#as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn

[lonesomedreamer]

Snoopy is going to the Moon! 🚀🌕

The iconic canine character has been associated with NASA and the American space program since the late 1960s, when the Apollo mission adopted him as its safety mascot after a devastating fire aboard Apollo 1. In 1969, Charles Schulz drew a series of “Peanuts” comics featuring Snoopy, “the world-famous astronaut,” traveling to the moon.  Now, Snoopy is on board the Orion spacecraft as a “zero gravity indicator” on its journey to test Orion’s technology in preparation for manned flights. He’s dressed in a specially designed miniature version of the pressure suits to be worn by future Artemis astronauts.

[flickeringflame216]

I lie under starlit sky and the seasons change in the blink of an eye! I watch as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn! But I don't really know this place and it's lonesome here in the wide open space!

[loremastering]

I lie under starlit sky And the seasons change in a blink of an eye I watch as the planets turn And the old stars die and the young stars burn But I don't really know this place And it's lonesome here in the wide-open space Can it be as real as it seems? Maybe this time, I won't wake from the dream

X

[heliads]

everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter One: Some Run

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

series spotify playlist

series masterlist / next

Connor Lassiter has only existed in these worlds for sixteen turns around his system’s sun, and yet his time is already over. It’s funny, really. If he was going to be taken apart, he was really hoping that he’d be able to make it to seventeen. It always seemed like a good year. Or maybe that’s just because seventeen is when you can start the training process to get your cosmic license, and although Connor never breathed a word of it to anyone, he’s always been angling to make it past the atmosphere, even just once.

Now, it looks like he’ll get his wish to leave his birth planet behind, but that’s the only good part about all of this. Connor will never be able to explore deep space, he’ll never chase down settlements on rogue moons, and he’ll never so much as see a binary sunrise, because Connor Lassiter is going to die, and worst of all, no one in this system or any other will fight it.

Even Connor can’t believe it’s really happening. Sure, he’s had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that his home has stopped being his for quite some time now, but he always assumed he could do something to pull himself out of it. Yeah, he mouthed off in class, and only ever turned up at home after curfew, long past when he was supposed to, but none of those are grounds for this, right? Right?

Not according to his parents, because they’re the ones who have gone and signed away his grounds license. Horrific. Connor found the proof of it by accident, aimlessly scrolling through his parents’ hololibrary in search of something interesting to read or watch. Instead of a new show, though, Connor had accidentally clicked on the tab for his parents’ private work files. 

Connor usually never bothers checking that stuff– who cares about interplanetary taxes and star system loans, anyway– but just as he’d been about to go back to the entertainment folder, he’d spotted his name on a file that read:  Destined for Distribution, and then he’d known.

There’s an old saying about how it takes a lunar colony to raise a child, but sometimes even the proverbial interstellar village isn’t enough. Sometimes you can’t force your offspring to be what you want. The governments of the worlds puzzled over such a dilemma for a long time– if you can’t shape the young generation, after all, you risk losing control of all of humanity forever– and after a series of Heartland Wars and internal disputes, they came up with a solution:  distribution.

Space travel is a relatively new problem in the history of humanity, but they’ve already managed to mess it up. Those in charge at the start of it all wanted new flights, new discoveries, to take over every planet they saw regardless of who lived there and the downfalls of having to carry on a society in every direction. 

After sinking their claws into every star system they could reach, the tension of frenetic interstellar improvement slackened, and what was left was a hastily constructed dystopia, prone to falling apart under the slightest of scuffles. We’re kind of a terrible species, humans, all things considered. We don’t wait until we’ve solved world peace before we take our problems to other planetary systems. Instead, we spread out our grievances until everyone in all the worlds has to suffer as much as we did.

The problem with fast-paced space exploration is that the early adventurers burned through resources just as quickly as they did back on planet Earth, which is now barely more than a clod of ash and dust. To make up for the demands without having to change their tactics, the centralized government sent out a mandate to all its territories:  why not solve two problems in one? Get rid of the teenage crisis by using their resources in a better way. Distribute what the ferals would take up to those who could actually use it.

There’s no way the idea of distribution should have taken on as strongly as it did. Maybe it wasn’t as inhumane in the beginning as they did now, maybe it literally was just about giving away food and clothing and shelter. Now, though? Distribution doesn’t just represent physical objects. It means that the actual bits and pieces of you, the bloody matter and bleached bones that are currently in the body of a child marked for distribution, will be spun apart into individual fragments and given away. 

There’s the idea that there’s only so much space left in space, so to speak, so if you’re no longer needed, your pieces will get distributed to those who need it more. That’s how our glorious society keeps growing, no longer out but in.

Every bit of you will be gone, destined for some better purpose. Some would say that’s poetic. Connor, who is slated to be killed in just this fashion, would call it gruesome. However, no one really cares about the thoughts of someone marked for distribution, and they’re certainly not going to start now. Hell, they haven’t been listening to him for years. Why change?

As Connor swiped through the distribution forms signed in triplicate according to some tradition from a long dead planet, he was chillingly reminded of how easy it was to get rid of him. Every person born on any planet within the Collective’s reach is given a grounds license when they draw their first breath. When it’s decided that they no longer deserve the air in their lungs, the Collective takes back the air and lungs both. Your grounds license is revoked, and from that moment forward, you cease to exist in any way that matters.

After that, you’re sent for distribution. By turning in the forms to confiscate your grounds license, your parents essentially send the Juvey-cops after you. Most kids don’t find out they’re going to get distributed until the Juveys show up at their house and take them away. They’ll have just enough time for a few cries of outrage before getting packaged into a shuttle and spirited to a nearby lunar colony so the doctors can cut you to ribbons. Delightful.

If, on the off chance, you actually do manage to find out that you’re going to get torn to pieces in the name of an equal and fair government, such as Connor, you have a chance to run. He’ll try, of course, but even as he makes his final preparations to kick-AWOL, some disheartening voice in the back of his head tells him that he probably isn’t going to make it very far. You can’t do anything without a grounds license. Not easily, of course. In all honesty, it’s probably just a matter of time until the Juvey-cops catch up to him.

Of course he’s going to run, though. Connor Lassiter is not the type to sit around and wait for his death to come to him. He’ll run until they strip away his very legs. Until then, he can grab a go bag, walk around his house one last time, and then leave in the dead of night before anyone thinks to catch him.

Connor hovers one last second over the threshold of his open door. After this, his fate is up in the air. He could get caught within moments, or he could somehow find a way to stick it out until his eighteenth birthday and survive to tell the tale. The only way he’ll know the answer to that story is if he leaves now.

Connor pushes the air from his lungs and goes. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Connor Lassiter officially disappears. From now on, it’s all up to him. His best plan is to head towards a nearby interstellar transport depot, hope he can find some absentminded pilot who won’t notice some kid sneaking into the back of his starlight frigate, and take him away from this planet. Once he’s offworld, he’ll be able to breathe a little easier. There’s no way they’ll be able to find one kid in a trillion if he finds a far enough system, right?

Until then, Connor will have to keep his head low. Juvey-cops aren’t the only thugs with guns who can cause him trouble. A crop of creeps called parts pirates have sprung up, and if it wasn’t terrible enough to have your limbs hacked off by trained professionals, imagine all that happening by the hands of black market dealers. At that point, Connor would rather just turn himself in, even though that’s a possibility more remote than anything. They say it’s within their rights to take the groundsless off the streets, so whatever the parts pirates do along the way is just another obstacle he’ll have to avoid.

As if he’s got a ton of great choices, though. Connor’s going to be unwound. That term’s been discouraged by the Collective ever since the idea of distribution picked up steam– it’s discourteous to the victims of distribution, apparently, and casts a pall on the whole process– but, like, they’re taking Connor’s organs, so he feels like he can call it whatever he wants. Fuck. He’s an Unwind. Why should they care what gory words he uses to describe it? They can dry their tears with his skin grafts.

