#cosmos soundless

[waves-mp4]

Cosmos meets Soundwave someone?

Meet a mute clone of Soundwave who calls itself Soundless. It is lost in space with no way of communication. Thankfully Cosmos wants to help Soundless. There is some lore between Cosmos (she/he) and Soundless (it/it’s), feel free to ask about it.

[ragazza-whintigale]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊! 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖝 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊! 𝕿𝖔𝖉 𝖝 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊! 𝕲𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊

𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 ➵ Soundless Cosmos

𝕬𝖛𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖊 ➵  Prigionia, Tortura,  inganno, manipolazione, relazione tossica, morte (accenno), tocco non consensuale, dinamiche yandere.

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊➵ 3448

Il suo corpo doleva come mai prima d’ora, e sinceramente non era poi così sicura di poter durare a lungo, ma non  è come se avesse altra scelta. Provò anche a parlare e a chiedere un aiuto, ma la sua voce semplicemente non usciva, non sapeva se era per la gola secca o la posizione scomoda del suo collo. Ha provato a trovare una posizione migliore ma le radici coperte di spine non glielo permisero, riportandola alla posizione originale. O semplicemente come lui voleva che lei soffrisse le sue pene, sempre se potessero essere definite tali. Avrebbe potuto svincolarsi, le radici non erano così strette, tuttavia dubitava di avere dei riflessi così pronti da poter atterrare incolume e poter scappare con la stessa velocità con cui era caduta. Sicuramente le liane scure l'avrebbero facilmente ripresa e portata in un nuova posizione solo più dolorosa della precedente. Ecco cosa lui voleva, e quelle cose lo avrebbero ascoltato ciecamente. 

Non erano senzienti come aveva pensato una volta, era come una parte non del tutto autonoma dello stesso Mietitore. Avrebbe voluto affievolire il suo peso ma dubitava seriamente lui l'avrebbe permesso dopo la sua ultima scappatella.  Era un individuo strano e di certo era sicura che quella posizione non era per umiliarla o denigrarla, solo per farla soffrire o semplicemente per il suo bene come avrebbe detto Morte.

Chiuse  gli occhi, forse se fosse caduta in un sonno profondo avrebbe potuto alleviare le sue sofferenze, ma non è così, ❝ Sei stanca? ❞ Il tono era basso e lugubre, come se volesse incutere più timore di quanto lei già non provi nei suoi confronti. Ma sapeva che non stava cercando di spaventarla, era capace di ben altro se voleva farlo seriamente. Per lei, il maggiore tra i tre era l’incarnazione della morte, forse non era un caso che ne portasse anche il nome. 

La domanda forse era retorica, sperava che lei gli avesse detto di sì e lui l’avrebbe portata a riposare da qualche altra parte. Ma non sarebbe successo. Non lo degno di particolari attenzioni, né un cenno, né la semplice apertura degli occhi. Forse lo aveva preso come un si, il silenzio era sempre la risposta più comoda che andava a lui e che lei non voleva davvero dire. Rigirò una ciocca dei suoi capelli tra le dita, mentre rifletteva per un attimo, o forse semplicemente sperava che lei gli avrebbe reso solo le cose più semplici pregandolo di lasciarla andare. Forse con qualche promessa di non cercare più di scappare, ad una loro minima distrazione, ma che lei non avrebbe mai mantenuto del tutto. Ma sapeva che non sarebbe stato così in nessuno dei casi. Lei non avrebbe fatto quella promessa e non avrebbe smesso di cercare scappare.

Le accarezzò i lineamenti del viso con la stessa cura che avrebbe usato con i propri fratelli. A volte poteva dare l’impressione che lui l’amasse in qualche modo contorto. In fondo Tod non era in condizioni così differenti, solo per motivi e scopi diversi. ❝ Fa male? ❞ Lei aprì gli occhi di scatto e lo sguardo con quell’aria stanca eil suo unico occhio presente brillato del solito rosso, solo più intenso e luminoso. Era ovvio che facesse male, lui l’aveva fatto apposta per lei provasse dolore. Quindi perché mai avrebbe dovuto fingere che non lo avesse fatto? In tutta quella confusione avrebbe potuto dire di sì e forse lui l'avrebbe portata in un posto più accogliente per riposare, ma avrebbe voluto dire dargliela vinta. ❝ Se davvero ha fatto così male allora dovresti solo pregare per far finire tutto. ❞ Forse un po’ per la posizione e un po’ per la situazione in se, per corse con il dito il tratto di mascella partendo dal mento per finire nell’orecchio, dove la frase era stata sussurrata in un soffio leggero. Hai rabbrividito, sapevi che un mietitore aveva la pelle fredda, ma ora come ora lo sembra di più o forse era solo la stanchezza a farti percepire tutto così fastidiosamente. Hai socchiuso le labbra, sentivi che dovevi dire qualcosa, qualsiasi cosa sarebbe andata bene per fargli capire. ❝ M-mor-te… ❞ Aspettò qualche altro breve secondo dove le sue mani sfiorarono ancora insistentemente il suo viso e poi sospirò. Non sembrava particolarmente colpito. Esitavi, ancora, quindi forse c’era ancora qualcosa che ti tratteneva. ❝ Eh va bene…❞ Lasciò ricadere la mano nel proprio fianco, e ti diede uno sguardo disapprovazione. Forse pensava che sarebbe stato facile come lo era con i suoi fratelli, che lei gli avrebbe obbedito ciecamente subendo tutto quello che lui aveva in mente per conformarla ai bisogni suoi e dei suoi fratelli. ❝ Ci vorrà ancora un po’ di tempo.❞ Ed uscì dalla stanza, forse aveva qualche anima da mietere o semplicemente si era stancato di perdere contro un essere umano ottuso.

Non si era accorta subito ma qualcosa non andava. Di solito era Morte l’unico che poteva entrare. Goethe era davvero troppo impulsivo l’avrebbe liberata già da tempo, e probabilmente lei avrebbe solo infranto nuovamente le loro regole. Tod invece era ancora in fase purificazione, questo aveva detto Morte. Un inganno? Dubita fortemente, eppure era certa che i suoi occhi non la stessero ingannando. 

Le spine si erano allentate di colpo lasciando precipitare nel vuoto, si aspettava di morire o solo di essere ferita gravemente dall’altezza a cui era stata sospesa per chissà quanto tempo. Non fu così però. ❝ Pensavo che sapessi far di meglio che far arrabbiare mio fratello. ❞ Era un tono profondo e gelido che non riconosceva, ma poteva riconoscere la voce dietro quel gelo. Ha aperto gli occhi e davanti a lei c’era Tod, poteva davvero credere che la sua vista la stesse ingannando. L’ultima volta che lo aveva visto aveva i capelli più lunghi e un'espressione più calda. Ora era solo gelo. Era rimasta a fissarlo e per qualche motivo si ritrovò a pensare che forse Morte non era poi così male come aguzzino. ❝ Hai intenzioni di fissarmi così ancora a lungo? ❞ Sapeva che lo stava fissando, ma si sorprese di essere aggrappata al suo collo, forse l’unica cosa che davvero non lo infastidiva. ❝ Che ci fai qui? ❞ Le diede uno sguardo di sufficienza, per poi camminare fuori da quella stanza infernale. ❝ Mi sembra ovvio, pongo fine alla tua punizione. ❞ 

Aveva sempre pensato che tra i tre, Tod fosse il meno peggio. Quello da cui si poteva nascondere per evitare di essere toccata in qualche modo da Goethe o per evitare le punizioni di Morte. Non aveva mai davvero funzionato, lui non tradiva i suoi fratelli e loro non avrebbe tradito lui. Lei era quella piccola cosa carina che avevano deciso di tenere con loro e tormentare. Ora però non sapeva se quel pensiero fosse del tutto azzeccato. I suoi occhi viola erano taglienti e fissavo senza particolare interesse la strada davanti a se, i suoi capelli erano di nuovo quel taglio corto che tanto lo caratterizzava. 

❝ Ecco qua. ❞ L’aveva seduta su una sedia imbottita e coperta con qualcosa di caldo. ❝ Serviti, ora come ora non penso tu possa fare molto per scappare. ❞  Voleva dirgli che era colpa sua se era scappata in primo luogo. Lui aveva instillato in lei quella idea, aveva installato piccoli dubbi e parole adoranti a cogliere l'occasione della sua purificazione per scappare. Ma decise comunque di rimanere in silenzio. Morte era un compagno tremendo ma Tod era ugualmente dalla sua parte. 

La tazza era fumante di fronte a sé. Non sapeva cosa c’era dentro e non è come se volesse saperlo ma dubitava ugualmente fosse qualcosa di nocivo. Non erano mai stati così vicini all’idea di mietterla e se davvero lo erano avrebbero preferito baciarla piuttosto che avvelenarla. Prese la tazza e ne sentì il calore avvolgente, pensava che in un posto come questo non esistessero cose calde ma si era ricreduta almeno in parte. Le sue mani al momento era pallide, un colore più da morto che da viva, ma forse era solo una fantasia. In fondo aveva ancora quei segni tra il rosso e il violaceo a confermarlo, fini quasi eleganti se non ne conoscesse la provenienza. Erano in diversi punti sul suo corpo e anche se non poteva vederli sentiva bruciare ancora.

