through this unrelenting sea of people, but he couldn't help but feel that the noticeable numbness was just making this sense of unbelonging worse.

Ezio could apparently sense Desmond's unease. "We're getting close now. I promise."

Sure enough, after turning another corner they approached a modest inn. It was a tall building, with green banners and curtains to distinguish it from the other houses lined alongside. They entered into a lobby filled with chairs and benches which had a staircase to one side. On the other side sat an older woman at a desk, with several keys hanging on the wall behind her. She was presently checking in another traveler.

"You go ahead upstairs." Ezio released Desmond's hand, and patted him on the shoulder. "I will get us sorted with a solitary accommodation."

Desmond nodded, and proceeded up the staircase, which creaked under his feet. His head ached, and his legs ached, and he stopped after the first flight of stairs to lean against the wall. This floor had just a few large rooms, which would hold several beds, each with the understanding that many travelers would share. The private rooms were likely up another level. "Great," Desmond muttered under his breath. "More stairs." He continued climbing.

Fortunately, the staircase ended at the third floor, which had a winding hallway through many small rooms. Desmond breathed a sigh of relief, and walked a little ways down the hall. Out of curiosity, he tested one of the knobs, but it was locked. It was quiet up here, at least. Desmond slumped down against the door, halfway considering dozing off.

"Well, you took your time getting here."

Desmond jumped up, blinking his eyes. In front of him stood a young woman wearing a blue brocade dress. She was toying with her glittering necklace. Desmond finally realized she was talking to him. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, don't go getting coy now! Haven't I waited long enough already?" She reached out and rubbed her thumb along Desmond'shirt collar.

He looked at her in perplexement, and then drew away, realization dawning on him. "Oh. I get it. Look, ma'am, you've got me mistaken for someone else. And besides that, you aren't real. So maybe you could just. . . save us both some time and vanish? Or whatever?"

"I've been dreaming of this night for so long. . ." The woman crooned, drawing closer. Apparently, his words had no effect on. . . her? It?

He drew back again, this time anger and frustration welling up inside of him. "You know what? I have had enough of all of this! I am telling you, here and now, to LEAVE ME THE FU-"

"Desmond?" Ezio came jogging up the stairs, key in hand. "Who are you shouting at?"

Desmond threw his hands in the air. "NOBODY! Nobody at all! After all, who else would I talk to, if not some figment of my imagination!?"

Ezio reached the top step, and started searching for their door. "Well, you might have an easier time of it talking to me."

Desmond huffed. "Well, I also might have an easier time of it if you hadn't slept with half the women in Firenze!"

Desmond glared at Ezio, who, for his part, looked very lost and confused. Desmond took a deep breath, and buried his face in his hands. "You have no idea what I'm talking about. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Forget I said anything."

Ezio nodded. "You aren't feeling well. I will not hold it against you." Ezio started leading Desmond down the hall, looking for their room. "I remember once when I was young, I fell ill. I had a fever, and was lying in bed. And when Federico came in to check on me, I threw every. . . colorful word I knew at him. He simply nodded and left, and then returned a few minutes later with a hot cup of milk."

He chuckled fondly to himself. "Unfortunately, my mother overheard our one-sided conversation. I love her immensely, but the woman seldom forgives. And I swear to you, she never forgets."

By now they had found their door, which Ezio unlocked and entered. It was a little tight, but it had a bed and bedside table, and a window, and a small chest of drawers with an unlit candle on top.

Ezio crossed the room and closed the curtains. He looked back at Desmond, who had dragged himself up onto the bed and buried his head under a pillow. "Are you not even going to take off your shoes?"

"Mmfph" said the pillow.

"Va bene." Ezio flopped onto the bed next to Desmond, and the two laid there in silence.

. . . . .

"I'm sorry, I cannot do this." Ezio bolted upright and shifted to the foot of the bed, where he began unlacing his boots.

Desmond pulled his head out from under the pillow. "Weeeaak," he jeered.

"My mother may have raised an idiota, but she did not raise a slob." Once Ezio had removed everything but his pants and undershirt, he laid back down on the bed and sighed. "Much better."

Desmond gave him a sleepy smile, but then turned his attention to staring intently at the window. He shook his head and nestled back into the pillow, only to lift his head to peer at the window again a few minutes later.

