#CELESTIAL ECHOES

[grimae]

celestial echoes

[whitewingedcrow]

A tribute to those gone before. 'Nightlights' prompt response for Kytte's Celestial Echoes event on Anathema, and me trying to figure out how to draw in CSP compared to my more familiar SAI. Learning curve + artblock is tough, for sure.

[lgbtqreads]

Most Anticipated LGBTQ+ Young Adult Fiction: July-December 2024

A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman (July 2nd) When Cal Ware wins a scholarship to an elite New England boarding school, he’s thrilled to leave his past behind. Back home in Mississippi, he was the poor, queer kid who never fit in. But at Essex Academy, he’ll be able to reinvent himself. Or so he hopes… But at Essex, Cal’s classmates only see his cheap clothes and old iPhone. They mock his accent,…

[kassycreations]

Brad Tudabone, Echo Julien and Akita are all like “I love my partner.” And their partners are horrors beyond mankind’s comprehension

(This post is about citrus, greenflower and jadewolf)

[purcaholic]

In the gentle wash of watercolor dreams, History whispers softly across time's stream. Pastels bleed in celestial ballet, Where forgotten echoes gracefully sway. A serene dance of moments long gone, Each stroke a memory, each hue a song. In quiet layers, tales unfold, On liquid canvas, stories told.

[corellianhounds]

My Brother’s Keeper

TBB Body Swap AU

Chapter 5: Utility

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Mention of hunting and field dressing game meat.

Summary: The crew investigates their new surroundings and tries to figure out a plan.

Garnatoa was a tidally locked twin planet of a binary satellite system, the eccentric elliptical orbit of the two forcing them to revolve around each other in addition the central star. Its planetary twin, Hutama Nāte, was of equal size and mass, the barycenter of the two somewhere in the precise middle of space between them. Perfectly spaced apart, the two planets moved in mirrored synchrony with one another.

Clone Force 99 had landed on Garnatoa, the lush oceanic planet with several archipelagos ranging from tropical to arctic volcanic ecosystems. It had a warmly-tinged yellow sky and two moons, sparsely spread population groupings, and little of interest besides the tourism and deep-sea fishing trades.

The sky above them now, however, was a stark lavender, had an asteroid band instead of moons, and their chronos did not make sense according to the local time they’d set them to when they landed— It should have been just past dusk, but the sun was instead rising in the east, illuminating scrub brush and cracked desert clay as far as they could see, replacing the coral reefs and pink beaches they’d traversed on their arrival before getting to the temple buried in the thick banyan tree swamp.

“I think,” Tech began, “That we are no longer on Garnatoa.”

“What does that even mean, Tech?”

“It means I suspect the temple we woke up in is the other side of a wormhole, portal, or ancient teleportation system, something of that ilk,” he said. He smacked the side of his datapad, which had luckily survived the earthquake and cave-in but was currently glitching out. “If the concentric rings we awoke in were mirrored because the ones we entered teleported us to an entirely different planet, it’s possible our energy signatures remained in stasis during the transfer, but our atoms were disassembled and reassembled on the opposite side of the hypothetical axis— So we woke up with our consciousnesses in the bodies of the people across from or adjacent to us on accident.” Tech went to shift his goggles, only to realize he wasn’t wearing any. He frowned, but continued. “If it was indeed a sentient-made construction, I expect it was only ever intended to transport one person at a time. Unfortunately I can find no immediate sources that might verify those theories or offer any insight. Considering how significant an event like this is, one would assume it would be well-documented, so it’s possible we may be some of the first to experience it, or the first in centuries.”

“But why did it happen, Tech?” Echo pressed, frustrated. “How do we reverse it?”

Tech shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Bigger question,” Wrecker prompted. “If that was supposed to be the other side of a worm tunnel—”

“Wormhole.”

“— What happens when one side of the tunnel’s collapsed?”

That shut them up. Tech’s brow furrowed; he turned away and began furiously typing on the datapad once again.

