#an iridescent nebula

[raccoonfallsharder]

Just checking in that you are taking care of yourself and getting plenty of rest. You deserve the moons of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn.

during 2020 we started putting out big trays of birdseed on our balcony. and tuna and fruit for our local crows. we ended up becoming a weird community space. we get blue jays, cardinals, chickadees, crows, squirrels - all at the same time, eating together. once, a clearly domesticated parakeet that had escaped someone’s house and made a new home with a flock of sparrows. the cardinals and corvids eventually brought their babies (baby birds who are being made to eat their own food for the first time are LOUD.) since then we’ve had three generations of crows who are comfortable enough to let me sit with them on the balcony while they eat & i drink my tea. our particular flock usually comes back from march to august. everytime, i am so excited to see my little family. i can’t tell you the feeling i get when they come back for the season.

but it’s similar to how i feel when i get a message or a comment from you

you are so sweet and thoughtful. thank you for checking in. i know it doesn’t look like it but i am easing up! blackmail material is the only thing ill be working on this weekend. maybe i’ll do another kinktober prompt on the 25th. but i promise i am being good. i went to bed at a semi-reasonable hour last night and everything! and im just putting less pressure on myself which honestly makes the most difference

thank you, my dear friend, for being so good to me ♡

[genzerosity]

Atmospheric Anomaly.

[veluigi]

stunning!!

曜変天目茶碗、藤田美術館、大阪

yōhen tenmoku chawan from the Fujita Museum (Osaka) collection

Southern Song, 12th-13th century; National Treasure of Japan

[ravensuperr]

Gotham baby mystery part 8

The Council Room stood as a marvel beyond mortal comprehension, a grand architectural masterpiece that made even the Palace of Versailles seem like a quaint relic by comparison. Its sheer scale was overwhelming, stretching endlessly in all directions, held together by celestial forces beyond time and space. The very walls appeared woven from the fabric of the cosmos, shifting subtly with the endless dance of stars and nebulae, their light casting an ethereal glow that pulsed with the heartbeat of the multiverse itself.

Towering columns of pure, shimmering crystal supported the vast, vaulted ceiling, adorned with constellations that shifted and reconfigured according to the will of the Council. The ceiling was no mere structure but a living tapestry of time—a constantly evolving mural capturing the past, present, and glimpses of possible futures. Gold and silver filigree traced intricate patterns along the room’s edges, forming forgotten runes and divine symbols that hummed with power, shifting as discussions unfolded.

The floor was a seamless expanse of obsidian, polished to such perfection that it reflected everything above like a divine mirror. Each step taken echoed softly, reverberating with the weight of destiny pressing upon all who walked its sacred surface. At the chamber’s center stood a colossal round table of iridescent stone, its colors shifting as if imbued with the essence of countless realms. Around it sat thrones of varied designs, each representing the might and majesty of those who occupied them—some sculpted from celestial fire, others woven from the golden threads of fate, and some carved from the bones of ancient deities long passed.

At the head of the room loomed the grand podium, an intricate construct of timeworn brass and enchanted marble, from which Clockwork presided over the meetings. Behind him, a towering stained-glass window depicted the endless cycle of creation and destruction, shifting subtly with the rise and fall of civilizations. When the light struck it just right, it cast ever-changing murals upon the chamber walls, displaying visions of events that shaped existence itself.

This was the sanctum where gods, demons, ancient ghosts, and cosmic entities convened—a place where fate itself was debated and rewritten. Only when the fabric of reality stood on the brink of collapse did they gather, their voices echoing through eternity as they sought to steer the course of the multiverse, lest all fall into oblivion.

The Box Ghost had never seen anything so breathtaking in his entire afterlife.

He was so overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur that he barely noticed the presence beside him—until a voice, clear and tinged with amusement, snapped him out of his daze.

“Hey, Boxy. You’re drooling.”

He jolted, blinking rapidly as he turned toward the speaker.

Serenity floated beside him, arms crossed, her magenta eyes shimmering with quiet amusement. In her ghost form, she was the very embodiment of hope—a celestial presence flickering between realms like the first rays of dawn piercing an eternal night.

Her knee-length, inky-black hair, styled into two high, elegant pigtails, cascaded in waves that shimmered with faint, iridescent highlights as she moved. Strands of energy curled at the ends, subtly shifting like mist caught in the wind, infused with an otherworldly cyan glow as though woven from the very essence of the Ghost Zone itself. A faint, luminescent aura surrounded her, causing her silhouette to flicker slightly, as though she existed between existence and infinity.

Her attire balanced celestial grace with battle-ready resilience.

The Box Ghost hastily straightened, flailing slightly in his attempt to appear composed. “I-I was just… uh… admiring the architecture!” he declared, puffing up his chest as if that would salvage his dignity.

Serenity smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “This is a very important meeting! I have to be focused!”

Serenity gave him a playful nudge. “Then maybe stop gawking like a tourist. The Council’s about to start.”

The Box Ghost swallowed hard—again, purely for effect. Right. The Council. The most powerful beings in existence were about to decide the fate of the multiverse, and somehow, he was a part of it.

No pressure.

The Great Council Convenes: A Threat Unveiled

The air inside the Infinite Council Chamber was thick with power. The very fabric of reality seemed to hum as divine beings, demons, city spirits, eldritch entities, and never-born ghosts gathered under one roof—something that had not happened in centuries.

They filled the vast chamber, seated in rings of floating platforms that hovered in concentric circles above the center stage, where Clockwork, the Master of Time, stood as the meeting’s overseer.

The gathering was monumental. Lucifer himself was present, seated beside the spectral rulers of forgotten cities. Heavenly beings clad in radiant armor stood near shadowy figures whose forms defied mortal understanding. Gods and goddesses of multiple pantheons—some rarely seen outside their own domains—had heeded the call.

This wasn’t just a meeting.

This was something far greater.

One seat remained empty—the throne of the Infinite Realms' ruler, left vacant for centuries. And for good reason.

Pariah Dark, the Tyrant King, once ruled the Infinite Realms with an iron fist, his influence stretching across multiple realms. His reign left scars that never fully faded, and even now, the aftermath of the battle that sealed him away lingers like a wound refusing to heal.

And that was why they were all here.

Clockwork’s voice rang through the chamber, his expression unreadable. “Vortex, your report.”

The Security Threat: Vortex’s Report

A deep rumble echoed as Vortex, stepped forward. His presence alone sent winds howling through the chamber, though they never reached past his immediate space. The flickering torches dimmed slightly as his glowing eyes surveyed the gathered council.

“The Sarcophagus remains sealed,” he began. “However, the castle and its defenses have not been updated in centuries. What once deterred intruders during Pariah Dark’s reign is now… laughably outdated.”

A murmur ran through the assembly.

“The detection systems are primitive. The barriers have eroded in some places. We must reinforce them before someone with enough power or knowledge exploits these weaknesses.”

Fright Knight’s name was mentioned, but before concerns could be raised, Eris, the goddess of discord, cut in with a lazy smirk.

“The Fright Knight?” she repeated, twirling a lock of hair. “Still stuck in that ridiculous pumpkin. And his sword? Still sealed. No danger from him.”

A few present exhaled in relief, but the tension remained. If security around the sarcophagus and the Infinite Palace was this weak, what other dangers could be lurking?

Vortex’s tone darkened. “We need immediate reinforcement of every level of security. If something were to go wrong…” He let the implication hang.

The Eyewitness: Box Ghost Speaks

Clockwork shifted his gaze to another figure—one not normally given much regard.

The Box Ghost.

Many present barely concealed their skepticism. Yet, the usually bumbling specter did not appear his normal, ridiculous self. His glow was dim, his hands uncharacteristically still.

When he spoke, his voice lacked its usual comedic bluster. Instead, it was grave.

“I saw it.”

Silence.

“I was there when the disturbance happened. I saw the girl enter the portal. I saw her die.”

More murmurs, but none dismissed his words outright.

“She should have crossed over,” he continued, glancing uneasily toward Clockwork. “But something forced her back. Something held onto her. I saw her body flicker between life and death.”

The celestial beings exchanged glances. A hybrid…?

The Box Ghost clenched his fists. “And the location of this? It is just a normal human city.” The room stirred with unrest. A few figures whispered among themselves, alarmed that it wasn’t the government or any cult that caused the rift—it was just a "normal" family.

Serenity’s Revelation: The Blueprints of the Rift

The energy shifted as Serenity, the never-born Ghost of Hope, stepped forward.

Her magenta eyes glowed as she lifted her hand. A set of glowing blueprints materialized before her—designs she had recovered from the human realm.

"When the Box Ghost and I crossed over through the portal, we discovered it was located inside a lab—specifically in the basement of a house. That’s when we realized that someone had built this gateway within their own home. As we explored the surrounding area, we found it was just a normal, medium-sized city dealing with significant electrical issues. However, I can’t say with certainty whether those issues were caused by the activation of the portal or if something else was at play."

The portal wasn’t a natural gateway to the Infinite Realms. It was something built.”

The tension doubled.

She pointed at the activation mechanism. "‘The ‘on’ button wasn’t on the outside—it was built inside the machine, inside the man-made portal.”

A few present frowned, confusion and anger flashing across their faces. They knew something was wrong—the natural portals to the Infinite Realms appeared regularly, but they didn’t cause this level of destruction. Ghost portals weren’t meant to function like this, and Serenity’s words only confirmed their worst fears. The Council members braced themselves, none of them eager to hear what she was going to say next.

Serenity continued, her voice sharp with certainty. “The girl—she touched the 'on' button. The moment her hand made contact, the portal activated. But this wasn’t just any portal—it was a man-made gateway to the Infinite Realms. And because it was forcing itself through the dimensional fabric, cutting through the very barriers between realms, it caused a massive disturbance. A disruption that rippled across the Infinite Realms and reached into the homes of those present here in the Council room.”

Nocturne’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in them. “Are you implying what I think you're implying? If so, just say it.”

Serenity met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “Yes. This wasn’t some random accident. This was deliberate. The portal was designed to be a gateway to the Infinite Realms—crafted to breach the dimensional wall. And right now, I’m not sure if it can ever be closed.”

The atmosphere in the chamber grew thick with tension. It felt as though the very air itself was suffocating, so heavy that it seemed as though a knife could cut through it, yet the weight of the revelation still hung in the air, unresolved.

The Weight of the Revelation

Clockwork was silent for a long moment. He had already known what had occurred—but now, everyone in the chamber knew.

The implications were staggering.

