#Silver Sliver Galaxy

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

The Silver Sliver Galaxy — more formally known as NGC 891 — is shown in this striking image from the Mosaic instrument on the 4-meter Nicholas U. Mayall Telescope at Kitt Peak National Observatory, a Program of NSF’s NOIRLab. NGC 891 is a spiral galaxy that lies almost perfectly edge-on to us, leading to its elongated appearance and its striking resemblance to our home galaxy, the Milky Way, as seen from the Earth. Since NGC 891 is oriented edge-on, it’s great for investigating the galactic fountain model. When stellar winds and supernovae from the disk of a galaxy eject gas into the surrounding medium, it can create condensation that rains back down onto the disk. 

[im-poe-dameron]

Okay last one I swear "You want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape." with… do I even need to say his name?? RAT BOI QIMIR

DARKNESS WITHIN

a/n: the way i was determined to write this. my laptop committed itself to death and i hand wrote this until i got a new battery. but anything to appease the current brain rot that has overtaken me. i love that we have a feral sith again. rip maul and revan you would have been obsessed with our boi.

summary: balance - the power of light and dark and everything that lingered between. a truth you held onto tightly for fear of losing yourself. but when false hope begins to fade and power tastes sweeter on your tongue than truth, you're left with what remains.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: qimir x f!reader; the stranger x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, lightsaber battle written messily, corruption, corruption kink, cumplay, choking, dubcon (possibly but just in case), the arc of a fallen jedi.

Petrichor lingered in the air as you stepped off metal and down into the soft soil below. The holomap still glowed inside your small ship. Illuminating the darkened space with a familiar blue you’d caught yourself staring at while the cold temperatures from hyperspace sunk into your skin. The name listed beneath caused your heart to leap into your mouth—the bitterness of him stuck to your tongue.

Eriadu.

An unknown jungle planet along the outer rim. The last place you expected to visit.

The cover of darkness and clouds blocked even the moon’s soft gleam. Your hand twitched, fingers stretching inadvertently to your lightsaber attached to your hip. From where you could see, the soft silver practically held its own light. As if to tell you this was not a path you walked alone—you would not carry the heaviness of your heart in solitude.

If you focused long enough, you could practically feel the leather grip along your fingertips. The urge to flick the switch and bring forth the comforting teal you’d come to rely on, nearly overtook you. But darkness was your ally on a hunt this straining.

For weeks you’d traveled between planets, digging for any information. A piece of a map that would eventually lead you here.

Though the one you sought out remained unknown, similar to the far reaches of the galaxy, you somehow managed to pick up a trace of him. Of the Force signature that nearly burned its way through your own. Where you expected a shimmer of light, a void of nothing welcomed you. Begged you for a sliver of company: in the hopes that you wouldn’t be able to resist.

The feeling sunk down into your nerves, echoing in your chest even now. A song you wouldn’t soon forget—yet craved to hear more of.

Darkness remained a Jedi’s sole enemy. Even while the tantalizing remnants of something so forbidden threatened to unravel you. The threads you kept a tight hold of were now frayed. And the more time passed, the more you felt his pull. The way his fingers had gripped you tight—leaving invisible marks you’d trace later in your mind. Shards of that cataclysmic emotion which tumbled through you like a tidal wave.

Jedi weren’t meant for this. For silent hopes kept in secret—the yearning for more clawing at your insides. Attachment held many names and you’d seen its power. Yet this…was raw uninhibited need. A hunger for his flesh, his mouth, his taste, for words that spilled so carelessly. But held enough freedom for you to grasp.

You weren’t stupid. You could see the breadth of his power that lingered under the surface. The signature of something foreign, something ancient.

That alone should have sent fear curling around your spine, stiffening your movements. You were taught as a padawan that Jedi fear nothing. They were the symbol of peace; a beacon of hope for the galaxy to look towards.

No matter how much you tried to fight it, that didn’t rid you of the way your body practically flinched at each sound. Your throat, tight and unforgiving the longer you trekked into the forest.

You knew the terror housed in your body didn’t stem from the thought of facing him. The realization bled through your heart the longer you were out there—you were going against the code you promised to uphold the day you were knighted. A vow that would one day cost you your life. But thus was the price to pay for knowledge, for training, for a purpose. Betrayal from another Jedi was a blow to everything your faith centered around. And what you thought was merely a faint blistering second of desire, fanned the flames of something worse.

A searing ache that refused to be ignored.

Your boots sunk into the ground with every step. Clear footprints now marked into the soil for anyone to follow. Forgoing your robes on the ship, you did what you could to look like a passerby. Someone here for peace and a stolen moment of tranquility. Hopefully they wouldn’t spot the heavy breaths you took, or the way your body was wracked with a type of suffering you weren’t used to: guilt. 

Trees engulfed your line of vision, blocking what you hoped was a path. Instead you were left with a vacant hole in the Force.

What once was loud—the embodiment of chaos—suddenly fell silent.

As if it never existed at all.

“You’re still here,” you murmured, eyes falling shut. The pulse of your own heart filled your senses. A reverberation that grounded you to the planet below. “I can feel you.”

Sucking in a lungful of air, you allowed everything else to melt away. The trees, the earth, the glow of the moon. Until you were left with the steady thump, thump, thump, that rang in your chest. The inky black mess of darkness shrouded your vision; hindering what you could reach. Forgoing a river blocking your only way forward.

You did what you could to push through it. Past the barriers of good and evil; beyond life itself. Until you reached the middle, the balance of everything that lingered between.

Your own soft blue green signature wrapped around your body, acting as a shield to what lay beyond. Pressing further, you felt the icy cold bitterness of him. It spread down your spine, wrapping around bone and marrow. A threat layered as a promise.

The obsidian emptiness was tinged with a soft gleam of crimson. Blood. Spilled by the very hands you craved to hold you.

The vibration of power nearly rattled you from the inside out. The amount of his capabilities that once beckoned you forward, now creeped closer. Mirth and malevolence seeped into the air, invading your senses. Until the pungent taste of copper spread across your tongue. Burning you within moments.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck, chills overtaking you with a wolfish eagerness. And you gasped. Calling your saber swiftly to your palm, you spun—the teal igniting like a flame, illuminating the area. Your eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light, but in the darkness—melted into the shadows—you caught a glimpse of him. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you swung it forward, until the all too familiar sinister hum of a second lightsaber filled the area.

Red clashed with teal—sparks flying into the air—and you were met with the eyes of your mark.

The man who split you open down the center.

He stole the lid from Pandora’s box and watched in glee as every emotion you kept locked away, spilled free.

“What took you so long?” His lips curved into a smirk. Satisfaction gleamed from his eyes—a red reflection cast itself along his brown irises.

“You knew I’d come.”

“I hoped.”

“Hope…” You scoffed, attempting to steady the beat of your heart. “A dangerous thing for someone like you.”

With the tilt of his head you felt the ground level beneath you. “One could say the same for your kind.”

Heat from your blades clashing bled into the air. Yet neither of you backed away. This was no longer a fight of enemies, but rather you claiming back what he so callously stole. The sanity you once prided yourself on. Death would be an honor if it were to occur in battle. A worthy end to a Jedi as prideful as you, but the doubt he placed began to rise to the surface.

The answers to your myriad of questions—desires you sealed away—were gifted to you by him. As if he’d been waiting with baited breath for you to simply…ask him.

His smile deepened. “I can’t heal what’s been broken.”

You pressed your saber down, victory filling your chest at the sight of him sliding back. He’d been expecting a fight. Not your rage.

“Stay out of my head,” you spit.

“But it’s fun.” He huffed, standing to his full height, the strength of his body shoving you back. “Watching you grapple with the meaning of good and bad.”

“Shut up.” You swung at him again. Only for the attempt to be met with a slice of his blade. It nearly toppled you to the ground.