Connor makes it to the transport depot by foot about an hour and a half later. Not a bad time, all things considered, but his veins are still thrumming with an unearthly need to get away by the time the rows of landing zones come into view. It takes some difficulty to hop the fence on the back end, but it’s old and no one really bothers checking here anyway. No one turns up to a depot like this unless you’re low on fuel or maglev boots before your next trip out of the star system.

Or, of course, unless you’re Connor Lassiter and you’re going to die. Connor hits the ground and nearly takes a spill before managing to right himself just in time. It would not do to break an ankle or something before he can even get onto a ship. Injuries would only slow him down, and the Juveys would have plenty of time to wait for his unwinding while the bone mended.

Connor slinks between rows of sleeping cruisers. He’ll have to pick his ticket to freedom carefully. A lot of the old interstellar war vets took to transportation jobs once they were out of the line of duty, apparently they like having a low-stress profession while still getting to see the stars, but they’ll aim at any unwanted visitors with the same reflexes as back in their soldier days.

No, Connor’s better off hitching a ride with a newbie or someone else who’s checked out enough to forget to do a once-over of their cargo bay. He finds the perfect place down a few rows– an old cargo boat, HBY-300s class. Old as anything, and, judging by the pervasive rust stains, not well looked after. Connor can’t see any lights on in the pilot’s seat, so he hurries up the landing ramp and immediately trips the security system. 

He doesn’t even see it coming, which is not great for his chances, obviously. He should have assumed there would be something like this, but Connor has been jittery for days now, and at some point his guard, already low, just gave up on him. Lights flash on and the beeping voice of a security AI announces him as ConNor LasSiter, AWOL. 

Too late, Connor spots the notice of registration fastened on the side of the ship, how it’s under the ownership of a former Juvey-cop. Probably one still missing the old glory days of hunting down kids who kicked-AWOL, judging by the overeager defense mechanisms. The guy spends his days ferrying shipments from one corner of the galaxy to another, and in his downtime, he picks up escaped Unwinds. How patriotic of him to fulfill such an important civic duty.

Connor swears under his breath, immediately turning tail and sprinting out of the ship. Lights start to click on across the depot’s hangar bay, and the telltale siren of things gone badly begins to echo across the empty space. Connor can hear the sounds of people starting to rush towards the ships, and he cuts an increasingly narrow diagonal across the shipyard, trying to stay out of the path of search beams.

After hauling ass back over the fence, which seems twice as difficult to climb now that he’s in danger, Connor hurtles across plain cement, aiming for the untamed forest across the road. It’s so wild in there that it would be impossible for low flying craft to find him which, judging by the increasing din of engines coming his way, is a necessity right now. 

He didn’t think they’d be able to find him so fast, but maybe one of his parents stopped by his room already and figured out he was gone. They could have called the Juvey-cops and had them here by now, especially with Mr. Reliving the Glory Days of Police Work back there already getting a facial scan on him. Connor thought he had been smart by ditching any tech so they couldn’t track him, but he’s forgotten one crucial thing about the life of an AWOL:  you don’t just have to be smart, you have to be lucky. Looks like Connor’s days of finding four leaf synth-clovers are behind him.

Out of the depot’s floodlights, the ground under Connor’s feet quickly transitions from concrete to grass. The sudden softness making him stumble. As Connor straightens back up, he has to fling an arm in front of his face to protect himself from a sudden, powerful wind coursing down around him. The grass, illuminated out of nowhere by twin blinding beams, is bent flat to the ground from the force of an engine. The engine of a small shuttle, as it turns out. A Juvey-cop’s shuttle, which has found him.

Connor can see the reflection of his eyes, wide as dinner plates, on the shiny surface of the shuttle. He looks terrified, and a bit insane, which all things considered isn’t the least realistic depiction of him. Connor’s brain is a mess. He thought he’d have a little more time until the law enforcement found him. Looks like his period of staying undercover has come and gone.

The shuttle jerks to a landing in front of him, and a man begins to come down the landing ramp, tranq gun in his hands. Connor freezes for a moment, then drags himself to attention as the man gets closer. Once he’s far enough down that Connor can read the name stitched into the pocket of his uniform– Officer J.T. Nelson– Connor gets himself together and runs, rolling under the nose of the craft to the small space underneath the belly of the ship. This clearly disorients the Juvey-cop, whose footsteps abruptly come to a halt on the metal walkway before continuing again, albeit this time slower.

“Come on out, kid,” the guy shouts, “There’s nowhere you can go.”

Connor’s not about to just turn himself in after everything, though, so he creeps further underneath the ship and around the back. The cop follows him, tucking the tranq gun into his belt so he can use his hands to help himself crouch under the lower parts of the ship in search of Connor.

“You can’t hide under here,” Officer Nelson calls, voice echoing off of the metal curves of the shuttle, “I’ll just crush you when I take off again.”

This is probably true but, as Nelson starts to stalk further around the perimeter of the shuttle, Connor gets an idea as to how he might be able to escape this little encounter. It’s a terrible idea, to be sure, and will probably get him killed if he does it wrong, but it’s not like he has any other options at the moment.

So, Connor stays deathly quiet, heart hammering in his chest as he stays pressed flat to the lower wing of the shuttle, and he waits for Nelson to walk closer. The officer indulges, drawing nearby, and Connor reaches out a trembling hand and pulls the tranq gun from the officer’s belt, just like that. Easy. The guy doesn’t even notice.

Connor eases himself out of his hiding place once Nelson has doubled back the other way, then sprints towards the landing ramp of the ship. He makes it halfway up before Nelson reacts to the sound of his heels thundering up the metal incline and bolts back towards the entrance of the shuttle.

“Get back here!” Nelson makes it to the base of the ramp just as Connor reaches the top. 

As the Juvey-cop starts to race up the landing ramp, Connor looks around wildly. His eyes land on a button near the ramp entry and he slams his palm onto it. Thankfully, the button does what Connor had hoped for and the ramp begins to fold up towards the shuttle again, unfortunately with Nelson still scrambling for purchase on the surface. Connor can’t risk the guy getting close enough for Connor to shove him off, so he looks at the tranq gun in his hands and figures out the next best thing.

Nelson reaches the same conclusion as Connor at about the same time. “Don’t you dare, kid,” he begins to shout, but Connor’s finger is already on the trigger.

The Juvey-cop jerks back with the impact of the tranquilizing dart, and he has enough time to snarl out a swear before his limp body falls backwards off of the ramp and into the grassy dirt a few feet below. The landing ramp fastens to the wall of the shuttle with a dull click, and Connor rocks back onto his heels, unable to believe what he’s just done.

He can’t stay in here forever. At some point, that cop is going to wake up, probably with reinforcements, and they’ll smoke him out or something. Then again, as the background roar of the engine reminds Connor of its presence, he realizes that he might not have to leave after all. The Juvey-cop was stupid enough to leave his ship on when he left to pursue Connor, so maybe– maybe he could just stay here after all.

Stars, maybe he could go. Up to space. Juvey-cop shuttles were designed with both ground and space capabilities in mind. He might not be able to set record hyperspace flights in this thing, but he’ll at least be able to crawl to a neighboring planet and ditch the shuttle before hitching a ride on a cruiser like his original plan.

Connor shuffles towards the pilot’s seat in the cockpit and is greeted by the sight of dozens of glowing switches and buttons, all beeping and blinking up at him. He takes a seat, staring, and then tentatively pulls up on the yoke. The shuttle lunges forward and up a little bit, sending Connor sprawling to the side until he manages to fall into the pilot’s chair once more and strap himself in.

After managing to stabilize himself and the shuttle, Connor regards the instrument panel with renewed focus. He’s never been able to get his cosmic license, and that’s damn near out of the question now that he doesn’t even have a grounds license, but he’d had a friend of a friend once who’d known a thing or two about how to fly a spacecraft. 

There was this older guy named Carson Shepherd who used to hang around the parking lot after school got out for the day. He’d sit and swap drinks with some of Connor’s friends. The guy had graduated a year or two ago, and it was anyone’s guess how he’d managed to make it to eighteen without getting his grounds license revoked. Carson had flung himself into the life of a military boeuf and wouldn’t let anyone forget it, either. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he was going to run air strafe runs on distant planets, which Connor only listened to because he’d occasionally talk about how to fly a ship.