A human-made machine had successfully created an open portal to the Infinite Realms. The event had resulted in creating a Halfa No cults or government involvement.

Before Clockwork could give his verdict and decide the path forward, he paused. His glowing eyes flickered with something unreadable as he turned toward the grand doors of the council chamber.

“It seems there is one more voice to be heard.”

The massive, ornate doors groaned open.

And, just like that, everything shifted as John Constantine walked in.

[rabbit-flaying]

Humanity's Collector

Genres: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Content Warnings: Dehumanization, Kidnapping, Casual Violence, Claustrophobia, Mild Cosmic Horror

Note: I want to get back to positing my writing on Tumblr. Maybe someone will recognize this. Probably not.

"Gosh you're pretty," Glade cooed, its voice sounding a bit like Harlow's mother, a bit like a brook, and a bit like paper being crumpled up and cast aside.

Harlow looked around desperately. For he had to find escape from the strange realm he had woken in. All manner of miscellany took up space in the void around him. It looked like a storage closet, if every storage closet in the world were connected together, and the possessions of kings and paupers alike were granted permission to socialize.

He ignored Glade and stood from his wicker chair, quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the realm and number of objects held within it.

Above him the color white stretched out into infinitum. True white, not the dirty kind found in snow and house paint. It hurt his head, making his temples throb and blood vessels contract, so he looked away from it.

"Where am I?" Harlow demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glade," it answered. "You're in my home."

Harlow made the mistake of eye contact. Glade's eyes shone with the light of galaxies, a dazzling rainbow of nebulae, planets, and suns. The entirety of the universe, and many more beyond it, seemed tucked away within the perfectly spherical marbles buried in the putty-like flesh of its glowing face.

He finally broke away from the hypnotic sight, his puny brain unable to handle the visions within. How much time had passed, every one of his neurons firing at once in an attempt to process the cosmos of Glade's eyes? Seconds? Minutes? Hours, even?

He needed answers, yet he did not know the right questions. Glade didn't seem human, instead a creature from a story book. And this monolithic hoard couldn't possibly be real.

"Your home?" he asked in a strangled sort of voice, staring pointedly at the patch of ebony wood ground he stood upon.

"I'm a collector," Glade explained, running their sharp nails, painted with glitter and adorned with scraps of emeralds, through Harlow's silky hair.

"What do you collect, exactly?"

Harlow watched a glittering blue beetle crawl across the ground, finding a hiding spot underneath a red and purple feathered ball gown displayed on a copper mannequin.

"All sorts of things," Glade said, flapping its hands wildly in a mimicry of human excitement. "Your world is fascinating. I remember when your kind learned how to create fire and tame animals. You have grown so much since then. I needed to have one of you for my own. Your creations are not enough any more."

Harlow carefully took in Glade's appearance, avoiding its hypnotic eyes. Despite its alien nature- as clear to Harlow as it would have been to his ancestors as they huddled around campfires concocting stories to explain their world- it chose to appear humanoid, though not precisely human.

Glade was the kind of thing that would hide in a child's closet, and speak to them in a parental fashion, loathing the knowledge that the child would never be believed no matter how loudly they spoke of its existence.

Its iridescent skin glimmered, changing colors with every movement, no matter how slight, as stunning light produced by the void poured over its body. Its proportions sat beyond the human view of normal, uncanny like an airbrushed model, but far more monstrous. Behind its smiling lips were two rows of porcelain and copper teeth, slicing perfectly through its pale gray gums.

Delicate jewelry of book pressed flowers and dragonfly wings adorned its warped elven ears. It was clad in a fur cape, the stitched together pelts of numerous small animals, fur colors clashing and asymmetrical. Its heels, as thin as sewing needles and seemingly impossible to walk on, granted half a foot of height to their seven-foot frame.

"Don't worry," Glade continued. "I'll take care of you. I've been collecting humanity's creations for millenia. You may use what you find around you to its fullest extent."

"I want to go home," Harlow said, finally realizing that this was not a dream that could be banished away by opening his eyes and pouring himself a cup of black coffee mixed with salt. "Please let me go. I'm sure there's someone who would love to be here. But I like my life on earth."

"But I wanted you."

Glade hugged Harlow tightly, mimicking how it had observed humans comforting one another. Its skin had none of Harlow's warmth, and he found this hug as uncomfortable as cuddling with a marble statue would have been, if he had ever been bold enough to break the omnipresent rule of not touching museum exhibits.

Harlow closed his eyes. "I have to be dreaming," he said, his lie cloaked in a defeated sort of tone. "This can't be real."

"Of course this isn't real," Glade said, holding its newest acquisition out at arm's length. "But it isn't a dream either. You are within my home, far outside of your universe."

"Please send me back. I don't know why I'm here, or how, but I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Glade said. "It's easy. I will take care of you, and you will be my plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Harlow broke away from Glade, and took off walking. There had to be an exit. Everything had an exit, whether it be a school or a church or a corner shop. The exits were always there, saddened as they were that so many people were afraid to break the rules and only took advantage of their ability to leave at certain appointed hours.

The void still seemed to stretch on into infinity, swelling larger and larger the farther and farther Harlow walked. But everything had an end if you traveled far enough to find it. Even the deserts that passed past any human line of sight and the mountains that seemed too high to ever climb over.

But now Harlow was applying rules from his original plane of existence to the alien one he had been so rudely whisked away to. And that was very foolish indeed.

"No, that doesn't sound nice," he said angrily, as Glade easily matched his pace, wearing a concerned expression it had stolen from a grandparent not too long ago. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave. Because I didn't steal you. The original Harlow Finch Echowood is still in his home, playing solitaire and chatting away to his cat. You belong here with me."

Harlow stopped in his tracks, sitting down on an ancient jeweled throne. It had held countless kings before him, but he respected them not, only using their seat to keep from collapsing in shock.

Glade smiled. "We are going to have so much fun, and no one will ever know you to be here. Come now, I have food prepared for you."

"I can't eat your food," Harlow argued, remembering what he had learned from a book that lived in his elementary school library. It had worn a shiny green cover, and the name Susan Macintosh was written inside the front cover before his own. "I'd never be able to leave if I did that."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for some of my cousins," Glade said. "You will eat, or you will starve. And you're never leaving because you belong to me. It doesn't matter what you choose to do."

Harlow stood up, his dizziness replaced with a red-hot temper. "I hate you! Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

Glade looked deeply wounded, but Harlow knew within the depths of his very soul, that it was only mimicry of human emotion.

"I couldn't send you back, even if I wanted to. Then there would be two Harlow Finch Echowoods trying to live your singular and unique life."

"I don't believe you. I'm still me. I still remember my life."

"You are an exact duplication of the original Harlow Finch Echowood. You have the same soul and the same mind and the same DNA. Of course you still remember."

With every passing moment, Harlow's belief in Glade's words only grew. Any attempt to fight against them was snuffed out by diluted logic and the omnipresent knowledge that he was still alive. He breathed. Blood rushed through his veins. More importantly, his mind continued to produce thoughts and feelings to process the outside world.

"Just combine us again or something," Harlow begged. "I want to go home. I never asked to be brought here."

"I cannot combine nor reconstruct nor mend. I can only make copies of beautiful things, and things not quite so beautiful."

Glade spread its arms, gesturing to its hoard of human objects collected in centuries long past. The treasures of every empire ever risen and fallen was present, both the spectacular and the mundane side by side in a discordant visual melody.

"Why me?" Harlow asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You speak as though this is a punishment. I have simply added you to my collection." It flicked the tears from his face, scratching him with its nail. "Now come, I have made you good food."

Glade gripped Harlow's arm and dragged him far away, weaving throughout its collection at a brisk and even pace, avoiding falling into the gaps between pieces of floor, which only infinitum laid below.

Soon enough, they came upon a small 1950s era kitchen. Two marble counters, a dirty stove, and a teacup filled sink formed a corner tucked away between a row of unplugged televisions and a huge crooked stalagmite growing from the polished tile floor.

Glade opened the oven and pulled out a pan of fresh bread. Its hands were bare, but unburnt by the hot metal dish. It grabbed a knife from one of the many drawers and cut through the bread without displacing a single crumb, before laying the slice out on a neon green plate.

"Eat while it's still hot," Glade said with a bright smile. It was a well used expression by those of Harlow's time who prepared meals for other humans, and it planned to repeat it often.

In its time spent with Harlow, its teeth had dulled significantly, and its gums had taken on a pale shade of pink. Why it had not mimicked a perfect human before meeting Harlow was beyond him, and it seemed perfectly capable of warping its appearance to become more like him.

He reluctantly tried the seed filled bread, finding it to be heavenly and soft. Faerie food or not, he scarfed it down, suddenly famished beyond all reason.

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I have much food. It is scattered about my home, and easy to find if you look. It never spoils, so you may feast on it as you please."

Harlow sighed, and clambered up to sit on the counter. An act of rebellion his twelve year old self would have been proud of, even if Glade didn't give him the smallest sliver of annoyance, having no understand of manners itself.

"I'm really never leaving…" he said, his voice like a half-deflated party balloon still adored by a kid who refused point blank to throw it in the trash. "If that's it then, what happens when you get bored of me?"

"I never get bored of my playthings."

"How big is this place? Is it a universe, or a realm, or a room in some alien mansion?" Harlow thought these reasonable enough questions, considering his circumstances.

"An infinite pocket dimension," Glade replied. "If you travel far enough, my collection begins to grow thin. There is a boundary of where my possessions lie, and after that is the abyss. It is nearly impossible to find one's way back from nothingness."

"I hate it here," Harlow said, as though he had not made this feeling quite clear before. "I want to be around other people. Not you."

"I will bring you some," Glade promised. "Allow me a few minutes to collect them. You shall have a companion, as all humans crave, or more than one if it suits your fancy."

Harlow froze, debating his own morality versus the loneliness soon to bloom from this isolation. How could he allow more people to be stuck in this horrible purgatory of preserved humanity, just so he could have someone to talk to? The truth? He couldn't bear it. At least, not yet.

"No," he begged, the first tears ever created in this pocket dimension blooming in his eyes. "Please, don't put anyone else through this. I'll be good. I won't complain. I promise."

"Oh, how you confuse me." Something odd bloomed over Glade's face, a poor mimicry of a half-understood human emotion. "I see… Come along then."

Harlow hopped off the counter and followed Glade as it walked under a vast canopy of safety pinned together curtains fashioned from every familiar fabric and exotic cloth created by the hands of humanity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Glade called in a sing-song voice. "I've brought a new trinket. This one can talk, so I'm sure you'll like it."