Crosshair sat mutely on the ground with his back against a rock. Hunter came over to lean against it, taking a long drink from his canteen and capping it when Crosshair waved off his offer to share. He could only imagine the frustration Crosshair must have felt at being suddenly stripped of a good majority of his skills and assets. Hunter may not have his advanced senses anymore, but he could still carry their gear and wield a gun and keep pace with the group. He was reminded for not the first time of how fragile Omega really was.

Hunter nudged him. “You okay?”

Crosshair slowly tilted his head up and to the side to fix Hunter with an incredulous look. “Am I okay?” He threw his hand up at Tech and Echo’s discussion. “You heard Tech. What about this is okay?”

Hunter grimaced. “Just checking on you.”

“No, you’re checking on Omega,” Crosshair corrected.

“I'm trying to keep tabs on everybody,” Hunter sighed, trying not to let his own frustration bleed through. His armor felt stiff and constrictive. He still had a headache.

“Listen, if we can’t figure out how the swap happened here, we can regroup at the ship and head for an information center—”

“Hunter,” Crosshair cut him off. “You heard Tech. The Marauder is on another planet.”

—

Omega was still reeling from the close call they’d had upon escaping, to say nothing of the fact she’d woken up in a different body. The adrenaline left her shaky, and though she’d been able to keep up with the group and avoid most of the danger on the way out, she’d been so severely winded by the end of it she’d have thought Crosshair to be asthmatic if she didn’t know any better.

It kind of hurt to see Hunter-as-Wrecker talking to Crosshair-as-her past the edge of their group, despite the fact they seemed to be arguing. She knew she didn’t have any right to feel that way and Hunter wasn’t showing any of them any particular favoritism, but he also hadn’t looked at her the same way he normally did. She’d almost felt like a stranger to him, and the rest of her brothers had barely spared her a second’s discussion either. She was used to being an outsider in many ways, but this was different.

Omega stretched and tried to work out the crick in her neck. Inhabiting Crosshair’s self was by far the most bizarre thing she’d ever experienced; she was almost a foot and a half taller and built much differently, with stiff joints, no hair, and calloused hands. His rifle was heavy, but somehow it felt right to be there on her back.

The sun was starting to edge past the sparse clouds and it made her squint. She glanced over at Crosshair, but he seemed unfazed despite the light hitting him and Hunter as equally as it did her. The longer she tried to survey the group, the harder it became to keep from shielding her eyes.

Turning over Crosshair’s helmet in her hands, Omega ducked her head and slipped it on: the tinted visor offered immediate relief and she relaxed, but the movement triggered something in the HUD that lit up on the upper right side of her vision. Curiously, she squinted again and the display split to either side, clearing her view. Her eyes flicked to the left side, but something she did set off two— three commands, and then there were too many readouts stacking up each time she made some subconscious expression, her nose scrunching in irritability until she finally just took it off.

“Stop messing with my gear,” Crosshair hollered at her, peering around Hunter.

“You need prescription lenses, too,” Omega shot back. “Or sunshaders, or something.”

Crosshair’s indignant scoff could be heard over the rest of the chatter and he marched over to grab his helmet from her and fiddle with the controls, locking it down.

“Stop screwing around and leave my things alone,” he muttered acerbically. He tucked the helmet under his arm and paced away. “Go make yourself useful.”

Hunter barked Crosshair’s name, but Crosshair’s scowl and biting demand stung nonetheless. Omega hunched over her knees, one heel impatiently bouncing against the ground as Hunter argued with him at a distance.

