#writing.lyr

[fearforthestorm]

there is a ghost.

ghosts aren't real.

what else do you call him? the person he was is dead, figuratively and literally. and he's still here. that makes him a ghost, doesn't it?

viking sighs. he needs to stop being so dramatic.

…to be perfectly fair, the drama is warranted.

to be even more fair, hey, he's not even the first person who called him a ghost! nevermind that the person who did call him that wasn't supposed to see him. nevermind that it's all because the only trial he ever put his life's work to left him shattered and dispersed beyond recognition. nevermind all of that.

he sighs again. glances back over at his commlink. thinks about the studies he's been keeping tabs on.

there's a project that just launched, by ground source energistics. they haven't said much about the actual studies, but it's called project zeropoint, and it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. it also doesn't take a genius to know that it's a) a farce and b) completely and utterly doomed. does it count as doomed if that was the intention? whatever. it's doomed.

just like he was, he supposes.

ghosts aren't real. so why are his mistakes still haunting him?

[fearforthestorm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

the myriad spirits that ghost around Viking are always happy to fill the silence - he hardly remembers how it feels to be alone with his thoughts, anymore. so it's a good thing the ghosts aren't going anywhere, right?

new fic dropped! the first half of this has been sitting in my notes app for months, and i finally got it finished enough to post something. chat ghosts fic be upon you!

[fearforthestorm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

did someone say SPACE AU??????

hi. here's the prologue to Project Zeropoint, my longform Dominion space/sci-fi au! i don't really have a lot to say about it that you can't find under the au tag on my blog so i'm just gonna throw this at yall and say enjoy! :D

(fair warning this will probably make you cry. i may have cried while posting it. it's fine. please feel free to yell at me in the comments about it.)

[fearforthestorm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The Nether is hot and dry and stifling. The Nether is not a place where life flourishes. The Nether is where Legundo spawns in to this world.

our @mcytblrholidayexchange fic, written for @caracuuw! so sorry this took a little longer, but hopefully it's worth the wait lol. it was a lot of fun to take a crack at writing a version of Legundo's backstory!

[fearforthestorm]

The bastion's central bridge has always been broken like this.

Always. For as long as Legundo has known, at least. And what's the difference there, anyway, between forever and for all of his memory?

The bridge collapsed a long time ago. The story he'd heard was that the bricks were weakened by a ghast attack, and then, eventually, just gave in. Just one more bit of their home, crumbling beneath their very feet.

The bridge has always been broken.

So, this time, why does it feel so much more symbolic?

Nothing has changed. He stands on one end, an enchanted Sharpness V golden axe weighing heavy in one hand, chin tilted up in confidence and pride. He is still Legundo. Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

Because here he is, home again, except is it any more home than his desert is? Because his shoulders bear netherite armor, not gold, and he's grown so used to the Overworld that the once-comfortable warmth of the Nether's air is stifling now, and even though he still knows every step of this place better than he knows anything, his footfalls on the blackstone ring a little more hollow now.

The bridge has always been broken.

[fearforthestorm]

hi! i found this Last Life piece in my drafts from like. almost two years ago? and I've been looking for this very specifically for So Long because i love the fog metaphors. so, even though we're two trafficseries past this, y'all get to see it anyway!

red sky at morning

the sun sets.

the first night on the server is tense. it feels as though the world is holding its breath, almost. the players are wary, keep their distance as much as they can. this world is a small border-- a small cage.

if you look just right, the sliver of moon hanging in the sky seems to be the cruel, sharp grin of something, watching what comes next, pulling the strings.

the sun rises.

a bloodlust rolls out with the morning fog, but it doesn't burn off when the light hits it. instead, it settles in a player, stealing his lives into its hungry grasp, wrapping the single-minded intent to draw blood around his heart.

(later, others ask him how the bloodlust felt. how do you explain the searing-hot desire to kill, shadowing your mind even as your body tries to physically reject it? the overwhelming feverish haze of trying to resist it? the feeling of watching your hand rise of its own accord, driving a weapon into your friend, watching it happen through eyes that no longer feel like your own, and for the first time since the light hit your face this morning being well and truly yourself as the blood spatters across your hands--

you don't explain it. you can't. you only hope that they'll never understand what it feels like.)

the sun sets.

life is-- no. the server is. the server is cruel and unforgiving. and it demands blood. the server is, and every last pixel of this damned place is its handiwork, every second of these lives planned out. it watches as the players cast out across the world, building the beginnings of things that will be glorious ruins by the end.

the lives seared across the players' wrists are dominoes, and the server has set them all to topple. it intends to watch as glorious towers become empty ghosts, as mountain-top fortresses crumble to ruin, as blood paints the first light of the sky with every death that sings across the world (red sky at morning, player take warning).

the sun rises.

the sun rises, and it rises red.

[fearforthestorm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Cleo's a lot of things. Mostly, she's too stubborn to die.

(a small Cleo backstory fic for my hermitcraft/starship iris au!)

hey! I wrote and posted this almost two months ago now, and at the time i couldn't be bothered to fix the formatting that had gotten messed up in posting, i just wanted to get it out in the world. however, I've finally found the time to fix it, so I'm promo-ing it on here again. please enjoy a little sci-fi crossover au fic that's half fake wikipedia articles :D

[fearforthestorm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

hey @ruffboijuliaburnsides ! I was your gifter for the @mcytblraufest, so I wrote a Pearl-centric fantasy AU! hope you like it :D