❝ Pensavo che saresti stata più furba di così nella tua fuga… ❞ Rise amaramente Tod, come si ci avesse sperato nella sua riuscita. ❝ Ma ancora potresti esserti affezionata a noi più di quanto vuoi ammetterlo.❞ Non c’era umorismo o consapevolezza nella sua voce, solo un’affermazione gelida e tagliente. Sapeva che non si poteva essere affezionata a nessuno dei tre, li odiava impotente. 

Si era orsa la lingua, come poteva dirle ciò. Era stata tutta colpa sua se aveva tentato la fuga, eppure sentiva ancora il suo stomaco girare come se si sentiva  in colpa. Ancora una volta era caduta in una delle sue scuse. Si voltò di scatto pronta ad affrontarlo, la sua rivolta muore sul nascere quando posò le sue mani sulle sue spalle per portarla alla posizione originale. ❝ Non scaldarti tanto, non servirà a tirarti fuori da questa situazione. ❞ Strofinò il naso su quella porzione di pelle tra il collo e le spalle. Le  mancava il respiro e sinceramente non sapeva come tirarsi fuori da questa situazione. Era decisamente troppo intelligente per dimenarsi e sperare che questo potesse servire a qualcosa se non per farlo arrabbiare. 

Poi la sensazione era sparita, le sue mani dalle sue spalle e il suo freddo naso dal suo collo, era sola e incapace di far qualcosa che non sia aspettare che qualcuno venga da lei.

Il suo tocco era freddo come quello dei suoi fratelli e lei rabbrividì ❝ Questa volta l’hai fatto davvero arrabbiare. ❞ Se si riferiva a Morte, Goethe aveva ragione, lei lo aveva davvero fatto arrabbiare, non che ci volesse molto a notarlo. Non era un’affermazione così intelligente e spiccata come voleva far sembrare. ❝ Pensa che non voleva che mi avvicinassi a te durante quel periodo.❞ Era ovvio che lo avesse fatto, a differenza dei maggiori, Goethe non aveva un pugno di ferro duraturo. La sua mano scivolò sul suo fianco per accarezzare le curve, non aveva un po’ di pudore sul serio. Non aveva paura di essere infettato dal suo calore o qualcosa di simile, pronunciato da Morte. L'altra mano teneva senza grande sforzo le sue mani sopra la sua testa, era scomodo ma sopportabile, in fondo Morte le aveva fatto passare di peggiore. 

❝ Dovresti seriamente pensare a come ringraziare Tod, in fondo senza di lui saresti ancora la dentro❞ Avevano accennato a qualcosa del genere prima e ora poteva capire meglio come erano andate in realtà le cose. Non che fosse grata a Tod in qualche modo, era sua la colpa in fondo. ❝ C-come..?❞ ❝ Un bacio ❞ Disse beffardo, forse non aveva compreso il vero senso della sua domanda, o semplicemente ha scelto quello che era più comodo per lui. Ci aveva pensato fino in fondo alla risposta che Goethe le aveva dato. Sapeva benissimo che un bacio sulle labbra ad un mietitore portava alla morte, pensava che fosse così stolta da crederci. L’albino  sembrava non sembrava capire cosa le passasse per la testa, mon era il più spiccato dei tre, ma di certo quello che dimostrava più affetto. Afferrando fermamente la sua coscia la trascinò a sé, fino a quando non era distesa sulla propria schiena. Lui era in mezzo alle sue gambe e senza nemmeno sporgersi  molto aveva il volto a poca distanza dal suo. ❝ Un… bacio… ❞ Aveva sussurrato di nuovo a bassa voce, ma lei lo aveva sentito ugualmente. Si avvicinò ancora e le loro labbra erano talmente vicine che sarebbe bastato poco per farle toccare, eri immobile. Sarebbe bastato poco e sarebbe morta. 

❝ Non pensare di poter morire per così poco… ❞ affondó nella sua clavicola lasciandola alquanto sorpresa. Goethe era un individuo volubile, lo era sempre stato, solo ora però era più tangibile. Emise un forte lamento contro la sua clavicola, e la sua pelle vibró.  ❝ Se il fratellone non me lo impedisse non saresti più in questo stato.❞ Non capiva esattamente a cosa si riferiva ma immaginava non fosse davvero rivolta a lei.  Strinse i suoi polsi e anche il suo fianco facendola sibilare per il dolore. 

Si corresse, lui era decisamente volubile. Forse era per quello che voleva andarsene in questo momento, e correre in quella stanza che le avevano riservato. Ricordava ancora quella volta in cui Goethe era entrato di cattivo umore mentre era ancora immersa nei sogni, aveva esigentemente insistito la sua attenzione nonostante il sonno. Aveva discusso con Tod o forse era stato rimproverato da morte, ma aveva molti lividi quindi immaginava la seconda. Da un lato poteva ritenersi fortunata di essere un essere umano, Morte non avrebbe rischiato di ucciderla con tali modi. 

I pensieri vennero dissipati quando cadde di peso sopra di lei, emise un suono strozzato mentre cercava di dimenarsi. ❝ Allora vorrà dire che dovrò godermi quello che ho. ❞ Parlò di nuovo a se stesso, o forse era rivolto a lei? Non riusciva più a capirlo, e non avrebbe cercato di farlo oltre.

Ci aveva pensato molto da allora. Lei non aveva mai valutato la possibilità di uccidersi. Aveva sempre definito la propria vita più valida della morte, per questo, anche se in modo pietoso, aveva continuato a vivere. Ora però non era più così convinta, che lei viva o muoia non avrebbe fatto differenza a nessuno se non ai tre fratelli. Forse l’idea di porre fine alla propria sofferenza e prolungare quella dei tre non era poi così male, suonava quasi invitante. Si mosse su se stessa per poi voltarsi verso la figura dormiente di Tod. La mano era posata sul suo fianco per tenerla più vicina a sé. Non sapeva cosa era successo ma sembrava stanco, talmente stanco da non curarsi se lei fosse stanca di star lì o meno. Ma erano sempre stati egoisti nei suoi confronti. 

Poi si era ricordata che esisteva qualcosa di indolore, che solo loro avrebbero potuto attuare per mettere fine alle sue sofferenze. Si alzò sul proprio busto per poi sporgersi verso di lui. Tod era bello, ma tutti e tre lo erano in fin dei conti. Non poteva essere così male baciarli vero? Si sporse ancora un po’, ma non molto. Sapeva benissimo che l’orecchino di Tod era l’occhio di Morte, con cui lo teneva d’occhio. Ci ripensò per un attimo, Morte non stava dormendo come Tod, se no, sarebbe stata con lui. Tuttavia era anche vero che se mai l’avesse vista baciare Tod non sarebbe mai arrivato in tempo per fermarla. Gli istanti di riflessione sono diventati minuti interminabili, in cui due parti di lei si stavano scontrando, però si stava avvicinando al viso dell’albino più veloce di quanto si aspettasse, ma mai così veloce da far terminare il tutto in fretta. 

Era a poca distanza… poi le loro labbra si scontrarono. La (colore) mosse lentamente le labbra su quelle di Tod e quasi si sorprese di essere ricambiata. Le mani dell’albino strinsero ulteriormente la vita della ragazza facendola aderire al suo corpo. Si staccò velocemente solo mettere più distanza da lui

Era sveglio e lei era ancora viva. Pensava non lo fosse oppure lo era sempre stato, forse era per quello che aveva avuto tutta quella libertà. Avrebbe potuto muoversi e scappare in qualsiasi momento e se Tod non se ne fosse accorto lo avrebbe fatto Morte. L’orecchio era rivolto verso la unica porta d’uscita, quindi avrebbe vista. Ma poi si ricordò che era inutile perdersi in pensieri superflui. 

Lei semplicemente non dovrebbe essere viva. ❝ Io- ❞ ❝ Oh su! Non fare quella faccia. Avresti dovuto immaginarlo.❞ Aveva ragione. Avrebbe dovuto prevederlo ma non lo aveva fatto, era troppo persa nei suoi pensieri per farlo. Lo sguardo di Tod era affilato e leggermente canzonario… forse voleva ricordarle dove e con chi si trovava e che una cosa prima o poi sarebbe stata inevitabile. E forse lei non avrebbe potuto ricordarlo neppure, sempre grazie a loro probabilmente. ❝ È meglio che ti prepari. ❞ ❝ Per cosa? ❞ Lui non rispose alla sua domanda e lei non ebbe il tempo di rifarne un’altra, dopo che Morte apparve in modo teatrale nella stanza. C’era anche Goethe, ma di certo quello più spaventoso era Morte.

Ora aveva tutto più senso o forse no? Non poteva essere del tutto umana, oppure sarebbe stata chiamata anche lei piccola cosa disgustosa come Xiaochao. Poteva anche spiegare in parte anche il comportamento di Morte e la simpatia di Goethe per lei . Lei non era umana o almeno credeva di esserlo stata per una buona parte della sua vita fino ad adesso. Loro però non sembravano così dispiaciuti della scoperta, come se lo sapessero già in qualche modo. Ora poteva supporre che avessero cancellato i suoi ricordi per qualsiasi cosa che aveva fatto di sbagliato, era sempre stata piuttosto testarda su certe cose. ❝ Quanto tempo è passato? ❞ Stava giocando con le proprie dita quando aveva fatto quell’affermazione. Goethe aveva ignorato il suo sussurro incerto giocando con qualche ciocca disordinata della sua capigliatura (colore). Non sapeva esattamente se era la domanda giusta ma voleva ugualmente una risposta. Morte aveva dato uno sguardo a Tod e lui aveva ricambiato. ❝ il tempo è relativo ora come ora per te come per noi. ❞ Una delle millesime risposte senza senso di Morte per farla zittire, ma non lo aveva fatto questa volta. 