People approached Glade and Harlow from the shadows. Well, not people, exactly. They were like Glade, monstrous and wonderful, stepping straight from a story book and into Harlow's waking nightmare. There stood more figures than Harlow could keep track of, intent on viewing the treasure Glade had discovered.

"I finally brought a human home," Glade said proudly, if such a being were capable of pride. "Isn't it just a doll?"

Harlow flinched as numerous hands and insect-like feelers crept over his body, Glade's companions examining him all too closely. He felt as though he had jumped into those foam pits he had so loved as a young child, touched in all directions yet floating in oddly empty space.

"Get off of me," he demanded, forgetting his promise not to complain as he shoved the nearest figure away. "Stop it. I said stop!"

Harlow tried to break free of them, pushing and shoving, even striking at them with closed fists and elbows. But he was pulled back, the creatures murmuring in appreciation on how bizarrely Glade's newest acquisition behaved.

"Stop touching me," Harlow cried. "Please. I hate being crowded. What are you doing?"

"What is it doing?" the specter asked. It brought its freezing yet intangible hand to Harlow's face, as though to seize his tears.

"That is so weird," another remarked, clicking its pincers in an oddly specific pattern.

The different figures murmured to each other, formulating explanations.

"Is it because we're touching it?"

"It's water… I think."

"He's crying," Glade explained, flapping its hands in mimicry of human excitement. "It means it's upset. Isn't it the most delightful thing?"

"I hate you," Harlow said thickly, as tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You are so repetitive," Glade remarked, before perfectly imitating Harlow's voice. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home."

Harlow finally relented. As the nightmarish figures poked and prodded him, discussing him amongst each other, he only hoped that they would soon grow bored and move on to newer shinier pursuits.

How could he stand to do this for the rest of eternity?

[kirby-souljourney-au]

ʚ♡That’s the name you should know! ♡ɞ

Kirby again! Behold our little man!

I love his new armour….. kid’s fitted out!! :)

(This has actually been done for a while, I’ve just been forgetting to write their information… oops.)

Info & hex codes under the cut!

Full name: Kirby Argon

Aliases: ‘Puff’, ‘Pink Demon’ (they don’t understand that one)

Species: Soul-Matter / Heart-Matter Astral

Planet of Origination: Unknown, but he considers Popstar his birthplace

Age: 14

Height: 6’3”

Gender: Biologically intersex; identifies as Transmasculine & Agender

Pronouns: He/Him/His, They/Them/Theirs

Sexuality: Aroace

S/O: None

Family: Ione Argon (adoptive father), Galacta Iriam (adoptive parent), Hara Arachi (step-mother), Auberon Ivi (adoptive uncle) (their biological parents are unknown, and most likely dead.)

A young Knight-in-training, born to protect Gamble Galaxy.

The adopted son of Ione Argon and Galacta Iriam; they adopted him together when he was 6, the same age he was when he was given official citizenship in Dreamland.

Landed on Planet Popstar in a specially-designed Starship as an infant, approximated to be about 2 months old upon arrival. It is unknown where they were actually born, but evidence suggests it was somewhere in Gamble Galaxy — likely in one of the Wonder System’s neighbouring Solar Systems.

The kindest soul Popstar has ever seen, and capable of befriending quite literally anyone and anything. He is very well-known across the Galaxy as a symbol of purity and love; some even go as far as to define him as a Demigod of such things. That isn’t necessarily true, though — even still, they are an incredibly powerful Astral, wielding the rarest form of Astral magic known to exist, Copy Magic. He is also capable of forming Radiant Heart Spears at will.

Has lived in Dreamland for their whole life, not counting the couple months they spent in their Starship. Throughout his life, he’s developed a great fondness for food, play, naps, and above all — friendship.

Their weapon of choice is always varying, as they use Copy Abilities fitting to any given situation. His favourite Abilities are Sword and Fire, and he uses those most frequently, but he’ll still use all other Copy Abilities he has on hand when they’re needed (or when he feels like it). They also sometimes go without any Copy Ability, instead using Sparkling Stars as natural weapons.

Hex codes

Fur — #FF9DC8 (base) | #FFF0F4 (fade 1) | #D6357C (fade 2) | #FFE5F0 (inner ears)

Horns — #FFBF90

Eyes — #0005CFF (iris) | #E6EFFF (sclera)

Wings — #D66D9A (covert 1, front & back) | #F39FC2 (covert 2, front) | #FFD4E6 (covert 3, front) | #FFF5F9 (flight, front - iridescent) | #B5507B (covert 2, back) | #8E2754 (flight, back - nebula pattern same colour)

Blood — #FFA991 (glitter same colour + soft light)

Shirt — #FFD9B4

Sweatpants — #A6C6FF

Crystal Necklace — #DF1111 (ribbon base) | #FFF2F2 (ribbon stripe) | #8F45EE, #3B77F4, #6CA7FF, #94EFB6 (shard)

Jewellery — #CACACA (earrings & chains) | #FFBA69 (star earring) | #FF69AB (heart earring & heart charms)

Warp Star — #FFBA6C (glitter same colour + soft light)

Armour — #FFCFEC (base) | #FFB79F (pale-gold accents - glitter same colour) | #FFBB83 (yellow accents) | #FF438A (pink accents) | #3B1B21 (leather guards & wristguard straps) | #1D1B1B (protective bodysuit)

Gloves — #FFE5F0 (base) | #FF60A4 (pink stripes)

[fromtheashesofhate]

The air in The Rusted Nebula was thick with the tang of alien spirits and the low hum of discontent. Valeyar Koschei lounged in his chair, clawed fingers drumming a lazy rhythm against the grime-coated table, his blood-orange eyes glinting beneath the saloon's flickering neon lights. Around him, three Icksessian gamblers—scales iridescent with frustration—glared at their dwindling stacks of credits. Koschei’s inky-black fur, silvered at the underbelly, seemed to swallow the light whole as he leaned forward, his bat-like head tilting in mock sympathy. “Another round?” he purred, fangs flashing beneath a pair of jagged tusks. The green sweater with its hand-stitched yellow question mark stretched taut over his chest as he swept the latest pot toward him, the clink of chips almost drowned by someone’s hissed “Cheat.”

He sighed, swirling the murky dregs of his drink—something local, bitter, and mercifully free of frog slime. Me time, he’d told himself. A blissful hour without Naxar’s chaperoning while Roak was handling drop-off duty for Roe; insisting that going via their own volition would avoid any "temptations" to go anywhere except school. Koschei wondered if maybe he should've pressed to go with, but with how much time he spent with them already, perhaps it would be healthier to give the two of them some space and enjoy some well-earned father-daughter bonding. Besides, if there was anything he could reliably thrive on to pass the time, it was this—the thrill of outthinking, outplaying, outlasting. “You’re shuffling the deck sideways,” snarled the largest gambler, claws scraping the table. Koschei’s silvery horns, etched with that cryptic symbol, caught the light as he shrugged. “My friend, if I cheated, you’d be thanking me for the lesson.” He took a slow sip, the calm in his voice a blade sheathed in velvet. “I just know how to play the game.”

The saloon's ambient chatter died. Four sets of eyes—three livid, one amused—locked in a silence sharper than Koschei’s claws. He could taste the violence brewing, sour and electric. Typical.

"He didn't cheat." Came a slurred voice.

"I've calculated thirty-two billion different possible outcomes for your game. This was one of them. If he'd cheated, the outcome would be duffer...differend."

The cybertronian stood up, swaying slightly on his feet.

"He may be bending the rules, but he didn't cheat."

The mech lifts his energon cube to his mouth, seemingly surprised to find it empty.

[voidberryart]

Blinked and you've missed me...

[ID: Full color refsheet split up into various parts. Starting with the full body drawing on the lefthand side is seen a humanoid (ish) figure. Its body faces to the viewer's left with its head turned towards the viewer's right. It wears a large white iridescent hooded cloak, its edges fringed with hanging gold beads, the brim of the hood (worn down) lined with a dark stripe, and the inside instead a dark blue like the night sky, filled with glowing light stars. The cloak itself is held shut with a golden broach designed similarly to the shape of an orrery.

The figure's face is a white iridescent mask, branching outwards like wavy sunrays. The eyes are shaped like upturned crescent moons, given extra detail with dark painting along their outsides like makeup, winding up in winged angles and downward into its cheeks. The insides of the eyes are colored like a purple/green nebula, the inside corners darkening to black, while the pupils themselves are near white (and two pupils each eye, one smaller than the other). In place of eyebrows there are silver designs of moon phases (full moon going into half going into crescent from the outside going in), and there is a four pointed star painted in black on its right (viewer's left) cheek.

Behind its head is a misty floating fog-like substance, colored in that same nebula pattern, the parts wisping up at the top growing darker than the parts closer to the head. The figure's arm and legs are also colored like that nebula, the farther down the extremities the darker their colors fade, eventually into black.

The garment it wears is a short straight silhouette dress, crossing downward at a sharp angle to its left (viewer's right) in the front with the inverse angle in the back. The sleeves are long, pooling out dramatically at the edges. The right sleeve covers its arm entirely, angled down at its side, and has two dark rings near the cuff. While the left sleeve pools into the figure's elbow, crooked upwards with its hand extended outward, the matching rings on this sleeve up towards the bicep instead. The color of the garment is a near pastel purple, fading into something more mint/blue farther down it goes, giving off an overall vibe of something closer to shimmering silver. Three white large sparkles grouped together also are embroidered into the bodice's left side. The stripes as well all containing patterns of white constellations.

The figure's legs appear to be wearing some sort of black netting, and the visible hand can be seen with its long claws painted white, fading to a rich purple closer to the nail buds (and just faintly fading from there to green). The feet both appear barefoot, save for how they are heeled with white stars angling the feet upwards.

The entire figure glows a soft blue, the lining of the figure all done in white on its outside and inside around the dark part of the cloak, the rest all lined in black.

The page itself is labeled "Blinked" in the top center with further text information underneath that reading "5'8", it/its/itself, tick/tock/ticks/tocks/tickself/tockself* (the next line is redacted), *(if you've reached level 10 friendship)". To the left of the text between it and the initial fullbody drawing are quick paintings of the bi and agender flags.

