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#mass effect revelation
uglynicc · 6 months
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Happy N7 Day, I wanted to give some Mass Effect novel characters some love, so have my rendition of Skarr from 'Revelation'✨🦖
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not-a-newt · 2 years
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grayrazor · 6 months
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Hey guys, I found this weird geometric object floating in space. Should I touch it?
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ghostryders · 12 days
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i have so many mixed feelings about mass effect revelations bc like…. Is it full of detailed world building? yes! Do we get to know Anderson intimately as a person and his background with Kahlee and Saren? also yes. Does aforementioned Kahlee also take magical pigment pills that temporarily make her skin as dark as Andersons? ………. yeah. Are women and their appearances described a little too much? you know it. Are said female characters actually badass? thankfully yes. Do we learn how fully unhinged, terrifying, and psychopathic Saren is? double yes. Does the book go just a little too into detail about torture and gore? oh yeah. Does it kinda have a romance thing that ends really reasonably bc the characters are grown adults? thank god yes.
have I read it cover to cover 5 times? absolutely
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onedismay · 7 months
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Been thinking about LotSB and specifically the way it ends. I'm definitely not an expert on Liara's character or anything but I always felt like the writers went a bit too hard with the revenge plot, so hard that it made it difficult for me to connect with Liara's character at all in ME2. I get that the writers wanted to emphasize how Shepard's death impacted Liara, and for the most part I like that, but I really really could have used some reassurance that the old Liara wasn't completely gone and erased.
So I thought of a small twist that would pretty much fix this connection issue I have with her. Not trying to say anything like "this is how it should have gone," I'm just having fun what-if thoughts and felt like sharing.
WHAT IF. Instead of delivering the killing blow at the end of LotSB, Liara hesitated. What if she realized that finally getting her revenge wasn't going to erase the pain she'd gone through. What if she had a bit of a "Who the hell have I become? Is this really who I want to be? I'm so tired of this." moment. What if she worked through her emotions and came to the conclusion that killing the bad guy wasn't going to help anything.
What if Liara stopped mid-fight, when the Broker is vulnerable and can no longer defend himself, and offered him a choice. Give us Feron, or die. If he still wants to die when given this choice, cool, that can be arranged, but Liara's realized that revenge isn't necessary for her. Getting Feron back is enough. That's what matters.
(and sure, we can still get the Shadow Broker under our thumb and essentially gain control of his resources if that's necessary for plot reasons, why not) (we do know that he knew about the Reapers and was looking into ways to survive the invasion. we share a goal. we could have worked with him/had him work for us in ME3)
I just think a little callback to Liara's previously gentler mindset would have been nice. It would have helped me reconnect with her character. Like oh, the old Liara I knew isn't gone after all. She's still here, and she's realized she doesn't have to be anyone else.
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telltalebatman · 9 months
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guess who collected all the enigmatic pages in fontaine
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Ah yes The Empire of Preys, a story with normal plot points such as:
everyone does tax fraud
archives of alien botany research reports
the illegal funding of an electoral campaign (unrelated to the tax fraud sort of)
a misogynist salarian finance bro with a podcast
a city fair whose main event is to gore a gigantic river fish
awful extranet privacy habits
a very minor character from the mass effect trilogy practicing digital self harm
a poorly planned heist with a built-in fire exit called "privilege"
secret war crimes hidden under the public war crimes
spilling coffee on the carpet as a protest for being laid off (based)
a virgin human/asari mega galactic corporation VS a chad hegemony-only batarian mining firm (both are awful)
a fundraiser charity gala used to sell shitty nothing digital excuses for speculation (but sexy)
a non-binary volus banker/socialite who behaves like a... semi-machiavellian bilbo baggins??? no idea how to describe them better
so!!! much!!! biracial/bicultural angst!!!
and so much more.............
I have reached 120k words a couple of days ago (probably between 50-80k more are needed before I can complete draft 1). I am still very happy with this story even though I'm starting to identify shakier plot points and internal logic, and there are still way too many salarians and I still don't know how to handle this problem, but it's, yeah, it's pretty wack.