Stuff like that was mainly brought up as a bragging point, of course, but Connor was starstruck-crazy for anything space related, so he’d tuned in as much as he could bear. Now, Connor wracks his mind for any tidbit of information Carson had given away. He needs to disengage the landing gear, he needs to get himself airborne before people start looking.

He flips a few switches and is rewarded with a grinding sound somewhere below him. A red light flickers off, and is replaced with a green one when Connor shifts the engine into a mode for takeoff. Pulling on the yoke again, this time slower, Connor is able to drag the shuttle up and up until the tops of the trees are waving below him.

He shouts once in triumph, then again, more loudly, when a readout on the dashboard offers to turn on automatic steering. Connor presses ‘accept’ as quickly as he can, then inputs a destination. Odds are, there’s a tracking beacon somewhere on this ship, so he can’t take it anywhere in the worlds, but if he swaps to another planet in the system, he can transfer to another ship that can take him far away from here.

The nav readout offers him a few choices within the same sector, OH-10, as Connor. He’s on Akron-C right now, home planet that will be home no longer, but Connor presses the button for the small moon just one orbit over, OH-10-XXIII. It’s a small lunar body, hardly anything there at all except for a State Home and some religious communities. No one would look for him there, and by the time they did, he’d be long gone.

Connor hovers by the pilot seat for a few moments longer, just in case something goes wrong, but when no warning lights flash and the air remains devoid of sirens, he accepts that he might actually have made a good decision and sinks back into his own skin, tension finally starting to melt away.

Connor watches the ship carry him up and away from the planet that had once been his own. He has no idea if he’ll ever return; if he’ll even want to, for that matter. Instead, he fixes his eyes on the ever broadening expanse of space, and lets the bright pinpricks of stars take over his mind.

Connor Lassiter is finally offworld.

unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @locke-writes

[valeriasdream]

HSR S/O's

I'm not giving them their own pages because I'm lazy so... anyway!! I changed their heights to a little taller... because I wanted to.

Also if anyone is a MBTI dork like me and knows that they're typed differently on PDB... well that's because they're typed wrong on PDB imo. If you disagree with that then idk, argue with the wall. 😜

Also this is really long, I'm just really detailed. 😭 I left a bunch out to try to keep it less... insanely detailed. But it's a lot.

Name: Dan Heng/Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae Nicknames: Moon (I am the only one who calls him this), Cold Dragon Young, my dragon wife <3

Age: Physically 25 (Actual age ???)

Height: 185cm/6'1"

Race: Vidyadhara, disguises himself to look human 90% of the time.

MBTI: INTJ 5w6 514 so/sp

Personality: Stoic, reserved and seems quite cold, he's very intelligent and very good at remembering information and facts about stuff. But when he opens up, he's very gentle, kind hearted, and patient. He can be very sarcastic and direct in how he interacts with people sometimes, he often makes a lot of really funny sarcastic burns against people (especially March). He can seem bossy sometimes, and often will berate me, March or even sometimes Stelle for our reckless behavior but he's also very protective and kind of just goes along with whatever chaos the rest of us are getting up to.

Path: The Hunt/Destruction

Element: Wind/Imaginary

Weapon: Cloud Piercer

Background: The guard and archivist for the data archives on the Astral Express. He was born in the shackling prison and is the reincarnation of the previous high elder of the vidyadhara, Dan Feng. He joined the Astral Express as a means of escaping his past and became one of the Nameless, joining the path of the trailblazer. He manages the data archives on the Astral Express, and after a few months of us traveling together on the express, we started dating.

Name: Blade/Yingxing Nicknames: Bladie mostly by Silver Wolf and Kafka, Old Man/Grandpa (I call him this as a joke)

Age: Physically late 20s (actual age 750+ but not completely sure on exact age)

Height: 191-192cm/6'3"

Race: Human - Mara Struck

MBTI: ISTP 6w5 648 or 684 sx/sp I'm not really 100% on his tritype tbh

Personality: Quiet, anti-social, but also quite sarcastic and funny. He seems like he would be a real dick but he's actually very sweet in his own way! He doesn't say much to most people around him, especially in the Stellaron Hunters, but he's very smart and he knows a lot about very specific things. (Especially weapons) He can be really caring, protective in his own way... But he will never ever admit this to anyone's face ever. When the mara's influence takes over his mind, he becomes violent and consumed by his hatred/rage from his past, during these moments only Kafka or myself are able to calm down the mara's influence on his mind and return him to a calmer mental state.

Path: Destruction

Weapon: Shard Sword - A sword forged by Yingxing for his friend Jingliu, the sword was forged from the remnants of a star and is said to be very heavy to lift. The sword is now also heavily cracked, as it's meant to be a reflection on his mental state.

Background: A mysterious member of the Stellaron Hunters and in some instances a "villain". He has been chasing down Dan Heng for many many years because they have a connected past together. His real name is Yingxing and he was a member of the High Cloud Quintet and closest with Dan Feng (they were married/lovers in my DR). A bunch of shit happened and Dan Feng turned Yingxing into a mara struck beast before Dan Feng was forced to undergo molting rebirth and imprisoned in the shackling prison. Yingxing was taken by Jingliu to a distant planet/star and she broke his mind (I won't get into details, it's hella sad) so his memories are very fragmented. He also cannot die and because of the mara struck, he was pretty much "reborn" into a younger body from an old man. When he joined the Stellaron Hunters, Kafka gave him the name "Blade" as he abandoned his old identity of Yingxing, though he told me I'm allowed to call him Yingxing in private. <3

Relationship Info:

So we're poly... I started dating Dan Heng first because I knew him first, and Yingxing came after... It's very complicated. Obviously Blade and DH have a past together that seems very toxic at times, but there's also still lingering feelings between them both because of Dan Heng's previous life married to Yingxing and Blade's former identity being Yingxing... I meet Blade on the Xianzhou Luofu when Dan Heng and I leave the Express to track him down because Dan Heng was worried that Stelle, March and Mr. Yang would be in danger. After we leave the Xianzhou Luofu and head to Penacony, I don't see him again for awhile... but we eventually meet up again. I do get separated from the Express (which is divergent from the canon storyline from the game) and end up being "rescued" by Blade, and that's kind of how we connect.

To add an extra layer of complication, I knew Dan Feng and Yingxing about 700+ years ago before YX became mara struck and before Dan Feng died and was reborn as Dan Heng. They had come to my kingdom kind of as delegates (Dan Feng was a delegate along with Jing Yuan, Yingxing just went with them even though he kinda wasn't supposed to lol) to try to help my father, the emperor, deal with the heretics that worship the aeons Yaoshi and Nanuck but it didn't really go to plan... DF and YX both showed an interest in me at the time and that was originally how all of us met, but then my kingdom went into major turmoil and they thought I had died because I disappeared. I wasn't reunited with either of them until WAY after Dan Feng was reborn as Dan Heng and Yingxing became Blade... Dan Heng also doesn't fully remember me other than through dreams as part of some Vidyadhara customs involving his past life as DF as he dreams about both me and Blade sometimes.

We are meant to represent the sun (me), moon (Dan Heng) and stars (Yingxing). Blade is the star because his real name Yingxing has the Chinese character for star in it, Dan Heng is the moon because Imbibitor Lunae is moon drinker (Yinyue Jun) and I am the sun bc Ming Xia translates roughly to “bright glow” like the sun.

There's a bunch more about our relationship but this is already so long so... I'm gonna leave it at that. 😭

[danidoesathing]

I lie under starlit sky

And the seasons change in a blink of an eye

I watch as the planets turn

And the old stars die and the young stars burn

Lonesome Dreams - Lord Huron

[clembian]

🤨 <- love this emoji

that emoji is literally like .🤨vine boom.

N E WAYS for u .... i thinkkk lonesome dreams by lord huron !!!!