Ezio rolled over to face him. "Desmond? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just. . ." Desmond sighed. "Ezio, you would tell me if you heard something, right?

"Of course, if it seemed important. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing, really. I just keep thinking I hear sirens."

"Sirens?" Ezio propped himself up on his elbows, and then placed a hand on either side of Desmond, leaning over him. Ezio's hair had come undone, and his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, his collarbones and chest hair peeking out from underneath. Desmond gulped. "Desmond, I am right here. Why would you go to some. . ." Ezio's face scrunched with revulsion, "fish-women for sex?"

Desmond blinked. He blinked again, and then rubbed his eyes. "I think we're talking about two very different things."

"Oh." Ezio's ears turned slightly pink, and he sat back on his legs. "What did you mean by sirens, then?"

"Sirens, are. . ." Desmond trailed off, rubbing his temple. "It's kinda like an alarm, but strapped to a carriage?"

"I see." Ezio laid back down on the bed. "If an alarm is raised, I will make sure you are aware. But I truly do not believe there to be reason for concern." Ezio turned to face Desmond again. "I only hope that resting will do you some good. I fear I don't know any other way to help."

"Ezio, you've helped more than enough already. Hell, I might still be running from imaginary guards if it hadn't been for you." Desmond shut his eyes firmly, and took a deep breath. "I. . . I can't hardly tell what's real anymore." Desmond didn't say he was afraid, but he figured his voice had betrayed that already.

"Perhaps you can still find comfort in what you know for fact." Ezio reached over, taking Desmond's blackened hand in his own. "Perhaps you can find comfort with me."

Desmond stared at their hands. "Yeah. . . I guess. . ."

"You guess? You mean, you guess I'm real?"

"That isn't what I meant -"

"No, no. Come here." Ezio wrapped his arms around Desmond, and pulled him close so Desmond's head was now laying on Ezio's chest. "You are safe, Desmond. And you are not alone. So please, try to get some sleep."

Desmond laid there, in the still silence. He listened to Ezio's heartbeat, and felt the weight of Ezio's arms around him. He was grateful for the quiet and warmth. But sleep could not come quickly enough, and silence can also bring worry. Did I offend him? After all, how would I feel if someone else implied I might not exist? Will he resent me for all this?

Desmond's anxiety spiral was interrupted by a new sound. An intermittent low rumbling. He groggily lifted his head to look for its source, before realizing it was in perfect sync with the rise and fall of Ezio's chest.

He's snoring.

Desmond let out a deep sigh, laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to sink into Ezio's warm, sleepy embrace. And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Desmond slept soundly.

[flyingraven]

My MCYT fanfic worldbuilding!

Both for anyone who's interested in how I imagine the minecraft sphere so to speak works and for linking to my ao3 page, here is my MCYT worldbuilding! Long post ahead! This gets updated regularly as well.

World

Gods and other beings

Jeb and Notch are the Elder Gods. They created the other gods and the prime players. These days they have disappeared, and nobody seems to know where they are. 

Kristin is the goddess of Death, and she’s not a fan of the Watchers. Phil is an ex Watcher, but defected and joined Kristin. They fell in love. 

Most of Kristin's angels were originally mortals. On very rare occasions, when someone died in a certain way which really captures her attention she might decide to ask them to join her ranks. This is how Scott became an angel of hers. A few of her angels are kids of other angels. 

The Watchers were at war with the Voidwalkers for a while. It ended when the Watchers massacred them. Xisuma and EX are considered to be the only survivors. Hoping something to End and Aether is generally a Voidwalker expression, though older immortals have been known to sometimes adopt it as well.

Techno used to be a mortal who was very good at PVP, so an evil god forcefully ascended him to be a demigod and made him work for him. Techno at one point killed him (probably temporarily, though that god hasn’t been nearly as influential since) and became a demigod in his own right. 

Prime players were the first players created by the Elder Gods. It’s unknown how many there are, since they tend to stay in hiding. What sets prime players apart from normal players is that respawns have no effect on their souls and that they don’t age. Meaning they are functionally immortal. There are ways to kill them, but no normal mortal could get them to stay down so to speak. 

Players can become admins through training. Not everybody has the natural aptitudes to become an admin. Everyone can access the code of the world if they learn how to, but utilising it wrong can be the end of someone. 