“It’s a lie. Everything the Jedi told you.” He advanced, his steps steady—measured. “There is no such thing as light or dark. It is just power.”

“You’re trying to get in my head. To tear me apart.” The clash of your blades pierced the air with a crack as you rushed at him.

“No,” he whispered, allowing his Force signature to brush against yours. You fell away, fear lacing your heart. “I was already in your head.” He swiped at you, the red crackle of his lightsaber singed your face as you ducked. “You let me in. You let me see every doubt, every fear, every desire. Willingly.”

“Shut up!” you cried, anger forcing its way forward. Hatred for everything you felt blinded you as you lashed at him with vehemence.

Loathing at the lust you gave into, the fear you let consume you. He worked his way into your heart and there was nothing you could do to combat it. You wanted to strip him from your body, tear away the flesh he touched. Yet the memory of how you begged, how you fell to your knees for him ripped through your head—punching the breath from your lungs.

Blow after blow, you watched as he fought you with ease. His slight shifts were enough to keep you off balance. Right where he wanted. Sweat prickled at your throat, pain spreading down your arms. He was purposefully wearing you down. Until your body gave way to exhaustion. Yet that’s not what fueled the rage you did your best to tamp down.

He was enjoying this. The way you struggled.

The final frail thread in your mind snapped and for the first time, you allowed your anger to bleed through. You let it fuel the adrenaline that filled your veins, pushing your body to keep fighting. With a hoarse shout, you shoved what Force you could his way and watched him slide back along the ground. Falling to one knee with a grunt.

Air burned your lungs as you gasped in time with the beat of your heart. Your arms shook with an unforgivable ache.

But you lifted your lightsaber. Teal casting a soft glow on your sweat slicked face—the echo of wrath glinting in your darkened eyes.

“You are the last person I’d let corrupt me.” You weren’t taught to despise someone this viciously. The Jedi spoke against it, but something hot burned in your chest. A promise that you would return to Coruscant with the handle of his lightsaber. His defeat would be your penance for the pain you caused.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

“You’re wrong—”

He laughed, his foot slamming into your hip hard enough for you to hear a pop—pain rushing down your thigh. “I’m wrong? Tell me Jedi. What do you think they will do to you when you return corrupted? What will they do…when they find out how much you wanted me?”

Your scream pierced the air, burning your lungs. Ignoring the pain, you leapt to your feet, swung your blade in parries he quickly blocked, at a speed you’d never before witnessed. He fought against you with ease, but your refusal to back down is what threw him off. You wouldn’t let him win, refusing to back away from something like this. If he wanted to finish what started weeks ago, he’d have to impale you with his blade.

To your wonder, he seemed to avoid doing exactly that. Even as you fumbled, weariness settling deep in your bones.

With a twist of your wrist, his blade flew from his hand and landed mere feet away in the dirt. You half expected him to call it back, to end you where you stood, but he fell to his knees when your boot slammed into his leg. The teal of your saber now pressed close to his sweat glistened skin.

His head tilted up, eyes darker than you remembered, yet he never lost the mirthful smile that graced his lips.

“I didn’t want you,” you lied, in the hopes that he wouldn’t prod out the truth.

One final swing would silence him forever. You could release the Jedi from his threat, return home the same person you were before coming across him. And yet…you hesitated. Your eyes met his, the burn of tears welling up until you could barely see straight. His smile deepened, victory painted across his face, as you both came to the realization that would damn you right along with him. He could see it in your stance, feel how your Force signature begged to sink beside his, to feel the strength he once showed you—the tenderness that you knew existed beneath the surface.

Killing him ceased to be an option the second he opened your eyes to the truth.

“You do,” he said, his voice soft and raspy.

“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears.

He laughed, his hand calling his saber in the blink of an eye. Red flashed in the air, before your lightsaber was knocked out of your hands, now on the forest floor.

Instead of striking you down, he dragged you forward, your body forced to submit as his hand gripped your chin, angling you to face him. Your mind screamed at you to fight him, to resist the temptation, but his grip merely tightened. His eyes falling to your lips, to the way your jacket fell open at your chest, before finding your gaze again.

“You want me,” he whispered.

Where you expected to struggle against him—to flinch from his touch—you found that you craved more. You wanted him to bend you to his will, to show you the path to the dark side that remained like an echo in the back of your mind. A promise of more, wrapped in the threat of everything.

A gasp tore through your chest when he dropped his blade, his other arm hauling you against him as he walked forward. Your back scraped against a tree. Blood sprouting to the surface on the back of your neck. And if you had the ability to…you’d beg for more.

He grinned, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in the Force, the brightness of your familiar teal now a shade darker. His thumb pressed down, forcing your lips to part. To let him in.

Obedience was never difficult for you; having gone your entire life following orders left and right. But this…this knowledge that to follow his rule, to submit to his words, left you breathless. You were nearly angry at the person you let yourself become. Perhaps the Jedi were lying. You’d never know unless you asked, but to do so was to put a sentence on your head. To put questions in theirs. To push for more would reveal what you’d already done—what you couldn’t take back.

He watched the turmoil stream through you with interest. His eyes grasping what he could as you struggled with the truth he already gave you. Desire, want, hunger, it all stemmed from a place of power.

What mattered wasn’t that you needed it. You wanted it.

“I—” Your eyes fell to his lips, greed screaming through the Force as it all clicked into place.

With a snarl, he turned you, his hand wrapping around your throat as the other delved between your thighs, beneath layers of fabric you longed to get off. “I was inside of you.”

Breathing became secondary when his touch burned everything out of you, leaving a path of fire behind. Where he once caressed you with tenderness before, now turned rough. Shame should have ripped you from this intoxicating high, but the smile pressed to your ear when his fingers met your pool of slick, left you lost in the destitute darkness that consumed you.

“I tasted you,” he murmured, the rough pads of his fingers circling your clit—your mouth parting with a broken moan.

Dignity meant nothing to you when pleasure burned at the edges of your vision. Effectively blocking anything that might have come before.

“That is a truth you will never escape.”

Gripping his arm, you focused on the heavy breaths he exhaled, the shift of his body as he held you up where you couldn’t anymore. And beyond that, in the expanse of his darkness, you allowed light to pour through. To blanket him in what was once familiar, what remained buried in the depths of his mind. You gave him a piece of his past as he drowned you in your future.

“The Jedi will reject you,” he gasped, two fingers pressing into you, the memory of before sparking to life in your mind. “And when they do. You will find me again.”

“T-They’ll brand me a traitor—” If you were to return, you could never be a Jedi again. Never go back to the person you were before him.

Pleasure blinded you with every thrust of his fingers, the stillness of the forest now echoed with the mix of your breaths. You sunk into him, nails digging crescent moons into his skin, and he tightened his hold on your throat. He liked you this way. Pliant beneath his touch, eager and desperate for whatever he could possibly offer you. Being your prey was a mere fantasy, an act he allowed you to divulge in for as long as you needed.

Until the time was right.

His lips slid against yours, the kiss wet and heady. All the things you longed for, the past that you could not escape from. He kissed you without mercy. And you met him with an urgent acquiescence. The memory of his tongue against your clit pulsed in your mind, brighter than the day it happened as he stole the breath from your lungs. Saliva dripped down your chin, connecting you to him.

“Don’t you see?” he breathed, fingers curling forward—searching for something. The sharp inhale of satisfaction nearly tore you apart when your torso crumpled forward, a whimpered moan ripping from your throat. “You became a traitor the day you followed me into that temple.”

“I—”

The heel of his palm roughly pressed to your clit; your hips—acting on their own accord—sought his touch, grinding down with a pleaded out cry. You needed the bliss he once gave you. The sensation that haunted your every waking moment; that threatened to break you down and ruin all that you built for yourself. The feeling you were prepared to give up everything for.

“I can give this to you, all the time.”

“Please,” you sighed.