On the top righthand side of the page are six flat color doodles of the figure, each wearing different expressions and labeled with different identifiers. The top left's eyes are standard to the main drawing, and it is labeled "neutral". The middle top's eyes are opened wide like longways ovals, and this one is labeled "excited". The top right's eyes are shaped similar to the neutral one, but its pupils are gone leaving the eyes empty, and this one is labeled "tired". The bottom left's eyes are downward crescents, and this one is labeled "morose". The bottom middle's eyes are replaced with swirling spirals, and is labeled "unsettled". The bottom right's are shaped similarly to the excited one, but there are intensity markings around the eyes' edges and the pupils are ringed with glowing purple, backed with sketched messy circles of the same pupil color, and the smaller secondary pupils are missing entirely, this one labeled "furious".

On the bottom center of the page is another flat color bust drawing of the figure, with the smoke-like substance at the back of its head now pooled down over its shoulder, its hand reaching up as if stroking the mist like hair. There is text labeled next to the image reading "→ Acts like hair".

Beside that in the bottom right corner is a closeup detail drawing of the broach, showing all circles of it drawn with several blue rings in each circle, and the entire thing connected to each other with white circles underneath, like star trails. Text next to this drawing is labeled "Cloak broach (appears to be some kind of orrery or timepiece)". End ID.]

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ Prologue✩ ◛ °

In the vast expanse of the multiverse, where galaxies danced to the rhythm of cosmic energies, there existed a point of convergence. It was a place where the fabric of reality shimmered and wavered, a nexus of infinite possibilities and boundless potential.

From the depths of this cosmic crucible emerged a being unlike any other, born from the very essence of creation itself. They were (Y/n), a celestial entity woven from the threads of existence, their form a tapestry of light and energy that pulsed with the heartbeat of the universe.

As consciousness stirred within them, (Y/n) found themselves awakening in a celestial realm that defied description. It was a realm of swirling nebulae and shimmering starlight, where time flowed like an endless river and space stretched to infinity. Here, amidst the cosmic symphony, (Y/n) took their first breath and opened their eyes to behold the wonders of creation.

"Where... am I?" They spoke into the unknown, having been brought to an unfamiliar place with no memories of being there. 

But as if the universe was aware of their creation, it spoke, "You... are the embodiment of the multiverse." 

The voice resonated through the fabric of existence, reverberating within (Y/n)'s essence. It was not a voice in the conventional sense but rather a chorus of celestial harmonies, each note vibrating with cosmic significance.

"(Y/n), you are the convergence point of all things, the culmination of endless possibilities," the voice intoned, its cadence both soothing and profound. "You are the essence of creation itself, the spark that ignites the fires of life across the cosmos."

As (Y/n) absorbed the weight of these words, a sense of purpose began to stir within them. They gazed out into the expanse of the celestial realm, feeling the ebb and flow of cosmic energies coursing through their being.

"But why me?" (Y/n) questioned, their voice conveying uncertainty amidst the cosmos' vastness.

"Because, (Y/n), you possess the power to shape reality itself," the voice responded, imbuing each word with a sense of cosmic significance. "You are the guardian of balance, the steward of creation, the safeguard of order and chaos. It is your destiny to watch over the tapestry of existence and ensure that harmony prevails."

With each passing moment, (Y/n) felt the weight of their newfound role settle upon their shoulders. "What can I do for now?" They softly chirped to the unknown beauty of space.

As (Y/n) pondered their purpose amidst the celestial expanse, the voice of the universe resonated once more, guiding them with ethereal wisdom.

"You must learn," it whispered, the cosmic harmonies weaving through the fabric of reality. "Learn the intricacies of existence, the dance of creation and destruction, the delicate balance between light and darkness."

With a gentle gesture of their hand, (Y/n) conjured a shimmering orb of cosmic energy, its iridescent hues swirling with the universe's secrets. They reached out, feeling the raw power coursing through their fingertips, and embraced the orb with a sense of reverence.

"Seek knowledge, (Y/n)," the voice urged, its echoes permeating the celestial realm. "Explore the wonders of the world you choose to watch over. Embrace the diversity of life and the infinite possibilities that lie within."

A soft-spoken gasp left them as they held a soft but kind smile, excited and understanding the responsibility of their task. "I will..." 

Eons passed in the blink of an eye as (Y/n) wandered through the celestial expanse, their essence intermingling with the nature of the cosmos. They witnessed the birth and death of stars, the collision of galaxies, and the dance of celestial bodies across the vast canvas of space. They held tightly onto their book that knew of how every world, universe, and planet works.

As the ages passed and civilizations rose and fell, (Y/n) remained alone, isolated, and steadfast, a silent guardian watching over the world from the far reaches of the universe. Amidst the infinite expanse of the cosmos, a particular universe had caught their eye for quite some time. The world was called the Magic Realm.

Magic Realm was a fantasy-like world with kingdoms, dragons, princesses, witches, wizards, and mages. However, most of the population was filled with magical beings, witches, wizards, and mages. Listening and observing closely, they heard magic was commonplace. The majority of the population holds magic, while some others do not... referred to as muggles. 

Where arcane energies flowed like rivers and wonders abounded at every turn, (Y/n) found themselves drawn to the vibrant tapestry of mortal life. The most exciting part was finding out how the magic ranking system works. There were these 'magic marks,' which determined how much a person could use. 

Magic Marks are a unique system that governs individuals' magical abilities. In the world (Y/n) watches over, magic is an integral part of society, and those who possess mystical abilities are known as Witches and Wizards. Everyone believes that magic is a gift given by God itself.

Magic Marks measure a person's magical potential and proficiency. Each individual has a Magic Mark, essentially a numerical value representing their magical prowess. The higher the Magic Mark, the more powerful the individual's magic. Magic Marks are typically measured on a scale from 0 to 9999, with higher numbers indicating stronger magical abilities.

* Single-liners are individuals with the lowest level of magical ability. They possess only one Magic Mark on their body, usually somewhere visible, like their hand or face. Despite their limited magical power, Single-Liners can still perform basic spells and incantations.

* Double-Liners are individuals with a moderate level of magical ability. They have two Magic Marks on their body, indicating a higher proficiency in magic than Single-Liners. Double-liners are capable of casting more complex spells and techniques.

* Triple-Liners are individuals with the highest level of magical ability. They possess three Magic Marks on their body, signifying mastery of magic. Triple-Liners are extremely powerful and are capable of performing advanced spells and feats of magic that surpass those of Single-Liners and Double-Liners.

Everything seems peaceful and in smooth harmony. (Y/n) could move beyond to explore other words. Yet, amidst the majesty of the cosmos, they also felt a longing stirring within them.

A yearning to experience existence in a different form, to walk among mortals and feel the warmth of mortal life. 

(Y/n) remained apart, a silent observer lurking on the fringes of existence, knowing better than to trifle with mortal affairs. Even with a heavy heart of desiring an experience they never felt, they turned and began walking away from the platform they used to spectate the world.

Yet their heart refused to listen to their mind, pondering the mysteries of mortal life and wondering what it would be like to walk among them. Despite (Y/n)'s role as the guardian of balance and the steward of creation, some of them yearned to walk among the mortals and experience life in a tangible form.

They stopped in their tracks, their heart filled with uncertainty and hesitation as they kept stealing glances at the Magic Realm below. (Y/n) wanted to leave the Celestial World to live with mortals, but they didn't want to leave their comfort zone, uncertain of what dire consequences would come. Would the voice of the cosmos get mad at them? Would it punish them? Who knows?

As they pondered their next move, the voice echoed through the vastness of space, stirring the very essence of their soul.

"(Y/n), child of the multiverse, your desire is not without purpose," the voice intoned, its words carrying the weight of eons. "To experience life as a mortal is to understand the beauty of impermanence, the fleeting moments that define existence."

"W-What?" They softly gasped. 

"If you wanted to leave your home," it softly whispered. "You could've done so without my permission."

As the voice's words washed over them, (Y/n) felt a sense of relief flood their being. They had hesitated to act on their desires, fearing repercussions from the cosmic forces governing their existence. But now, with the voice's reassurance, they felt a newfound sense of freedom.

With a determined glint in their eyes, (Y/n) made a decision. They would venture forth into the mortal realm, embracing the uncertainty of the unknown and experiencing life in a way they had never before imagined.

With a graceful gesture, they conjured a shimmering portal that stretched out before them, leading to the world of Magic Realm. As they embarked on this grand adventure, the voice of the cosmos echoed softly in their minds, a comforting presence guiding them on their path.

"Go forth, (Y/n), my child," it whispered. "Embrace the beauty of mortal life, and may your journey be filled with wonder and discovery."

[raspberrytartcookie]

Nebula Pearl Cookie

"The stars above and the depths below hold secrets untold. Let us explore them together."

Description:

Nebula Pearl Cookie is a celestial vision, a young Gem Mermaid with a heart brimming with cosmic wonder. Her mermaid tail shimmers with iridescent hues of deep blues and purples speckled with tiny, luminous pearls that resemble distant stars. Her hair, a cascade of flowing, ethereal strands, is adorned with delicate, star-shaped coral and glowing sea flora. Her eyes, like twin nebulae, hold the vastness of the universe, reflecting her fascination with the cosmos.

Personality:

Nebula Pearl Cookie is a dreamer, a stargazer, and a passionate explorer of both the ocean depths and the celestial expanse. She possesses an unwavering love for the stars and the mysteries they hold, leading her to create a secret observatory in a hidden cave. She is fascinated by land cookies and their unique existence, forging a close friendship with Stardust Cookie, much to the disapproval of her protective sister, Crimson Coral Cookie. Despite her gentle nature, she is fiercely independent and determined to follow her own path. Her unwavering belief in her friendship with Stardust Cookie is a testament to her loyalty and trust. She secretly harbors a deep affection for him but prioritizes their friendship over revealing her true feelings. She is an epic cookie, a blend of protagonist and anti-villain, who walks a tightrope between the traditions of her people and her own desires.

Traits:

Super Epic

Anti-villan

Magic

Middle

[lakenscorner]

Day 17: Reality

Adrien Grey

                Adri sits awkwardly. Gaming chairs aren’t meant for wings. They weren’t about to ask to move to the bed though, not when Fareeda’s this pissed. She paces back and forth. every once in a while the Brit tries to say something but jumbles over her words.

                “Fareeda, you’re not Englishing very well” Adrien speaks up.

                “No shit!” Fareeda grips Adri’s shoulders “My partner disappears for weeks, and when she comes back, she has goddam dragon wings and isn’t even Asgardian anymore! What the fuck am I supposed to think!”

                Adrien stands and wraps their arms around Fareeda. The taller girl breaks down crying. Adrien shushes her and whispers apologies. Fareeda reaches out and gently touches Adri’s wings.