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drelldreams · 10 months
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I‘m going to buy myself the first novel of the Revelation Space series
sounds like it‘s kinda similar to Mass Effect
it‘s got
• an archaeologist character studying the remains of an ancient race which has become extinct nearly a million years prior, just when they reached their technological peak (getting Prothean vibes anyone?)
• a plague that turns humans into something husk-like
• an assassin character
• a planet named Cerberus
• something similar to Reapers that harvest all life whenever those civilizations reach their technological peak
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captainjerkface · 10 months
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anthropocentric bag of dicks is my new favorite insult
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greatstormcat · 3 months
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Into the Fire
TF141 x f!reader Medieval AU
Part 3
Series Masterlist
TW: MDNI 18+, nudity, voyeurism
AN: apologies for my Google translate Scots Gaelic, not entirely happy with this update but here we go…
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Your mind reels with the revelation, this was Lord Price and his closest Knights. You’d heard stories over the years, but had always assumed it was fiction to keep old men amused in their cups in the tavern. Clearly, the nagging thought in your brain had been trying to get you to piece this together. Now you understand just how serious this situation was, you were tied by a blood debt to one of the most skilled and deadly Knights in the known world.
Simon slides from his saddle and opens one of his packs, pulling out a carefully folded square of material and several long poles. As you watch he connects the poles, snapping them together somehow, and then unfurls the material to reveal the same banner you saw before with the bear emblazoned across a deep blue background. The banner is attached to the pole and lifted aloft once he is back into his saddle.
“Let's go home boys,” Price sighs, and turns to MacTavish. “Let them know we’re coming.” The Highlander grins and lifts a horn that is attached to his belt, giving it a blow that sends a deep, rolling call across the land. The effect is instant, you see the people in the town pause in what they are doing, looking up towards the hill. There’s no doubt the note was heard as far away as the island, and an answering blast comes from somewhere down below.
Price has already begun the descent towards the town, and Simon rides beside him carrying the banner, snapping sharply in the sea breeze. The four men ride taller, straighter as they near the town gate, even the horses seem to know where they are home and step with vigour, hooves sparking on the cobbles as they clatter along. People gather quickly, drawn by the horn blast, first one or two rushing from what they were doing in outlying buildings and fields to wave and watch the passing troop.
As you pass through the gate, a dozen guards in shining chainmail and helmets march towards you, behind what must be their commander on his own horse who salutes Price with his sword. They carry halberds and wear pale blue tabards with Price’s bear emblem proudly displayed on their chests, and form a line either side of the horses, keeping the crowds back to allow you to pass through unhindered.
The noise grows as more and more people crowd the street, packing together but held back thanks to your escort, cheering and yelling a welcome to their Lord and his knights. The beat of hooves and tramp of feet becomes a steady heartbeat under the constant roar, the jingling of harnesses and armour a counter melody. MacTavish and Kyle smile and acknowledge the adoration, clearly soaking it up and enjoying the attention. Simon, face covered by his skull-fronted helm and his spine straight, keeps his eyes alert looking for signs of danger and generally ignoring the fuss as though the throng of people isn’t even there. Price acts every part the Lord, his bearded face softened by the adoration of his subjects but still maintaining his air of something.
It isn’t hard to spot the intrigued looks and whispered conversations that you draw, perched between Kyle’s thighs as you are. There is no mistaking you for nobility, with your burnt hair and simple clothing, and more than once you catch an open look of envy and hostility from the crowd. The noise becomes a living thing, following your procession towards the distant island as you move down the main street of the town. Flowers begin to be thrown by the mass of people, still calling out their love and adoration.
At the shoreline a small troop of guards stand by the start of the causeway, halberds held at their sides and ready to close the way behind their Lord once he passes by. Peace descends once more as your ride out onto the causeway towards the island, the gentle lapping of the waves against the stones strangely peaceful and calming. Gulls call along the shore, and you try to keep your composure as the huge edifice of the castle grows in front of you.
“That was… something,” you admit quietly to Kyle, and you feel him relax a little behind you once more.
“You get used to it,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as though it's something that happens every day and is rather dull. “Price is good to his people, and they’re good to him in return.”
“It shows,” you agree, “but why didn’t he tell me who he is?”
“Guess he enjoyed a little bit of anonymity for a while,” Kyle muses. “You would have freaked out if you knew, probably would’ve been kneeling in the mud and making more of a mess of yourself than you already were.”
