#what if you didn't have the star

[justaduckarts]

What if ideas for a story!

Sun didn't get possessed by Afton or drop the star

Eclipse wasn't blamed for Luna's death and exiled

Pluto didn't go all crazy on Moon

Lunar's family & village didn't die of lead poisoning

Solaris was proud of both of his sons

Luna died naturally

Star Holder was raised in Eclipse's temple.

We never became the Star Holder....

Hello!

Sorry for the delay <3

I must confess, I've been planning a story where we get adopted by Moon instead of going to Sun's temple, and some of your story ideas will be involved in that alternate timeline (I can't say which ones because that'd spoil the fun).

So I will choose one that DOESN'T coincide with this future story...

That being said:

What if we never became the Star Holder?

:)

Birdsong carried across the fields. A cool breeze rushed across the seemingly endless sea of red poppies, sending their sweet smell rushing over you. Smiling, you adjusted the sack on your shoulder and carried on along the long dirt path that cut through the countryside.

Spring was in full swing. As you passed, you saw your neighbors out hanging sheets to dry or working in their gardens. Planting seeds that would become fruits and vegetables to be harvested in the fall.

Once more, you checked the list your mother had given you. Even though you were nearly twenty-five now, you were still living with her. Mostly to look after her health. Your brother had remained at home, too, taking to tending the farm to support the household. Though your sister had kindled a flame and left your village to marry the woman she'd fallen for while away for school.

Life was peaceful. Warm.

But sometimes, you felt... as if you should be elsewhere. Doing something important. What that thing might be, you couldn't imagine.

Still, the feeling nagged at you. You had these strange dreams of another life. One where you served at the sides of the gods and experienced all kinds of marvelous things. Cosmic entities. Magics. Strange creatures. Demons, even.

So, you'd become an artist. Painting all the things that plagued your subconscious onto canvas. Your works were pretty popular, too! Especially your depictions of the gods. Once, you'd even been commissioned to paint a piece for a temple. Your mother was so proud!

Life was good.

Finally, you could see the bazaar in the distance. The outdoor market was pleasantly uncrowded this early in the day. Vendors milled about, arranging their displays and preparing for the likely busy afternoon ahead. Usually, you'd be right alongside them, paintings on display while you worked on your latest piece.

Today, however, was your brother's birthday. And you and your mother had conspired to surprise him for all his hard work.

As you were approaching a table with a large scale and bags of grain all around, you noticed a pair strolling through the bazaar. Tall, dressed in elegant silks.

Your mouth fell open as you recognized them.

The gods. Here?

Why?

"Excuse me," Sun approached one of the vendors. A baker. She immediately perked.

"Oh, hello, your graces! It's an honor. What may I do for you?" The baker bowed her head.

"There's usually a painter here, isn't there?" Sun's smile was nearly as bright as the star he was named for.

"Ah, yes," the baker nodded, your name rolling off her tongue, "but I don't think they're coming today, I heard- Oh. There you are!" She spotted you behind the two towering gods and waved energetically.

Sun and Moon turned immediately.

You felt an overwhelming urge to turn and flee. A quiet war started in your head over leaving or staying. But as the two approached, you found your legs unwilling to cooperate with you.

"Good afternoon," you bowed your head, "your graces."

"Afternoon? You're mistaken, it's barely after sunrise," Moon tilted his head. Sun chuckled, patting his dear friend on the shoulder.

"Oh, Moon," he shook his head, "they're just nervous. Right?" He looked back at you. You nodded, unconsciously fiddling with your tunic.

"How may I help you?" You fidgeted. "Uh, your grace."

"There's no need to be so tense! You aren't in trouble!" Sun's milky eyes shone in the morning light, "I recently visited a temple nearby and saw the most beautiful painting. The priest there tells me you were the one to make it!"

Oh.

Relief washed over you.

"It was so lovely," Sun sighed, "Moon and I thought you'd be the perfect person to paint something for us."

"Truly?" Your eyes widened, "it'd be an honor!" You couldn't help the smile on your face.

"Wonderful!" Sun clapped, "I'm sure you'll make a lovely portrait of the Star Holder. Ordina will look so lovely, don't you think, Moon?"

"Oh, yes," Moon nodded, "if you're the one to paint it, I think it will look incredible."

"You wish for me to paint the Star Holder?" You felt a little stunned. Something inside you stirred, just saying those words out loud. And hearing Sun say them... It made you feel uneasy.

You'd heard of Star Holder Ordina. The woman chosen to protect the star from those who would use it for wrong. Hand-chosen by the gods.

You couldn't imagine how her life must be.

"But of course!" Sun nodded eagerly.

Well. Who were you to pass up the opportunity to work for actual gods? It... felt right, in some ways. And wrong, in others.