                “I can’t tell if they’re scales or skin” Fareeda mutters.

                “Truthfully they’re neither,” Adrien explains “When I became, well when I became whatever this is, my old body deteriorated. I formed this out of a 6th dimensional clay”

                “I’m sure you did” Fareeda pats Adri’s head “Adrien Grey Hoderson, you are the weirdest woman-adjacent creature I’ve met”

                “Perhaps that’s why I’ve been given this power” Adrien kisses Fareeda’s shoulder “Only those who are different from the norm know how to keep both sides fair.”

                “Weirdo” the taller woman mutters.

                “I’m back now. I’m not leaving you” Adrien traces along the arc reactor embedded in Fareeda’s chest “Never again.”

Dorian Luna

                “So the Justice League don’t exist where you’re from?” Donna runs her hand over her friend’s dragonfly-like wings.

                “No, they’re fictional. You gotta understand why I’m so cynical towards them” Dorian sighs.

                “Dorian Luna, the heroes here are nothing like ones from the last reality you were in” Donna squeezes Dorian’s shoulders.

                Dorian inhales. Its mind floods with memories of the first reality it fell into. The horrible things the so-called superheroes did jaded it. Its hand went to scratch the black streaks under its eyes.

                “They’re scars” Dorian mutters. Donna’s face morphs into confusion, Dorian points at the streaks “one of the heroes there, his name was Homelander. At first he reminded me a lot of Superman. But I did something wrong. I still don’t know what, and he burned my skin. When I built my vessel, I kept them to remind myself of who’s on whose side. They are monsters”

                Donna’s skin begins to change, changing from the dark tone to a bright, sparkly pink. The platinum locks gain a sparkling iridescence. Brown eyes shift to a glittering nebula of gold. What shocks Dorian the most are the multitude of golden, shimmering wings.

                “Then am I a monster too, Luna Dorian?” Donna asks.

                “I think you’re Tinkerbell” Dorian picks up a strand of Donna’s hair “Sabrina Carpenter wishes”

                “Hush!” Donna laughs “We’re having a serious conversation!”

                “We’re not capable of such a thing”

Kahlida Rose

                “So, you’re Wanda’s son then?” Kahlida Rose plops down next to Billy.

                “I don’t want to talk” Billy mumbles “How did you escape the mud?”

                “I teleported. Walk with me.” Kahlida stands and begins to walk. Billy follows soon after.

                “You know, the road can’t give me anything I can’t get for myself” Kahlida takes off their jacket and hands it to Billy “Hold this, will you?”

                Billy nearly drops the garment in shock. He stares at the wings sprouted from Kahlida’s back. Kahlida chuckles, feeling the boy’s eyes on his butterfly-like wings. They flutter the bright green appendages, lifting a few inches off the ground. They laugh as the wings glow slightly, lighting up the road.

                “I only came for fun, really, a bitch like me can get whatever they want whenever she wants it”

                “Why are you telling me this?” Billy shoves the jacket back at Kahlida. They laugh and ruffle Billy’s hair.

                “Because you and I are very similar, dear boy” Kahlida summons a fruity-looking drink out of thin air “Both of us were taken from our old lives in one way or another. You merged or took over the little Kaplan boy, I died fighting my father to save my old world. We were both thrown into bodies that aren’t our own, the only difference is I got to build mine myself.

                Billy starts to protest. His eyes and hands glow vibrant blue. He gets in Kahlida’s face in a vain attempt to seem intimidating. Kahlida presses a finger to Billy’s lips.

                “Let me guess, you look in the mirror expecting to see your old body and feel like shit when you don’t?” They ask. Billy nods.

                “Kid, this power of yours isn’t a blessing or a curse. It’s you. And it’s up to you what to make of it.” Kahlida rests their hands on Billy’s shoulders “You are not good or evil, you’re a fucking emo badass”

                “Shut up” Billy mutters. Kahlida offers a hug. Billy grumbles but accepts.

Felix Doe

                Felix Doe. He isn’t even sure if that’s his name. He doesn’t even know if he’s considered alive. All he knows is that floating through what can only be described as space between realities reminds him of a certain musical he just watched. Next he’d be seeing a girl with a doll’s head or a roller coaster. The thought amuses Felix. His form shifts, he’s not sure what he’s even supposed to look like. So, he continues to drift. Eventually, Felix comes upon what he expects the least. A tree.

                Felix’s feet touch the ground. He didn’t realize he had feet. Hell, Felix didn’t remember the last time he’d felt ground. He runs his hands along the branches of the tree. They’re made out of the same thing as him, at least partially. Something about them brings Felix a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time.

                “Who’s there?” the voice brings another comfort that makes Felix only want to be closer.       

                “I don’t know” He whispers “I haven’t in a long time”

                “Come where I can see you” The voice orders.

                Felix moves closer. He sees a man with eyes older than the rest of him looks, much like Felix. And he knew him. He knew those horns, those striking green eyes, that confused expression. He knew what it was to be held in those arms that now felt the multiverse together.

                “I cannot see you” The voice says “I know you’re there in front of me but I cannot see you”

                Most of all, Felix knew himself.

                “Loki” Felix shifts one last time, spreading large, feathery, wings behind him. Midnight black feathers shimmered with rainbow iridescence.

                “It’s you” Loki stands. He places his hands on the sides of Felix’s face.

                “It’s me”

@fluffbruary

[pyraelia]

May 24 - Day 6 Confidence / Complication*

Aerden’s arrival and attendance to Annya’s gallery had been a complete surprise, if a slight complication. To say she was elated was beyond understatement, the last time they’d had any time to see each other had been her birthday. The few short months they’d been apart had started to weigh a little heavy with everything else going on. 

However, she had also been trying to entice Fiorenze into going to the gallery as sister-bonding-time, and this was now a fairly stark conflict of interest. Awful as it was, she was certainly much more interested in spending time with her crush than she was with Fio. 

To her immense credit, her sister completely understood. She had always been a much bigger romantic than Pyraelia herself, and she recognized the limited circumstance for what it was. It felt better to have her blessing than not, but she still massively owed her one. 

She took a little more care than usual getting ready, choosing a deep purple lingerie set to go under her pitch black silk dress. The fripperies made her feel much more confident, there was something about the agency that came with truly enjoying how she looked and knowing she was pretty to look at with or without it all. Her usual illusion ring was traded for an enchanted necklace that hosted the spell map to turn her prosthetic into a swirling nebula kept captive in a mobile, arm shaped glass shell. As she shifted, the light caught the dark silk of her skirts causing iridescent constellations and galaxies to bloom. 

It was a far cry from her usual pastels, but that made her stand out all the more. 

Their first stop was dinner, a joint affair with Pollux and Khaeris. It was a nice way to catch up before getting to the gallery and inevitably splitting up to enjoy all that the show had to offer. She broke the news of her plans to sell the tower and relocate — likely back home to Silvermoon for a while. Her feelings about the choice were still a little complicated, they likely always would be considering the family history in that particular home, but it really was for the best, and her mood was far too light to dwell on it much. Spending time with her favorite people made her heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

The gallery itself was a triumph. Annya’s choice of subject was always a little macabre, but the juxtapositions between the subject in life and death this time really made the tragedy of the end a bit more tangible. She couldn’t help the occasional squeeze of Aerden’s forearm at certain presentations. 

The most bittersweet and horrific of which was certainly the one that clearly depicted parts of a shattered Dalaran crushing a man. There was no way to know when, or how — but with all the oddities going on of late it loomed large. The pair of them stayed there a bit longer than they had expected; what was there to even say about it, or the light above representing the Song? What time did they have to really unpack it? A chord the violinist nearby struck a tone that shot straight down her spine and sent her heart crashing through the floor of her stomach. 

But Aerden pulled her away at the perfect moment, knowing through his own set of abilities when it was time to shift her focus back to the glorious present. 

She was happy to see him so eager to explore the extensive and intricate tableau that Annya had woven to treat her guests at the afterparty. He was so charming to watch when he was indulging in something he really wanted to do — and there was so much to do. 

It didn’t take too long for her to want, and the wanting didn’t take too long to fray her patience. 

At the first opportunity, as soon as they hit a feature that let her gently tug him aside, out of view of prying eyes, she pulled him into the kiss she’d wanted to give him since the last time they had to say goodbye. The one she knew would be only one of a few in the short time they’d have together before he’d have to leave again. It was as thrilling as it was tragic. 

As the universe, so the soul. 

@daily-writing-challenge / @aerdendios, @kharrisdawndancer, @polluxhale, @vixannya

*I screwed up and accidentally did today's words yesterday, so I'm doing one of each for today :V

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XXIV: P-O-W-E-R

(Music: "Blue Veins", by The Raconteurs)

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

3 years ago. January 24th, 2280 CE.

A labor colony on Eranya, under the mighty sovereign authority of Canaris in its golden age, was engorged in a large-scale near-mutiny over the back-breaking labor, long hours, and lack of representation in Canaris' domestic policy and chaos-seamed tiered systems of governance- as well as a dozen other issues. Their treasonous ring leader, Greine Altomeier, demanded autonomy for the colony of Miranys and protectorate status under Canaris as an included territory. The initial objective of these insurrectionists was to leverage their value to Canaris as a major producer of Eranyium (named after the first settler leader of the planet, who also found the invaluable mineral in the same week); a metal that, when first mined, looked like silver-sheened, iridescent-hued fragments of coarse and grainy, heavy metal- but in its refined state, was smooth and reflective. Its extremely heat-resistant properties were plated on the outside of spacefaring vessels as a means to insulate the vessel from the extreme temperature changes that occurred during long voyages.

In short summary, it was extremely vital to Canaris. And the sickening amount of defensive capabilities it had built on the planet as a solid defense against Terror Remnants or enemy nations, ended up being turned against Canaris on this very day. The labor colony was heavily equipped with armed manpower numbering in the millions; innumerous artillery emplacements, orbital batteries, and anti-air flak guns. De-centralized military fleets patrolling the ground level of Miranys, sub-orbital battle cruisers, orbital defense platforms, shielding systems, sensor & reconnaissance drones, well-armed & well-manned orbital shipyards, and railgun stations which practically swarmed around the atmosphere of Eranya akin to a humming hive of agitated bees.

In response to this crass declaration of quasi-independence, Canaris sent Admiral Hawkes and his fleet of twenty battle-hardened super-dreadnoughts to quell the rebellion—complete overkill, and a demonstration to other labor colonies within Canaris' sector, of the consequences of resisting their martial masters. The warships encircled the planet at every major orbital port, blockading the planet's ports of entries and exits as the Argonaut's monstrous mass loomed menacingly over Miranys, blotting out the sun for several city blocks and factory complexes.