“Whatever you crave, will be yours.” He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, the hitch in your chest burned a hole through his. And like before when you cupped his face with reverence glowing in your eyes, he ignored it. Shoved it down into the pit with the remainder of his memories and feelings.

Your teeth dug into your lip nearly drawing blood when he sped up. The plunge of his fingers wet and loud in the air. To have you like this. Out in the open for anyone to discover, nearly drove him mad. He wanted to see your face, watch you shatter like before, witness the erosion of the Jedi spirit within you.

He wanted to bear witness to the corruption he caused.

“Say you’ll join me.”

Warning bells rang in the back of your mind, teal bleeding into your vision—the final hope of light that tried to pull you away from him. To remind you of why you were there.

Until darkness swallowed it whole, submerging it beneath the waves of a sea you’d never swim out of.

Grasping for the release you knew wasn’t far away, you bucked against his hand, mouth falling open as a cry pierced the air. With a grunt, he pushed his hips against your back, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder as you came with the taste of him on your lips. White flashed behind your eyes, hot and all consuming, your Force signature slamming into him with enough strength to send him stumbling. All with you still in his arms.

He collapsed to the ground, arm wrapped like a vice around your waist and fingers swirling around your pulsing clit.

“Yes,” you gasped, thigh quaking and face contorted in pleasure. “I will.”

Soft green began to morph behind your closed eyes. Dimming and bleeding to the edge of your senses, something brighter taking you over with a hunger you’d never experienced before. A raw ache that thumped in tune with your own heart. He turned your head, his lips finding yours, as your crimson signature called to his, bending and curving where his led.

He smiled, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. “Welcome my love.”

Your eyes fluttered open, lips pulling into a smile, as yellow slowly seeped into your iris. “Thank you.”

[bluiex]

(x.x Now I'm just brain rotting over monsterfucker Scar with watcher!Grian. (Slight body horror warning? But not much) I might continue this & make it spicier but for now…)

.

"Oh my, it sure is dark outside tonight. I can barely see a thing in this super scary forest!"

Scar pauses for effect, scanning the trees with an eager grin.

"It would be a shame if something attacked me in the dark right about now. I could easily be pinned down by, say, an overgrown bird."

He waits for any sort of sign of life from the forest and lets out a pointed sigh.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of purple. Anticipation runs up his spine and he takes a sharp breath–

"Scar."

"–You sure took your time," he purrs back, facing Grian with a teasing laugh. The man almost looked mortal right now; he could be mistaken for any old parrot hybrid, if you weren't too knowledgeable in that world. Unthreatening feathers lined his collar and his pretty wings were more stunning than intimidating.

But Scar could taste the pure, unfiltered, violent power emanating from the almost-human shell he barely fit into.

"Because I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing," Grian scoffs. "I don't know why you're so insistent on seeing my you-know-what form. It's not the most flattering thing."

"You could have me on my knees in any form, songbird," Scar replies, tucking his hands behind his back. "Would'ya feel better if I told you it was a Vex thing?"

"No. I know it's not. You feed off enough of my power as is, I'm not trying to ruin you."

Scar nods, solemn. "Hm, real shame, and here I was offering myself to be ruined. Well! I can go visit someone else then."

And the bait finally snags.

"Someone else?" Grian snaps to attention, an odd glow to his eyes. "You stop that, mister. I know your game. There isn't anyone else."

Scar snorts. "Really? 'Cause I was just parading myself around for a good while there. If you're not worth my time I'm not going to drag this out any longer. You're hardly the only other powerful being on this server."

He mutters a couple names and base locations to himself and turns on his heel without a glance back. He can feel Grian's growing possessiveness, and it's exactly what he wants.

"If you're really not interested I'll just be on my way. It's a good thing we live so close to–"

He catches the sound of a twig snapping behind him, and before he's even realized it his back is up against the bark of some nearby tree.

"Don't move," Grian snarls, but there's no real anger behind his words. It's less emotional and more… animalistic. Scar swallows, though his smirk doesn't waver for a second.

"Fine, Scar, fine. You win, okay? You're the worst."

Under the sliver of moonlight as his only light source, Scar sees something shift in his lover. And he can only feel restlessness growing under his own skin.

To put his awe into words would be an impossible task.

Grian's wings… split. It's far from gruesome– or maybe it is, and Scar's just understandably numb to these things– no, it's beautiful. Flesh twists, makes way for more eyes beneath those soft feathers, reds and blues shifting to galaxies contained within plumage, silver freckles for stars. Scar maintains eye contact the entire time, a fond grin on his face, and Grian stares back defiantly, like a challenge.

More feathers sprout along his body, and Grian ditches his jumper. They bloom from underneath that unfair sleeveless shirt he wears and direct his attention to the man's rippling muscles. Grian is so much stronger than most people give him credit for, he thinks, and that only excites him more.

His teeth grow sharp, his usual talons look more like knives. A true bird of prey; he's built to kill.

"Happy?" Grian growls, his voice echoing through Scar's head until it feels like it's the only thing he's ever known. Grian, Grian, Grian.

He whimpers, unable to force down the noise once Grian's hands are back on his wrists.

(It's hardly an issue. He's already prepped himself, and that rare foresight on his part will soon be something to brag about.)

"Gods, Scar. You're impossible."

Scar is like me fr fr.. OKAY BUT THIS IS GOOD. I NEED MORE- I want more-- if you feel so inclined to write the spicy bit... I'd love to read it (and I'm sure everyone else would as well)

[lebuc]

what galaxies are made of

* ahhh, the vista - a pineapple-peach sherbet sky serving dessert post-supper ...& serenity.

afoot, a sultry feline & my fine, fulsome friend together kindling a casual intimacy in my cozy, dimly lit cove  ever on glow; 

sherbet gradates to inky blue backdropping a silver crescent sliver - reflective, supportive

now that the sun  has slipped beneath the horizon line while spiced rum has begun a stir beneath a mason-dixon...

aware that  my instrument is of utmost concern, requiring a singular delicacy for our quest's undertaking: finding out precisely just what galaxies are made of. * 3/23 - lebuc - what galaxies are made of

[frozenhi-chews]

Skittle's real name is Towers. The entire reason he's called Skittles is because Pancake named him that.

She and her two other friends ran into him in a 7-11 parking lot, while he was raving mad and trying to figure out where his soul was. His power was FRACTURED, he is a sliver of the Deity he once was, Pancake barely being more powerful than he was. And he just looked like a really tall lanky dude with night-sky black skin, the silver and gold galaxy vitiligo, four arms, and really long legs that kinda go down into pegs.

Pancake and her friends didn't take him seriously, at all, and she got annoyed with him once he followed them into the gas station. Not like he had much choice in the matter. Spitting and hissing until she turned around and asked WHAT WAS HIS PROBLEM?!

They argued back and forth until she asked for his name, to which he refused, and at that point he had a packet of Skittles in his hand that he was threatening Pancake with. So she looked at him, then at the candy, then back at him, and went "okay Skittles," and walked off.

It was then he realized he was named in this universe. Which meant that he's now known. And he's still kinda stuck following Pancake around. Much to both of their dislike

[the-consortium]

Excuse Me? Mr. Saqqura? I have a question. Do you feed Tnzettchian daemons your summon that are more bird like soul birdseed?

The light in Saqqara's part of the old Eldar palace seems even slower and lazier than in the other towers and halls. He has made himself at home in a spire a little way off, towering high above the arboretum. A thin, bone-bleached pinnacle, it sways gently in the non-wind of the old world like a blade of stone grass. Far on the horizon, one of the frequent dust storms clenches its fist and slowly strives up the edge of the sky. Over the ground-level landing bays, the heavy plasteel gates grind shut.

With sparing movements, the Word Bearer arranges a tea set. Pours some mint syrup into two small cups that would not be large even in human hands, but are no more than a thimble for an Astartes.