You can generally respawn infinitely, but it slowly eats away at your soul. And at some point you don’t respawn anymore. This is generally the same as dying of old age, but it’s not uncommon for very heavy pvp players to die younger because their soul is ruined by continuous respawns. 

On ascensions

Any god can ascend a mortal to become a demigod. But it's a violent act and will usually completely kill off the world the former mortal was inhabiting. And it hurts. A lot. The combination of these factors is what made Eret's ascension so bad. Because usually the newly ascended demigod will wake up with their god. But Eret didn't. They woke up alone in a dead realm.

Cults can try to get a gods attention to get them to ascend one of their own to demigod status. Really, no good gods will respond to these rituals. They usually involve mass sacrifice. 

Gods can also just choose to ascend a living mortal, but again, this is not often done and when it is, usually only by evil gods. That's what happened to Techno.

Kristin works in a different way. When mortals die she sometimes (very rarely) offers them to become one of her angels. Her angels are demigods, but due to being in her service they are referred to as angels.

Demons are demigods aligned to Kristin's undefined evil counterpart.

Worlds

Worlds are generally connected to hubworlds. Travelling to other worlds usually happens through these. Hubworlds can vary from simple planes with rows and rows of portals to massive cities where people live, interspersed with portals. It’s not uncommon for kids to get dumped on hubworlds to fend for themselves. They often end up banding together, since hubworlds are pretty often fairly hostile places to live in due to the lack of admin oversight. Kids like this are generally called children of the hub. 

Besides travelling through official portals there are ways to jump to other worlds. This is why you can protect your worlds with whitelists. They take the form of physical barriers in the code surrounding worlds. Think of it like a satellite defence system around a planet. Worldhoppers are players who make a habit of jumping from world to world without portals. Often these are players who grew up in the hub and learned admin magic through other people. They basically break into other worlds and thus aren’t always seen as the best people. Most worldhoppers are friendly though. Hubkids often end up worldhopping, at least during their teenage years until they find a place to settle down or until a mistake tears their soul apart.

Sometimes worlds connect themselves to each other through rifts. Nobody knows how these occur, and they can’t really be controlled. Maybe gods could control them, but nobody below them. 

There is something called being worldlocked. Its generally something the Watchers do to worlds as a punishment. It involves messing with the code of the world and all the people on it. Leaving them unable to leave the world and unable to contact anyone outside of it. A lot of locked worlds eventually devolve into chaos due to the isolation, with people turning on each other.

Improper coding of a world can lead to the world getting corrupted. What happens to corrupted worlds varies, but generally they completely destroy themselves and everyone on it. EVO got corrupted, less due to Grian making mistakes but more due to being an experimental world surrounded by experimental worlds that were corrupted. The Watchers helped the process along as a punishment for Grian. 

Hardcore worlds are worlds that lock you out when you die. You simply can’t enter them anymore, only view them through your communicator. Dying in them is also way harder on your soul, so players are weary of playing in them too much.

On exorcising players.

Sometimes players can get overtaken by things. Vexes are the most common, though there are other things. Glitched “networks”, like mycelium or more recently, sculk. 

Zooming in more on the Vex. The Vex aren't fully sentient like players or more-than-players are. But they aren’t quite mobs either. They exist in a space between categories, but have a strong desire to achieve… more. The way they try to achieve this is by trying to possess vulnerable players. They don’t often succeed, but when they do they will try to take over servers and hubworlds. They kind of function like a computer virus. Overtaking a player and ‘overlapping’ their code with their own Vex code manipulation. 

Sculk and Mycelium work a little differently. They are more so connected through a hivemind. A sculk block is the same as a warden is the same as a shrieker is the- you get the point. The sculk is not an individual block. And it has one goal. To spread. To overtake more of a world. To overtake more players. Similar to Vex it will latch on to a player and ‘overlap’ their code with its own. 

Exorcising players from any type of possession is possible, but a nasty process. First of all it requires someone with at powers at least akin to a voidwalker or a prime player. Then they basically have to tear the Vex, sculk or mycelium from the player line by line. Piece by piece. And it hurts. Especially when the player regains enough awareness to recognise that they are being hurt by someone they know, but not why or how. Removing sculk can leave scars akin to burn scars. 