“I thought knights were meant to be chivalrous and full of manners?” you hiss indignantly. “You’re an absolute…” you stop yourself before you finish your sentence, and tense as he leans closer to your ear.
“One more word and I’ll throw you into the sea. Then you can walk the rest of the way dripping wet,” he growls, forcing you into sullen silence. You try to ignore the prickle of your skin where his breath gently touches.
The crowd that greets you at the other end of the causeway is smaller, but no less ecstatic. If the majesty of the walled city had taken your breath away, the approach to the castle on its island was like walking into another world entirely. The closer you get, the bigger it looms over you. The steep and winding road up to the gatehouse would have winded you if you had to walk it, so for once you are grateful for the horse beneath you.
The walls rise straight up from the rocky heart of the island, the battlements and towers high above you. The main gate is protected by an enormous, spiked portcullis, held up on chains thicker than your own body, and riding beneath it is quite unnerving. The courtyard beyond is lined with more guards and ranks of servants and staff.
A woman waits for them at the wide steps by the grand doors, her braided, pale blonde hair coiled on top of her head and a serious expression on her face. She wears a pale blue dress which shifts in the sea breeze, with a white scarf wrapped around her neck. Her face warms from a concerned frown as she looks over the four horsemen, and then her eyes land on you and she raises her eyebrows.
“Good to see you all back in one piece, My Lord,” she greets Price as he swings down from his saddle, and he pats her shoulder fondly. “Who is this?” she asks, looking at you with sharp, intelligent eyes as you dismount with Kyle.
“We picked up a new healer on the way back. Saved you a job,” Price grins, and the woman gives you an appraising look. Her eyes are bore into you, and you feel as though she is someone who knows everything about you just from one glance. “She’s got herself a blood debt to Kyle, so she’s his problem for the time being, but I’m sure he will be amenable.”
You open your mouth to protest, but Kyle tugs your arm past the blonde woman who watches you with interest.
“Not the time or place,” he mutters, dragging you stumbling up the steps and into the keep.
“Where are we going?” you exclaim.
“Sir Kyle,” you hear Laswell call out, and he pauses in the doorway. “Maybe I should take her with me? I can help her get cleaned up and find her some quarters, while you tend to your own needs.” Her voice is calm, but with an underlying hint of authority to it. It’s jarring hearing someone address him by rank for the first time. Kyle’s fingers tighten around your arm to the point of pain, as though the thought of letting you out of his sight is unbearable.
“Garrick, let her go,” Price utters the warning, seeing his hesitation, and you feel his fingers relax slowly, as though taking a huge amount of willpower.
“Fine,” Kyle relents, and with a dark look at Laswell, he stalks into the keep alone. The woman moves quietly over beside you, lightly touching your elbow.
“Come with me,” she says quietly, and you follow her blindly, glad for a calmer presence.
“I’m the Earl’s Steward, Kate Laswell,” she introduces herself as you follow her through the stone corridors of the castle. “I take care of the day to day running of his affairs, so if there’s anything you need you come to me.”
“Can you help me escape?” you ask her bluntly, deciding it’s easiest just to make it clear you are here against your will. She lets out a sigh.
“Do you have somewhere to go back to?”
You press your lips together firmly, you don’t and you know that. If you return to the village the priests would find out and finish off what they started, and roaming the countryside alone was also certain death. Your silence answers for you.
“Well, surely you’re better off here then?” Laswell suggests.
“It’s not what I wanted though,” he reply, hating how petulant you sound.
“The gods don’t often care what we want, they tend do send us where they prefer us to go,” she says with that same tone. As you talk she leads you further into the castle and down a spiralling staircase. For a moment you feel uncomfortable, as though she is taking you to the dungeons to lock you up forever. Eventually you stop before an oak door that looks like all the rest, and you expect to see torture devices and iron bars when she opens it.
“Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, then we can see about somewhere for you to stay,” he says kindly, pushing the door open and walking through. You followed after, hearing splashing water and finding yourself in a low, warm room. A large round tub, like the bottom half of a barrel stands against the wall, rimmed with pale fabric.