He pushes aside a couple of pages with notes that are obviously not written by him, but are concept drawings for an improved Narthecium that Arrian is working on with Tzimiskes.

The leaves he puts into the cups give off a spicy, slightly disconcerting smell. Whatever the plants are, this is no ordinary tea. He pours the mixture from a pot decorated with intricate silver ornaments that are very disturbing at second glance. Turns over a small hourglass and then sits down again cross-legged.

He makes a welcoming gesture with his hand and then pats a particularly large bottle that is standing on a little bench next to him.

"Splinters of Tzeentch live very well here with the Consortium. In, well, nature, if you want to put it that way … in the wild? … they feed on confusion, convoluted plots and madness, of course. But here on Urum, dozens of the galaxy's greatest medical geniuses have come together and are constantly busy trying to be better than their brothers and cousins. They team up, fall out, try to set traps for each other, write treatises so complex that most people go insane trying to read them. The Chief Apothecary is very insistent that his students regularly publish their work, even if it's next to impossible to get any medical journals in the Eye. He calls it an old Terran academic tradition. So I'm more concerned with making sure my slivers of Tzeentch don't get too fat than getting them food. So, to get back to the question - no, I don't need bird food. Feeding them is not a problem at all. There are other difficulties, though. I just had to stop Herik the other day from taking one of the more bird-like demons and doing gods knows what with it. Emperor's Children are weird sometimes and Herik's obsession with birds is disturbing."

The last of the sand has run through the hourglass and Saqqara reaches for the two small mugs. "Tea?"

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

This is an unnessecary thing to get salty about, true, but whenever I hear the line "Oh, Neconrs are just The Terminator but in space" it gets my goat.

Yes, fine. Inspirationally it's kind of hard to argue with what drove the thought processes at the beginning. They had a rule called "We'll be back!" so there's no denying that.

But apart from that, uh, they're not the same at all?

Ah yes! I remember the time that Skynet was, in fact, betrayed by the ancient star-sucking gods that they'd found and given material form to! I remember that happening! In the war against the psychic precursor race that seeded life across the galaxy! I remember! And I remember them having weapons that flayed you to nothing in the blink of an eye! Not plasma guns, no! Not famously plasma guns! And I definitely remember seeing all of those T-800's cruising around in floating fucking monoliths with teleporters on the front!

So yes. Silver androids that come back? Can't argue with that. Literally every single other detail? No. Shush. Go away.

As an aside this is an attitude that pisses me off no end forever, where people spot one wafer-thin sliver of simliarity and cry rip off. Oh look! These characters have faces! I saw characters with faces in something else! You're just ripping it off!

No, no, fuck you. Rip offs and plagiarism do exist and you devalue these unpleasant instances when you leap on, for one, inspiration, and for another just, you know, things having things that are kind of similar.

There's nothing new udner the sun, fuckers! Maybe think for a second!

[gold-droplets-askblog]

RW Space AU Info!

(created by @lemon-ve-ghost!)

SYNOPSIS

The Ancients once sought erasure from existence, but now with the power of space travel, they search for a new planet to call home. The world was beyond saving with their actions of seeking escape, at least what most believed. When a rogue iterator threatened the people (unintentionally), most had fled and destroyed the remaining access to a new life, leaving the remnants of a once great civilization to rot. Feeling betrayed, those who had been abandoned worked harder to catch up, only to leave in panic as another threat loomed over the horizon. And at the very end, the iterators who had helped them flee were left alone in a dying world, left to ponder whether it had been worth it.

Ask Status: Closed (lemme finish setting up first jbhjsdb)

For art-based responses, please direct questions to characters instead of being vague! (i.e. "To Chasing Wind" instead of "Who is…" as the latter will just be a narrator answering)

If asking lore/out of character questions, please mention Lore or OOC!

Please be nice! The typical stuff, like no nsfw asks and no being an asshole

Generally serious, but joke asks will be tagged as such! So feel free to go crazy!

Legend: ☀️ - Available 🌑 - Unavailable (i will post lore comics :thumbsup:)

Cast: (brb gonna make a post regarding heights and adding em later)

Iterators: ☀️ Seven Red Suns - she/any ☀️ Looks to the Moon - she/they ☀️ Sliver of Straw - they/she/it ☀️ Chasing Wind - they/them ☀️ No Significant Harassment - he/she/any 🌑 Unparalleled Innocence - they/it ("Inno" only by Grey) 🌑 Five Pebbles - he/it

Slugcats: 🌑 Prickle to Twine (Spearmaster) - they/it 🌑 Hunter of Fallen Stars (Hunter) - any/all 🌑 Spark of Gunpowder and Smoke (Artificer) - he/him 🌑 Plentiful Harvest as Twilight Falls (Gourmand) - any/all 🌑 Silver Strands (Survivor) - they/it/xe (xe/xir/xirself) 🌑 Golden Comets (Monk) - they/them 🌑 Midnight Depths (Rivulet) - it/neos 🌑 Saint - they/x (x/xs/xself)

Narrators: (answers lore/ooc questions) ☀️ Night's Watchful Eyes (Nightcat) - it/neos ☀️ Echoed Inversions (Inv/Enot/you know lol) - any/all

Extra Info

Feel free to ask questions regarding the blog n stuff! I could make an FAQ page lol uhh lemme set shit up first

Askblog is story-driven! Periodically (whenever I give myself time), there will be larger art pieces or comics that drive the story forward and introduce new characters

Gold Droplets is the name of the planetary system! It is named after void fluid, and it resides within the Eclipsed Galaxy

Main planet is the 5th planet, and although it's very cold, there's still warm enough with enough atmosphere to support life

The entire system has been conquered, iterator-esque stations are all over the other planets and celestial bodies

The people (Ancients) have somewhat evolved separately where they were raised

There are 9 generations of iterators total, with a large age gap between gens 3 and 4

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 15: Steel Serpent

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Depictions of violence.

Chapter 14 | Chapter 16

Read from the beginning.

-- -- -- -- --

“Take a left here,” Tech directed through the comms. “There should be some steps and a shortcut straight ahead, but there are Imperial patrols nearby. I recommend taking the route on your right.”

“Thanks, Tech,” Zeraphine responded, eyes keen and absorbing every minute detail. “Made any progress with slicing into the lounge camera system yet?”

“Working on it.” 

The commander hummed her confirmation and sunk into the living Force around her, tracking movement and sensations. Beneath the surface, despair simmered like a pot of water ready to boil over. With no energy left to resist, Toth Dromia succumbed to its fate, and the citizens begrudgingly accepted their new leaders. Frightened of repercussion. Spirits shattered by the iron grip crushing them. Heads down, causing no trouble. They’d swear it and pledge their unwavering loyalty to the Empire, all in the name of safeguarding their loved ones. The notion of dissent and rebellion had become so terrifying that no one dared to entertain the idea anymore, afraid that even their thoughts were not safe from the imposing Imperial presence. 

Their misery knocked her from all angles. Grief took siege, and remorse slunk close behind, each soul mourning losses, and destroyed friendships, and fractured families that had fallen apart once sides had been taken. 

“Are you doing okay?” Hunter asked, planting a grounding hand on her arm. 

“Yeah, yeah, just…” Pushing aside her fatigue, she squared her shoulders and rhythmically squeezed and released her fingers to maintain her focus. “A lot of powerful pain around here. It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with this much.” 

“We’ll be there soon,” the sergeant assured her. “Keep walking. Crosshair and I have got you.” 

Hunter’s sincerity soothed the emotional ache like sand over a burning fire. If it hadn’t been for the mill of people and their important mission, she would have embraced him, perhaps even given the vigilant sniper a hug too. 

“Wrecker is keeping the ship low in case of emergency,” Echo confirmed in their earpieces. “I’ve mapped out all the pickup points and sent them to your datapad.” 