But this time, it was your choice. And maybe that's what mattered.

"I'd be honored," you nodded.

"Wonderful!" Sun practically bounced with excitement. He was so... different from how you'd imagined him. Bouncy, happy, warm. For some reason, you'd always imagined him being more reserved and distant.

"Walk with us," Moon smiled shyly, "we'll sort the details." He gestured you forward. Smiling in turn, you followed the gods further into the marketplace.

Life was good.

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 2

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[hydrachea]

"Don't worry. I'll fulfill my promise and find a way to cure you. Actually, I've found some leads."

[lynaferns]

My DCA design updated + Eclipse

Separated ver. + comentary under the cut

Not quite content with eclipses end result but eh, idk if I'll draw eclipse much so...

I've been wanting for a while to update my refs for my designs of them. The old ones got... old. It's funny how I simplificated some aspects of their designs in order to complicated others haha.

ngl I got tired at some point and just wanted to finish

[the-force-awakens]

Still not used to this life or death situation stuff. That's good, 'cause I'm not either. You never get used to it.

[pinkd3mon]

Bonus piece from this art

[somegrumpynerd]

Sssshhhh the stars are eepy

[kanansdume]

Okay, so I have read a lot of fics where Dogma joins the Coruscant Guard post-Umbara as a way to protect him, or he joins the Guard because the 501st doesn't like him, but I have a new CG Dogma AU concept.

Rex sends Dogma to the Guard specifically to look after Fox. He KNOWS Fox is overworked and the Guard is understaffed, but Fox just isn't asking for help as much as Rex would like, so he sends Dogma over because if Rex can't be there to look after Fox himself, he might as well as send the next best thing. Dogma is a little skeptical about it at first, but Rex tells him that he is legitimately the best man for the job specifically BECAUSE of his personality (he's got reason to believe Fox will have a soft spot for someone who reminds him of Rex).

He tells Fox that this is something he and Dogma discussed because the kind of work the Guard does is a better match for Dogma, but that he's also one of Rex's most impressive soldiers. Fox sees right through Rex and is not impressed at being assigned a babysitter, especially not some barely-not-a-shiny sergeant from the 501st. It's almost insulting, but the paperwork has already gone through so he can't say no or just send Dogma back.

But Rex knew what he was doing and Dogma IS a lot like Rex and he thrives in the Guard and it turns out he gets along incredibly well with Fox and, due to some special insider info from Rex, is perfectly capable of helping keep an eye on his new Commander.

[siffrin-gimmick-blog-number-37]

imagine if sif was having a period during the loops and didnt notice until after act 6

daily 16.5: me and my stupid blinding looney tunes gender be like

[the--firevenus]

“I am scared to lose you, when we have finally found each other.”

-Quote from my fav fanfic ever exist, and I've applied it to all my ships ever since <3

[nukbody]

Best toxic yuri™ brainrot ft. my literal child

[imerian]

My (very old) loscar brooch (?) that i just now made doodles for

More pictures under cut

[nakaremfarlei]

Was just thinking about the amount of animals Obi-Wan interacts with compared to literally everyone else and in the Clone Wars episode where Kamino gets attacked he literally gets saved twice by the same ray-like animal and just...

The growth from judging Qui-Gon for the 'pathetic lifeforms' he picks up to whatever he has going on during the Clone Wars era. He must have gotten that from Qui-Gon though, right?

And because it's my brain and it's rotting with all the star wars stuff I am consuming I was thinking of Obi-Wan saving all these creatures and the 212th having to deal with that. Surely they made one of the rooms pet proof in case one of them needs a new home. There also have to be clones who love that because of course Obi-Wan can't really take care of rescues on top of all his duties.

After the first few times this happens Cody learns to order animal food and other necessities. And if the Republic doesn't fulfill these requests or asks too many questions he'll just have to make sure to organize them on planet during the campaigns.

[harunefrog]

I drew a thing!!! You know this one!!!

[feroluce]

So this ficlet-ish thing was inspired by @hydrachea, nsfw super genius extraordinaire, but also by the fact that in addition to Boothill's left eye being cybernetic, I like to hc even the parts of him that look human aren't fully natural. I mean the dude eats bullets, after all. I think he should also have vents in his mouth so he can literally blow smoke/steam, it would look super cool. Think Father Gascoigne or Studio BONES' Todoroki. We as a fandom deserve that!!

So anyway, of course, sometimes these vents get blocked up and need to be cleaned manually. Thankfully, Dan Heng is super helpful ☆

Like there's one day where Boothill is lazing around in the archives, fresh off a bounty and happily soaking up the luxury of the Astral Express after however long he's spent tracking his prey through all the dust and dirt with almost no rest.