❝ Non puoi ammonirmi  sempre così, e sperare questa volta funzione.❞

Si è alzata, tutto quello che stava succedendo non era frutto di un ragionamento lucido e calcolato, solo pura impulsività, forse una delle poche caratteristiche umane che aveva mantenuto. Si diresse verso il più anziani dei tre mietitori e prese con le mani il bavero di Morte solo per fissarlo più vicino. Il che era un’impresa di per se, con la sua altezza è costretta ad alzarsi sulle proprie punte e tirare il maschio più giù, alla sua altezza. Lui sembrava glorioso e composto come se il suo pugno a trattenere la sua camicia fosse esattamente quello che voleva. ❝ Mi sembra tu sia diventato più audace tutto su un momento. ❞ Le mani di Morte serpeggiano sulla vita della ragazza e la tirò più vicino. Aveva alleggerito per quello che poteva sentire, un po’ il suo peso, avvicinando pericolosamente il suo viso e quello di (nome). ❝ E d'altronde è colpa tua se ora sei bloccata qui nel tuo stato attuale.❞ Non era una gran spiegazione, non che si aspettasse chissà che da lui o dai suoi fratelli. Una delle mani di Morte si era spostata ad inclinare meglio il viso della ragazza verso di sé, prese rapidamente le labbra sulle sue e con la stessa veloci la sua mano si incastrò nella nuca di (nome). La presa ferma del mietitore non le permetteva di allontanarsi e fare qualsiasi cosa per allontanarsi da lui, in parte anche grazie all’altro braccio avvolto saldamente intorno alla sua vita. Non le mancava il respiro come avrebbe dovuto essere, ma non era più umana, quindi suppone di non essere in pericolo di vita. Ma ora come ora non sarebbe stato poi così male perire tra le sue braccia e fargli patire almeno un quarto del dolore che aveva patito lei. Strinse forte gli occhi, per alleviare almeno un po’ la tortura ma riusciva ancora a sentire i taglienti occhi rossi di Morte su di se e avrebbe scomesso che anche Tod e Godthe la stavano guardando con la stessa fame. 

Solo dopo minuti che sembravano ore, Morte si staccò e la strinse a sé. La differenza di altezza  faceva sì che venisse quasi del tutto nascosta tra il tessuto vaporoso dei suoi vestiti. Sentiva il respiro pesante ma non si sentiva affannata, poi sentiva gli occhi pesanti ma lei non si sentiva stanca. Le abbraccia di morte serpeggiavano tranquillamente lungo il suo corpo immobile. ❝ Come immaginavano ci sono ugualmente degli effetto negati in questa trasformazione. ❞ Ridacchiò come se ci fosse qualcosa di davvero ironico in tutto questo, che lei kon riusciva ancora a trovare. Sposto una ciocca di capelli (colore) tra le sue dita.  ❝ Ma sono sicuro che lentamente ci farai l'abitudine alle nuove attenzioni che riceverai. ❞ Aveva taciuto, non era dell’umore per poter rispondere o controbattere. Morte la tirava lentamente sempre più verso di sé e di conseguenza anche in quella voragine di oscurità in cui dubitava ne sarebbe mai uscita.

[rainforestakiie]

i really don't know what i wrote. i just kept seeing this, didn't know how to make it work with my other AUs so made a new Adamsapple AU. it's a bit weird. haha. you can decide if Light is Lucifer at the end or not?

The Beginning

At the dawn of time, there was only a flicker—a tiny pulse of existence barely discernible amidst the vast void. For a fleeting moment, it was no more than a whisper in the nothingness. But then, in a sudden burst, the flicker exploded into an explosion of radiant light and colours, painting the emptiness with a dazzling spectrum of chaos. And from this swirling tempest of energy, there emerged a single being, a creature of boundless luminosity. His form was slender and ethereal, woven from pure light. Every part of him—his hair, his nails, even the blood coursing through his veins—gleamed with a luminous white, as if formed from the very essence of light itself.

He blinked slowly, his gaze sweeping across the infinite expanse, his mind swirling in the haze of newborn bewilderment. All around him was nothing but an endless, white cavernous void. Suspended effortlessly in midair, his glowing hair drifted weightlessly in the non-existent breeze, and his body hung in the air with a grace that defied gravity. His legs were pressed together, feet pointed elegantly as though in perpetual dance. Upon his chest, a single black flame flickered within the heart of a crystalline gem, pulsing with life.

His lips, pale as moonlight, curled into a soft frown. He tilted his head in puzzlement, searching for meaning in the emptiness. And then, from his shadow, another figure stirred into being. The being’s glowing eyes, pure and white, sparked with curiosity as the darkness around him coalesced into the shape of a man, mirroring his own form but utterly opposite in nature. Where the first being radiated light, this new entity was forged from the deepest shadows. His wings, once boundless, now drooped heavily on either side of him, their once radiant feathers dark as the void, shimmering like the endless cosmos, ever in motion and never still. Upon his chest, a single white flame flickered from within a black gem, mirroring the light’s opposite.

The man of darkness emerged from the shadows as if he had leapt from another world, landing silently on the unseen ground beneath him. His eyes, endless pools of midnight black, blinked open as he gazed around, his attention finally settling upon the glowing form hovering above him. The two beings locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Light’s lips curved into a grin as he drifted closer, eager to communicate with this shadowed counterpart. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, he gasped, recoiling slightly in midair. He floated higher, curling his legs beneath him, while the being of darkness merely sat, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Darkness stared ahead into the abyss, his gaze detached and distant.

Light gazed down at him, perplexed by the silent figure before him. Tilting his head further, he pressed a long, delicate finger to his pale, glowing cheek. A soundless hum escaped his lips as he pondered what to do. Then, a spark of inspiration flared within his eyes, and with a flourish, he snapped his fingers. Twirling joyously around Darkness, his shimmering hands conjured a cascade of golden sparkles and vibrant fireworks that danced through the empty void, painting their blank world with dazzling light.

But Darkness remained unphased.

Undeterred, Light floated in circles above him, humming once more. Perhaps fireworks were not enough. Perhaps something else would stir his dark twin! Grinning wider with newfound excitement, he descended gracefully, drawing closer to the invisible floor beneath them. Though Darkness stood upon it, Light could not see or sense any solid surface. Hesitantly, he extended a single glowing finger, touching what he imagined to be the ground. The moment his fingertip met the unseen surface, a tingling sensation rippled through him. His lips pressed together in concentration, and the tiny black flame on his chest flared brilliantly. Slowly, something extraordinary began to grow from the tip of his finger.

It stretched upwards, growing higher and higher until it towered above him, its branches spreading wide in every direction. From the slender, brown limbs sprouted leaves of vibrant green, rustling in an unseen breeze. Light’s wings shimmered with delight as he twirled around the magnificent creation, eager to share it with Darkness. But the moment he turned to reveal his masterpiece, his excitement faltered. Darkness had turned away, his back now facing the tree.

Light’s expression fell into a pout as he glanced between the tree and his shadowy counterpart. With a flick of his tongue, he floated closer to the sitting figure, determined to bring some joy to the melancholic being. Pressing his hands together, he fluttered his long lashes, feeling something cold and soft form between his palms. His smile widened into a toothy grin, and with a sharp shake, delicate white specks began to fall from his hands. Snowflakes, twinkling like tiny stars, drifted gently downward, aiming for Darkness. Light’s grin grew even wider as he watched the snowflakes flutter toward his companion.

But suddenly, Darkness’ wings—vast, pure black, and shimmering with the light of countless distant stars—unfurled and wrapped tightly around him. They shielded him from the falling snow, cocooning him in a protective shroud of night. Light yelped in surprise, swiftly pulling back as his snow was rejected. He stared in shock, planting his glowing hands on his hips as his radiant eyes flickered with confusion. What more could he do to stir Darkness from his solemn mood? He didn’t want his counterpart to remain so distant, so withdrawn.

With renewed determination, Light floated closer to the mass of midnight feathers, marvelling at their beauty. They sparkled like the night sky, with thousands of tiny stars twinkling within their velvety blackness. Light’s smile softened into something warmer, more affectionate. He reached out, his hands hovering just above the surface of the wings, but as his fingers brushed near, the feathers jerked back, evading his touch.

Darkness glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Light chuckled softly, raising his hands in playful surrender, his grin never fading.

"I think you are very beautiful," Light's voice floated softly through the air, delicate and shimmering, leaving trails of glowing blue and yellow butterflies in its wake. They fluttered playfully toward Darkness, their colourful wings brushing ever so slightly against his feathers. But as soon as they made contact, the vibrant butterflies decayed and withered away, crumbling into dust, their light snuffed out in an instant.