Zeraphine tuned into the comm chatter while she scouted the area. Shops built with bulky rocks formed the exteriors, but a peek through the protruding windows revealed more modern decoration. The outside remained untouched by time, their peeling paint doors and sturdy stone facades concealing the passage of years within. 

Stand tall, she wished she could call out against the tide of hopelessness. Remain strong, like the buildings your ancestors built. You have their blood and their strength. 

Like a cruiser dominating the horizon, The Steel Serpent Lounge rose from the intersection of six winding alleyways. In a tight grip, a colossal silver snake locked the tower in its coil, maw agape and tongue licking the sky. 

“Seems about right,” Zeraphine commented, staring up at the monstrous architecture. 

Static intruded on the comms and Tech’s voice toiled to reach them. “I have access to the lounge cameras. Corrick is there. He is by the far back corner. There is no Imperial presence inside, but there is no guarantee it will remain that way.” 

“Understood,” Hunter confirmed. “Limiting comm use. You know the signal if you spot trouble.” 

As the communication severed and the connected hiss faded, the three were left alone in the wild. 

“Okay,” Zeraphine said, steadying the sliver of doubt creeping into her core. “Follow my lead. If I give an order, you do it. Our priority is a clean in and out.”

“We’ve got your back, commander,” Hunter affirmed. With a practiced motion, he inspected the ammo storage in his blasters and firmly locked them in place. “After you.” 

The moment they entered The Steel Serpent Lounge, a barrage of neon lights bombarded them. The central holographic tree breathed a mesmerising deep pink, trickling onto the thin carpet in droplets and oozing into the glowing rivets linking the gambling tables. Sleek bar surfaces stretched around the glimmering plant, and servers darted on squeaking wheels to deliver refreshments to patrons. 

“You good?” Zeraphine asked, angling her head towards Hunter as she scoured the wagering customers for their target. 

“My helmet is dimming the worst of the light,” the sergeant replied with a tap on the item in question. “No need to worry, commander.” 

With a quick glimpse at Crosshair, she caught his affirming nod and proceeded deeper into the gambling house. Overhead, advertisements jutted out at curving angles, pestering her with hollow promises and the deafening roar of victorious triumphs as though they had straggled into a warrior arena and not a nest of deceit. 

A customer screamed in the face of a security guard before promptly being hauled from the establishment, kicking out at anybody he passed and bellowing his protests. His foot collided with the window of the exclusive lounge and the patrons within startled, briefly abandoning their games to glare at the unruly guest. 

“Charming fellow,” Zeraphine muttered as she wandered by the commotion, clocking Corrick Sartor at the far booth, exactly where Tech said he would be, legs up on the table and crossed at the ankle. 

His lank blond hair was slicked back and dragged into a bun so tightly that it nearly erased the wrinkles by his eyes. An assortment of badges representing different guilds, tattered and new, lined one sleeve of his jacket. She hoped for his sake he had once belonged to those groups and they were not simply decorative. Half of the logos on his arm came with hefty costs for anybody inflicting damage to their reputation, member or not.

As she approached, he lowered his drink from his mouth, a leer twitching onto his lips until he noticed the two armoured men standing behind her. She slid into the opposite bench and Hunter and Crosshair blocked the way out. 

“Corrick Sartor, I believe,” Zeraphine said with a tilt of her head and a coy smile. 

“Depends who’s asking,” the smuggler replied, swinging his legs down from the table. 

“I am. I have some questions.”

Corrick snorted. “And what makes you think I’m going to answer?” 

Zeraphine’s expression twisted into a smirk. She had hoped he would cooperate, but if he refused to surrender the information willingly, she would have some fun in extracting it from him. “You will,” she insisted, deceptively nonchalant. 

“Look, little girl,” Corrick said, knocking back his drink and setting the empty glass down with a pointed clink, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can bring as many heavies as you like; I ain’t talking.” 

“It’s not my friends you need to worry about.” 

With an abrupt jolt, he met the foam seat with a considerable thump. Despite his efforts to wriggle free, an invisible force locked him in place. 

His alarmed eyes clashed with the sinister glimmer in hers, and Zeraphine kept her fingers sprawled underneath the table and poised at the unyielding criminal. “Now I have your attention,” she said with an undercurrent of threat in her tone, “I want to hear about a deal you did with an Imperial officer a few days ago.”

Uneasily, Hunter and Crosshair exchanged a subtle glance but remained quiet and held their positions.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Corrick demanded. “What are you?” 

“Depends who you ask,” Zeraphine shrugged. “If you’d like me to release you, lower you voice and stop squirming.”

Corrick continued to writhe, and rolling her eyes, Zeraphine maintained her connection to him as she shuffled out of the seat and past Crosshair. She lifted the criminal’s body up the wall and let him dangle. 

“So much for subtlety,” the sniper muttered to Hunter. “Although, I have to admit I like her style.”

“Answer my questions quickly, or I will add a considerable amount of pain into the mix,” Zeraphine warned. “Where was the Imperial officer heading?” 

“Zera!” Hunter hissed, attracting disapproving glances from nearby gamblers who identified trouble and made themselves scarce. “What happened to a clean in and out?” 

“I’m on a deadline,” the commander asserted. “The Imperials won’t keep my father alive for much longer.” 

“He won’t be able to tell us anything if you’re choking him.” 

“I’m not holding him by his neck, but that can be arranged.” With each click of her heels, Corrick lashed out in a futile attempt to ward her off until the tip of her heated blade kissed his throat. “If you are quite done being dramatic, I will ask again: where was your Imperial friend heading?” 

“I don’t know,” her prisoner panicked, grappling with the unseen forces constricting his waist and pinning him to the misshapen wall. 

Apprehension swarmed in the man. “You’re lying,” Zeraphine sighed. “I’ll give you one last chance to answer correctly before I start taking skin. Where was the ship heading?”

“Beron system!” Corrick all but shrieked. “A planet in the Beron system. Don’t know which, they were all wiped out centuries ago, but I swear that’s where he said he was going. Please. Please…let me down. I’ve told you everything.” 

Zeraphine’s blade grazed his nose as she dropped him onto the cushioned seat beneath his dangling legs. He scrambled like a tooka on ice and bolted.  

As she made to leave, her clone companions stood ready, muscles tensed and weapons aimed. Walking between the clones, she withdrew her second sword and provided a shield between them and the oncoming security guards as they began to shoot. 

Anticipating danger, Zeraphine immediately counterattacked, blades whirling and repelling the projectiles aimed at them. Heat emanated from her movements and she positioned herself as the target. The guards multiplied rapidly, converging as the remaining customers scattered. Despite their efforts to fight back with blaster rounds, sniper bolts, and glass sword swipes, the lounge’s security proved impervious. 

“Lock your helmets tight and don’t come anywhere near me,” Zeraphine instructed Hunter and Crosshair. 

Hunter aimed and squeezed the trigger of his gun. “What-?”

“Just do as I say, sergeant. Take position by the emergency doors.” 

As soon as the two clones shifted, she harnessed the fear already running unchecked in the guards and her own smouldering anger, fuelling it into a pulsating energy inside her, seething to break free. “Hope this works,” she muttered before unleashing it all in a devastating wave. 

Filled with pure terror, the armoured security paled as their minds constricted around their dread. The blaster bolts ceased. Haunted and terrified, many broke formation to flee. 

With every determined step towards them, the brave souls that remained winced, faces contorting in anguish. She savoured it like a rare Phominian vintage and allowed it to invigorate her. She repeated the action, over and over, intensifying the terror in them until their own consciousness rebelled and their hands trembled on their weapons. Sweat dripping, screams began to ring, one and then more, ascending in a melody to her orchestrated fear. 

Her mother had always emphasised the importance of using her power to sense and manipulate emotions responsibly, that it should never be used in this way. That she had a duty to govern and control it. But her mother wasn’t there. 