"They are ready to receive you, Admiral."

Admiral Hawkes stood gazing over the wide window view of Eranya at the very front of the Argonaut, spotting the sizable speck of a colony below orbit that demonstrated the naive gall to stand against a planet-razing military terror like Canaris. As it seemed, twenty massive warships and the Argonaut's mile-long architecture weren't sufficient enough for the neophyte rebels to immediately surrender and submit to some very lenient punishment compared to what they would suffer for rejecting Canaris' repeated demands of compliance. Admiral Hawkes gestured ever so slightly with his fingers to the bridge officer managing the telecommunications, and she began patching him through to the colony's communications array. A young, spritely, and charismatic voice popped up over the speakers, loud and belligerent whilst introducing herself to the Argonaut.

"Lord Admiral Fenris! We are honored by your presence."

"Hey, Yvette, it's been a while."

The radio abruptly fell silent. A long minute passed, and Hawkes stared back over the planet and above its haloed horizon; taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the innumerable twinkling stars, distant and near; nebulae, galaxies, planets- chaos and order so seamlessly integrated. It all seemed so heaven-sent until the reality of this immense, slogging, agonizing existential suffering was heaped upon all sentient, conscious, intelligent beings at the first naive encounter of horror.

"...You... remember me?" Yvette eventually responded more timidly and torn emotionally.

"'Course I do. I remember the moment you were born to your first Ordeal. What made you think I ever forgot you?"

A stifled sobbing emitted over the radio, before the sound of disruption, and another voice came over the receiver; grumpy, gruff, and sneering with a low, vaguely Cockney-English accent.

"Hawkes."

Admiral Hawkes' expression, softened and relieved only seconds prior, was now contorted and twisted into a snide grimace and beady, frosted eyes of cold hate.

"Take your forked tongue out of the chatterbox and cower in your hovel, Nemdo." Hawkes rasped over the receiver. "I have seven-hundred-thousand armaments, big and small, on this vessel alone. I could -snipe- the atoms off your nose, even from this distance, and no barriers nor armored structures would protect you from it. Get off the receiver, hand it to Yvette."

"So that's what we are now, to you? Just slaves for you to keep in line, kill as you please, you cunt?"

"You are a fool, to think you, of all those in the colony, would be the one to tug at my heartstrings."

"It wouldn't matter who's speaking. You're here to obliterate us."

"I think this will end amicably if I simply obliterate you with a thousand orbital precision lasers so I don't have to suffer your under-developed brain synapses flapping fecal matter from your rotting gums. Hand. The. Radio. To Yvette, or the next words you decide to spew will lie in a pile of your ashes. Try it."

A devilishly long silence ensued. Then-

"Fucking tyrant."

The receiver crackled as commotion occurred on the other end, before Yvette's voice nervously cropped up over the radio.

"H...Hawkes."

"Hey there. Sorry for the cruelty you heard earlier. You know our disagreements."

The receiver was silent for a moment, before a reply: "Y-Yeah. I get it. Um... well, uh... we're the colony of Miranys, and we w-would like to, uh, request that w-we rewrite the, uh, g-governmental relationship between M-Miranys and Canaris-!"

"I'm not against this idea," Hawkes stated, which seemed to both surprise and throw off Yvette.

"Wh- really??"

Hawkes obviously had, in advance, reviewed the terms put forth by the leader of Miranys, Greine, who was currently on the other side of the planet in negotiations with the other colonies to try and snowball a planetary-wide liberation movement as he knew that Canaris would reject the demands. Hawkes' intentions were to negotiate a deal with Yvette, the third-in-charge of Miranys, so he could officiate a deal that would undermine Greine's authority to the other sector leaders on Eranya and put a quick end to the idea of insurrection. Hawkes had just intimidated Nemdo, second-in-charge of Miranys and a cowardly person whom he harbored a venomous history with, into handing the official negotiations to Yvette; even though Hawkes bluffed about the precision lasers being capable of piercing their defensive shielding. The plan was to give a few or several good industrial and political incentives to Eranya, and with the political power he held, Hawkes had no doubt he could free the people of Miranys from those draconian labor quotas and laws put in place by Atriarchs of the past. He'd already received the greenlight from the current Atriarchs to initiate these negotiations on their behalf, especially with how integral of a colony it was to Canaris- but full or partial autonomy was out of the question.

Any form of autonomy for fledgling colonies always led to demagogues and populists capturing the spirit of those laborers and civilians, turning them into a fomenting crowd of wrathful indignation against their current or formal rulers. Trade deals would soon end, followed by scheming with rival or enemy nations, and ending with those nations or others watching from the background ultimately preying on and exploiting the colony until its citizens dreamed of the life they had before autonomy. It wasn't as if Hawkes was particularly against the idea of a noble underdog nation freeing itself from the constraints of a despotic dictatorship-

But compared to the other nations and colonies across the Lower Quadrant of the Milky Way, Canaris was far more palatable in its treatment of vassal territories. This was, in Hawkes' opinion, a powerplay by Greine disguised as a noble pursuit for freedom from tyranny. As the leader of Miranys, there were a hundred different departments and offices Greine could have contacted to have the laws of his colony changed from the decades-ago edicts as was his right with the powers vested in him by the Linde-Fjarnar Compact of 2267; yet he didn't. Instead, Greine allowed the edicts to cause further suffering and misery to build more resentment and mobilize the populace against a strawman villain. This was a power play, by every metric.

And Hawkes was not going to let this power-hungry wannabe big-shot have the opportunity to get hundreds of millions of people killed, whether now or a hundred years into the future.

"Yes," Hawkes responded over the radio. "I have a lot of leeway in this negotiation. Let me know what you personally want and what the colonists generally want, not what Greine wants. Okay? Labor hours, contract revisions, opportunities for vertical promotions- I am more than happy to get this signed and done with so Miranys can flourish. The only thing we can't concede on is autonomy. So, basically, everything you good fellas want minus one. I'm sure you know, Yvette, but Canaris needs Eranyium for interstellar travel. People could suffer if this goes badly one way or another, and that isn't anything I want right now. I was exploring the Kalis Sector with a few warships when this came up on our radar- that's how important to me you are. I crossed half the colonized galaxy just to make sure the war hawks on Canaris wouldn't have the chance to scheme against your homeworld- and I have not forgotten about the years I've spent on this damn planet, Yvette!"

The last line was said in provocative but good-hearted humor, and Yvette chuckled over the radio, seeming more at ease now that the negotiations were broken down so simply by her long-time friend and mentor. "Well then, I mean, I wouldn't mind a few in-person discussions to set preliminary terms. A lot of the people here are pissed, though, so you, you know, ya gotta be very lenient, I-I'm sorry if that's rude to say."

"Indeed. And no, I have no issue with how you speak to me, Yvette. It's infinitely more preferable than the chittering of the insects that plague your top leadership."

His reply was passive-aggressive; he was primarily referring to Greine, but there were a number of other officiated bastards in Miranys' government that Hawkes highly disapproved of, including the treacherous, weaselly, cowardly fuck-nugget Nemdo.

The voice of Elise crackled over his shoulder radio suddenly.

"Grand bâtard."

Hawkes sighed internally as the horrid French onslaught of Elise assailed his fragile Canari ears.

"What now? I'm in the midst of negotiations."

"Shut up, I'll do what I like, garce. Your negotiations may be cut short, Greine is heading back to Miranys very quickly, probably five minutes roughly. He slipped past the quarantine measures, raced over the ocean in a Rathian Bike, took out the Canarii Ranger that was pursuing him, and hijacked a Helixad."

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. THIS 2-BIT V FOR VENDETTA ORE SHUNTER DID ALL THAT?!

Hawkes thought calmly. "You didn't think to tell me about that?!"

"I was too busy trying to pick my jaw up from the floor, Admiral."

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(Music: "The Painful Way", by Darren Korb)

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Hawkes exhaled venomously, quickly panicking as he realized the worst possible outcome was zeroing in and going to ruin both Hawkes' and his entire colony's day if Hawkes didn't finalize some preliminary negotiations he could wave in front of the rest of Eranya as a sign of peace and ongoing arbitrations. 

He did not want to escalate this into a conflict. Several people would die, and several others would die as collateral damage. This near-mutiny had to be quelled, or they would involve everyone else across the planet and rake in more naive idiots with hopeful eyes to join in the slaughter. Hawkes would much rather kill a few and save the many, if it came to that.

"So," He immediately began speaking to Yvette once more; with no time to spare, he could neither waste time on pleasantries nor reveal his urgency to finalize the deal. "I'm thinking, we can do an exclusive trade deal with Eranya by having our freighter ship and mining vessel manufacturing plants only import from your planet. I can put in some requisition orders to start up some new secondary and tertiary industries- more jobs, more growth, and less mining and extraction- we can gradually replace the workers with drones when the logistics of that operation is fully planned out."

Though Hawkes couldn't see it, Yvette was intently listening but feeling slightly overwhelmed by the bulk of information being shoved over the radio. It felt less like a negotiation and more like a big hush-money present was being thrown at them for underlying reasons.

"Eh, Hawkes?" Yvette asked. "That's fine and all, uh, but uh, we should probably have an arbitration at our embassy about this; there's a lot of stuff I need to write down. We'll also have to, uh, talk about how our representatives feel on the topic of autonomy and political rights, because a lot of them are pretty... unhappy after the recent riots and crackdown. I mean, we- they literally mutinied, so, uh, I mean, yeah."

Hawkes was sweating. He was keeping a timer in his head the nanosecond Elise informed him of Greine's approach. 4 minutes left.

"Of course, Yvette," Hawkes replied smoothly, trying not to betray the tremendous urgency running through his head like a particle accelerator. "I just wanted to set some preliminary terms over radio, something I can write home to the Atriarchs to let them know that we're on negotiating terms and that this isn't, you know, a conflict that's gonna break out. You get what I'm saying?"

"Y-Yes. I understand. What did you want to set out, then?"

3 minutes 30 seconds. Hawkes pulled on his collar, feeling as if his throat were tightening; he'd gotten past the first obstacle, he just needed to set out some lenient and reasonable terms, even if he reneged on them later. 