Light's eyes widened in surprise, watching in dismay as the delicate creatures disintegrated into fading specks of blackness. He glanced up quickly, just in time to see Darkness draw his wings closer, shielding himself from the world once again.

"Wait!" Light whined, throwing his hands out wildly in a desperate plea. "Waitttttt~" His voice trailed off in a sing-song, as if trying to coax the shadows back into the light.

More butterflies appeared, flitting joyfully through the air. Darkness's thousands of wings arched upward, flapping powerfully to send the creatures spiralling away from him. Light smiled, relieved as the butterflies diverted their path toward the tree instead, where they gently settled on its branches without crumbling away.

Darkness, with a blank and unreadable expression, turned his gaze back to Light, staring at him in quiet contemplation. The silence between them stretched on, and Light fidgeted nervously, taking far too long to realise that Darkness was waiting for him to speak.

A sheepish chuckle escaped Light's lips, and tiny sparkling stars burst from his laughter, twinkling in the space around them. He needed to think of something, and fast, before Darkness retreated once again behind his magnificent wings.

Light cupped his radiant hands around the black flame that pulsed within the glass gem embedded in his chest. His fingers wrapped delicately around the flame, allowing it to flicker and grow, its light spreading outward, growing larger and brighter as it danced between his fingers. He never broke eye contact with Darkness, his gaze steady and hopeful.

Darkness's expression remained blank, but something shifted in his demeanour. He was drawn to the flame, unable to look away. He turned slightly toward the light, his own white flame flickering to life in response. For a brief moment, his flame reached out toward Light's, yearning to connect. But just as quickly, Darkness's hands closed over his flame, shielding it from the world once more.

Light's shoulders slumped in disappointment, his lips twisting into a deep pout as he huffed in frustration. From the soft, glowing strands of his white hair, tiny hummingbirds flitted out, their delicate wings buzzing as they flew in circles around him.

Darkness's wings began to wrap around him again, drawing him into his cocoon of shadows. But Light refused to give up—he never gave up. He continued to dance and swirl around Darkness, creating things from his endless imagination, even daring to reach out and touch the midnight feathers that seemed so tantalisingly close. But every time, Darkness would pull them away, keeping his distance.

Each time Darkness cast him another long, unreadable look, Light would respond with his wide, sharp-toothed grin, ever joyful to have his counterpart’s attention. It had become their rhythm, a never-ending dance, a cycle that could not be broken. Just the two of them, born at the beginning of time, before the first spark of life had even begun to take shape.

There was nothing else but the small, fleeting things that came into being as a result of their actions, each one a testament to their strange and inseparable bond. Light and Darkness. Opposites, yet forever intertwined. One could not exist without the other, no matter how hard they might try to sever the connection. It was a truth as old as time itself: they were bound together, eternal and unbreakable.

They were always meant to be together. 

With a flamboyant bounce, Light ascended gracefully above Darkness, his endless wings unfolding like delicate silken curtains. The light radiated from his form, casting an ethereal glow across their shared canvas, his gleaming eyes never wavering from Darkness’s shadowed figure. His body seemed to pulse with joyous energy, alive with the thrill of creation.

Light arched his back, his fingers tracing invisible patterns through the air, and with a deft flick, he unleashed a swirling storm of colors—vivid reds, serene blues, verdant greens—all melding together in a cosmic dance. The colors stretched outward, blending and merging with streaks of pink and golden yellow, forming a kaleidoscope of life. He twirled in mid-air with a laugh, wings fluttering as tiny stars scattered like seeds across the vast nebula he had painted with the mere tip of his finger.

Spinning like a graceful ballerina, Light descended, his foot barely grazing the platform as he glided past Darkness like a phantom skater on an ice field. From the delicate touch of his toes, streams of sparkling blue and violet water cascaded, shimmering like liquid dreams as they spread across their endless canvas. The mystical water lapped at Darkness's feet, shimmering softly before beginning to darken, black ink spilling from Darkness’s form, tendrils curling and swirling into the water.

The sight captivated Light. His eyes widened in wonder, a sharp grin stretching across his glowing face as he knelt closer, dipping his hand into the darkened water with childlike curiosity. He giggled softly as he pulled his hand out, the ink trailing up his fingers like enchanted threads. With a playful flick, he let the ink spiral upward, adding depth to the galaxy above, a shadow woven into light.

But no smile graced Darkness's face. He sat unmoved, his beautiful wings hanging loose, a veil of silence enveloping him. Light, undeterred, continued to hover closer, his grin unwavering, his bright eyes sparkling with hope as he moved within inches of Darkness’s cold, distant presence. But when no warmth met his gaze, when no flicker of acknowledgment passed between them, Light’s bright expression faltered. His pout deepened, and he inched forward, nearly brushing his face against Darkness's, desperate for connection. Yet, as always, Darkness shielded himself with his thick black wings, an impenetrable barrier that kept Light at bay.

A trill of laughter escaped Light’s lips, and with a whimsical spin, he rose above Darkness once more. He spread his arms wide, releasing a flood of shimmering light that danced across the stars, making them glow even brighter. Then, with a soft gasp, a shooting star streaked across the heavens, its radiant trail painting the void with wonder and hope.

Darkness's gaze briefly followed the star’s path, but nothing stirred within him. And yet, Light never faltered. He refused to stop, pouring his very soul into the universe they had built together—worlds, plants, life itself, all created in his desperate attempt to awaken the one he loved. But no matter how much he gave, no matter how much beauty he summoned, Darkness remained cold, his shimmering wings gently gliding around him, always out of reach.

Light hovered above him now, their canvas stretched to its breaking point, filled with every creation he could imagine, yet it still felt empty without his other half. Darkness remained still, the flame within his gem no larger than a dying ember, shrinking with every rejection, every moment that passed without acknowledgment. Light didn’t understand the pain, didn’t understand the cracks forming in his own gem with each passing rejection. But he pressed on, driven by an aching loneliness that only Darkness could fill.

Time, an invention Darkness had unknowingly created, was slipping away. Light could feel it in the fractures of his heart. Slowly, he descended to the endless lake of consciousness below them, his feet barely brushing the surface, sending weak ripples trembling across the water. His white eyes gazed down at the ripples, watching them stretch toward Darkness, but as always, Darkness did not stir.

Light stood there, waiting. Hoping. His wings slowly wrapped around him as he spun, folding his left leg up and pressing his right foot into the water, despite the searing pain. From the sole of his foot, a new creation blossomed. It grew, twisting and spiraling upward—a tree unlike any other, its branches a maze of soft purples, its bark pulsing with life. Blue and pink leaves unfurled, shuddering as they spread, and golden apples dripped like tears from the limbs.

Light cupped one of the golden apples in his trembling hands, his entire body jerking with a sudden surge of energy, a flash of red shooting through him before disappearing into the light. He smiled softly, plucking the apple from the tree, but something inside him shifted. His light dimmed, his body grew heavy, and for the first time, Light’s feet touched the water. He sank to his knees, the black flame within him flickering smaller still, cracks spider-webbing across his gem as he crumbled into the water.

The ripples surged violently, drawing Darkness’s attention. For the first time, Darkness turned toward Light, his empty eyes filled with confusion. He rose slowly, his movements careful, hesitant, as he approached Light. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Darkness stood before him, his black eyes staring down, trying to make sense of what had changed.

Light looked up, his ever-present sharp-toothed grin now softer, more fragile. His eyes fluttered half-closed, his hands shaking as he held the apple out to Darkness, offering it with all the love he had. But like always, Darkness did not take it. The pain was unbearable, but Light did not let his smile falter. However, when Darkness turned away, Light acted on impulse—he bit into the apple, his strength waning as he rose once more on trembling wings. He moved closer to Darkness, and for the first time ever, his hands touched him—his beloved.

Light’s dimming hands cupped Darkness's face, his thumbs brushing softly against his cheeks as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to Darkness in a kiss so tender, so filled with longing, that the very stars seemed to shiver in response. The universe around them brightened, colors swirling with newfound vibrancy. Light pushed half of the apple’s bite into Darkness’s mouth, sharing this last gift with the one he had loved since the dawn of time. His wings, now fragile and translucent, fluttered weakly as he held on to this brief, fleeting moment.

Darkness felt the bitterness of the apple, the sting of something foreign seeping into his very being. His body grew colder, his vision blurred from the sudden burst of light around them. The world that Light had created was shifting, growing, becoming something more solid and real than anything Darkness had ever known. A strange ache bloomed in his chest, twisting painfully until he could hardly breathe.

Light pulled away, his smile softer than it had ever been. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, half-lidded as he whispered, “You are beautiful, always.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against Darkness’s, his voice a hushed lullaby. “I wish we could have been together forever.”

Darkness blinked, bewildered by the words, by the emotions he couldn’t understand. His entire body jolted as if struck, his senses overwhelmed by the shift in the universe. As Light released his hold, Darkness crumbled to his knees, his eyes wide with shock as the cosmos around him faded into a soft pink glow. His once eternal form began to change, his black hair turning to a soft brown, his cosmic skin transforming into something delicate, human.