She exerted an immense effort to ensure that the influence did not affect the two clones positioned at the doors, and sensed the presence behind them in the seconds before Echo burst through the emergency exit. Tech, Wrecker, and Omega hurried in via different entrances close by, guns raised as they fanned out inside the gambling house.  

Zeraphine weakened the effects of her gifts and staggered towards the clone squad, bristling with pent-up energy.

“Did you really need to start a fight?” Echo demanded. 

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Hunter returned. “The commander here was the one who started spinning her swords.” 

Breaths laboured, Zeraphine grunted. “Like you were any help in getting that guy to talk,” she shot. 

“Can it!” the ARC trooper said. “Main exit. Get to the ship now before the Imperials catch us.” Spotting movement near the holographic tree, he waved them towards the door and readied his weapon. 

A pair of hands popped up from behind the round surface and the bartender got to his feet, eyes widening at the barrel directed at his chest. He quickly lifted his palms in surrender and scowled at Omega. “Hey!” he yelled. “No kids!” 

“Seriously?” she said as she passed him to catch up to her brothers. She swept her hand to the destruction, to the guards huddled in fear, their fists pressed to their ears, and the sporadic flicker of the shattered lights. “All this and it’s a kid in your bar you’re concerned about.” 

[uraharashouten]

@soulxfragments asked:

It had been snowing most of the day. The chill radiating generously down her spine with each light breeze breaking through the forest around them. Eyes skyward; blind as they were. As if searching the distant galaxies for things she can no longer see. "Are the stars out?" Came several small bursts of clouds from exposed lips. Her hand absently moving to coil fingers into his; to tangle them as if she were preparing to venture into the depths of eternity with the man beside her.

Perhaps.. given the chill, the sky had opened. Clouds receded to higher peeks, nestled about mountain tops. Maybe.. the stars had come out. A night breathed in moon kissed rays; crescent, and waxing. Like a guiding light to all the wonderful spectacles found in the distant black situated above them. Tickled by the snow covered tree tops reaching out towards the heavens in an ever determined motion. Like they too longed to touch the sky.

He had once done something that she immediately grew to love about him. The way he traced the sky along her back like drawing an image of the wonders she missed so much. It was exceptional. Exciting, and something so deeply personal and intimate. Something she would share with him basking in the warmth of his presence all the while. Coiled up under the breath of his existence as much more than just a Mentor to her. As someone she would gladly stay close with, embracing everything they had experienced in their time out at her home.

A streak across the sky. Then another. Meteors falling into the atmosphere, and burning away in silent revelation. Everything was perfect. Beautiful. Suited so naturally in balance like every little piece of existence were fitted so precisely to make it all work.

Somehow.. it felt like a reflection of what she and Kisuke had. Perfectly shaped to fit precisely with each other. Working together in harmony much as their powers had upon her being deputized.

How is it she's become so lucky?

The framework of a new life had been placed. Foundation established. He was.. that missing piece now nestled effortlessly into her world. Brushing her thumb against the outside of his.

The world isn't so dark anymore..

He was her starlight in the absence of everything.

Unexpected... but not unwelcome..

Kisuke gazed upwards. The night was brilliantly clear and cold, pin-pricks of distant light glittering in the heavens. The moon was out. It was too thin a sliver to give the lustre of mid-day to objects below... yet it was enough to cast faint shadows, and lend a silver gleam to the fresh-fallen white that blanketed branch and bough and all the ground around them.

"They are now," he smiled, turning to the woman whose feet crunched through the snow beside his own. His student—or was he hers? A bit of both, and more besides: the lines had long since blurred. "Oh?" A flash caught in his peripheral, tugging at his attention; he turned his gaze heavenward in time to catch the tail-end of a bright streak. "Meteorite," he breathed appreciatively. "Went by just now—" He leaned over, turning his head to puff a warm breath across her ear; soft and ephemeral, like the light from a shooting star. "—like that. Oh! —There are more! Looks like we're in for a whole shower—"

He'd follow by turning her hand palm-upwards in his, tracing the path of each across it to mirror the dome of the sky, to give her a sense of their frequency and abundance. If only she could see them... Someday, perhaps—it was a hope on which he refused to give up.

"They're out in force tonight," he observed, and punctuated his words with a squeeze to her hand. "If ever you wanted to make a wish, now's the time—"

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: La Réponse de Lune (Part I)

Ri’s eyes shine with the gentle glimmer of the Moon—a pact to honor the grace of his muse. Not the sun that burns delusions into his vision nor the comets that he could never will himself to catch up to, and never the stars that sew illusions into their tapestries. Ri’s Moon is the one light in his heavens. But Ri’s is something that he, on still cloudless nights, could only wish his muse to be.

What his muse is, nevertheless, enchants him and tugs him in helpless swirl, far past the confines of the firmament of his grounded world. When the wind falls lifeless and his spirits follow, Her silver smile quells all worry and leads him to pastures green. Tender, he wallows in Her kindness; precious, he crowns Her import. These and countless constellations of honeyed latria does he lay upon the altar of her winsome name.

Night after night, Ri marvels at the Moon’s many faces of delight and gaiety, charity and regality, of the myriad manner of joy and warmth and majesty aglow in each of Her lighted meridians. What fascinates him more still is what may lie on the face She keeps in darkness. “If only She could spare me but a sliver of Her light,” he wishes, “that I may fathom the breadth of Her miracles, the depth of Her mysteries—”

Having watched those around him toil just for a moment in the sun, Ri cherishes the night, longs for the gentle light of his muse. Tantalized by the why’s and how’s of her grace and the spectrum of the untold possibilities behind her face, he quarries for clues to the nature of her radiance.

As rivers reach for the sea.

The sea that bears testimony to his prayers and on this night bears an answer.

The Moon a wrinkled picture on the ripples, an invitation comes tendered, scribbled in light bent by the waves: “Come Ri, your gift awaits.”

He steps into the surf in a trance; his footfalls turn splashes and his stride falls bogged to a wade, slowing yet unceasing. With the water at his lips he draws his lungs a final fill before vanishing into the moonlit sea. He trudges on the sand floor as his chest thumps to the waltz of ageless galaxies, each step spanning the space between stars; their pauses grow longer as if ever less likely to find their close.

Gasp

A swell of relief and a rush of air charges into Ri’s body as his head breaks the surface. Wiping the water off his face, he makes onward the sloping beach and falls down with a plop—heaving, disheveled, and dry. He sits up to find the night sky washing over his feet, constellations drifting in the waves. Not a single drop has soaked his clothes or remains to wet his skin, not even as the inky tide recedes past his toes. With eyes wide and hung jaw, he stands and surveys the cosmos around him. Blooming nebulae splash the abyss with rainbow stardust and a shower of hurtling asteroids heralds a Voice that rings through the night.

“Look around you to see within you, with the moon as your witness.”

In front of Ri, shadows coalesce into a solid globe the span of his hand, bobbing on the ether. A slim curve streaks the edge of it, a shining silver crescent. Ri scans for an acquainted sight to try and place himself amidst the limitless night and spies a familiar blue-green orb sweeping around a sun. The sun.

He jogs toward the beaming ball, feeling his steps dent the drenched star-sand and patter on pitch-dark puddles. Keeping his head down, he refrains from catching even a glimpse of the fever-made-light, lest his eyes be scarred with sore afterglows—delusions burned into his sight one too many times. Gauging the distance left by the vigor of the heat’s dance on his cheeks, Ri halts his advance when the pirouette of the fires threatens to twist off his skin.

He opens his eyes in hurried spells and finds himself at gates aflare, perhaps even past it for he sees nothing but light too where the night used to be. Desperate to find his bearing, he strains his eyelids apart and bares himself to the assault of fire. Ri could have never foretold, for he never wished for a re-encounter, that he would once again burn his pupils and his thoughts with the blaze of indignity.