A carved, wooden screen stands behind the tub to give you privacy from an archway into another area and voices echo from behind it, along with the sound of water.
“This is our bath house, it’s open to everyone in the castle but you’ll have to share normally. This private alcove is for higher ranking household members only, but I’m happy to let you use it for today, to give you some space.” Laswell leaves you alone, and you run your fingertips through the water, shuddering at the heat and promise of being clean. Quickly, you strip naked and gingerly climb in.
You ease down into the steam tub, hissing softly at the water makes your skin tingle, and the red raw patches of burns sting. The aching from being in the saddle dulls as you sit down, the water lapping around the tops of your breasts gently. Leaning back against the linen wadding at the side, you allow yourself to relax for the first time in forever. Grabbing a small bar of soap from a stool beside the bath, you eagerly scrub your skin and hair, letting the dirt float away from you. Once you are clean to the point of needing new skin, you relax and soak in the water.
Deep voices pull you out of your reverie, their familiarity instantly identifying them, and you stop moving to listen.
“…and you don’t think you’re taking this too far?” you hear Simon’s deep voice coming from behind the screen. The urge to crouch further into the tub and hide washes over you, and you sink lower into the steaming water.
“Why? It’s a blood debt, you know what that means.” Kyle’s voice sounds irritated, exhausted even, as though this conversation has been going on for a while and he wants to be done with it.
“It’s clearly more than that, you’re practically…” MacTavish adds, before a loud splashing sound drowns his words out.
“For fucks sake Johnny!” Simon snaps angrily.
“Ach, shut up and get in ya big daftie,” comes the chuckled reply mixed with the gentle trickling of water.
“I’m not obsessed with her, she’s just… different…” you hear Kyle grumbling, his words getting quieter and you struggle to hear him. Against your better judgement you kneel up, leaning over the edge of the bath closer to the screen, desperate to hear what he is saying about you. The noise of your heart thumping interferes, and you try to calm your unexpected excitement. You shouldn’t care what he thinks about you, but you can’t help it.
You find a small gap in between the wood planks, a tiny slither of light coming through giving you just enough room to see through. You can see Simon and MacTavish in one tub together, Simon’s back resting against the other’s chest. Kyle is still standing beside another tub, his back turned towards you, and naked. The steam in the room has settled onto his skin, making it shimmer, picking out his muscles. You feel yourself warm in a way that has nothing to do with the water around you, and your breath catches in your throat as you watch him climb into the bath, bending over as he does so.
“Different?” Simon chuckles, sounding much more content now. “You mean she isn’t afraid to tell you to f…”
“Am I interrupting?” Laswell asks you and you flinch violently, water sloshing around you as you turn to face her. She entered so quietly you didn’t hear her, or you were so busy eavesdropping you missed the sound of her walking up to the tub. Your face heats with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I was just…” you flounder as you try to find a lie to cover yourself.
“Don’t worry, I of all people can’t get mad at you for spying on anyone.” She laughs, a cryptic smile on her face and holds up a towel. “Come on, I have a room for you. Let them finish their conversation in private for now.”
Laswell waits for you to dry and dress again, before leading you though the labyrinth of corridors to the upper levels of the castle. The views from the small windows in the deep slits are stunning, moonlight slipping over the sea and the whitewashed houses glow with it in the distance. Golden light from lanterns and candles glow in the windows, adding warmth to the pale scene, and the sea sparkles, now covering the causeway and cutting you off from land.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Laswell says over your shoulder, catching you staring.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you sigh in awe.
“Would you rather be back where you were before?” she asks bluntly, and you turn to see her smiling, her arms crossed under her bosom.
“Not really, I guess it’s all just a huge transition,” you admit finally. “My life ended back there even though Kyle pulled me from the fire, I just don’t know what my new one holds for me yet.”
“It’ll work out alright, there’s obviously something at work here and this is where you’re meant to be,” she says, guiding you towards an oak door nearby. She opens it and a bedroom lies beyond, the walls panelled in dark wood, and the stone floor strewn with rugs and sheepskins. A canopied bed is against one wall, a table and chairs in the middle of the room, and a pair of padded chairs are set before the fire. Tapestries hang in the walls, and Price’s coat of arms is proudly carved into the pale stone above the hearth.