—

With the revelation of their lack of transport, Hunter quickly mapped out a game plan for finding immediate provisions first, followed by finding some sense of civilization and means offworld. Tech sorted through some spare parts and began working on a quick drone to give them an eye in the sky and an idea of any potential settlements nearby. He had assured them that the holocom towers they’d seen in the distance had to be maintained regularly in an arid environment such as that one, but it was anybody’s guess how far any town was from the next marker on the grid; Wrecker reluctantly set out with one of the grappling hooks and Tech’s scanner to get up to the service platform of the closest tower and gather more intel at Tech’s behest. Omega, the only one able and available to sift through Tech’s more delicate equipment and offer tools as needed, helped him; Echo and Hunter were too busy scouting for a water source and potential landmarks that might lead them to a main road or evidence of town. All four of the brothers declined her offer to be of more help, and Crosshair was restlessly pacing along the edge of the boulders now blocking the entrance to the temple caves.

Omega had tried to offer him lunch around midday and Tech tried to involve him in their strategizing, but Crosshair waved the two of them off before finally picking up Omega’s energy bow and muttering something about target practice. Omega’s irritation with his attitude was starting to distract her, and as much as she wanted to eat she just didn’t feel hungry herself. She’d hollered for him to keep his comlink on, and Tech kept her occupied for a better part of the hour as they finished jury-rigging the drone and setting a flight pattern.

Crosshair ground his teeth together, trekking through the wilderness. The energy bow hummed in his hand and he eventually found an ideal vantage point: a tree growing out of some boulders with enough branches to provide cover as well as somewhere steady to sit and watch.

Each attempt to climb the boulder ended in frustration though; try as he might he couldn’t jump high enough to get a decent handhold and the rock was too smooth to gain any traction.

With steadily mounting anger he affixed the bow to his back, swiped the hair out of his eyes, and dug around in Omega’s satchel until he found her work gloves. He pulled them on and dug his hands into the crevices between the boulders, wedging his shoes into footholds and stubbornly forcing himself to muscle through the pain and exertion until he arrived at the top.

Panting but finally finding a perch, Crosshair settled in and unslung the energy bow, waiting.

They’d been in dire straits before with little to nothing at their disposal as far as solutions were concerned, but they’d always managed to improvise and adapt. This, however, this might be the one thing he wouldn’t be able to get over and hit the ground running with: how do you go from being one of the Republic’s greatest technological advancements in bioengineering and organic weaponry—

Back to being a child? One with no exceptional survival skills or preternatural abilities? A big reason why Omega had survived this long was because the squad protected and helped her. As far as he was aware, Omega was considered a defective clone solely because she was female. The fact she didn’t follow orders and frequently found ways to pull the lot of them into even more trouble was just a bonus.

No rifle. No armor. Not his own voice, his own hands, his strength, his ability to keep up. His equipment. His dignity. Not even his own boots.

With a scowl, Crosshair fired off a shot at four-hundred yards, satisfied when the buzzard he was aiming for fell from the tree and plopped to the ground in a bit of smoke.

Though he’d been desperate for an hour of silence back in the cave, Crosshair was now finding it hard to clear his head of anything but their current circumstances. He wiped the sweat off his brow and continued to scan for wildlife, irritated every time he had to again move Omega’s hair out of his eyes. His grip on the bow felt too thin, the weight of it heavier than it should be, and though he could force his hands to keep it steady, he felt he had to devote more focus to that than he should have. Every movement served to remind him of exactly how much he was not himself.

Another bolt of light sailed off into the distance, hitting something that looked like a midsize, short-eared rabbit. Crosshair made a note of where it fell and scanned for more.

—

Wrecker and Hunter were the first to return by the time Tech’s drone had located what was thankfully a large industrial center on the far side of a canyon gulch. Wrecker’s intel verified that it was both advanced enough to have a few starports and that they’d probably be able to barter passage aboard one of the shuttles, and Echo had managed to scout out a decent location that could serve as camp for the night in the direction of the canyon. Hunter surveyed the men, frowning.

“Where’s Crosshair?”

“He left around midday,” Tech said, still fiddling with his datapad. “He mentioned something about “target practice.”

“You let him go by himself?” Hunter asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious— Tech it’s been three hours since then, we have no idea what’s out here!”