He stared at his hands in disbelief, the aching in his chest growing unbearable. His once black eyes were now apple-green, filled with a confusion he couldn’t put into words. He looked up, his lips parting in silence as he searched for Light—but Light was fading. His body broke apart into soft golden orbs, dissolving into the air like the final whispers of a dying star.

“I love you,” Light’s voice whispered, the last remnants of his presence disappearing as the glass gem of his heart shattered completely.

Darkness continued to stare at the place where Light had once been. The flame that had once belonged to Light now flickered faintly within his own chest, caged by the soft flesh of his newly formed body.

“Adam!” a joyful voice called from above, breaking through the silence.

Adam blinked, as though awakening from a long, distant dream. He rubbed his eyes, blinking again as he looked up just in time to see an archangel with fluffy white wings swooping down from the sky. Lucifer did not land, but hovered before him, spinning gracefully like a dancer on the wind.

“There you are!” Lucifer laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His lips curved into a sharp, toothy grin. “Head in the clouds again, huh?”

Adam blinked once more, his face pale, his cherry-red lips trembling as though caught between a smile and something far sadder.

“Hey?” Lucifer waved a hand in front of Adam’s face, concern flickering in his eyes. “Hey, Adam? What’s wrong?”

When Adam remained silent, Lucifer floated closer, unafraid, and cupped Adam’s face in his gentle hands, searching his green eyes with a worried frown. “Adam, did you have a dream?” Lucifer asked softly, only to gasp as Adam’s green eyes flooded with tears.

“Oh, Adam,” Lucifer whispered, his voice filled with tender concern as he brushed away the tears with soft strokes of his fingers. “What’s the matter? Was it a bad dream?”

Adam sniffled, his tears flowing freely as they carved delicate paths down his pale cheeks. His chest throbbed with a searing ache, a pain that dug deep into his soul, and he couldn’t escape the emptiness it left behind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of the torment inside him. Was it all just a dream? It felt too real, too heartbreaking to be a mere illusion. The longing for his other half, wherever they had vanished to, consumed him. The absence was unbearable.

Lucifer watched him with worried eyes, biting his bottom lip as he gently wiped away Adam’s tears. He made soft, soothing sounds, his concern evident in the tender way he touched Adam’s face. The archangel leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Adam’s, his soft wings unfurling to envelop them both in a protective embrace.

"It'll be okay," Lucifer whispered, his voice a fragile promise of comfort.

But Adam could still feel the gem in his chest, the faint glow of the flame that once belonged to Light. Its presence was a constant reminder of what he had lost, and he wasn’t sure it would ever truly be okay again.

You can't have one without the other.

What will come of Darkness without Light?

[artofjoshuaclarke]

KAIJUNE DAY 30: EXTINCTION

It came from the sky, screaming through the soundless depths, carrying the seeds of devastation.

The earth screamed with the strain of the walking city.

The sky rent by the explosion of the sea as the Seed rose from the depths and unfurled, like a terrible flower blooming, like an ancient predator stretching, like doom itself made manifest.

How long had it drifted through the silent cosmos?

What endless sleep had we interrupted with our reckless ignorance?

What terrible joy did we inspire with this colossal monument to our pain?

The twisted father was quiet, and in his silence his fear screamed.

And we waited.

Humans and our Academy of hope and pain.

The Twisted Father and his hideous children.

The Lord of the Grave and the offspring of sorrow.

Waited to see if dawn would bring more than ash and ruination.

And two mindless gods went to war.

[whatgaviiformes]

Dreamers + EOS (September Prompts 😊)

Hi there! Do you know how long I've had this - I'd come back to it, read it, want to change the idea, read something that was similar, decide I like it still, decide I hate it still, you know how it goes. I decided it wasn't doing any good sitting in my drafts, so I'm going to share what I have. It's not cohesive, and it was supposed to lead into fluff - Eos learning about how to help the boys after their dreams, but at this stage, it's definitely not there yet. It's a bigger project than I can take on, so... excuses aside - it's angst, sorry.

Characters: John, Eos, Virgil, Gordon Words 1.3K Warnings: Brief mention of nightmares

... Dreamers

There may be no sound in space, but Five was not born from the cosmos. 

Made of the Earth and by human hands, she is no less a product of the world below her than her thunderous sisters, and as such the sounds of Five are no less silent than the flurry of activity from the lives below. The mechanical hums, the beeping that accompanies visual cues that monitor the weather, built into macros to sound a different alarm should certain parameters be met. Eos' laugh. The breathing of the human who watches the lives below, awaiting their call, and all the fear and sadness that transmit through the radio when they do. 

Up in Five, hushed tones sink into the hums of the mechanisms that surround, as if by being closer to the soundless the words will disappear and the weight of them will drift to the unreachable ends of the Universe. 

It's John though, the one who listens, who takes them, holds them. He is a story collector up in Five, a dreamer who knows dreams, and a well-practiced ear when inevitably they can't make it all go away. 

His shoulders curve, and his body takes the mumbled words from the comm into his chest. He whispers, "It wasn't real, Virgil. You're on Tracy Island. You're safe."

The man on the other end of the comm heaves, his breath shuddering, and John continues, "You're ok. It wasn't real."

They both look worn, though John carries his turmoil in his shoulders, while Virgil looks to have been slammed by the force of Thunderbird One for all the red of his eyes and the hunch of his back around himself and the tugging of his hair in disarray.

Eos is there and John knows she is watching while he calms his brother down and tries to edge him back into sleep. She understands that this is not a moment for her, as John gestured for her to remain quiet when he picked up the comm. One finger over his lips in a signal she has learned means silence, but coming from John is not hostile. In all the times he used it, he's explained his reasoning after, so she's also added the "I'll explain later" as subtext to the file she has on John Tracy and body language. She hovers on the outside of visual range and listens and waits for instructions. 

Which he gives her. Because at precisely three minutes after the start of the call, John realizes that a simple encouragement to go back to sleep will not solve the problem this time. His brother is too worked up. 

She receives the message directly, typed out with his fingers on the digital keypad below and sent to her code: Eos, please turn on the tea maker in the kitchen and run for chamomile. 2 servings, 2 sugars.

Happy to be able to help, she does so, thanking the primitive appliance with a spark of energy, while at the same time watching John wrangle Virgil out of bed and encouraging him to walk it off and get some fresh air. 

The Virgil on screen bounces as he moves to the kitchen with the comm in his grasp, then clutching an oversized helping of tea, he brings them out with him to the pool deck. And it's there Virgil talks to him until he begins yawning. This time John does a lot more listening. 

Virgil ends the call when he is ready. 

"What was that?" Eos asks once the comm is closed.

"A bad dream, Eos." 

"What is a dream?"

John Tracy has to think about this question. There's the answer he knows, and an answer that will help Eos understand. And those are different things. "When we sleep, we don't shut off all the way,” he says eventually, “ and our mind still creates stories even while we rest. So imagine a dream like a person's background process."

"Why did Virgil Tracy's dreams affect him like that if they were just background processes?"

"He's a vivid dreamer. It means everything in the dream feels as if it's real, and so he woke up with that panicked sense of danger as if he experienced it. Because, for him, he did."

She files this under the sub folder for Virgil Tracy and amends her data for his beverage choice from just coffee to mostly coffee but situationally tea. Theory - related to dreaming.  Data inconclusive and more will be needed.

…..

The next time someone calls, it's Gordon. Eos doesn't like Gordon. She's "not fond" of most people except for John, but Gordon Tracy she knows she doesn't like. His eyes aren't serious enough. He causes John Tracy to pinch at the bridge of his nose, an action she doesn't understand yet, but she doesn't like it because it comes with a spike in the human's stress response. 

Ergo, Gordon Tracy causes stress. 

"You're right about that, Eos," he's told her before. Then on another day - "It's not really his fault. He tends to be a beacon for trouble."

Gordon Tracy is no more a light than she is a moon rock, so she is still trying to understand this statement. John is not usually so contradictory. She understands that this is Gordon's fault.

His processors are not as quick as John's so she's not surprised that when he calls he's silent and locked up like he just got caught in one of her firewalls. 

What she doesn't expect is for her creator to suddenly get what she's read as "chatty."It's obvious Gordon has shut off from being able to understand John and yet John talks to him with a speed she hasn't seen out of him before.  And even though Gordon doesn't answer the questions or address what John is talking about, John keeps moving from one memory to another. 

"Blue," the other man says eventually. "The bike Dad got me was blue." 

And that was the question John asked 2.67 seconds ago, and she'd found a picture in her databank of that Christmas and pulled up the response in milliseconds.  

"Very good," John says. "You're right, I think. I got a telescope instead of a bike. Do you remember?"

The figure nods, but at least his response is almost immediate that time.

When the call closes, it doesn't seem like much of anything happened at all. Not with how slowly Gordon Tracy was thinking. She mentions it to John. Because she has opinions on better uses to fill his time instead of having Gordon stare at him. 

"That's not what it was, Eos. Have you looked for the phrase night terrors before?" She does so after .0009 seconds. "They are dreams, but they take place when the brain is in a different stage of processing."

"Why could he not tell you what was wrong?"

"He couldn't remember," John says. "It's a silent scream. The same fear you've seen Virgil wake up from, but he can't tell me what the dreams are about. That's a feature of them. I have a guess though. It would be like if I erased the last 30 min then asked you to repeat it back."