Characters backstories (incomplete)

Hermits

Grian: Parrot hybrid. Was a child of the hub at some point with Jimmy, he met Mumbo during this time. Created EVO and was spotted and taken by the Watchers. Escaped them after give or take two years and broke into Hermitcraft during his escape. 

Scar: Human-ish. Was fully human until he got possessed by vexes together with Cub. He had to be exorcised by Xisuma. While the vex are now gone he still has powers related to their possession. The downside is that he’s still haunted by hallucinations(?) of their possession. Disabled besides that and uses a cane on bad days. 

Pearl: Moth hybrid. Grew up together with Grian and later Jimmy. She can’t really remember her early childhood, but her defining moment was Grian’s disappearance and later the corruption of EVO. Right around the time Grian escaped the Watchers she was taken and turned into one. Later she ran into Grian again on Hermitcraft. 

Gem: A young admin who ran small building worlds. She met Pearl through a building competition she was hosting. Gave Pearl shelter after EVO fell. 

False: Child of the hub. Was one of the youngest leaders of the group she was in until she gave herself up to a Hypixel manager to rescue one of the younger kids when she was 12. Fought there until she was 17 and Techno and Phil gave her a chance to escape. 

Etho: Grew up on an anarchy server akin to 2B2T where he’d attack people with his redstone. Got possessed by corrupted mycelium at one point which left it’s scars on him mentally. 

Joe: Prime player. He’s very old (being a prime player makes him immune to dying of old age). Can’t remember where he grew up but he travelled around from server to server until he found Cleo. Then he travelled with her until they joined Hermitcraft. Gets nauseous when travelling though portals.

Cleo: Originally human. From a big city server that fell to a corrupted virus. It turned the server into a zombie apocalypse. She barely escaped with her life and ran into Joe. She later returned to her server after a family member contacted her, but was infected herself. Joe saved her life. 

Xisuma and EX: Voidwalkers. Grew up in the end. EX is the older brother but was always treated as evil due to a misinterpreted prophecy. Which became a self-fulfilling one. The entire population of Voidwalkers was attacked by the Watchers, who’d they’d been at war with. Xisuma and EX were the presumed only survivors. 

Tango: Blaze hybrid. From the nether, was taken to a lab which he later escaped from together with Doc. 

Iskall: Former human, now a human with cybernetic parts. Was in an accident which, due to fucked up respawn mechanics on his homeworld, left him needing the cybernetic parts. 

Doc: creeper/human/cyborg hybrid. Created in a lab. Escaped from the lab together with Tango.

Emperors/related to them

Jimmy: Canary hybrid. Child of the hub. Watched EVO get destroyed and barely escaped with his life. 

Martyn: Human, was on EVO with the other EVO people and got separated from them during the escape. His shoulder has never quite been the same since he had to reset it himself. 

Scott: An Angel of Death. Under the command of Philza and in turn, under the goddess of death. Which means he worked together with Eret, Foolish and Techno.

Oli: Human who dropped out of admin school. 

Fwhip: Human admin. 

Pixel: Prime player. 

Owen: Human(?) worldhopper. Child of the hub who at one point met Eloise and Bek. They travel together. He has admin powers (like all worldhoppers) but never trained officially. Gets nauseous when travelling though portals which also applies to worldhopping.

Bekyamon: Human worldhopper. 

Eloise: Human worldhopper.

DSMP/QSMP

Philza: Angel of death, Kristin's husband. Used to be a watcher (it's unknown wether he was a player before this), but defected and joined Kristin. They slowly fell in love after his he joined her. Says he was born mortal as a cover story (may partially be true)

Technoblade: Blood God. Demigod who used to be a mortal until he was forecefully ascended by a higher evil god. Techno destroyed his vessel in revenge and the evil god hasn't been seen since. Works together with Phil and Kristin.

Eret: Demigod who used to be a mortal wither hybrid. Worked with Phil, Techno and Kristin and was/is platonic partners with Foolish. Gets nauseous when travelling though portals.

Foolish: Shark/totem hybrid demigod. It's unknown if he was born mortal or not.

Wilbur: Kristin's and Phil's mortal son. We all know how his story ends.