“This is too much,” you gasp and Laswell urges you forward.
“No, it’s not but I have a proposition for you if it helps ease your mind.”
You walk slowly around the room, touching the intricately carved posts of the bed.
“Anything,” you answer earnestly.
“We need a healer,” she explains. “The reason one didn’t go with the Earl to battle is that our previous healer passed away over the winter. Price wants you to try and fill his shoes. You’ll be on a trial, to prove yourself, but it’s yours if you want the position.”
“I’ll do it,” you reply without hesitation.
“Good,” the Steward nods. “I will have someone bring you some food, and some fresh clothes. Tomorrow you stay here and rest, I will keep Sir Kyle occupied and out of your way. In the evening there will be a feast to welcome them all home, and I’ll have someone come and help you get ready and join us.”
You sleep better, the bed is soft and comfortable, but dreams of shadows chasing you through the castle wake you before the sunrise, and sit in on the deep sill of the window to watch the dawn break over the sea. Good to her word Laswell makes sure you have space to yourself for the day, and you explore around the nearest corridors a little, making sure not to get lost. You return to your room to find a heavy trunk by your bed, which you open and find a variety of clothes, hair brushes, shoes and boots.
Later in the day, a young maid appears at your door to help you get ready for the feast. She teases the knots from your hair and cuts away the burnt sections, before helping you into a gown and slippers that Laswell and arranged for you.
The hall is packed, musicians play and more food than you had ever imagined in your life fills the long table in the middle of the hall. Price sits at its head, a goblet held in his hand already, Laswell to one side and Simon on the other. The knight has forgone his mask now, and you only know it is him as he is the biggest man in the room, and wearing a black doublet. Beside him MacTavish drinks deeply from his tankard, his face flushed.
You hesitate for a moment, watching Kyle from behind the screen of bodies as he sits at the table with the others, idly swilling his tankard. He is listening to something a blonde man with a bushy moustache is saying, a smile on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he listens to him and his lady companion.
After a moment you gather your nerve and smooth the front of the gown, then walk through the crowd. As soon as Kyle sees you he gets up and strides through the assembled guests, the light returning to his eyes. His long legs quickly cover the distance between you, his leather breeches hugging his thighs, and his white shirt hangs open showing a large amount of hard chest. You swallow impulsively as he bares down on you.
“You took your time,” he says by way of greeting, but with a genuine smile. His hand grips the back of your neck and you stiffen, irritation bubbling but an idea occurs to you.
“Well, I’m here now so it doesn’t matter,” you reply and take hold of his wrist, pulling his hand down and linking your arm with his. His eyes narrow for a moment, and then his expression softens and he pulls your arm against his side before walking you towards the table.
“This is Sir Alex and Commander Farim,” he introduces the couple, and you nod politely to them.
“Sir Kyle tells us he pulled you from a witch burning,” Commander Karim says, her accent rich and lyrical. Her outfit is rich with gold thread, and she carries herself with grace and strength. Her long, dark hair is plaited and draped over her shoulder. “In my homeland we would call you a phoenix, and you’d be very important,” she smiles, her striking features beautiful.
“Yeah, ‘round these parts they don’t like that kinda stuff,” Sir Alex says with a raised eyebrow.
“There she is!” MacTavish shouts and barges between the two, pulling you into a bear hug before letting you go. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in his attire, a blue tartan kilt and knee length boots, and a white shirt that is barely laced at the collar.
“Kyle’s been stressin’ about you all day. I swear he was gonna turn the place upside down when Laswell refused to tell him where she’d hidden you!”
“MacTavish, why don’t you sit down before you fall down,” Kyle groans and guides you to the table, getting you to sit beside him. Kyle keeps you close as speeches are made, mead drunk and a great shared.
As the festivities wear on MacTavish gets more drunk and louder, taking on the role of storyteller as he regales everyone with tales of their battles and victories. He lapses into Gaelic at times, and Simon nudges more than once reminding him to speak to English. Price catches your eye and beckons you over, Kyle watching you keenly as you do.
“You settled in okay, love?” Price asks you, leaning on the arm of his seat.
“Yes… my Lord,” you add quickly, and he shakes his head at you with a grin.