Once he dared behold the sun to pay her earnest tribute only to be scalded in rebuke. “You are not fit to gaze upon me.” Ri’s first oblation was answered with curses to his worth and a blight to his vision, a warning to never set his lowly regard where unwelcome. Glowing even at the close of his eyes, it sneers at the shortfalls rooted within himself. His spirit has been torched since and the sun readies to rekindle the inferno.

Blots of greens, blues, and reds barrage Ri’s sight as he braves through the flames, trekking a path back into the night. The heat swells harsher still as he passes through the heart of the sun. At the center sits a globe not much larger than the miniature moon that Ri has had floating by his side. Its glow outshines the sun a hundredfold. Ri steels his irises, paying no heed to the ashen fate that certainly awaits them and him, and glares back at the core.

“My faults are mine and so is my gaze! I need not the light of your fire for I am my own; I am free!”

The sun blinks. It flickers. It bursts in a flash, a flower blossoming under the stars. Ri steps out into the cool sand of the night and falls down with a plop—heaving, disheveled, and unscathed.

His little moon also made it without so much as a char-mark, the crescent now a beaming quarter. The same Voice preceded by the volley of asteroids rang once again throughout the night:

“You have tread bravely. Save your rest for the next.”

— ☀ —

Read Part II here: https://at.tumblr.com/upismediacenter/literary-la-r%C3%A9ponse-de-lune-part-ii/1555dnp1o5w7

[quiltofstars]

The Silver Sliver Galaxy, NGC 891 // q0084

[entertainmentnerdly]

Silver Sliver Galaxy (NGC 891, Caldwell 23) [OC] via /r/spaceporn https://ift.tt/2UewIjz

[thepaintedlady00]

Y'all have appealed to my impulsive behavior, here's the second peek you hoes 😂

🪞🐀

The dark hallways were lined with mirrors of all shapes, sizes and adornments. I looked into them as I passed, watching my reflection twist and change shape right before my eyes. This place was freaky and I wanted out. How did I do it last time? I kept moving, the rats on the floor breaking away to carve a path for me as the small candle in my hand lit the area.

Light, a tiny sliver of it, peeked from a half open doorway at the end of the long hall. Maybe someone was here, someone who could help send me back to The Dreaming. I opened the door slowly, and the more I did the less light shined. A mirror, tall and long, lined in a frame of fish hooks stood in the center of the room. I walked closer.

The reflection was blurred, but as I got closer it cleared until I stood looking into Olethros' eyes. I swallowed a broken sob just as the door behind me slammed shut. When I turned to the noise another mirror blocked my path, the family that had died in the fire staring back at me. I turned again to another mirror, an old lover. Another mirror, another dead friend. All around me were mirrors and every last one of them held the shape and faces of those that had died because of me.

My lungs burned as I tried to keep breathing, tears filling my eyes and spilling with no resistance. Olethros spoke. "Fighting almost always leads to death and destruction. Are you prepared for that?" 

"No," I breathed.

"Auntie Pen! Auntie Pen!" The voices of the children chanted. 

"We're safe, right Penelope?" Their parents asked.

I covered my ears. "Not this."

"Do you love me, Penelope?" My old lover asked.

"Please!"

"Come on Pen, you gotta live a little!" My friend insisted.

"Stop."

"Penelope," they all began to cry out to me, repeating conversations we shared, calling out to me.

I looked up at Olethros. "I'm gone because of you."

"Stop."

His warm eyes went gray. "They killed me because I tried to save you."

I was on my knees now, weeping. "Stop!"

"All of us are dead and it's your fault!" 

"Your fault!"

"Because of you!"

"STOP!" I screamed as loud as I could, my hands slamming down onto the floor, rats scattered away from me as below my hands the ground began to crack. A line of golden light laminated my right hand and a line of silver the left. My right hand burned and my left felt frozen. Chest heaving I slammed them down again and again and again until the floor finally gave way.

I was falling, falling for what felt like an hour until I hit the cold water that raged below. The waves were too strong, pulling and pushing me under with a force I couldn't fight against. I fought and raged, desperate to break the surface, but I couldn't. Fear seized me, my lungs burning as I tried to scream. My eyes closed. I was going to die. I was going to die. Dream would blame himself. He would be heartbroken. No. No. NO!

Air stung my skin and the ground beneath me burned. A hand rubbed and patted my back, urging my body to purge the water I'd swallowed. Gasping and clawing at the pebbles beneath my fingers I sobbed. "Breathe, Weaver. You are safe."

Tag List:

@blu3what

@swearingsolemnly

@toomanystoriessolittletime

@cosmos-bunny

@missnightingale1971

@superwholockbooknerd526

@briefpostpolice

@sleepyhollowheadstealer

@22carolina08

@just-annie-things

@asexualaromosafezone

@sirrandyfiddlesticks

@bingewatchingmylifegoby

@fate-huntress

@sdawn03

@wearebabygroot

@fruityfucker

@layla2-49

@rathbuncaitlynn

@woistmeineis

@true-queen-of-mischief

@thereeallink

@asianfrustration13

@octo-octopie

@grippleback-galaxy

@odessa1012

@hedone26

@ry-rybear

@amirahroronoa

@meg-the-second-greatest

@thegirlwiththeumbrellatattoo

@unavoidabledirewolf

@urbanbts

@bandananna

@larissinh

@luula

@gorgeourrific-nerd

@saturn-barnes

@champagnelovers101

@lunamadhatter99

@anime-freak1298

@loubells-stuff

@lokigirlszendaya

@leighanne03

@ladychibi

@0chemicalwaste0

@getinthetardissammy-sh

@munsonmunster

@yaw-nnie

@zebrabaker

@thecrazytealady

@justaproudslytherpuff

@literal-cat

@omancthad

@awesomefandomsunited

@lol0000000010

@seekerbear90

@kittycatcait219

[doomfox]

Eclipse GOD OF PLUSHIES!!!! ON ANOTHER note HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZARD/CAT BOY!!! Can we haz Sliver And Eclipse being plushie bros

"I don't get it," Eclipse rasped, hopping up onto the bed like a cat and frowning as Silver settled on the floor with his stuffed animals. "These creatures aren't actually alive... but you're supposed to care for them anyway... even though the aren't alive...? Am I understanding this right?"

"I think so," Silver said, arranging his plushies so they sat up as best he could. He'd retrieved all of his from his bed and even taken Shadow's. Shadow didn't have many and didn't mind if Silver played with them. The grey hedgehog looked up to the weird alien on his brother's bed and tried to explain. "You have to... like, use your imagination and stuff?" Eclipse looked nonplussed, cocking his head and scratching at his ear with a claw. "Look, just watch!" Silver chirruped, reached out to take his favourite toy, a stuffed isopod almost as big as he was. He put his ear next to the toy's face, as though listening intently, and his eyes went wide as he looked back to Eclipse. "He says he thinks you should find a friend! We can help you if you like!" The little hedgehog said excitedly.

Eclipse blinked once. "I didn't hear anything what is this"

Silver remained optimistic, clutching Isoplush as he searching around the rest of his collection. "Come and find one you like!" Silver said happily, "I'll show you how to play with him!"

Eclipse hopped from the bed and settled himself on the floor cross-legged, tail wrapping around his side. He frowned and looked over the funny stuffed creatures. He reached out and selected one at random, turning it over in his claws. "So what do I do now?"

"Just use your imagination! What's his name? What does he like to do?"

Eclipse frowned but Silver was clearly an expert, so he decided he might as well try. He turned the toy face-up, and looked into the thing's big eyes. He mimicked what Silver was doing and raised its head to his ear, as though it had something to tell him.

Silver watched eagerly, clutching his own toy in his lap. "What's he saying?" the little hedgehog whispered.