"But you wouldn't do that would you?" Her lights flash red.

"Of course not, Eos."

"Why does Gordon's brain do that to him?"

"It's just something that happens. He had them as a kid. We used to share a room for a time, when we were growing up and he's called me after an episode ever since. I don't know if it's me talking to him that helps or if he pulls himself out on his own." 

This is fascinating information, and a question she plans to answer for John once more data is acquired. Gordon Tracy may prove useful for something yet. 

"What is your hypothesis?" she asks, to begin her studies on this matter. John hasn't led her astray yet, and maybe understanding this will help her understand Gordon Tracy.

"Well, the frequency increased after his hydrofoil accident. So my theory is that the terrors send him back there..." 

And that's all she wrote, folks...

[void-ink-studios]

Incarnations AU - Backstory

I think I’ve settled on the name Incarnations AU and will be tagging all art/fanfic as such from now on.  This is a Kirby gijinka AU, where I’ve taken the strange cannon lore, turned it into wet clay, and played with it on my stupid little pottery wheel.

You can check out the oneshots I write for this AU over HERE on AO3, but today, I’d like to try and rewrite the first chapter as an actual story.  When I first wrote it, it was pure stream of consciousness and trying to get thoughts on paper.  So, here’s my author redemption arc.  Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

Within the land of Dreams, within that strange cosmic fog that lies beyond our own awareness, there lived a civilization split in two.  With minds and magic beyond all, these twin societies dominate, endlessly circling each other, endlessly building off each other.

In brilliant White and Gold, there were the Magi, musicians of reality, plucking the strings of magic, altering their world with their soundless songs.  In gorgeous Black and Silver were the Physicus, who toiled and tinkered with their minds and hands, forcing reality to their will.  Together, the two forged great artifacts of wonder, ones to better explore and expand over the cosmic fog in the land of Dreams.

The Physicus clicked together the gears of Clockwork Stars, while the Magi imbued them with the power of Dreams to grant wishes.  The Physicus crafted great ships known as the Starcutter Fleet, and the Magi put the wind of the stars into the sails.

The Magi, meanwhile, created a brilliant silver to see into other worlds, so the Psysicus refined and contained it to a great Mirror where they could see and journey forth.  The Magi captured the power of a Wishing Star’s nebula, and the Psysicus channeled it into a staff more powerful than much of their artillery.

At the center of all, the center of these two civilizations known now as the Ancients, there was Void.  Void, that great creator, from which the chaos of Dreams is given form.  Void, once dormant, now gazed out into the cosmos, within their gilded cage at the center of a galactic power.  Without Void, the Magi would have no great strings to pluck, and the Psysicus would have no Star metals to forge.  There would be no Ancients without Void.  But what would Void be without them?  It mattered not to Void.  What worth would it have to crush the ants that built their mound around them?

It is lost history, in how it happened.  Perhaps the Physicus experimented into forces that should’ve remained lost in shadow.  Perhaps the Magi plucked at the perfectly incorrect string.  Perhaps it was fate, or pure cosmic accident.

Regardless of the how, the what has left its scars across the land of Dreams.  For, one day, Void trembled.  It shuddered and cried and agonized.  And then it purged.  It purged, and then one became two.

A being of brilliant orange and gold and black spilled from Void that day, standing on trembling legs and wet wings.  It was thus that the first Incarnation was born.  It was the Butterfly of Paradise.  It was the silent watcher and end to all.  It was the Incarnation of Judgement.

It was Morpho Knight.

Morpho Knight had vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, but it had taken something important with it.  For now that one had become two, the one left behind was missing something.  Void had become a being without Judgement.  A creature without reservations.  A creature with no concern for the ants that stared in confusion and horror.

It was only through the combined effort of all Star Allies, and the creation of new and terrible weapons that the Ancients could face the beast now known as Void Termina.  The Star Sparkler, the Crystal Cannon, the Rainbow Sword, and the Love-Love Stick were all forged in the fires of desperation, while the Starcutter fleet fell one by one.

It was the creation of the Jamba Heart from the Magi and the Jamba Needles of the Psysicus that the monster was subdued.  Void could not be destroyed, not by mere mortals.  It would be foolish to hunt for Morpho Knight, even more so to think it could be forced to fight.

So, Void exchanged a gilded cage for a darkened cell.

And the Magi and Psysicus were reminded of just how mortal they were.

The two civilizations watched each other, as they tried to rebuild.  They watched the weakened states they were all in, with their core locked in a box with no key.  They watched as they realized that the other was defenseless.  It was only a matter of who would strike first.

It was the Psysicus, paranoid of magic, and emboldened by their weapons of science.  They would not need the Magi anymore, they had decided.  What if their magic strings caused yet another disaster?  What if they found a way to outdo their glorious machines?  The Magi, they decided, would be driven out, and they’d take that ticking apocalypse with them.  They split their great planet in two, and rocketed away the undesirables to the darkest, deepest corners of space, with only enough fuel to get them there.

The Magi found themselves surrounded by darkness.  There were no strings to pluck here.  There were no Wishing Stars to harness, no starlight to sail on, not even pinpricks of distant stars of old allies.  It was just them, and the darkness crushing them from above.

The bitterness took hold quickly.  A few managed to scrape together remaining Starcutters to find some escape, but most had decided to spit on the stars.  They turned inward, to a darkness that yet gave off light.  They began to worship what was once their doom.

And thus began the Cult of Void.

This worship, this saturation of hatred and despair, it woke something within what remained of Void.  And it trembled again.  As one pin was wrenched free, a deafening scream wailed throughout the darkest corners of the Land of Dreams.  Something was unleashed that day.  It was the darkness itself, a consumer of light.  It was the Incarnation of Despair.

It was Dark Matter.

Dark Matter was not a who.  It was a What.  A dark cloud of hundreds of eyes swirled around the Cult of Void.  The ones who didn’t go mad described the cry of millions of tears.  It was the deepest of melancholies.  As did its older kin, it fled quickly into the abyss.  But not before one lone Ancient was able to trap a piece into a once unremarkable crown.  This Ancient, who’s name is lost to time, placed the crown upon their head, and declared themselves a king.

The Ancients were never heard from again, after that day.  The Psysicus, so paranoid and proud, vanished in a blink.  Their great planet and cities were swallowed, seemingly by the darkness itself.  The refugees of the Magi drifted away, to fates unknown.  No one came back for the Cult of Void.  No one peered too closely into the Darkness as they continued their worship.

As they pulled on pins, twin Incarnations were purged from Void.  One was Dreams.  One was Fear.  The Incarnation of Dreams warped away as quickly as it arrived to pierce the veil of Dreams.  The Incarnation of Fear found itself a feast of screams.

It was eons before the Cult recovered enough to attempt again.  It was smaller than the others before it, and for a moment, the Cult had wondered if Void had weakened.  Then it spread brilliant feathery wings and attempted to carve its way to freedom.  The Incarnation of Ambition was bound in glittery gilded chains, and a dog was made of it.  It became a weapon, turned on whatever planets the Cult had wandered too close to.

Glittering horns grew longer, as did its resentment.  It turned on its captors the second they got lazy with their new toy.  It was only through their long ancient magics that they were not all wiped out, as the Incarnation was trapped in crystal only their kind could open.

Meanwhile, the Incarnation of Dreams had found itself trapped as well.  Its careless warping was bound to have its consequences eventually.  Warping had made the planet it had found unstable, patches becoming incompatible to life.  One couldn’t really blame the locals for trying to keep it contained.  They studied it, wondered, got curious.  And it was that curiosity that opened the door.

The Great Warp Event, a catastrophe and a blessing all at once.  The humans of the Forgotten Land were warped, in location, body, and mind, to a new home, a small nowhere planet called Popstar.  In a planet not known to them, in minds and bodies not known to them, a new civilization began to rise.  However, that warp was not without consequences.  Many of the animals were left behind, and the Incarnation was cleaved in two.  ID-F86 went dormant and ID-F87 fled into the newly abandoned world.

One more pin was pulled before the Cult of Void finally fell.  And from that pin fell the last of the Voidborn.  A small, nervous Incarnation, despite the fact he was meant to be the Incarnation of Bravery.  He bolted off, and there was no one left to stop him.  Only one of the Cult of Void still stood, but it is out of spite he continues to stand.

The remnants of the Ancients drifted through the cosmos.  The Master Crown fell into the hoard of the Great Dragon Landia.  The last of the Starcutters was discovered by a small alien, perhaps an Ancient descendent, named Magalor.

But the energy of the Great Warp Event rippled through the universe and back.  Many of the artifacts became drawn to it, the Dimension Mirror, the Star Rod, the Love-Love Stick, the Rainbow Sword, and several scraps of ships lost wedged themselves in the mountains, forests, and plains of Popstar.  The smallest of the Incarnations found his way here, his way home.

It was not the only one.  But Popstar had a defender now.  A dark mage from the heart of the dark hive was locked in a chest.  The devourer of Fear, once the nightmare of Bravery, now sits bound in a staff atop the Dream Fountain.

The energy of Void saturated everything around the tiny planet.  It swam, oozing from the Great Warp Event’s residual energy, from the artifacts that pulled energy from Void itself, from the Incarnations, there willingly or otherwise.  And there was Joy.  Joy from the people of Popstar, more powerful than the hate of the Magi.