Boothill likes it in the archives. It's not silent, but it's quiet. There's no music and only muffled voices from outside, but there's the hum of all the computer systems. It makes for a nice place to hide away and recharge when he's just finished exhausting himself.

And besides, Dan Heng is there.

Sometimes the two of them talk back and forth, but today it's mostly quiet...except for-

"I didn't know it was possible for you to get sick."

...Except for Boothill having to constantly clear his throat. That's the thing about your mark trying to flee into the desert. You either go after them and get sand everywhere (and even worse, sticky sand once it gets all bloody) or you wuss out and lose out on the bounty. Personally, Boothill likes being able to afford to eat.

"Grit's stuck in a vent somewhere, 'n' the usual maintenance ain't gettin' it. I'll prob'ly have ta manually dig it out." But later, when he's not laid out half asleep on Dan Heng's extra futon. Usually after a chase as long as this one took, he can shut down for almost a full day. He doesn't want to get up yet.

Something shadows over him, and reflex demands Boothill's eye open. Dan Heng steps around him on his way to some drawer built in the wall on the other side of the room or something. Boothill closes his eye again.

From under his hat he hears the sounds of rummaging, drawers sliding open and shut, the swish of a long coat. The shadow returns.

"Sit up, just momentarily. I have something to help." And Boothill groans a tired don't wanna, but he does it anyway, he hauls himself upright into a kneel. And then he sits up a little straighter because he realizes Dan Heng is standing right over him.

Dan Heng tells him "open your mouth," and Boothill's jaw pops open without his permission, without even a second thought, and hey, what protocol in there ok'd THAT?!?!

Before he can really unpack whatever the heck that just was, though, Dan Heng murmurs for him to say so if he needs them to stop, and then he's sliding a long, hard rod down Boothill's throat, tipped with some soft little brush he probably uses for all his fancy archival equipment.

Dan Heng tells him the handle of the brush is straight and can't be bent, he needs to move his head to be able to reach the vent in his throat. Boothill hums affirmatively; he can't do anything else with his mouth occupied.

Dan Heng's free hand holds him by his jaw, tilts it up slowly but firmly so he has to look straight up at him.

Boothill feels dizzy.

The cycle of blue blood through his artificial heart whirrs just a bit faster, his temperature sensor pings an internal alarm to warn for imminent overheating. Boothill curls his fingers into the guard over his knee as Dan Heng carefully brushes at the dust irritating him. All other sounds- the hum of running equipment, the occasional beep from the computers, the noise of the crew outside of this room- seem to pull away, until all Boothill can focus on is the steady and measured breathing from the man above him.

"Almost done."

Thank the aeons, maybe one of them likes him after all.

"Your tongue is in the way... I'm going to hold it down, ok?"

Nevermind.

The fingers holding his jaw curl around his chin, thumb slipping past open lips to dip into his mouth and pin down his tongue. One of his teeth catch on the digit, breaking skin just enough to bleed a drop where he can taste it. Dan Heng doesn't even flinch. Another temperature alarm pings off in his brain, then another, then another.

Boothill has never been shy about eye contact but oh, god, it nearly kills him when dull green irises flick away from their task and look down right at him as his mouth is held open. He quickly squeezes his own eye shut for some relief.

With his vision cut off, the rest of his senses automatically recalibrate to compensate. He can hear every breath even more distinctly now, every soft inhale and exhale, feel the strain in his neck, the softness of the brush, the hard floor beneath his knees, the hand holding his jaw and the fingerprints that feel like they should leave burns in his skin, the taste of Dan Heng heavy on his tongue-

Forget it, eye open, eye open!!

"Alright. There's one last pebble stuck."

Boothill had been trained to endure torture, back on his homeworld. It was part of being in a gang, part of being a bounty hunter.

Somehow, keeping himself quiet and still as Dan Heng inches the brush even further down the back of his throat is a profoundly similar experience.

The seconds tick by, Dan Heng's brow furrowing, face growing ever more concentrated and Boothill struggles not to watch him too closely, fights down the noise that suddenly tries to escape him as the brush withdraws-

"Swallow."

Stars and aeons, Dan Heng is going to be the death of him.

Boothill swallows. He feels it when the movement finally dislodges the loosened pebble from his vent.

His face feels shockingly cold now bereft of touch, even though Dan Heng's hands are always cool. He asks to see, and Boothill's mouth is already open again to show him, even as he belatedly realizes he could have just told him it had worked.

"Good." There's the slightest smile on Dan Heng's lips as he finally, mercifully, leans back out of his personal space, goes to put away the brush. "That should feel better now." Boothill spends a moment dizzy and dazed, feeling the need to blink spots out of his eye even though his vision is clear. He still hasn't moved off his knees.

What the fudge.