"For the discussion of autonomy, we are definitely open to, at most, partial autonomy, though I can certainly relay messages between Miranys and Canaris as necessary about the particulars on that. Political rights aren't a problem, I assume you all have your representatives picked out, you'll need to write up an Autonomy Compact and allow us to review it for approval and then you'll be good to go. In the meantime, we can adjust working hours and labor laws as necessary and for the best compromise of both parties. How is this sounding so far?"

3 minutes left. His eyes strained at the radio, feeling prickles of stress ride across his brain matter with every second Yvette was silently deliberating with others gathered in the comms room.

"Several of our representatives are extremely upset with the labor quotas and tithes imposed on Miranys every financial quarter. They want to discuss a serious change downward in those aspects."

"Sure! I'm not opposed to that one bit." Hawkes said, a small tinge of panic and irritation lurking behind his words. As this conversation was furthering, Yvette was growing more bold and confident in her voice once it seemed clear she had some leverage over Hawkes on this matter.

"And the families who suffered from the Fir Street Riots need to be compensated! As well as the families who lost their loved ones in the Bakkian Incident! Speaking on that, our equipment is outdated, our safety guidelines are lackluster, and half our labor force have become drug addicts to cope with the daily misery and pain!"

I HAVEN'T INTERACTED WITH YOUR WORLD IN A FUCKING DECADE! I CAN'T BE EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE! Hawkes wanted to shout over the receiver. 2 minutes left. "Done, and done. Any last requests before I type this up and call off the fleet so we can have a proper sit-down?"

And I can kill that upstart cunt trying to get his colony obliterated, Hawkes pondered maliciously, planning Greine's assassination after this matter was settled.

More silence over the radio.

"Tell him..."

Hawkes grimaced as the sound of other representatives chirping in Yvette's ear was audible over the radio. Yvette eventually spoke once more.

"And... the representatives of Miranys... want the Atriarchs to recognize Miranys' Autonomy Compact in a speech-"

"Who the fuck told you to say that?"

The radio went dead-silent. Hawkes was extremely upset hearing this from Yvette's mouth- words spoken by proxy from one of the cancer-filled slugs leaning in on this horrifically-vital conversation.

"I-I... I, uh, I didn't mean-!"

"Nevermind," Hawkes quickly cut her off, trying to smooth over the extremely perfidious comment. 1 minute left. Even if he had to lie his mouth off, it would be worth it to save everyone in this system from a very bloody afternoon. "I'll relay the requests to the Atriarchs. I've documented your list of demands and will be calling back the fleet-"

"We wish to have our own defense force!" "And we wish to control and operate our own media networks, free of censorship by the Canaris Media & News Regulation Agency!" "We wish to mint our own currency!"

Hawkes was utterly infuriated at the Miranys representatives having the gall to start chiming into the receiver with additional demands, eating up the precious seconds Hawkes had to finalize these preliminary terms and present the evidence of successful parley to the rest of Eranya. 30 seconds.

"GET OFF THE RECEIVER, UNLESS YOU ARE YVETTE!" He shouted over the radio, having no other course to settle this now than to assert authority between him and the third-in-command. "Once you agree, I can pull back my fleets and we can end this amicably! Do we have a deal, Yvette??"

The radio was silent. 20 seconds. 15 seconds. 10 seconds-

"You're hiding something."

"Yvette. Please. Just agree. We can settle everything, just agree and we'll be-"

Slam!

The sound of doors being forced open came through audibly on the receiver. The distant sound of a voice could be heard: "Yvette! Hand me the radio!"

It's over, Hawkes thought miserably as Greine's young, authoritative, and demanding vague German voice cropped up over the speakers.

"Nice try, bastard. I've lived with you for five years- I know how you think, Hawkes. You won't get the chance to-"

"If you want to die this badly on your lonesome, you have my blessing. Do not drag innocents into your pathetic power play."

"Is that what you think this is? I-"

"Yes. Yes, I do, you fuck."

"It is not! Most in Miranys have signed on to this compact, and soon enough the other colonies will join onboard. Whether you like it or not, we are going to gain our autonomy. We aren't Delisse, nor Ugradja, or any of your other servants that bow down meagerly after a mere show of force!"

"A mere show of force..."

"Fuckin' A right. We have the upper hand. And when we gain our freedom, our history won't be mired by exploitation, slavery, imperialism, and slaughtering people who want a better life."

Hawkes cackled sadistically at the bottomlessly naive and idiotically proud statement uttered by the braindead warrior handling comms.

"How do you think nations have been forged all throughout history, since the dawn of mankind, you fucking pissant? Through hugs and kisses and communal cocksucking ceremonies? You ignorant peon. You'll get your 'autonomy', then stick with us for about five years, then stab us in the back and heap your exports onto a rival nation to get full sovereignty. After they've used you for long enough, your planet will get exploited, then steamrolled by neighboring warmongers who will cut out your tongues, slice your Achilles heels, and force you and your family into lifelong menial labor and servitude. Your spouses and offspring will be used for pleasure and breeding by savage thugs and retired warlords; your dreams will rot away while you witness your little empire crumble and wither, your lands and people perverted and humiliated by idiots with more experience in combat and cruelty, over decades shall you and your kin suffer. I'm far more merciful than letting that become your end legacy. I will simply turn you, painlessly, to ash, and your grandiose ideas that lead to terrible fates will dribble into nothingness through time eternal, and this planet shall continue to prosper under Canaris, its citizens forever safe and secure from the idiotic half-assed ramblings of irredeemable patsies like you."

The radio was again dead silent. Then:

"You will not scare us, Hawkes. Our-"

"You should be scared. You should be utterly fucking terrified. I am speaking from experience, not fantasy, boy. I would rather obliterate your entire colony off the face of Eranya than allow you to steer this planet toward a horrible fate."

Silence, again. This time it was far lengthier, with whole minutes passing by of no radio contact. Hawkes was not going to let this powermonger get the chance to whip up any more colonies into a frenzy to mutiny, nor permit him to better prepare for an invasion should he choose the Darwinian option.

"You get one, and only one answer. Submit or Die. Choose now, or I'll take it as a refusal-"

"We would rather die than continue slaving away under a revolving door of tyrants and robber barons! I have slain your Canarii, and if I must slay YOU, as well, then IT SHALL BE DONE!"

BAAASSSSSTTTAAAAAARRRRDDDDD.

"Then you and your fucking ilk will see Hell Unto Earth."

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(Music: "Command and Control", by Mick Gordon | YT Only)

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He ended the communications after catapulting the radio receiver at the floor, shattering it into thousands of pieces and storming out of the bridgehead.

"DANNY!"

"Yes, Admiral!"

"TAKE OVER COMMAND. I'M DROPPING WITH THE CAEDES."

First Officer Danny paled in the face as he heard his superior would be heading into direct combat with the Magna Caedes, but followed the orders without any pushback- the look on Hawkes' face was frightening enough to silence his concerns.

Hawkes found his quarters, slamming his hand against the DNA scanner and walking in, honing in on the heavily-plated suit locker at the end of his room, typing in the 50-letter-long passcode along with a DNA scan of his retina before throwing open the door hinges and grabbing the suit of armor inside.

The Ryn-Hague Chassis; a stygian-black, extremely bulky, hefty, and 3-inch thick armor that consisted of hundreds of Achilles Series armor plates melded and meshed, woven and perfected through a thousand forges until it was one of the most durable suits of armor in all of human history, capable of deflecting and neutralizing anti-tank rounds and artillery shells with little issue; the interior of the suit was affixed with a reverse magnetic propulsion device which prevented the wearer from feeling the impact of even orbital artillery, and worked in conjunction with exterior piezoelectric layers attached to the pinpoints of the outer armor, which served to convert kinetic energy into electrical energy and used inertial dampening to slow or neutralize the projectiles on impact.

Having secured the chassis to his body over a few painstaking minutes, and finding comfort in the heavy burden it proved on his body, he exited the quarters with the mighty thumping of his heavily-armored boots thudding against the pristine alloy floor.

Admiral Hawkes swiftly turned on his heel and stormed toward the Orbital Deployment Bay, exiting the bridgehead and sifting through the maze of hallways with such force and speed that a strong gust of air followed strongly behind him, staggering passersby and ship crewmates with transhuman dread. After hingeing a left, he was gradually flanked on either side by Magna Caedes; goliath-like augmented superhumans over eight feet tall, plated with dozens of sets of the highest Achilles Series tiers in layered, immensely-dense armor with a 2-inch thick tank-like graphene-composited panoply, known as the 'Deathmark Carapace', fastened over the top of the interior armor they burdened upon flesh and bone alike. A two-fold wall of near-impenetrable alloy, painted and decorated painstakingly by hundreds of artisans with scenes of their past victories, scrawled across the entirety of their black-matte bulwark akin to an animated war poem. Their bulky, trapezoidal helmets were entirely devoid of exterior features, the whole of their senses being transmitted and relayed internally through the diagnostics and substrata of the Magna Caedes' outfit through dozens of sensors and systems. Strength, speed, foresight, willpower- one had to be at the apex of such traits to even be considered for the life-lasting honor and duty of becoming a Magna Caedes; and the acceptance of such forged into service rivaling immortality. Whether or not one was capable of surviving the procedures that even the cutting-edge surgeons and researchers on Canaris found insanely difficult, was a question tens of millions had asked and only twenty in Canari existence had answered.

'Twas one, then two, then four, and finally six that flanked Admiral Hawkes on his left and right, made impossibly conspicuous by the deafening thumping of their magnetic greaves, able to keep them grounded on slippery terrain and in zero-gravity environments. Fastened to their backs were monstrously-sized melee weapons in a variety for each Magna Caedes; A battleaxe, a war maul, an oversized bayonet rifle, a Las-Blade, a war glaive, and a shoulder-mounted plasma cannon; each ordered and mandated to learn a new variety of melee and ranged weaponry each year. Without exception, all of these supersoldiers were equipped with a two-foot-long combat knife and Riveters; oversized handguns capable of blasting shell cartridges the size of golf balls, and thus termed aptly for their overwhelming destructive capability.

Even these warriors from another era showed great deference to Admiral Hawkes, their eyes gleaming with arrogant pride and a fanatic urgency to demonstrate their unparalleled martial skill to the one man who singlehandedly carved out Canaris' path to succession for 3 decades straight.

"Our warships will handle the orbital and sub-orbital defense networks," Hawkes relayed to the Magna Caedes through an internal communications network that allowed them to speak remotely to one another even in high-intensity firefights. "We'll be landing at the northmost edge of the Synacot Marshes and make our way to their headquarters. Keep collateral to a minimum."