“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you. “I purposely didn’t tell you who I was. Guess I wanted to see what it would be like.”
“I thought you were Hedge Knights,” you laugh. “I didn’t dream you owned a castle!” He laughs with you, his smile infectious.
“I’ve got several castles,” he answered. “This one’s just my favourite. Cities get on my nerves, too many people. When the tide comes in you can only get here by boat, and then only if Nik lets you into his harbour.”
The guests begin to disperse and find their beds as the midnight watch bell rings, and you yawn leaning against him sleepily. By now he has you sat on his lap, his fingers gently stroking at your arm, as MacTavish slumps over the table.
Simon, using his great strength, hauls him to his feet, and Price tells him to get him to bed. Kyle gently slides you from his lap to help, and you follow them from the hall and up the twisting stairs to the sleeping chambers.
“Simon, tha feum agam ort tilg mo chabair,” MacTavish groans as he leans on Simon, and you see the larger man’s head drop for a moment as though holding back a laugh, but you have no idea what is being said. “Please, mo ghràdh, I’m hurtin’ bad,” the Highlander begs him.
“Shut up, let’s get you to bed,” Simon mutters, trying to hide a smile, and MacTavish perks up considerably at his words. The two stumble away from Kyle and you, the slurred singing of MacTavish echoing around you. You walk with Kyle to the door to your room and he chuckles as you stand before your door.
“My chambers are just down there,” Kyle points down the darkened corridor. “I should have known Kate wouldn’t have put you too far away. If you need anything you come and get me, understand?” His words still sound like an order, but they lack the harshness you’ve come to expect from him. For a moment his eyes search your face, and you feel yourself hold your breath while you wait for him to say or do something. His hand comes up the cup your face, and he brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, and for a brief moment you think he is about to kiss you. He lets out a frustrated sigh and steps back, a dark look in his eyes.
“Good night,” he mutters and walks away to his own door, closing it firmly behind him.
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not-a-newt · 2 years
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PSA: I'm going to be posting a lot of spoilers for the Maas effect novels in the next few days if that's something any of yall care about. I'm currently on the first book and the spoilers will be tagged #revelation if any of you are planning on reading, but haven't yet
It's just, ,, so so good idk how it's taken so long for me to read them !! And I'm kind of half posting abt it because I really want more people to read them too, so I have more folks to interact with abt it
The first book is focused on young Anderson, Kahlee Sanders, and Saren as a prequel to the games so it'll be a lot of posting abt them :)
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maiamars · 11 months
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i finally started revelation space and i cant stop thinking about mass effect
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aibigbois · 4 months
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Chad, a high school senior and dedicated cross-country runner, had always been passionate about staying in shape. He spent hours on the track, pushing himself to the limit, and embraced the discipline that came with being a part of the cross-country team.
One day, after an intense training session, Chad noticed something peculiar happening to his body. His muscles swelled and grew at an alarming rate. At first, he thought it was just a temporary effect of the workout, but as days passed, it became clear that something extraordinary was occurring. Every time he laced up his running shoes and hit the trail, his muscles expanded even more.
Rather than being alarmed, Chad found himself fascinated and motivated by this. He became the talk of the school as his physique transformed into that of a seasoned bodybuilder. The more he ran, the more muscular he became.
Chad's passion for running only intensified with his increasing muscle mass. He began setting new records during cross-country races, leaving his competitors in awe. His extraordinary physical transformation turned him into a local legend, and he reveled in the attention and admiration. As Chad became the most muscular guy at school, he found himself wanting even more. More. More. More
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heynowisavedyouright · 4 months
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I've got you,
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[ID: a webweave made of wikipedia screenshots. Put together, it reads:
Leave it to me.
A star system or stellar system is a small number of stars that orbit each other,[1] bound by gravitational attraction. A large group of stars bound by gravitation is generally called "distinct identities " in orbit around each other that are seen as a single object to the naked eye although, broadly speaking, they are also star systems.
from supreme loyalties, that override all other considerations, these close binary systems can exchange mass, which may bring their evolution to stages that single stars cannot attain. Examples of Stellar mass loss can occur to do whatever may be necessary in support of the loyalty. Loyalty to one's job, for example, may require no more action than simple punctuality and performance of the tasks "mental undoing" motivation to quit; and feelings of pain, exposure, distrust, powerlessness, and worthlessness.[1]
Employees who worry about not getting work finished and keeping up a fast pace can feel like they are drowning in their workload, a feeling that manifests itself in chronic stress and anxiety, which can cause the sudden ejection of a large portion of the star's mass.