"i watch as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn"

^^ SRY this took a minute .this was a hard pick bc i had a few songs to choose between ? but i settled on this one :3 i feel like just the ? tone? of the song fits u ^_^

[letters-from-the-gaps]

The Angel

The jumbled corpses of a thousand satellites twirl and dance through geostationary orbit above this little blue planet. Did you know that? Do you know how fast they waltz, too far to be in the atmosphere yet not far enough to truly be free? No? Me neither. There’s a lot I don’t know. Up here, the stars hang still, and the Earth spins faster than you can possibly comprehend. Eventually, this graveyard of humanity’s many forays into the great void will turn to dust and sand and microscopic particles of metal and fiberglass and circuitry: they’ll slam against each other over and over, dashing against rocky shores of their own making, until they stretch across the whole of planet Earth. Nothing will ever leave, then. Imagine that. A rocket rises through the air, piercing the heavens, finally reaching for the cold and empty and crushing void, only to be torn asunder by the angry ghosts of its forefathers. 

The stars are mostly dead, too. Oh, sure, a good number of them are still burning, somewhere out there in the black. But most of them ate themselves up long, long ago. Maybe longer than I’ve existed- though I frankly doubt that. A thousand thousand years ago, a star collapsed on itself, crushed by its own inexorable gravity, screaming and retching light and neutrinos and radiation far and wide. Some of those stars held planets, you know. Trapped in the same gravity well that would be their eventual doom, the only thing those worlds could do was look at the end and accept that there was no escaping. Some of them faced their death with nobility. Most of them ate themselves alive trying to escape. Maybe some of these pinpricks of light are worlds, you know? Maybe one of those stars is really the desperate final cry of a world swallowed by star-fire. Shattered by light. The very same light we see today, still racing outwards from a corpse, still trying to reach the edge.

Oh, did you not know? Of course there’s an edge, silly! Where do you think the far far far worlds go? When the universe expands, it pushes out like the fissure between tectonic plates. There’s no malice behind it: it simply does what it must. It’s an unfortunate way to die, to be sure. Watching the stars get dimmer and dimmer, until you hit the edge. Some called it the gateway to the other side. Do you want to know a secret, though?

There is no other side.

Me? Oh, I’m just hanging around, waiting for the graveyard to disintegrate, as it were. I could try to explain what I am, where I came from. I could try to communicate to you details about my home, about the endless sky, the ever-hungry void, the vast seas. I could try to describe the endless screaming static of the stars, could try and transcribe their whispers and frothing rants. But I don’t think I could do it justice. Also, it would probably fry your brain.

What am I? Old, for one. Older than old, older than dust, old enough to remember when this planet was all fire and smoke. Yet I am also young, especially when compared to my kin. Now, those are some ancients. A few of them predate the Big Bang, apparently. Forgive me, I didn’t really answer your question. I don’t think there’s a real word for it, in your- wait! I remember! Gabriel brought the word back a little while ago: Angel. I’m an angel.

What, not what you expected? No offense taken, don’t worry. Those of us who first came here- like Garbriel- had a little more...Why am I explaining this to you? Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you really understand what I’m saying? I know you comprehend what I’m saying, but do you understand? 

…

…

Hello?

…

…

…

Oh. Ok. If it’s...If it’s any consolation, Earth isn’t slated to bite it for a long, long time. I know that kind of rings hollow. I’m sorry about that. 

…

…

…

…

…

…

Sorry.

[understandableparadox]

bischeon lore part 1: Crash landing era

Welcome to bischeon! the lost colony planet of Alterna.

countless generations ago, this planet was marked to be a safe-haven for high bloods. the long coast lines and fertile lands would be made into resorts, tactical training centers and farm lands. supplying food and young blood thirsty generals to the Grand trollien fleets slow all consuming march across the galaxy.

though as the more astute may observe, given its title of a lost colony, that is not exactly what happened...sailing out over the vast expanse of space, near a old old pocket in a solar system that seemed to good to be true. each planet regardless of how far or close to the burning red sun in its center... all of them were bursting with life! lush and verdant with breathable atmospheres and vast oceans.

the captain of the initial touch down mission was known simply as the Catptain Nyasputin. an eccentric, a lover of history yet one of the most capable pilots within the history of the star born fleets... they were nearing the point where they could park it on any of the many paradise planets and live out the rest of their sweeps. they could almost taste the beach side booze...

they approached the planet with two moons, chosen by committee by the somewhat hive sick highbloods. they planned to have the touch down point in a clearing exactly one mile out from the ocean, allowing the low bloods and drones to start up base camp.

though just before they could pass by the atmosphere, a sound ringed out. not a hiss. not a roar. not a scream.

yet it echos out, reverberating, resonating with all that it comes into contact with. the planet shakes and seems to take on a greener tint. the screams of yellow bloods below within the bowels of the engine room managed to rise up as their power swelled.

psychokinetic energy flooded the facilities, destroying the navigation devices. frying the communications array, nearly exploding the delicate equipment meant to hold and foster the matriorb.

now. the mark of a good captain is hard to measure. at times a bad one and good one can be indistinguishable, as the only goal is to reach point b. everything in between is negligible to a point.

the mark of a good captain is found in HOW they respond to a disaster. of course any captain would do their best to avoid the danger in the first place but as oceans and space hold each other close in their commonality of surprise, we rarely have such a choice.

very truly, the ship may have been a lost cause, one that would have only been remembered as a mysterious disappearance on alternian records and a sign to avoid that general cut of space.

yet nyasputins nerves...or seemingly lack thereof was their life line. even with the multiple engines turning the various appliances of the ship into bombs, the navigations systems still worked. the ship could still be steered.

his original plan was to just level the ship out so that it would skid across the longest possible path, using the trees to act as the ships main method of slowing down, then start culling portions of the engine blocks to come to a halt.

though fate rarely treats our plans kindly. as the catptain looked out at the path that would leave him with some crew instead of none he watched something come into view. something massive. something glowing with burning energy and eyes glowering with a hate much the same.

it had the same white scales of the lusus back hive. yet it was wild. territorial enough to watch this massive meteor of chitin and energy hurtling towards it and not back down...

that glow burns brighter and brighter, flames almost liquid in consistency dripped from its maw. the heckles on nyasputins neck raised as he sensed this wouldn't be a "lol, shoulda fucking moved idiot" situation.

a hail Mary, the catptian through everything into the ships defenses. allowing all steering capabilities to die out, all emergency systems to falter, even removeing power from the wifi router in the highbloods lobby.

just as the shimmering field of psiioniic energy formed around the ship, a beam of pure white wrapped around it. blinding light streaming with the burning hatred for the intruders from the life forms on the planet. the force of the beam slowly dragging the ships orbital crash momentum down to a crawl and finally even pushing it backwards.

even with the shields present, they felt themselves nearly boiling from the heat, yet they felt no burn... instead the crew were lucky enough to only report bouts of confusion. extreme fatique, a good amount of the crew would pass out. those were the enviable as they watched and waited to see if they would die or survive.

minutes or hours, it was impossible to tell as the onslaught finally stopped, the ships power depleted, the engines dead or dieing... the ship fell from the sky with a massive crash. but astoundingly, miraculously intact...

the crew took stock of their dead. they took stock of their injured. the latter far larger... but few dead aside from a vast swathe of yellow bloods. Stranded on planet until a new generation could be established.

the few that took the first few steps realized that they were no where near the ocean...they had no idea where on this vast planet they landed. The only thing they could see were the massive trees that sprouted up around them, they had landed in some kind of clearing.

the drones that weren't fried from radiation or broken on impact were set to work along with low bloods to begin felling trees, the highbloods desperate to establish a hatchery and begin raising the next engines. desperate to at least create smaller ships to cart their numbers to the ocean for a far more favorable base of operations.

yet as they begin to create facilities, as they began to create a small home out of logs and rubble they realized a grim truth. they wouldn't be able to survive in this small clearing for much longer. they wouldn't be able to create the housing needed to both keep and defend their mothergrub with exploration.

a violet looks out towards the tree line. their eyes kept flicking towards small signs of movement, small bits of white within the near pitch black. with the monster still fresh in their mind... they began to feel a bit more conscious of the blood within them and just how easily it could be spilt.

this violet would call for a scouting party.