“He took the lightbow,” Omega said uneasily. “He should be okay, right?”

“You two were willing to gamble your safety on that alone?” he asked her. “Omega, you’re— He has no guarantee something won’t get the drop on him, or that he won’t get hurt just navigating the environment. We barely escaped a cave-in caused by an earthquake.”

“A minor earthquake,” Tech reasoned, setting aside his equipment to stand and face Hunter. “If I thought him incapable I wouldn’t have let him go, though I seriously doubt I could have stopped him anyway. Omega’s gear is in good condition, he has a field kit, he was adept with a vibroblade even when he was her age—”

“You gave him a vibroblade?”

“Well. Yes.”

“To be fair, Hunter,” Echo interjected, “Crosshair would’ve gotten his hands on one at some point.”

“Omega doesn’t have the same armor we do,” Hunter seethed. “And in case it’s escaped your notice, she isn’t as tall as we are, either— It isn’t an insult to him or Omega to say he can’t run or fight the same way he used to, and if something were to happen—”

“Problem?”

The five of them turned. The kid came into view from the direction of the rock formations, and as she— he approached, they all straightened in shock.

Crosshair’s sleeves were rolled up, one hand carrying the lightbow down by his side and the other carrying a thin branch over his shoulder with half a dozen rock conies hanging from it, shot, split, and drained. The green wood bowed under the weight of the catch, and both of Crosshair’s bare hands were covered in the crimson evidence of his handiwork up to his mid-forearms. Though his expression was serious and unwavering, it didn’t appear as though he’d heard their discussion; Hunter imagined he would’ve just thrown the knife at his boot to make a point if that were the case.

Wrecker leaned over to Hunter, nodding at Crosshair’s haul and whispering loudly, “Isn’t that your job?”

Crosshair turned to Echo. “You find any water?”

“Yeah,” Echo replied. He couldn’t stop staring, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. “We’re planning to pack up and head that way. Five kilometers due east with even terrain. Should be able to get there in an hour and set up camp.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

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[captain-jalapeno]

A scene from my dnd group. They kept getting hypnotized by an arch fae, so my little barbarian bird had to literally carry them away

[zenogram]

In a realm of whispered ages, through low poly dreams, Geometric echoes dance in tranquil streams, Ancient tales unfold beneath a celestine sky, Where time's soft brush strokes weave the past awry. Polygonal shadows of forgotten lore, Stand in stillness, as memories softly soar, Mountains of history, in delicate mint hues, Cradle the echoes of civilizations' muse.

[spaced-out-muses]

Yanqing has never looks so defeated, not even after he’s lost a duel. There is no light left in those golden eyes. They are a chasm of resignation.

“Hey Yunli, how hard do you think you can hit me with Old Mettle without lopping my head off?”

Honestly, even that sounds tempting to the distraught lieutenant at the moment.

@celestial-sword-dance

Hearing "hit me" and "Old Mettle" come from Yanqing's mouth was all the young sword huntress needed to hear, the rest of her berryphesant skewer being scarfed down at light-speed.

"I'm surprised, usually the great master swordsman of the Luofu complains about my technique."

Yunli cocks her head up at him—much to her annoyance, she should lop his knees off instead—arms crossing, a hand coming up to rest under her chin. "Pretty hard," she eventually says. "I doubt there's much to damage in there anyway. What, do you wanna test that theory out or something?"

[rhythmicreverie]

In distant lands, where time's embrace has worn thin, A soul of ancient origin finds its fate entwined with the fabric of two worlds. In the age of chivalry, knights and maidens dance upon the stage of history, while in the realm of stars, celestial beings weave stories of the cosmos. A transformation takes place, as destiny unites them in a harmonious waltz between past and future. Time's echoes sing their song, bridging realms, forging memories that shall last through the ages.