Loyalty to a star cluster or a galaxy can, in contract, have a very broad effect upon one's actions, two stars that are thus mutually connected, form the system which we are now to consider. When two such stars orbit closely, their gravitational interaction can significantly impact their evolution. can place someone at risk of developing
Pietas (Classical Latin: [ˈpiɛt̪aːs̠]), translated variously as "duty", "religiosity"[1] or "religious behavior",[2] "loyalty",[3] "devotion", Main article: Stars named after people Foxie, the spaniel belonging to Charles Gough, who stayed by her dead master's side for three months on Helvellyn in the Lake District in 1805 (although it is possible that Foxie had eaten Gough's body).[32]
Ancient Egyptians believed that dreams were the best way to receive divine revelation, and thus
A210. Gods of the Sky
A220. Gods of the Sun
A240. Gods of the Moon
A250. Gods of the Stars
A260. Gods of Light
often as a form of nonviolent protest or in acts of martyrdom
Theosis (Ancient Greek: θέωσις), or deification (from Latin deificatio 'making divine')
"dedoublement", or "double consciousness", the historical precursor to DID, was frequently described as a state of sleepwalking, with scholars hypothesizing that the patients were switching between a normal consciousness and a "somnambulistic state".[56]
Sleepwalking as a legal defense [ edit ]
The Babylonians and Assyrians divided dreams into "good," which were sent by the gods, and "bad," sent by demons.[62]
most people believe that "their dreams reveal meaningful hidden truths".[74]
The term "veridical dream" has been used to indicate dreams that reveal or contain truths not yet known to the dreamer, whether future events or secrets.[77]
Unwanted exposure: Something personal that we would like to keep private is unexpectedly revealed, or when we make a mistake in [a] public [setting]."[39]
For defendants whose defence states they have a diagnosis of DID, courts must distinguish between those who genuinely have DID and those who are malingering to avoid responsibility.[172][75]
Agent regret is the idea that a person could be involved in a situation, and regret their involvement even if those actions were innocent, unintentional, or involuntary.[3] For example, if someone decides to die by stepping in front of a moving vehicle, the death is not the fault of the driver,
the person apologizing was, in some way, responsible for the unjust actions taken;
the person apologizing is aware of the injustices that resulted from those actions; and
the person apologizing intends to behave differently in the future.[6]
Only after he wakes does he know it was a dream.
In ancient Japan, legends talk about hitobashira ("human pillar"), buried alive at the base of or near some constructions to protect the buildings against disasters or enemy attacks,[6]
also known as suicide by police or law-enforcement-assisted suicide,[2] a suicide method in which a suicidal individual deliberately behaves in a threatening manner, with intent to provoke a lethal response from a public safety or law enforcement officer[3] to end their own life.
the deliberate act of using one's
Public image Topics referred to by the same term
Existence State of being real
to cover a live time-fused hand grenade,
[Image: "A star set to explode", the SBW1 nebula surrounds a massive supergiant in the Carina Nebula.]
absorbing the explosion and fragmentation in an effort to save
Since this is almost universally fatal, it is considered an especially conspicuous and selfless act
It is always intentional.
End ID]
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submalevolentgrace · 1 year
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(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)
"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"
okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.
we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.
it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.
that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.
no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.
if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.
i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.
but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.
you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.
it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.
i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.
and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.
because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.
so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.
having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?
because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…
so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.
in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.
so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.
so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.
…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!
now go. prepare and enjoy.
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imakemywings · 1 year
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Mass Effect Femslash Recs
Happy February 4th! For Femslash February, a nice collection of femslash fanfic recs! Asteriks by personal favs (★‿★)
* after the flood, all the colors came out by madamebadger - f!Shepard/Tali - Tali has nursed a crush on Shepard for years, but there was never any indication--any at all--that anything could come of it. And she has plenty on her plate with the rebuilding of Rannoch. But the truth is that the heart is not so easy to quiet. Especially when Shepard comes back to visit.