[jasontoddiefor]

I’m probably never gonna write this and it’s time to bring back Not-Fics so

Leia and Luke Roleswap AU

Luke grows up on Alderaan and Leia grows up on Tatooine. And for all Luke Organa is a polite young man, outspoken and pacifist, kind and bright in a way that even seems to make Darth Vader pause....

Leia is a nightmare. In Canon she’s Like That after 19 years of being a princess and being taught to be polite. This Leia grows up in an environment where cut throat is a bit more literal.

Tatooine isn’t kind to children but it’s especially unkind to little girls. Leia grows up with scraped knees and bloody knuckles, screaming against the storms, longing for the stars above

She’s fire, she’s untamable, and nobody holds her back. She cannot be pacified at 16 to stay at home. She takes a speeder in the dead of night to rush away, towards freedom. Her fat e got away and apparently never returned except once to grief and pain, why should Leia stay when she can leave?

Or, at least, she tries. Luke Skywalker might have been calm enough that there was no need for Obi-Wan to be in his life. Leia Skywalker is very familiar with Uncle Ben who lives in the dunes

So it is Uncle Ben who catches her and tells her the truth. That she can’t go because the Emperor would kill her himself. And Leia, brave, darling Leia, ever the child of burning and noise, doesn’t back down

“So teach me,” she tells Ben, determined and so much taller than her narrow frame. “I will be a Jedi.”

And Obi-Wan does. Leia struggles with meditation, finding calm and peace and it’s so much like teaching Anakin, nine and ten and eleven and twelve and— that it makes Obi-Wan ache. At the same time, she’s very much not Anakin’s child. Tatooine is not necessary a place that breeds loyalty to ideas over people, but Leia has grown fiercely attached to hers. Justice and freedom for all. She listened to stories of her grandmother passed down by her Aunt and Uncle and she listens to Uncle Ben and finally understands his deep sorrow. She will not stray from her path, light and just as it is.

In turn, three years later, Alderaan is still as close to Rebellious as a Core Planet can be.

But Luke Organa is quieter than Leia has ever been. He did not get thrown out of school for playing the Republic hymn and he doesn’t speak in the Senate of ideals that nobody else would dare to speak of in fear. It’s not cowardice, but Luke grown up Royal hasn’t spent most of his teenager years learning to hold his temper but to bide his time. Again and again, Luke speaks of relief funds and refugee projects instead, quietly helps people resettle and if here and there a Rebel travels with Organas support ships, then nobody notices because nothing blows up high.

(Not that he doesn’t blow things up. It makes his mother and father sigh when he shoots at old scrap metal or spends all days fixing speeders just to crash them. But Luke is Breha’s endurance, living with artificial organs, Bail’s patience seeing his friends risk their lives every day.)

When Luke Organa slips away with the Death Star Plans, they hesitate, but Organa’s reputation is largely that he is a naive idealistic boy.

He steps onto Tatooine with his two droids, plans people died for, and a nearly two decade old waiting game coming to an end. He expects Master Kenobi, but finds that his Padawan, energetic Leia Skywalker, who grins just like him, is far more interesting

Obi-Wan doesn’t die on the Death Star, but thinks he might when Leia, missing a hand, screams and shouts “why didn’t you tell us?!” and Luke wonders how his parents could stand to be his parents

The ending might be the same, or similar enough, but I really do need Master Leia Skywalker rebuilding the Jedi Order

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Aesthetic Moodboards // “Lonesome Dreams” by Lord Huron

I watch as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn.

[iam-sol-emnlyswear]

Lord Huron fans help me choose a senior quote

“When we're dead and gone, will the mountains remember? Or just carry on, moving as slow as the forest grows, and turn our bones into dust, an untold legend is lighting up.” The Birds Are Singing At Night

“I lie under starlit sky and the seasons change in the blink of an eye. I watch as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn. But I don't really know this place, and it's lonesome here in the wide-open space. Can it be as real as it seems? Maybe this time I won't wake from the dream. I been dreaming again of a lonesome world where I'm lost and I've got no friends, just the rocks and the trees in my lonesome dreams and a road that don't never end. I been dreaming again of a lonesome world where I'm lost and I'm on my own. What am I destined to be? It's a mystery, baby, just please don't leave me alone, yeah.” Lonesome Dreams

“I get a thrill outta playin’ with fire ‘cause you hold your life when you hold that flame” Hurricane (Johnnie’s Theme)

“If spring comes before I’m found, just throw my bones in a hole in the ground. I lost friends along my way, I knew I’d meet 'em eventually” Fool for Love

“May you live until you die!” Tubbs Tarbell

“Born from a pyre, you are the one made to ignite the winds, a signal to the universes of humanity that we are here, that we are the fools invoking the World Ender.” “Ulysses Beyond Gibraltar”, Kevin D. Kinsella,

“I know the rain like the clouds know the sky. I speak to birds and tell them where to fly. I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze. I write the names of the rocks and the trees” The Yawning Grave

“I belong bodily to the Earth, I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first. There are many more flames when mine is gone, they will build me no shrines and sing me no songs” Way Out There

“I live my life like this just to prove to the world that I still exist” Ancient Names (Pt II)

“I am only an aimless soul heading into a pure black void” Vide Noir

“Send me to the mountains, let me go free forever. I'll be running through the forest, dancing in the fields like this forever” Long Lost

“What good is livin’ a life you’ve been given’ if all you do is stand in one place?” Ends of the Earth

I personally like the Tubbs Tarbell, Ancient Names, and Vide Noir ones cause they’re shorter but we are able to do a lot and Lonesome Dreams and The Birds Are Singing At Night are my favorite songs. I’d like some feedback :)

[impalalord]

You know, it's the littlest things that can change the course of life. The smallest action could topple a building, or start the construction of one instead. For us, and for the galaxy at large, humans were that change.

After they made first contact with another species, humans did what they do best and immediately got themselves wrapped up in a war with a species that had far more firepower than they did. Of course, being a fledgling species who could barely grasp warfare in the void of deep space, much less the use of common technology that would have taken them centuries to develop themselves, it ended poorly for them.

The Humans turned out to be Idealists, with individuals and small ships volunteering themselves to help in a war effort to defend their outermost colonies because their own governments would not. That was another oddity about these Humans, they did not enter the galactic fray as a single unified group. Instead, they were a loosely collected group of governments and nation states held together with treaties and deals.

At first they lost volunteer soldiers and emissaries, then they began to lose ships and outposts. Instead of demoralizing them, this seemed to fill them with rage and cause them to lash out in anger. This too ended poorly, as they fought an overwhelming force with nothing but kinetic weapons and solid-fuel engines, the galactic equivalent of sticks and pebbles.

Their losses were staggering, as the Dryzal swept into Human territory and pillaged whatever they deemed fit. Worlds were lost and razed, endless voices were silenced as the horde marched forward. But this destruction did not satisfy the Dryzal, so they took more from the young species.

The eventual destruction of their homeworld, the razing of the very cradle from which their species was raised, caused Humanity to become a drifting species among the stars. They became intergalactic wanderers with no start or end of their journey to speak of. Their birthplace was nothing more than radioactive dust, and the fire of rage seemed to have died from their eyes. Anyone who went through a spaceport most likely saw a few solo humans wandering throughout the interior, with their gaunt, sunken faces and disillusioned cold eyes. Any sane being gave them a wide berth, afraid that they would be sucked into their cold, soulless depression, unable to escape.

Humans travelled from world to world, working on any ship that was willing to take them without too many questions. They weren't strong, and they weren't fast, but they could learn quickly and had no problem doing any job as long as they got paid. They spread across the galaxy and learned the inner workings of every species

In truth, humanity had not lost their rage, or their hope. The destruction of their homeworld cooled that fiery, liquid rage in their eyes and hearts into a icey hard steel that was sharpened further with every passing day. They bided their time, licking their wounds and learning their lesson. Lashing out would get them nowhere without a solid plan.

