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-peers in-

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.....god how long has it been since I even logged on here.

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♥ Have they ever acting out of heartlessness?

//: Headcanon Asks — Accepting.

Heartlessness is a required trait in a job like his. The blade in the spine, the claws in the dark, specters are the most lethal and unflinching of military tools; elite in their own way but with the least choice in their duties.

To be one of these scouts and spies is to strike at the weakest points and bring back results leveraged against your own health and safety. By comparison, in the Galra military, compassion or mercy to the enemy target is not only considered weak, but also treasonous, resulting in a a sacrifice of personal safety.

For a creature that prioritizes survival, who grew on a savage and inhospitable world, there is very nearly nothing worth that risk. And so, unflinching, Rhysos has sabotaged life support systems on civilian vessels, deactivated safety protocol and defensive matrices for enemy settlements, and cut down witnesses or obstacles to the Empire’s plans, because that is what his job entails.

Having a heart is only another liability.

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I am done with my graceless heart so tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart cause I like to keep my issues drawn it’s always darkest before the dawn

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stars, Mercury, and solar corona photographed by Stereo A, January 2nd & 3rd, 2009

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Horrific Headcanons

Send a symbol for a headcanon about my muse. All horror/angst/scifi related.

✘ Have they ever committed a murder? ▼ What is their greatest fear? ✿ Would they ever trust dark or wicked magic? △ Name one thing from their past that they regret. ✂ If they had to choose one weapon to carry forever, what would it be? ☣ Would they kill someone close to them if they had to? ☢ Would they survive an apocalyptic situation? ❣ If someone had the power to bring them back after death, would they want them to? ☠ Do they fear death? ♱ What do they think awaits them after death? ¿ Are they easily frightened? ╳ How would they react to seeing a loved one become possessed? ☹ Name one person they would kill for. ☼ If they had the choice to be immortal with one other person, who would they choose? ☎ How would they react to receiving a phone call from a deceased love one? ★ Do they have a favorite scary movie? Book? Show? ♣ Do they believe the world is made up of good and evil? ♥ Have they ever acting out of heartlessness? ☾ What is their favorite and least favorite thing about the night? ψ Do they think they deserve punishment for their wrongdoings? ϟ Have they ever gotten pleasure from causing others pain? ♚ Do they consider themselves to be evil? ♒ If they could choose how to die, how would they want to go? ™ Are they possessive? ✔ Are they holding a grudge against anyone? ◯ Do they believe in ghosts? ✦ Who is their favorite villain? ☄ While watching a scary movie, are they the one clinging to a friend or being clung to? 웃 Do they believe in aliens?

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//: @vrepit-sa — kit starter because I hit character limit and ran past it.

The little one is far too small to be alone in a place like this. As tiny as a child of Rhysos' own species, but neither Ixian nor one of the common Galra whelps. One deep breath confirms it is a male child, with a dense pelt of pale fur and a soft, snubbed face. The bone structure of his tiny body suggests future growth and strength; right now, the kit is helpless. Easy pickings for a predator, large or small. A prime victim to the various cruelties of the world, as likely to be a meal for someone else’s children than grow to father his own. It is the cycle of survival on every world. Rhysos knows this, better than any other.

And yet. There is still weakness scored into the ventricles of his maternal heart, an old tug of scar tissue that healed as ugly and thick as poorly welded metal.

He watches for a moment, straining against the conflict of following apathy or old, buried instincts; the skirmish is vicious and the casualties high before Rhysos sighs, accepting the inevitable decision and stepping into view. Unlike the kit, he is nothing near small. There is care, however, in the smooth slowness of his steps, an uncommon effort to not startle or intimidate— his specialty as an ambush predator. At least most of his height in his legs; it decreases drastically when Rhysos crouches and offers a sound of greeting. A soft, leonine cough prompted by instinct; he called his own young with it, once.

“Ash’ve ra, little one. Are you lost? It is... not safe here.”

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RULES: POST A SONG THAT REMINDS YOU OF YOUR MUSE(S), AND TAG SIX PEOPLE WHOSE SONGS YOU WANT TO SEE.

TAGGED BY: @the-lost-lieutenant​ TAGGING: anyone in Fort Asshole who hasn’t done one yet

As someone who compulsively makes playlists for all of his muses anyways, I do in fact have a long list of them, but there’s one in particular I always come back to. The tone is softer than you might expect for a high-tier predator but it hits several critical parts of Rhysos’ inner workings and hints at his experiences. Which I promise I will actually write up in drabbles eventually.

Alone Made Of Ice — Maldito

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sans titre by pioforsky on Flickr.

More Photography here.

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@lt-vox

Giant plushies are best shared

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tiildeath replied to your post: Boops the snoot

Yes I do

And how are you going to snipe your targets with no fingers, hm?

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Boops the snoot

//:OOC; do u wanna lose fingers or