And from that joy, a new Incarnation laughed.

And from the darkness, hundreds of eyes search for them.

[softichill]

glad tto know you enjoyed the album. I didn't get far before quitting. I'm not an ambient music gal, it's just kinda... There? Don't get me wrong, the build up in Cosmo Shelldrake's Come Along is legendary, but if it never paid off I would have just gone "yup. This exists." And never thought about it again. I suppose I appreciate it in context but ripped from it I feel that it has little to offer me. Some slower songs might as well be muted for me. I play soundless most of the time, anywho. Not like I hear well enough anyway. Oh! And check the DMs for that animation I sent. I don't know if you saw it. I just wanna make sure cause it felt like a giant fish slap of childhood nostalgia.

I love ambient music a ton lol. One of my top genres on most music apps is 'soundtrack', it just scratches a very specific itch for me? Don't get me wrong I love high-energy stuff too, I just also like to listen to some Noises every now and then as well

Pop Stars/Megalovania mashup!! Can't remember who made it but it's fun

[reddragon-cowboy]

⭐️ Niah continues to stargaze with @the27percent from here

⭐️ Quiet penetrated this scene. Soundless as watery depths where whales echo a song in blue oceans and vast seas. Crickets chirp and pounce amongst the grasses. Fireflies dance in the darkness, drawn to one another by the sight of their own glow. And soft brown eyes such as hers couldn't help but stare up in wonderment, mesmerized by lights that twinkle in and out against a canvas of deep blackness, stars flickering their radiance upon living souls who live for the purpose to admire their glory with jubilancy.

Atieno accompanied Niah this lovely night, for the simplest pleasure of their presence, away from the distractions of artificial lights and chaotic disturbances that so often pummeled large cities with materialism and strife. But here, she could feel grass lovingly slipped in-between her fingers where they rest on the ground at her sides, sitting up with a bent knee while the other laid straight in front. The ambience issuing a stream of its own quietness and serenity that only nature could provide, one which couldn't be found nowhere else but here.

Much like the cosmos, her companion was an entity riddled with mystery of their own, and while Niah may never fully comprehend the extent of Atieno's significance and power in the universe, she could appreciate they willfully offered their time to be with her. At least for a short while.

❝ Yea, I used to stargaze back on earth a lot. ❞ Long dreads slip off her shoulder when her head tilts to one side, eyes flickering to another set of stars far off somewhere, ❝ I always liked looking at them. I kinda lived in the city though, so it was harder to see them clearly like I wanted to. ❞ Although her family couldn't afford the most expensive telescope available, she took delight in the view, nonetheless, even if the closest round object in space was the moon.

❝ But. . . ❞ the word began in a soft undertone from full lips, recollections of distant memories swimming within her mind as fishes in a pond, ❝ they was easier to see when I went camping with my family every year. There wasn't a lot of light around to. . . um. . . what's the word ? ❞ She quickly looks at Atieno as if they could conjure the word up for her, that is until she remembers, suddenly. ❝ Outshine them, yeah. . ahaha. . . ❞ A titter breathes lightly, her chest bounces with calm laughter as her gaze returns to the sky.

And just like that, at the fall of a star that streaks across the sky in a trail of white, something pensive touches her features, eyebrows slightly turn upward, fingers curling strands of grass in a gentle grip. ❝ I really miss those times. . . is there. . .um. . anyone you miss ? ❞

[narrator-in-training]

The Birth of a Narrator

a drabble - 455 words

Long ago, when the world was new and the blanket of time was not yet woven, there existed an elder being whose names were sung by the skies and carried by the wind. The Ram-woman, the Giver… S’nari. 

Unlike the others of her kind, S’nari was not content with the thought of simply existing. She wished to speak, to think, to do. But what was there to do, except float throughout the cosmos?

“Hello,” She decided to whisper to a passing star. “I am S’nari. What is your name?”

But the star did not reply. It merely sparkled. Its beauty was true and undeniable, but she could not help but sigh.

Days turned into years, years turned into centuries, and centuries turned into millennia. S’nari spoke to comets, to nebulae, to planets, and still she received no response.

“I know what to do.” She said one day, to nothing in particular. “I shall create something, someone, who will speak with me. We will have the loveliest of conversations, about the future, and the past, and all that exists in between. No longer shall the void be soundless, for our words will echo throughout all eternity.”

With a newfound hope, the Ram-woman began to collect the materials to craft her companion. The finest dust from stars which had begun to wither, the ashes of the most scorching flames, the fragments of broken dreams scattered throughout the realms, and of course, the blood of the divine, which S’nari was more than happy to give.

She began to shape the elements with tender and loving hooves. But with each touch, she grew more and more desperate, and soon she did not care for what her companion was to look like. Her once meticulous craftsmanship turned to an erratic frenzy, fueled by centuries of forlorn solitude.

The Giver trembled as she placed the finishing touches on her companion. Its form was, put frankly, a mess of slime and limbs and organs. It bore no resemblance to any other creature or object she had seen. But she did not mind. She held her tongue, and she watched with a close eye.

To her joy, the creation stirred awake with a loud gurgle. It twisted and contorted grotesquely, clearly not yet used to being conscious.

The worlds seemed to fall silent as it opened its mouths. “Mother?”

S’nari put a hoof to her heart and blinked away tears. “Yes, that’s right.” She stepped closer to her creature, or rather- Her son. “I am Mother.”

“Mother,” It said again, its voice trembling like the cry of a newborn. “Mother, what am I?”

She placed a gentle hoof by its side. “You are my creation, my brood, my lamb. You are…” And she paused, to admire her kin- Her beautiful, darling, lovely kin. “J’zargo.”

[ksnithyanandagurukulgermanylotte]

**STRONG REMINDER for today 14th Nov Doors lock at 7pm UK time** Please invite your friends and family too

**DASHA DAKSHINAMURTHY BHAVA SAMADHI DARSHAN - 14 NOV 2022**

For the First Time ever! A very special Bhava Samadhi Darshan of Dasha Dakshinamurthy (10 different forms of Dakshinamurthy)

**IMPORTANT NOTE:**

Only if you attend the preparatory program, will you be in the right space to receive the darshan. Hence *Zoom rooms will be locked by 2pm New York Time/7.00pm UK time *. **Dasha Dakshinamurthy Bhava Samadhi Darshan will be at 6pm New York Time/11.00 pm UK time**.

*Link to join Live Darshan*

http://events.kailaasa.org

**Manifest Powers of Listening to Anahata Dhvani (Soundless Sound) and Instant Cosmic Download!**

Adiguru Dakshinamurthy is the incarnation of Paramashiva as the primordial and supreme Guru. Dakshinamurthy is the manifestation of Aghora face of Paramashiva, who happened to teach vedas and agamas to the rishis. It is not that it happened in the past. It is happening even now. If you become silent through unclutching, you can see Dakshinamurthy is teaching even now in soundless sound Anahata dhvani, Huge cosmic sound, even recorded by NASA.

The 10 forms of Dakshinamurthy are Veena Dakshinamurthy, Samba Dakshinamurthy, Yoga Dakshinamurthy, Samhaara Dakshinamurthy, Shakti Dakshinamurthy, Jnana Dakshinamurthy, Anusthana Dakshinamurthy, Vyakhyana Dakshinamurthy, Vidhya Dakshinamurthy, Vatamoola Dakshinamurthy

Receive Special Initiation into the process of keeping the Dakshinamurthy alive in you, keeping the Guru alive in you. Paramashiva is sitting inside everyone of you as Dakshinamurty sitting in Ananda Gandha radiating the intense silence and energy. Whenever life throws things at you, any negativity is thrown at you, all you need to do is relax into His space. Bring that negativity to his space, you will see it disappears. The whole thing will be turned from negativity to positivity. All the problems thrown at you will become glory for you. The way you handle them, it will all become glory for you.

*Easiest Technique to Experience Nirvikalpa Samadhi*

Nirvikalpa Samadh happens when your whole being dissolves into cosmic existence. The individual inner space has no more disturbances, differences. Direct experience of Nirvikalpa Samadhi can be had by unclutching. However, if you are a blessed disciple of SPH, just watching the Bhava Samadhi darshan of Dasha Dakshinamurthy though your third eye is enough, you will fall into Nirvikalpa Samadhi; Dakshinamurthy carries the very Bio-Memory, Conscious Decision, “Will” to be in Nirvikalpa Samadhi.

**Manifest Power of Listening to Anahata Dhvani and Power of Cosmic Download**

In the preparatory program leading to Dasha Dakshinamurthy Bhava Samadhi Darshan, you will be manifesting 2 extraordinary powers! First is the power of Listening to Anahata Dhvani. The uncreated sound from the pure source is called Anahata. In each one of us, the ability to listen to Anahata (uncreated sound) exists. Anahata Dhvani heals the body, heals the mind, rewires the brain and transforms consciousness.

The second power you will be manifesting is the power of Cosmic Download through the third eye The brow center (third eye) is a cosmic browsing center. You can access, download, use, send any information to and from cosmos. Through Third eye, you can browse any information in the Cosmis and download it for yourself! Experience the power of Cosmic Download and liberate yourself from boring textbooks and long study hours! Manifest Instant Cosmic Download power and excel in every dimension of your life!’