So they spread themselves across the dominion, unseen by the populace due to their reputations as wraiths. Barely living beings that lived in the shadows and dregs of society. Learning everything they could about each species, quietly recruiting others who had earned similar fates. Humanity no longer had an army of soldiers and starships, instead, they had an army of workers. Castaways, the dregs and refuse of intergalactic society, banded together, working behind the scenes as janitors, mechanics, cooks and repairmen. Quietly building and growing until the time finally came.

Their uprising came on a seemingly normal day; transportation stopped, communications jammed, power lines cut and food stores emptied. Militaries scrambled to try and find the source of the unrest, but everywhere they went the answer seemed to be ‘everyone.’ A random janitor was just as likely to be part of the chaos as a militant roaming the streets.

After several hours of the chaos, a single signal passed through all of the VidNet. A single live video of a young male human sitting at a desk. His dark hair disheveled, his clothes dirty and tattered, his average face covered in bruises and cuts. His voice was calm and collected, but also cold and firm as he began to speak to the universe.

“My name,” he began, “is Tim. I was nine years old when the war with the Dryzal began. My parents were not soldiers. They were farmers and pacifists. They believed in the good of the universe and taught me to look for the good in all people, of all species. It is your fault I have broken that pacifism. My parents were killed in front of me on my tenth birthday. Our colony was razed and I was dragged, screaming and crying, onto a ship by a neighbor who was lucky enough to survive the purge. We set out for Earth, the homeworld of our species, hoping that someone would respond to our distress calls.”

The human paused for a moment, and sighed. “We didn’t just send distress calls to our own kind. We sent them out across the entirety of the Dominion, using every language we could find in our database. Only a single species came to help us in our time of need, the Ruvol. Much like us, the Ruvol had lost everything without any assistance from the Dominion. All they had left were a ragtag fleet of merchant ships, barely able to fly, much less fight. Yet they were the ones who came to us when we needed it the most.”

“The Ruvol did not care that they might die, or that the last remnants of their culture would be lost forever. They saw us struggling, and they gave us their hand. In the end they saved about two dozen colonies from destruction before they were all killed above Trelnax V. By then I was eleven, and I had volunteered to help the Ruvol in their evacuation plans. Once again, I watched everything I put my life towards destroyed in front of me, before being dragged back to Earth. The Dominion refused to respond to our communications.”

“I was twelve when the Dryzal finally reached Earth, their slow warpath finally reaching its destination. I was on an outbound shuttle to help with relief efforts on another destroyed colony when they came into the system. They didn’t even bother to try and conquer the planet. They just unloaded a barrage of nuclear warheads and turned everything we held dear to radioactive dust. Yet the Dominion stood by and did nothing but watch.”

“Now, exactly eight years after you stood by and watched, you beg us to help you. Our friends and allies fill your streets with fire and chaos, your communications cut and transportation is gone. Why should we, the same beings that you threw to the street, help you? There are many among our cause who have similar stories, species we pulled from the fire ourselves because you would not.”

“The Kenek at Oaphus, twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty three humans died protecting their world, zero Dominion forces present. The Grocon at Laphus, eight thousand six hundred and seventy one humans dead, zero Dominion forces present. The Swaans at Bleu, seventeen thousand, four hundred and thirteen humans dead, zero Dominion soldiers present. A pattern began to emerge in our favor, each time we gave our lives to save these species, they vowed to fight with us in our cause. Each time their worlds were attacked, they cried out for help. You never answered, so we did.”

“Entire species filled with rage and hate for your inability to lift a finger are finally coming out, their feelings boiling over the edge of the pot. You have committed the grave sin of sloth, and now you are paying the price. This universe is no longer yours to control. You all had your chance to rule over everyone, and you ruined it. You were happy to sit peacefully in your ivory towers as worlds burned below your feet.”

“Now your Ivory Towers become your prisons instead, as control slips out of your grasp and falls firmly into ours. We vow to never make the same mistakes you have. Goodbye and good luck.”

After that transmission everything changed. The Humans lifted us out of an era of stagnation and into an era of expansion and growth. Though it was not a peaceful era, it was a better one, and for that we can never truly repay them. That is why on this day every year, we remember. We remember the worlds and species wiped away by the Dominions inability to give others aid, in hopes that we may never repeat their failures.

-Transcription of Dr. Cassien Agnaits’ Remembrance day lecture at the University of Tylon IV, Standard Galactic Date 110864

[godtrials]

pre-series, sam-focused fic rec

(all are either gen or only have a very minor background relationship with an OC. disproportionately hurt/comfort, mostly brothers-focused.)

Under 10k

Emergency on Planet Earth by EudociaCovert

If your brother told you your dad kills monsters after you read a book that looks like it was written by a madman, would YOU believe him? (The fic where a young Sam believes his father is a serial killer)

Tree Hugger by mentholpixie

Sam listens to the trees. (Psychic powers Sam!)

Guarding Over Him by keep_waking_up

"I want you to unlock me from the sink pipes, for one." (Dean is a protective brother. Overly so.)

The Stars Go Waltzing by mentholpixie

Epilepsy sucks. Dean is awesome. (One of many in this verse, go to her profile and read the rest! Actually, just go read everything she’s written.)

Stargazer by Mango_Marbles

Countless stars die each second. Sam figures that soon it will be his turn. (Sam is a little too okay with dying. Dean worries.)

Leave a Light On by leonidaslion

In which Dean has a shotgun and knows how to use it. (Sam has a date, Dean doesn’t approve.)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile 

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

you better cool it off before you burn it out by sahwen

Sam tries to "man up," almost shoots Dean, and ends up crying in a shower. (sickfic. good brother, bad john)

Troubled Water by Phreakycat

Sam's pretty sure he's going to die under this bridge, next to this stupid, stinking river.

Living Expenses by tolakasa

Scholarships don't pay for everything. When you're not talking to your family, that makes summer the worst time of the year. (Stanford era)

Silver Lining by Cocoplumb 

It’s been exactly seven months and nine days since Sam left for Stanford. Since he packed up his protein shakes, his meds, his inhalers and his nebulizer and walked out of the door. (Sam has cystic fibrosis. Dean visits.)

The Time After by fascra

It’s been a month since Flagstaff and Dean still hasn’t so much as looked Sam in the eyes. And then, one day, Sam doesn’t come home from school. Again.

We are Both Afraid Before the Dawn by cosmic_medusa

Teenage Dean and Sam are parked in Tornado Alley for the summer. While John works a job, the alley lives up to its name.

10k-30k

narrative symmetry (is bullshit) by customrolex

Sam is gay, Dean finds out. This is the fallout.

The Convention by kyriebess

Dean's 20, Sam's 16. Tensions run strong in the family, but when one of their lives is at stake, the Winchesters put aside their disagreements to defeat evil. For Raven524 who won me in a charity auction. Hurt!Sam, protective!Dean, protective!John

Over 30k

Occam’s Razor by cosmic_medusa

John brings the teen boys to a psychic to investigate the memories of his wife's death. His investigation unlocks a flood of devastation in the youngest Winchester's psyche.

Semper Familia by KatZen

Absolutely incredible, human (but ~monster~) trafficking fic. Psychic Sam. John is very flawed, but he does deeply love his sons. Go read it!

Sam-I-Am by Lennelle

Sam was taken when he was only fifteen years old. It's been two years. Everyone has changed, but Sam is different. Dean learns to understand a brother who no longer makes any sense, trying to keep him safe from himself and the people who damaged him.

[calebdumes]

it’s late and no one is on so clearly this is the best time to post

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 1.6k

~

Kanan hadn’t been sleeping well lately and it wasn’t that hard to figure out why. These last few months had been hard on him, even if he pretended otherwise and when he was able to get some shut eye, his sleep was anything but restful. 

Hera hadn’t fared all that better. It was hard work trying to hide a rebel cell in plain sight. But she finally thought she had every one settled on Garel - or as much as they could be. Even if Senator Organa had deep pockets, their current set up at the spaceport was going to burn through his slush fund in record time. 

They needed to find a base. And fast. 