Almost Like Being in Love by Urdnot_wrekt - f!Shepard/Liara - As with any new relationship, Shepard and Liara can't seem to keep their hands to themselves.
Between Us by @anneapocalypse - f!Shepard/Tali - While the war rages all around them, what was between Tali and Shepard remains.
* building mountains in your memory by @chocochipbiscuit - f!Shepard/Liara - Liara spends two years mourning Shepard's death before Cerberus brings her back.
Cardamom and Cloves by wolframbeta - f!Shepard/Liara - Liara takes the night off from her duties as an information broker on Illium to share a meal and quiet conversation. It doesn't go according to plan.
Expiation by supernovasooth - Jack/Miranda - Miranda tries to apologize in her own way.
Faithfully Faithless by Settiai - Ashley/Liara - War and faith didn't exactly go hand-in-hand
For the Living by DrJekyl - f!Shepard/Samara - Samara's relationship with death has always been complex; her relationship with life and love even more so.
Grasping at Straws by Settiai - f!Shepard/Ashley - Ashley kept getting the feeling that she was missing something.
The Great Cabin Conspiracy of '73 by DrJekyl - Aethyta/Benezia - Two matriarchs somehow get stuck in a chilly cabin with no security escort and no extranet access.
Kiss and Get It Over With by ziskandra - Jack/Miranda - Faced with the end of the universe, old differences are set aside.
Motion by SomethingProfound - f!Shepard/Traynor - Sam Traynor's life would be a lot easier if Marines could keep their shirts on. Or: a new friendship aboard the Normandy between the ship's comms specialist and her Executive Officer blooms into something else as the war rages.
nights, by the light of whatever would burn by madamebadger - f!Shepard/Tali/Garrus - In every life, you have to make trade-offs. Shepard has always been at peace with what she's given up to be who and what she is, mostly because she's focused her attention on everything but her own personal life. Even her dearest friends know that she will always, to some degree, hold them at arm's length. But the war has a way of burning everyone down to their most essential selves, and in the end even Shepard can't help seeing, finally, what she wants, what she needs--and what she may have lost.
Purple Shadows by Settiai -Ashley/Liara - Ashley hadn't even considered that the Shadow Broker would be the best person to help clear her name. She'd reacted on pure instinct. It probably said more than she'd like it to say, that her first thought when in trouble was that she needed to find Liara.
* Rakhana by DrJekyl - Aethyta/Benezia - The revelation that the hanar are conspiring to uplift a newly discovered species, the drell, sends shockwaves through the galaxy and right into the T’Soni household.
A Recommendation by YourLocalPriestess - f!Shepard/Ashley - Ashley and Shepard haven't spoken more than a few words to each other since Ilos, and more importantly, since their kiss beforehand. But it had been over a week, and a recommendation leaves Ash with room to doubt what they have.
* Silent days, violent shades by acrosspontneuf - f!Shepard/Aria - ‘There’s profit in survival,’ Aria says, later, an offer masked as a parting shot as Shepard starts to walk away. They both know that Shepard can’t run, but Shepard allows herself the illusion for another stolen moment. The thought of disappearing is tempting - she could discover other galaxies, let this one save itself for once. She could live without being so intrinsically aware of how close she is to the end of it all.
something more comfortable by xenosaurus - f!Shepard/Tali - The first thing Tali does after Rannoch is move all of her things into Shepard’s quarters.
* Stolen Goods by DrJekyl - Aethyta/Benezia/Shiala - Benezia returns home early from a work trip and finds that Aethyta and Liara are up to minor mischief, with Shiala as their willing accomplice.
An Unexpected Pleasure by BlackJackKent - f!Shepard/Traynor - Shore leave is a time for cutting loose from the day-to-day protocols of military life, and after a few drinks at Purgatory, Sam Traynor finds the courage and motivation to try flirting again with Commander Shepard. She's fairly sure Shepard is interested in women too, and her intuition doesn't lie -- the only trouble is Shepard hasn't quite realized it herself yet.
Worth It by Pigeon_theoneandonly - f!Shepard/Traynor - In the midst of the reaper war, Shepard finds a pocket of normalcy for Sam.
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