[toa-arania]

OC Masterpost

Since the first one is outdated but I wanted to keep the information in it available, it's time for a sequel~! As with the last one, this is a collection of information about my little brain people that I like to draw and talk about, specifically ones who are currently active. Since these characters are active, I'll easily be able to answer asks both about and addressed to them, and this should serve as a quick reference point for if I mention any of them without other context. This time I've also embedded links to image references in their names so I can have those without cluttering the post.

Valerie Wester (Val) (She/Her), a Witch for Rifters (Monsterhearts), the hot mess express herself, the oc I talk about the most here in my #val stories tag. Poster girl for women's wrongs and fucking around. Evil bisexual and monsterfucker on main. Absolutely convinced she's the voice of reason while being the single most unhinged person she knows. Down bad for a werewolf with no idea how to handle it.

Echo of Starlight (She/Her), a drow Bard for Arctera: the Starlight Paradox (D&D), who's honestly just here for a good time. She sings, she tells stories, she has severe memory issues and difficulty in distinguishing dreams from reality, and she sparkles~! Her solution to most problems is being where the problem isn't, which often involves turning invisible and sneaking away.

Alison Whitby (She/Her), a Necromancer for the Lost Soul Chronicles (D&D) who specialises in Osteomancy and is a fairly direct Locked Tomb reference. A half-lich created by an egotistical wizard to be his successor, she aims to become the greatest necromancer of her generation through the power of bone constructs, impromptu surgery, and daddy issues.

Harper Lewis (She/Her), a Godbinder for DIE who has been turned from a human into a tiefling by the magic of isekai and is unashamedly into it (average transwoman behaviour tbh). She's made fast friends with the god of Trickery and plans to make that everyone else's problem. She once nearly got disbarred for making her opponent cry in court.

Camilla Asche (Cam) (She/Her), a Blood Hunter for Curse of Strahd (D&D) who is being kept alive by celestial magic after a Too Angry To Die moment. After failing to save her ward when falling into Ravenloft, she is dead set on making sure no one else fucking dies under her watch, even if that means she has to burn through the magic holding her body together to save them.

Ilia Celestis (She/Her), a tengu Sorcerer for Zephyrnos (D&D) who has been sent by her people to sort of spy on the organisation exploring this "new" land. The people who used to live their accidentally wiped themselves out through hubris, and Ilia is here to make sure they fucking stay wiped out. She uses the magic of storms, and her pride has got her into far too many stupid situations.

Aurora Zephuros (She/Her), a pirate I play in D&D oneshots. She isn't linked to any particular setting and most times I play her are one-off events, so the philosophy of "fuck it, it's a oneshot" runs strong in her playstyle. Aurora's MO is to be hot and swordfight and she does it so well. Even aside from those, she has a few extra tricks up her sleeve for when she needs a little more gaslight with her girlboss.

I have several more characters just hanging out in my brain, who will get added to this post if they become active enough to warrant it.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Listen. Probably my favorite thing about The Terror is that because the story is one planned out season, the arcs and parallel scenes are set up so cleanly and nicely that it echos.

[emphyrean-paracosm]

Their hands gently run through your scalp a stark contrast to the fierce anger that you had just seen from them when they hit the person who dared to cause you pain. How they could be so sweet to you yet hurt another person with no regret was baffling. Still, you relaxed in their touch trying not to cry. While they hummed a lullaby from when they were young into your ear attempting to let you gain some rest while they protected you. As you fell asleep they gave you a promise "I'll always protect you my love you are my only reason."

-Menedora, Alaric, kosuke.

[dozing-hellfire]

dnd oc doodles

[josephkravis]

Ethereal Echoes: The Angel's Journey Through Life's Cosmic Heavens

The richness of human experience, symbols and metaphors reveal profound truths.

Unveiling the Angelic Metaphor The Angel in Our Midst: More Than a Celestial Being The richness of human experience, symbols and metaphors reveal profound truths. Among these, the image of the angel stands out—not just as a religious icon, but as a metaphor for life’s complexities. This exploration delves into the angel as a reflection of life itself: elusive, multifaceted, and…