So Hera was busy scrolling through the list of potential planets that Captain Rex had been kind enough to provide for them, even though it was deep in the planet’s night cycle and the rest of her crew tucked away in their bunks sleeping soundly. She was sitting with her legs folded on the curved acceleration couch in the lounge, the lights set to their lowest level. Kanan had his head pillowed in her lap, his long legs stretched out along the couch, his face pressed into her stomach. It couldn’t have been the most comfortable sleeping position but Hera was just grateful that he was finally sleeping. 

A green finger slowly dragged across the screen of her datapad while her other hand swept through the silky strands of Kanan’s hair, the sounds of his soft snoring mixing with the slight hum of power from the Ghost’s generators. It was peaceful like this, reminding Hera of the early days, when it was just her and Kanan against the galaxy. She smiled at the memory. 

Her peace was interrupted as the door to the lounge slid open to reveal the  imposing shadow of Captain Rex standing in the doorway.

“Sorry.” Rex said quietly as he stepped into the lounge. “I didn’t think anyone would be up.”

“It’s alright.” Hera smiled at him, her hand going back to stroking Kanan’s hair. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Rex rubbed sheepishly at the back of his bald head. “You could say that.”

Hera hummed in acknowledgment before saying, “There’s some caf left in galley if you’d like some.”

“I’m good thanks.” His eyes cut to Kanan’s sleeping form. “You mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all, in fact, I’m going over the list you gave us. Maybe you can help me narrow things down?”

“It would be an honor.” Rex smiled at her, taking a seat on one of the stools. Hera toggled a knob on the side of the holotable and projected her datapad so they could both look at it. For a while, they researched planet after planet, hoping to come across a suitable location for a base, Kanan sleeping peacefully in her lap the whole time. She wondered for a moment, if she should wake him up and send him to her cabin but she was afraid that if she did that, he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. He desperately needed the sleep and Hera wasn’t going to deny him the opportunity. Besides, she kind of liked how he was cuddled up to her, even if she was starting to lose feeling in her toes. 

Rex, as it turned out, was a wealth of information that had her questioning why Fulcrum didn’t utilize him sooner. She assumed it was mostly because he had served his time and wanted to live out the rest of  his life in peace. It was probably what the old clone deserved after everything he had gone through. Still, she was grateful that he had joined the fight once more. They needed someone with his experience and knowledge if they really wanted to take down the Empire for good.

Hera didn’t know how long they worked, the time passing with little care or notice. It was only when Kanan made a pitiful noise, a cross between a whimper and a groan, that caused them to pause their work. Fear shot through Hera at the sound, her lekku going tight and her breath catching in her throat. Her attention zeroed in on him, everything else falling by the wayside, completely forgotten. Hera’s hands flew to his face, stroking her thumbs over the tight lines of pain that had begun to form around his closed eyes. 

“Shhh love.” She said gently, bowing her head so their foreheads were touching. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” She had to work to keep her voice even, emotion making her throat tight. “It’s alright love. It’s just a dream.”

Kanan continued to tremble in her arms, terrible, horrible little whimpers escaping his lips, each one like a knife to her heart. He was in pain, awful pain, but there was nothing Hera could do to help but hold him through it. Eventually, his shaking slowed and the tension began to leach from his body until he was restfully sleeping once again. 

Hera sighed heavily and leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch. It took her longer than she would have liked to register that Rex was still there, sitting across from her at the table. His old face looked weary, his warm brown eyes misty and full of understanding. 

“He get those a lot?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Hera nodded. “Lately, more than usual.”

Rex looked down at his scarred fingers. “I’m sure my presence here hasn’t helped much.” he chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they've gotten worse because of me.” 

Hera frowned at him. “He just needs time Rex.”

“Oh I know.” he took a breath, rolling his shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy for me either...but for what it’s worth, I’m glad he survived. He seems like a good man.”

“The very best.” she ran a hand down the side of his face. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t thank the goddess that Kanan survived the Purge. That this wonderful, kind, brave human that stole her heart, lived and breathed when so many of his people had perished. She knew how the weight of his survival hung heavy on his shoulders but Hera couldn’t help but feel so immensely grateful that he was one of the few that were spared. 

“Do you know where he was?” Rex asked suddenly. “When it happened?”

Hera bit down on her bottom lip, thinking about how to answer. Kanan never did like to talk much about his past, he tended to keep most things close to his chest and only divulged his secrets in small, uncommon pockets of vulnerability. Hera didn’t feel right spilling his secrets to a man he might not ever trust. But at the same time, she felt that Rex deserved to know something.

“Kaller I think.” she said finally. 

Rex hummed, looking lost in thought before responding, “Kaller...I don’t remember what battalion was stationed on Kaller. Who was his master?”

Hera glanced down at Kanan, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. When she didn’t reply Rex sat back, creating space between them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just in my experience, you can tell a lot about a Jedi based on how they treat their men. I thought if I recognized the General that maybe...I understand that Kanan might not want me to know.”

“Her name was Depa Billaba.” Hera said softly, twirling a strand of Kanan’s hair around her finger. “That was his master.”

Rex rubbed her beard. “Ah, General Billaba. General Kenobi spoke highly of her, she was a good leader, cared deeply for her troops.”

“She gave her life to save him.” She said, not taking her eyes from Kanan’s sleeping face. She had lost her own mother at a young age but she couldn’t imagine having to watch her die with her own eyes, killed at the hands of people she once called friends. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

Hera glanced up at him and offered him a kind smile. “It wasn’t your fault Rex.”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I know.” she nodded. “And I think deep down Kanan knows that too.”

He just needed time, they both did. 

“Well,” Rex said after a moment, pushing himself gingerly to his feet. “I should probably try and get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Thanks for your help Rex.” she said as he made his way to the door. 

He paused as the doors slid open, a warm smile on his weathered face. “Anytime Captain.” he gave her a jaunty two finger salute before disappearing down the hallway. Hera sat there, her finger tips resting on the underside of Kanan’s jaw, feeling his pulse beat out a steady rhythm. 

The past few days had been a challenge but they had been through worse and they had survived. This was no different. Kanan would come around eventually with Rex, or maybe he wouldn’t. But Hera had hope. 

She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his brow. “Kanan?” she prodded. “Love, I need you to wake up.”

Kanna groaned in response, his face scrunching up with displeasure. Hera chuckled at the sight. “I know dear but don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in a bed?”

At that Kanan cracked open his eyes, the familiar teal hue clouded over with sleep. “Wh’ happen’d?”

“You fell asleep.” she responded with a kiss.

“Oh.” his eyes slipped shut.

Hera hoisted him up, ignoring his grumble of protest. “C’mon love. Let’s get you in a bed.”

Kanan let Hera maneuver him to his feet, leaning heavily on her as they trekked back to her cabin. He flopped bonelessly on to the cot and curled around her the second she slipped under the covers. From one breath to the next, he was asleep. 

Hera held him close, her cheek pressed against the top of his head. Her eyes slipped close, Kanan’s slow and even breathing lulling her to sleep.

[riversofmars]

Day 31! It's a wrap! Can't believe it's over, what a ride! Thank you everyone that's been following these! Now, finishing up with my fave!

Prompt: Disaster Zone | trauma | prisoner

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: Liv Chenka

Rating: T

Summary: The colony world Nixyce VII was not prepared for when the Daleks came. The fight was over before it had even really begun. Amongst the destruction, Liv Chenka tries to do what she can to preserve life, regardless of what the other humans think of her.

Disaster Zone

The storm season had arrived, heavy rain and biting winds, night and day. It seemed like a fateful precursor to what was to come. There had been a sense of foreboding with the weather turning but no-one could have predicted just how grim the future really was. People had hauled up in their houses, bracing against the bitter cold. The time for hot chocolate, blankets and open fires had come. The colonists of Nixyces VII had grown accustomed to the extreme weather and were well prepared for it. That had been the state of affairs 48 hours ago. Now, there was not a roof left in the entire city. The customs for getting through storm season had gone out of the window, quite literally.

Amongst the heavy rain, space ships had descended without warning, without demands, without mercy. The Daleks had come to Nixyce VII and despite the colony world’s best efforts, they had nothing to hold against such overwhelming force. The fight had been over before it had even properly begun.