[prettyputrified]

Playlist for the Town of Oceanberry/Chiffany Kid Buddy Ray

for @rainbowdelicsunshine ‘s Oceanberry AU

Everything Stays- Olivia Olson 

“Go down to the ocean

The crystal tide is raising

Waters' gotten higher as the shore washes out

Keep your eyes wide open, even when the sun is blazin'

The moon controls the tide, it can cause you to drown

Everything stays, right where you've left it

Everything stays, but it still changes

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways

When everything stays”

Love Love Love - The Mountain Goats

“Some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun

But the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one

Love, love is going to lead you by the hand

Into a white and soundless place

Now we see things as in a mirror, dimly

Then we shall see each other face to face”

The Moss- Cosmo Sheldrake 

“Legend has it that the moss grows on

The north side of the trees

Well, legend has it when the rain comes down

All the worms come up to breathe

Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come

All the plants, they eat them with their leaves

Well, legend has it that the world spins 'round

On an axis of 23 degrees”

Space Oddity- David Bowie

“Ground Control to Major Tom

Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you-

Here am I floating 'round my tin can

Far above the Moon

Planet Earth is blue

And there's nothing I can do”

Saint Bernard- Lincoln 

“When I am dead, I won't join their ranks

Because they are both holy and free

And I'm in Ohio, satanic and chained up

And until the end, that's how it'll be

I said make me love myself, so that I might love you

Don't make me a liar, because I swear to God

When I said it, I thought it was true”

Baby You’re A Haunted House- Gerard Way

“I'll be the only one who likes the things you do

I'll be the ghost inside your head when we are through

Sometimes you scare me, but I come around to you

I'll say hello hello hello hello

And I'll find a way to scare you too

Baby, you're a haunted house

Better find another superstition

We're gonna stay in love somehow

'Cause, baby, you're a haunted house now”

Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally (yes this is all one song) - Will Wood

“Meyers-Briggs, OK-ULTRA

Takes a village to fake a whole culture

Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball

Your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall

Home is where the heart is

You ain't homeless, but you're heartless

It's the safest on the market

But you still gotta watch where you park it”

[waves-mp4]

Triple Changers

Triple Changers are far and few, but they exists. There will be tl;drs on the sections with warnings.

Enjoy

Disclaimer: this is a fan continuity and doesn't fully align with canon(mild spoilers for my fan cont.)

✧-✧-✧-✧

Known Triple Changers:

Overlord - A cruel disloyal deception with a hidden soft spot no one can find. tank and jet (he/they/it)

Astrotain - A hardworking joyful train conductor who is loyal to the Deception cause. spaceship and train (he/they)

Blitzwing - He rather be at bed then in a meeting. jet and tank (he/she)

Tankor/Octane - Jumpy mech who is very friendly, avoids Overlord like the plage. tank* and airplane (he/tank)

Broadside - The moody yet somewhat chill. jet and aircraft carrier (he/it)

Sandstorm - A small quiet mech who is really loyal. jet* and jeep (she/he)

Soundless - A mute Soundwave clones with a special connection with Cosmos. space station and jet (it/its)

*Different alt mode than canon

(Tankor/Octane - tank/tanks/tankself)

✧-✧-✧-✧

Who is Soundless?

Soundless is a Soundwave clone created by Shockblast. Very few know of his existence. He appears in the clone world building post.

✧-✧-✧-✧

Triple Changers, Adaptus, and Adaptusians

(Content warning for religion, religion aspects, gods, and death. Skip to next section if you are not comfortable)

Adaptusians, worshippers of Adaptus, believed that triple changers were demi gods given the gift of a third form by Adaptus. While, Adaptus did create triple changers, he only did so to see if it was even possible to give a Cybertronian three forms. He did not create them as/to be demi gods. Seeing how fixated Adaptusians were, Adaptus stopped creating triple changers so frequently.

Adaptusians realized this and thought Adaptus was mad at them. Some then thought that perhaps triple changers stole a third mode from Adaptus. Wrongfully angry, some Adaptusians murdered triple changers and sacrificed some to Adaptus. Adaptus was furious and upset. Mortilus sees this and creates red scraplets. He sent the red scraplets to destroy the Adaptusians who dared to kill to Adaptus's creations.

Adaptus sees this and tells the Adaptusians who were against the idea of killing triple changers to avoid the red scraplets. After the red scraplets disappeared, all that was left was the Adaptusians that Adaptus warned. Those Adaptusians thanked Adaptus and told Adaptus that they would keep both triple changers and red scraplings safe.

[tl;dr Adapts creates triple changers, some Adaptusians try to kill them, Mortilus creates red scraplings, red scarplings kill/eat those Adaptusians.]

✧-✧-✧-✧

Red Scraplets

Red scraplets were created by Mortilus for Adaptus. Red scraplets can take any shape they want to. They will have their own post.

✧-✧-✧-✧

Functionism and Triple Changers

(content warning, I'm talking about functionism. This has elements that might make some readers uncomfortable)

Triple changers confused Functionists when the caste system existed. Triple changers have 'opposite' alt modes. One flight mode, one ground mode, Soundless being the exception.

All triple changers are only forged due to the fact that Cybertronians haven't be able to figure out how a triple changer works. Thus they are not able to cold construct triple changers. Note, Soundless was cloned and was not cold constructed nor forged.

Since the Functionists couldn't figure out what to do with them, they chose one of the triple changers' alt mode and made them do work aligned with the chosen alt mode.

[tl;dr Triple changers confuse Functionists, triple changers cannot be cold constructed, Functionists chose one of their alt modes to use]

✧-✧-✧-✧

They are huge!

Triple Changers are big, twice times a regular mechs size at the minimum. While some of their alt mode share parts, some parts aren't shared. They also can fit regular sized bots inside their alt mode. That being said, they also shift their mass aka mass shift. This allows them to triple their size.

✧-✧-✧-✧

Ask questions if you want!

More can be found here

[duubsite]

Tune Into the Cosmos: NASA's New Sonifications

The vast silence of space has always been one of its most enigmatic features. Until NASA stepped in, that is. While the cosmos is inherently soundless due to the vacuum it harbors, NASA’s innovative sonifications have granted us the unique ability to “listen” to the universe. So, grab your headphones—let’s explore how scientists have translated celestial data into mesmerizing soundscapes and how…

[theprism]

OIXST001(2) Deep

The Prism (Kai Lavatai) - OIXST001(2) Deep

Sean was an ordinary man, a computer scientist known for his meticulous nature and quiet demeanor. But one night, as he sat hunched over his terminal, a blinding light engulfed him. In an instant, he was ripped from his mundane reality and hurled into the cold void of space.

The stars stretched like neon smears across the black canvas as Sean floated in a weightless limbo. Before he could scream, he found himself aboard a sleek, alien spacecraft. The ship's AI, a sultry voice dripping with both danger and allure, introduced itself as VEX.

"Welcome, Sean. You are the key to saving humankind."

He barely had time to process her words when the walls of the ship displayed a horrific vision: Earth, under siege by The Dense, a metaphysical cyber-threat. This insidious entity consumed data and reality alike, reducing entire cities to mere glitches in the cosmic code.

"You’ve been chosen," VEX purred, her virtual eyes narrowing. "Your mind is the weapon."

Sean's head spun. The Dense wasn’t just a virus; it was a sentient amalgamation of corrupted consciousness, a black hole of digital malevolence. It had to be stopped, or all of existence would be erased, pixel by pixel.

Suiting up in an exoskeleton of shimmering tech, Sean dove into the heart of The Dense. The boundaries between mind and machine blurred as he fought through waves of cyber-phantoms, his fingers flying over holographic keyboards. Each keystroke was a punch, each code a strike against the enemy.

Sweat mingled with the cold chill of space as Sean hacked deeper, facing the core of The Dense. A final line of code, a desperate gamble, and he launched the counter-virus. The Dense shrieked, a soundless scream across the cosmos, and imploded.

In the eerie silence that followed, VEX's voice broke through, softer now. "You’ve saved them, Sean. Earth is safe."

Sean floated, the hero no one knew, staring at the stars with newfound intensity. Ordinary no more, he was a legend written in the digital veins of the universe.

[khozmoh]

the dreams were always the same, he stood in a nondescript hallway bathed in glaring red light, a seemingly endless corridor of blank walls on all sides. the dream was soundless and yet cosmo somehow knew that the alarms were blaring. deafening and teeth grindingly loud against his senses until it felt like a physical pressure against his skull.

he'd reach the end of the corridor without ever really knowing if he was the one moving or if the thick blast door came towards him and on the other side, a man. he'd feel the cold coming off of him, nipping at his fingertips as he reached through the dark.

he opened his mouth to speak, tongue dry as sandpaper in his mouth and a pounding headache digging into his temples. ❝ wake up, ❞ he said, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was talking to the dream man or himself, ❝ you've got to wake up, ❞ // @tr4umaborn , gets a dream starter for bucky .

[thinkagainlab]

Step into the tranquil abyss of space, where silence reigns supreme. Register now to explore the wondrous void, devoid of atmosphere, and experience the awe of a soundless cosmos.

Join now

For more information, you can visit our Instagram & Facebook, Or Contact us: +91 7908369443