[tarysande]

I'm glad to see you're having fun returning to the world of ME! Does this... mayhaps... mean that there is a chance of more ME writing from you? 🥺👉👈 Don't mean to put any pressure on you or sound demanding! You just happen to be one of my favorite fic writers, so any signs of potential new words (especially in this fandom) make me excited haha 🌻

Oh, my friend. I hope SO SINCERELY that there will be new words. The possibility makes me excited too. If nothing else, my god I would love to one day be able to close out those WIPs with a Complete.

The other hope (for me) is that immersing myself in Mass Effect will also jog some of the ideas I have for a not-Mass-Effect-but-similar-vibe not-fanfic novel that did, in fact, start as (entirely original!) headcanon for my Shep’s parents. It’s not even a filing off the serial numbers kinda thing because the ideas were entirely my own, but playing the game puts me in the right headspace?

(And you don’t sound demanding at all ❤️ man, I’m just glad a few folks out there still care after allllllllll thiiiiiis tiiiiime. 😳)

[explosionshark]

For the ship meme Jack/Miranda Mass Effect

I absolutely love Jack and Miranda as a ship but I'm the first to admit that it's about potential and thematic parallels more than anything that really happens on screen. Actually on screen, their story is pretty much just an extremely vicious rivalry that never gets a satisfying conclusion and one stupid line of fan service.

But it's about the deeply interesting shit baked into them as characters! Definitely paraphrasing myself here bc I've made multiple posts about it before but it's so compelling to me that Jack and Miranda both exist as deliberately crafted products of powers that were only interested in making perfect tools with no regards for the cost. Miranda did not endure the same level of brutal physical torture and abuse that Jack did, but I don't think the circumstances of her upbringing are any less chilling for it. Where Jack was the product of sadistic scientific experiments, Miranda was designed inch by inch by a megalomaniac who created and destroyed a line of "perfect daughters" he sought to find an heir through. Jack's scars are as much an indicator of tragedy and violent intention as Miranda's perfect figure.

The potential power in that arc - Miranda as a figure that gained power and escaped abuse through aligning herself with Cerberus vs Jack being a victim of Cerberus and trying to take power back through violence and crime, coming into immediate violent conflict over their respective relationships to the organization, learning more about each other and gaining a reluctant understanding before Miranda, in the final act, breaks with Cerberus and they are finally, for once, aligned against the Illusive Man - that's a great story, right?

I mean, sure, it's not what we got but - wouldn't it have been so cool? Anyway this is exactly what fanfic is for

[emrisemrisemris]

ESTIMATED TIME TO CONDUIT CLOSING: 40 SECONDS

In the driver's seat, Tali floored the accelerator. In the spotter's seat, Liara gripped the edge of the seat with one hand and Del Shepard's knee with the other and vibrated with stress, blue light fizzing around her. In the gunner's seat, Del braced her whole body against the recoil of the cannon mounting, and yelled over the stuttering roar "After Saren? We're coming back."

ESTIMATED TIME TO CONDUIT CLOSING: 30 SECONDS

Liara glanced over, uncomprehending. Del leaned on the cannon's controls and shouted "Back! We are coming back! Someone needs to - to - catalogue this shit!"

Liara was looking at her now in confusion, not in terror at the swirling, shrinking relay field within the Conduit, and that was as far ahead as Del had thought, but the words seemed to be helping so she kept going. "If Tali can't find some way to sideload Vigil out of here -"

ESTIMATED TIME TO CONDUIT CLOSING: 20 SECONDS

"- we'll bring a research team here to talk to it. Two research teams. Ten research teams -"

Liara said breathlessly "Even without Vigil, I know scholars who could spend a century just on those cryopods -"

Del squeezed the last charge out of the bucking, slewing cannon and let go, flailing, as the Mako tilted alarmingly and said "Bring them. We'll make a party of it. Ilos Prothean archive sleepover. What do you -"

It rose up in front of them, storm-vast, biotic-blue, and the Mako left the ground. Tali had pulled her hands off the controls as if they were electrified. For a moment all three women stared frozen out the windscreen at the cycling field, and then a coiling line of lightning wrapped itself around the tank and tossed it forward as if it weighed nothing.