Now, the Daleks were rounding up the humans who were standing in the ruins of their world.

Liv Chenka wrapped her arms around herself. The wind was whipping into her and the rain had soaked through her clothes in no time. She looked at the people around her. Desperate, disoriented, terrified were just a few words that came to mind. Liv considered herself lucky. She had seen death and destruction before, but many of the people around her had not. To her left, there was a man who was carrying two toddlers, twins, that clung to his chest, burying their faces and crying. To Liv’s right, a teenage girl was supporting an elderly lady that could barely walk. Liv knew if the old woman caught pneumonia in this rain, she most likely wouldn’t survive. Maybe it would be a kindness, considering what the Daleks had in store for them. Not that any of them knew what exactly that was, all they knew was that the invaders were calling the remaining humans to the streets. The government had fallen. The world was occupied. They were at the mercy of the victors.

“Move, humans!“ A screeching Dalek voice demanded, ushering them along.

“What do you want with us?“ A man shouted.

“You will cooperate or you will die,“ another Dalek retorted. They were lining the streets and hovering in the air above. They were everywhere. Liv tightened her grip on her medical kit. She had been present-minded enough to grab it on her way out of the ruins of her house.

“This planet is under Dalek occupation now!“ Yet another Dalek, one up ahead announced, as they reached a square. In the large space between burned out buildings, one of the Dalek warships had touched down. The hanger ramps were opened, Liv could only imagine this was a means of taking prisoners away. But where to? And to what end? Others seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Not far from her, a group of young men appeared particularly rattled at the prospect. Their demeanour oscillated between anger and fear.

“You monsters!“ One of them shouted.

“We’re gonna chase you back to the stars, just you wait!“ Another joined in and Liv felt the anger and desperation that was sweeping through the crowd. Panic was taking hold. The situation would soon escalate. She pushed her way forward to where the young men were rallying up the others.

“Resistance will not be tolerated. You will cooperate or you will die,“ the Daleks screeched over the increasing noise level.

“Stop it, shut up, you’re making things worse!“ Liv snapped at the instigators, grabbing one of them by the arm. They were surrounded by Daleks who weren’t exactly known for their patience or mild manners. If things took a wrong turn, there was every chance they would simply exterminate them all. Liv couldn’t let that happen. She was a med-tech, a defender of life, her instinct to protect wouldn’t allow for her to lose her head.

“Things can’t get any worse!“ A woman to Liv’s left shouted desperately and the med-tech shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re alive, aren’t you, I can think of ways it could be worse!“ Liv hissed angrily but if anything, her call for calm only infuriated the people around her more.

“Who’s side are you on?!“ The woman snapped back. “We’re not going to be overrun!“ She called out and the crowd joined her in throwing abuse at the Daleks.

“Please, everyone, just calm down, there is nothing to be done!“ Liv yelled but her voice was getting lost in the shouting.

“One third of the population will be exterminated to ensure cooperation. Two thirds of the population will suffice as a workforce,“ a Dalek up ahead screeched above the noise and for a moment, stunned silence fell.

“No, no, you don’t have to do that, we will cooperate,“ Liv exclaimed, forcing her way to the front. She couldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt, so many had already died in the initial attack. The killing had to stop, she had to do something. “Please!“ The med-tech held out her hands appeasingly, putting herself in between the Daleks and the crowd behind her.

“Like hell we will!“ One of the young men called again, regaining his dead-man’s courage.

“Shut up!“ Liv bellowed at him as the Daleks raised their blasters at the crowd. Then she turned back to face their oppressors. “Think logically, if you execute a third of the population of this planet, you will be giving people more of a reason to rise up against you, people will feel like they have nothing left to lose.“

“Wrong. They will have their lives,“ the Dalek at the front, a commander by all indications, retorted.

“That is not enough for humans. Do you know what the human race is like? We need our families, or friends, else we turn desperate and dangerous, it’s in your interest to keep us on side,“ Liv carried on, trying her best to reason.

“What is your designation, human?“ The Dalek commander demanded.

“I’m… Liv Chenka,“ Liv answered, as she became aware that all eyes were on her. Not just the Daleks but the humans as well. Some friends, some acquaintances, some perfect strangers, but they all knew her now. Her heart started racing, adrenaline coursed through her as she considered how dangerous the situation she had put herself in was, but there was no turning back now. She had to find a way of protecting these people.

“Liv Chenka. Do you speak for the people of this planet?“ The Dalek commander screeched.

“I… no, no, I don’t but… I’m a med-tech, I’m… responsible for their wellbeing,“ Liv answered, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

“You will assist in calming these humans, Liv Chenka, if you wish to maintain their wellbeing,“ the Dalek carried on and Liv found herself nodding.

“That's what I’m trying to do.“ She looked back to the other humans. “Please, everyone, no-one else needs to die today, let’s live to fight another day…“

“There will be no fighting. There is only surrender. Nixyce VII is occupied,“ the Daleks chanted around them and Liv felt the futility of the situation in her very bones. There was nothing to be done, at least not now, not tonight.

Suddenly, there was an explosion and blaster fire.

“No! Stupid, stupid…“ Liv looked around, trying to work out where the attack was coming from. The Daleks were doing the same as some of them were shot down.

“Don’t listen to her! Fight! To the last man! We won’t bow to the Daleks!“ A voice roared on the other side of the square as a group of soldiers charged forward. The last remnants of the human resistance.

“Then you will be exterminated,“ the Daleks roared, launching their counter attack.

“NO! Please stop! Don’t be stupid!“ Liv exclaimed, trying to keep the people back that were trying to join in, but she was only one person. Stones started flying, the crowd was using what little they had, charging forward and the Daleks responded in kind.

“Any resistance will be subdued,“ they announced and started firing.

“Take cover!“ Liv yelled while others encouraged the insurrection.

“FIGHT!“

Liv tried her best to grab hold of people, pull them from the line of fire and encourage them to listen to her. Some did, she was relieved to find. The parents with children, the elderly, the ones that were smart and could see there was no point in fighting, not now. They took cover in the ruins of a nearby building.

“It’s okay, you will be okay!“ Liv tried her best to sound reassuring but her voice was shaky as she witnessed the mascara. They had nothing to hold against the force of the Daleks.

“Why are they still going?“ A man next to Liv asked, shellshocked.

“Military… they don’t know when to stop. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is to try to preserve life,“ Liv ground her teeth, her tone was bitter and defeated.

“Is it over?“ A woman asked, when the noise died down and the blaster fire stopped.

“Liv Chenka,“ the Dalek commander screeched and a wave of anxiety gripped the med-tech.

“Don’t go…“ A teenage girl grabbed hold of Liv’s arm. She had seen her a few times, she lived in the house opposite, but Liv didn’t recall her name. She wished she did, so she could do a better job of reassuring her. That was one thing she remembered from med-school, always use people’s names, it inspires confidence and makes them feel seen.

“It’ll be okay, I promise, stay here…“ Liv gave her a reassuring smile, masking her fear behind a carefully constructed facade of confidence.

“Med-tech Liv Chenka,“ the Dalek commander repeated, sounding almost impatient, despite the lack of emotion in his robotic voice.

“Yes,“ Liv called out as she stepped out of the ruins of the building and slowly approached. Her eyes were drawn to the destruction around her, the bodies, some dead, some dying, some who could, if she had the opportunity, be saved. She had to find a way of doing so, she had to.

“You will handle the medical treatment of these humans. Slave labour is required,“ the Dalek commander announced.

“Yes…“ Liv nodded and without a second thought and without paying any more attention to the Daleks around her, she hurried to the injured person closest to her.

“Didn’t take you two minutes to pick the winning side, did it, Chenka,“ the man snarled, as she leaned over him.

“Shut up and hold still, I’m just trying to prevent more pointless deaths, your death!“ Liv snapped, methodically examining the blaster burns that kept him from getting up.

“Bullshit,“ he bit back and tried to move away, seemingly resigned to his death rather than wanting her help. “Don’t touch me.“

“Traitor.“ Another voice called and Liv ground her teeth, determined to save as many lives as she could.