"He says..." Eclipse's eyes investigated the carpet, the cogs whirring in his head. "He says... he says his name..." the Darkling suddenly grinned. "His name is Death Face! He's my General and we're gonna take over the GALAXY!!!"

Silver gasped. "No!"

"ALL MORTALS SHALL TREMBLE BENEATH THE MIGHT OF THE DEATH FACE EMPIRE!" Eclipse stood and raised his plush triumphantly and tried out an evil laugh. "HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!"

Silver shrieked and grabbed more toys and soon the Battle for the Galaxy was underway, a mighty conflict that would rage until bedtime.

[a-lil-perspective]

Silver Lining

Vigilante work means Crosshair can no longer spend as much time with the girls. Breaking the news to Cyare is harder than he thought.

Just a lil somthin meant to be a couple lines but ya know lol.

———

A sharp, staccato rap on the door has Cyare’s pulse quickening as she heaves herself up from the refresher floor on shaky legs, lost to all sense of time as she spends yet another night favoring the vacc tube in her delicate, yet all-too-familiar state. She lumbers through the dimly-lit house to the front door where she unlocks the deadbolt and swings it open to the familiar visitor.

“Crosshair, it’s—” she turns and squints back into the house, “—three in the morning,” she croaks, a cumbersome fatigue rapidly dissipating at the sight of the solemn sharpshooter before her. “What are you doing here? I mean, you know you’re always welcome but—”

“Cyare.” He cuts her off. “A word?”

She blinks away the last remnants of exhaustion, and Crosshair moves for her to step out onto the lit porch with him, closing the door softly behind her. A stray chill ripples through her, and she folds her arms across her chest. “What’s going on?”

Crosshair takes a deep breath, cutting right to the chase. But he looks pained, and Cyare’s gaze is trained on him raptly as he stumbles over his words. “I… can’t have your children over anymore.”

Her mouth parts softly in surprise, confusion swirling her features. “I don’t… understand…” She gasps as she has a sudden epiphany. “What did they do to your rifle,” she breathes, utterly aghast. “Hang on, I’m going to get Hunter—”

“No, Cyare, listen,” Crosshair’s grip on her arm is firm as he pulls her away from the door and back to him. Gently, assuredly. He waits for the baffled expression she wears to slowly subside. “They did nothing wrong.” But he’s tense. “And I would prefer to keep this between us.”

Cyare squares her shoulders as he gently releases her. “I’m listening.”

Crosshair blows out a weary breath, skimming his fingers through the short fibers of his hair. “I’ll be out of touch for awhile… working. Things will be… different from now on. They won’t be able to come over unless I’m there. And even then…” his lips press to a grim line. “I can’t guarantee their safety.”

It’s brief, but her eyes widen in understanding.

She knows of Crosshair’s interest in the criminal underworld, his insatiable desire for purpose and an eye for the quietly nefarious, his hunger to contend with it - an attribute his brothers have never been quite endorsing of. She knows, it’s an undertaking he accepts with his entire being in spite of.

“How long will you be… ‘working’?” she asks tactfully.

“I don’t have an answer to that.”

She nods and closes her eyes, lifting her head to the open night sky. “Tell me the silver lining at least.”

His breathing is dormant, like he’s inwardly resigned to an answer he’s rehearsed a thousand times up until this point. “I’m trying to make the galaxy a safer place. For you. For her.” His eyes leave hers for the briefest of moments. “For my nieces. It’s my duty.”

Cyare hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like hero’s work.”

“Hero’s never been my style.”

Cyare purses her lips, leaning against the nearest support beam along the veranda. She eyes him for a long moment. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

He’s been bracing for that question, tossing it back and forth in his mind over and over, letting it torment him, knowing the answer will cause a singular amount of strife in his marriage. “No.”

Cyare straightens. “Then I won’t either.” A wry smile rearranges her features. “Just be prepared. Us wives… we don’t go easy.”

“Ain’t that the karking truth.”

But he’s mirroring her smirk, allowing himself the sliver of reprieve that comes with their shared humor before Cyare is fading back into her pensive state, and he his.

It’s Crosshair who breaks first.

“I have to do this,” he says more to himself than her.

Cyare nods in understanding, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her voice is just barely above a whisper. “…What should I tell the girls when they ask to go see their ‘Ba’vodu Cwoss’.”

Crosshair’s chest tightens. He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t thought about that at all. “Tell them I…” something heavy passes across his face. He suddenly doesn’t trust himself to speak. He stiffens. “Tell them whatever you want.”

Cyare makes a sour face. “That’s a lousy option,” she mumbles, unfazed by the sniper’s sudden facade of detachment. Her eyes slowly make their way to his. He’s crumbling softly - but so is she. “Will we see you again soon?”

Crosshair’s face is carefully neutral. “I hope so.”

Cyare can’t stop herself as she surges forth and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing her eyes shut to negate the overwhelming ache. She lets out a shaky breath over his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

His hands find their way to her back, warm and resolute, and he’s pulling her impossibly close. “I can’t do that.”

Her arms tighten around his neck. “Stay alive, then.”

She feels him smile into her shoulder, that blessed confidence that blooms in accordance with his skill. “Now that I can do.”

His hands linger in lieu of the unspoken, things he can’t bring himself to ask, not here, not now in his fragile state that Cyare is already cognizant of after years of knowing him, his drive. Her hand cradles the back of his head knowingly. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” she promises. “Don’t worry.”

Crosshair knows he needs to go, to disembark, with every second he stays blanketed by his kryptonite of emotions he further lays bare his inadequacies. He needs to go, back home to his wife, abate this sordid ache in his chest that comes with leaving her, deceiving her even if it’s for her own good. So he tells himself.

His shoulders sag in what Cyare knows to be a plethora of unspoken things - gratitude most of all. “I know you will.”

Cyare continues to hold him for as long as she can, until Crosshair separates her from his chest with finality. “He’ll smell me on you.”

“I’ll come up with something,” she assures, looking at him with imploring eyes and an undying support after all these years. There’s an irrevocable fondness for his brother’s sagely wife, her debt of humanity that he can never repay. “If you need anything,” she breathes. “Comm me.”

“I will,” he lies.

“I can help,” she pushes.

“Yes. You’re my first choice at three months pregnant.”

“I—” Cyare sputters in surprise, “How did you know?”

He doesn’t look her in the eye. “It’s about that time again.”

Cyare clears her throat. “Right.”

His gaze makes its way back to her, her home. He nods behind her. “You’d better go inside. He’ll be wondering.” His eyes soften. “Get some rest.”

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Watching Crosshair retreat, the heavy feeling sediments in her chest all at once and she reaches for his hand before she can stop herself. “Hey.”

His eyes meet hers a final time.

She squeezes. “Remember there are people who love you. Aliit.”

He gives a stiff nod. “Family.”

She watches Crosshair descend the steps of her home and make his way into the night, into the cold and vast Galaxy.

***

“You alright?” Hunter asks groggily as she slips back under the covers, his hand finding its way to her midsection with immediacy. “D’you get sick again?”

“I’m alright,” she breathes, letting his brawny arm cuddle her to his chest.

There’s silence and she thinks he might’ve drifted back to sleep, until he’s planting his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.

“Crosshair was here.”

A pause. Her throat is tight.

“Yes.” She answers truthfully.

“What did he want?” Hunter asks sharply.

She’s thankful for the concealment of shadows and the fact that her back is to him. “Said the girls can’t come over for a bit, he’ll be out of town.”

“Doing what?” Hunter demands.

Cyare makes a noncommittal sound. “I didn’t ask.”

“He felt the need to tell you this at three a-m?”

Cyare shrugs. “Guess he had a lot on his mind.”

“Anything he shared with you?”

“Nope.”

There’s a colossal shift in the air that’s suffocating, and Cyare silently curses the way her muscles are slowly tensing as she awaits Hunter’s response behind her.

“I’ll comm him later.”

“Good idea.”