The last thing Del registered before the Conduit threw them headlong into the bright black nothingness was Liara, grabbing for her hand.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Could you make a hobie fanfic where you and hobie plan and paint a mural/graffiti and in doing discover things about each other? Idk I think that art can show a lot about someone and it would be cool to see that with hobie

OMG, this is such a cute idea!! What I wrote was a little bit short, so sorry if that's a problem. I'm willing to add on if you'd like more though :) I tried to include some indirect symbolism and characterization, but if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ask <3

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x GN!Reader

Sketch with Me - Short Fic

____________________________________________________________

In a universe where color was a crime, a city where individuality was a sin, and a culture based around greed and want, Hobie Brown stood out amongst the masses. Hobie had always been a child of chaos, never conforming to the ideals others imposed on him, and never trusting the higher-ups to know what was best for him. In a world where everyone kept themselves locked under a mask, Hobie Brown used his mask to express himself even further, surpassing a limit that had been pulverizing the citizens of London ever since that dreadful election.

But that mask wasn't the only way for him to indirectly flip Osborne off.

"A mural?"

"More of graphic declaration, but yes."

"That's what a mural is."

"Eh..."

You gave your best friend a sore look, eyes running over his figure sprawled out across the couch and boredly shredded paper between his fingers. He sat up and looked back at you, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. "And I know just the place to do 't."

"No."

He blinked at you. "B-But you 'aven't even heard what I was gonna say-"

"One of Osborne's places, right? They're always swarming with cozzies (cops)." You said, folding your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He nodded sheepishly, standing up and walking over towards you. "I'm not going to get myself arrested for some lousy graffiti."

"I won't let y'get arrested." he looked a bit hurt at the fact that you didn't believe he'd be able to keep you out of jail.

"You can't promise that." You replied, paying no mind to his frown.

"But I can." he held out his pinky towards you, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "I swear." You rolled your eyes at him, muttering your annoyance under your breath before you interlocked your finger with his, effectively giving him what he wanted and signing your refusal away.

"What are we gonna paint?" You asked with a sigh, moving over so he could sit next to you. He plopped down on the couch. "I don't care what it is as long as it pisses Ozzy off." he grinned, leaning back against the couch. "Lot's of color, lot's of tongues and lot's of harsh words. He won't like that ruining his pretty mansion."

You snorted under you breath, grabbing his sketchbook from the table in front, along with a half-broken pencil. You flipped through while he watched, stopping on a blank page and pressing the pencil against the paper. You hesitated, looking back at him. "So...what are we gonna paint?"

"What do you want to paint?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Mmm..." you began to sketch out a rough outline of what you wanted to spray onto that wall. He wanted colorful. Hobie leaned over your shoulder, watching as you messily drew out what looked somewhat like a woman's side profile, her hair sticking up in odd, angled spikes and a lollipop protruding from her mouth. Her eyes were closed, with long, thick lashes, and you sketched in a singular teardrop falling down her cheek.

Hobie nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. "Tha's lovely." You smiled back, putting the book down and staring at it, biting the inside of your cheek as you mulled over what else you could add. Hobie ran his finger along the outline of her hair. "Make it rainbow, lots of green and purple."

His eyes lit up as he traced his finger onto the tear. "And make this red."

"Red?" you asked with a laugh. "Tears aren't red."

"'s not about what color they are normally. It's about wot they symbolize." He said cockily, pulling out the collar of his shirt with his finger as if he was too hot. "Yeah?" You asked with a laugh. "And what do they symbolize?"

He thought for a moment. "Anger." He looked back down. "Yeah, anger. Anger at wha's going on in London, anger at those wankers up in Ozzy's parties, anger at-" he stopped himself, taking a deep inhale as he sat back. "You know what I mean" his expression darkened.

You put your hand on top of his, offering him a reassuring smile before you labeled down the teardrop as 'red'. "For the words, I'm thinking we could write words that her face will cover up." You scribbled down random things like 'money' and 'police', erasing the parts that her face covered up. "Yeah, that's cool." He said, tone returning back to normal.

"We put the A on her cheek" Hobie added, referring to the ACAB symbol he added onto all his graffiti art pieces. You obliged, writing down a small 'A' that the two of you would detail when you actually painted it later. The two of you looked over it one last time. "It's simple." you said with a slight frown. "It's perfect."

He stood up with a grin, offering his hand over to you. As you took his hand, he pulled you towards him, picking the sketchbook out of your grasp and tucking it into his vest before he spun you around.

"Let's go cause some chaos, shall we darling?"

Tags:

@therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder

Click here to be added to the taglist!