The Magna Caedes nodded their daunting helmet frames in approval, performing hundreds of mental calculations in anticipation of the upcoming battle whilst Admiral Hawkes patched in to Lilia.

"Lilia-"

"WHY ARE YOU DROPPING INTO THE BATTLE, YOU FUCKWIT?!"

Hawkes groaned as Lily's distraught voice pierced his ears.

"I've been doing this my entire fucking life, Lily! Why are you making a commotion about it now?!"

"THERE'S NO REASON TO ANYMORE! YOU'VE ALREADY LED BY EXAMPLE HUNDREDS OF TIMES! STOP RISKING YOUR LIFE OVER NOTHING! PLEASE!"

"I'LL DO WHATEVER I GODDAMN WELL PLEASE!"

Hawkes growled gutturally as he turned off communications with the Argonaut; entering into a battle trance as he prepared for an onslaught of enemies. Hawkes and his team of Caedes reached the Orbital Deployment Bay, busy with deploying regiments of Canarii to the surface of Miranys in the same way Hawkes and his team would be doing. They walked past the rows of drop pods, where Canarii warriors stepped into person-sized chairs that held them steady while RMPDs kept their body in stasis during the hard impact into the ground, and entered their own uniquely-designed drop pods for seven and eight-foot-tall behemoths.

"We'll be operating alongside Clémence and Caz's teams, we'll be the vanguard until they've reached the primary defense fortresses, then it's infiltration and sabotage." Hawkes relayed his last order, waiting as the drop pod doors hissed on their hinges, pulling downwards slowly to seal in the interior capsule and prepared for deployment.

"Dropping in 3... 2... 1..."

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(Music: "Incendiary", by Nateki)

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SCH-P!

The pods shot downward at terminal velocity, rocketing like war-beckoning comets hurtling toward an unfortunate populace of rebels. The window view from the drop pods provided a picturesque and equally dread-inducing tapestry of hundreds of space vessels immediately engaging in all-out warfare; bullets, shells, grapeshot, explosives, particle beams, and dozens of other forms of projectiles were traded in the thousands each second between warring vessels, happening in such rapid and growing magnitude that Hawkes managed to hear those half-second soundwaves blasting with muffled ferocity through the interior of his drop pod, before falling deathly silent in the empty vacuum of space.

Hundreds upon hundreds of drop pods barreled toward Eranya's surface around Hawkes and his team, carrying Canarii warriors driven into battle frenzies for the oncoming fight, platoons and fireteams that would work like sentient, collective ants to achieve their objectives. Armed and armored in the finest Canaris had to offer, and carrying decades of experience in their flesh and bones; this was Canaris setting an example for future labor colonies with the same foolish gall to try and break away from their rulers. An age-old adage the Patriarch enjoyed sending in replies to war declarations and treasonous communications:

|-|-| Fuck around, find out. |-|-|

2 minutes till arrival, Hawkes thought, watching as the cinematic maelstrom of interstellar battle unfolded before him, witnessing turrets, fighters, autocannons, and enemy cruisers lock in on the drop pods and attempt to blow them out of the sky; their shots missing as the pods were quickly leaving their fields of view and piercing the thermosphere of the planet. The drop pods seared and reflected orange, then red, then bright red, then hot-white as the alloyed surfaces heated up from atmospheric entry. 

1 minute till arrival.

The burning persisted for several seconds, before eventually the drop pods had successfully entered orbit; and were immediately locked on and fired upon by artillery emplacements on the surface. Massive shells rocketed by the drop pods, and those lucky few that managed to hit dead-on merely deflected off the 5-inch thick armor coating of the drop pods; made for one purpose only, there was no quarter spared on the sheer durability of the tons-heavy orbital deployment pods.

30 seconds till arrival.

As they parted through the clouds and the wetlands came into view, so did the tens of thousands of Miranys militia fighters, storming the fields to outnumber their superior skilled foe in melee combat. Armored Fighting Vehicles (AFVs), hijacked by the Miranys Rebels from local Canari authorities, drove down the sloped hills toward the marshlands alongside Postmodern-era Humvees with rotating manned heavy machine guns, swerving wildly as they approached the frontline in a massive haphazard string of hundreds-strong vehicles, their wheels and tracks destroying the landscape as large clumps of soil and dirt flew behind them.

Impact.

DDDSSSHHHH!!!

The drop pods slammed into the earth, and the front doors opened up- Hawkes and his Magna Caedes stepped out of the pods and immediately entered the fray. Dozens of Miranys Rebels immediately charged at them, armored in their own Achilles armor and wielding weaponry of every type. Hawkes led the advancing arrow-point formation, tilting his greatsword sheath downward and drawing out the blade -initializing its lasered rim-, using his other hand to unholster the Riveter attached to his hip belt.

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(Ambience: "Intense D-Day Ambience", by Sounds of War)

(Music: "Cultist Battle", by Rob Cairns)

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As the first of the enemy came, he wound his sword low, digging it into the earth, and swung it in an upward arc, throwing clumps of dirt in the approaching Rebel's face, blinding his vision and allowing Hawkes to level his Riveter at the Rebel's helmet. KRAK! Twelve warriors followed seconds behind the headless corpse, assaulting Hawkes' squad with close-range bayonet rifles and two-handed melee weapons, using their exterior exoskeletons (known as Exos) to gain an edge on speed and dexterity, having to avoid all strikes possible, as each and every attack from Admiral Hawkes or the Magna Caedes would provide overwhelming death or mutilation on a successful hit.

The Magna Caedes brought up the sides, their formation slamming into the waves of bodies like a meat grinder; heaving, swinging, and stabbing their hulkish weapons at the Myranis Rebels, who were bouncing around the field in their Exos and keeping their distance from the walking tanks, attempting to stab or slice at the supersoldiers when they were exposed yet finding themselves rapidly brutalized and cut to pieces the moment they tried to enter striking range against Hawkes and the Caedes.

Hawkes brought up his Riveter, firing pinpoint accurate shots at three Rebels darting toward one of the Caedes, blasting two of them into gore and grazing the third one, who was distracted long enough by the near-hit to -SHHHCK!- have his torso cut in twain by a Caedes battleaxe. Hawkes sensed a looming attack from his right side and rolled forward, blasting the assailant with his Riveter which sent the Rebel flying with a massive dent in his chestplate. Three more Rebels approached Hawkes, shooting his armor while charging with bayonets. Hawkes allowed the bullets to ping off his suit, holstering his Riveter momentarily and rotating his greatsword until he was holding the blade with both hands; an ancient technique used by knights of yore in close combat engagements with other heavily armored enemies; using the blunt end or handle as a club to cave in the heads of enemies.

The first Rebel stopped just short of Hawkes' striking range, firing a volley of shots as the second Rebel came up to Hawkes' right, charging with his bayonet for Hawkes' throat. Hawkes sidestepped the charge, wrapping the joint of his forearm around the Rebel's own neck and pulling him toward his body to use as a meat shield. He tossed his greatsword to the ground and unholstered his Riveter, bringing it up and firing with carefully-aimed shots, allowing his hostage to take the majority of bullets being fired at him by the other Rebels on the battlefield. KRAK! KRAK-KRAK! KRAK! KRAK! Bodies fell, slamming and crumpling into the bogs they were moving around, whilst Hawkes examined his hostage; killed violently by the hundreds of bullets that slammed into his armor, tore through it, and eviscerated the Rebel in his grip. He dropped the deadweight, firing his Riveter at a few more Rebels traversing rapidly around the field before one of his Magna Caedes jumped in front of his eastern flank-

DOOSH! DOOSH!

Two heavy artillery shells slammed into the Caedes, one of them glancing off and exploding a group of Rebels whilst the other hit him dead center, throwing the Caedes off his feet, slamming into Hawkes, and tumbling over the wetlands, before immediately reorienting himself and rejoining the formation. Hawkes, recovering from the hit, sighted the elevated autocannon sat atop the northern hill, firing at Canarii, Argonaut officers, and the Caedes with feverish dogma. Hawkes clicked his thumb and finger together, turning on communications with the Argonaut II.

"Danny. AC turret in front of me, sending coordinates."

"Copy."

Hawkes and his Caedes sprinted several meters in seconds, clearing the wetlands and its shoddy terrain with no hindrance, their footwear sloshing through the water and mud with such speed it almost seemed as if they were sprinting on water. As they blasted through the defenses of entrenched Rebels, their traveling hulking masses slammed through both fortifications and enemy bodies alike- immediately vaporizing any unfortunate soldiers that didn't clear the way quickly enough into red mist and internal organs.

Bwoosh. Bwoosh. Bwoosh.

Three distant explosions emanated from the atmosphere, as bulky shells filled with ultra-explosive payloads burst through the stratosphere with precise coordinates locked on the autocannon turret pointed out by Admiral Hawkes.

BOOOOM-BOOOOM-! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The autocannon turret turned to immediate ash as it erupted with engulfing flames, flourishing for meters in every direction as the payloads detonated and wreaked havoc across the secured entrenchment, annihilating dozens of Rebels in the blink of an eye and terrifying hundreds more amid the miles-wide battlefield. Even still, droves of Rebels surfaced the top of that hill and sprinted toward the oncoming Canarii, Hawkes and Caedes, screaming in righteous fury as they prepared themselves for the fight of their life; behind them followed AFVs, Helixads and explosive-packed drones honing in on the opposing forces for self-detonation.

"They're organized," Hawkes spoke through the internal comms systems. "Send chaos right into the middle of their mainstay, Danny."

"Copy."

A few moments passed as Hawkes' team continued slaughtering their way through waves of Miranys Rebels, more pods slamming through the atmosphere, this time rocketing toward the massive fortified metroplex that served as the Miranys Rebels' HQ, as well as haphazardly strafing toward random points on the battlefield.

DSSSH-! DSSSH-DSSSH-! DSSSH-!

These containers, far larger than the standard deployment pods, slammed into the earth, opening up to reveal Gaiters, remnants of the Terror, crawling out in a drug-induced battle frenzy and immediately assailing the closest Rebels possible, causing terror and jheavy morale detriment to the Rebels as their species' greatest ordeal and nightmare manifested itself so horribly on the battlefield, charging from behind their entrenched positions and tearing them to shreds whilst the rest of them were stuck cleaning up the mess and simultaneously fending off the advancing Canarii, finding and retrieving his greatsword before returning to the slaughter.

With the chaos that would ensue, Hawkes led his team and advanced on the HQ in rapid measure. Once their symbol of mutiny was annihilated and their most troublesome leaders executed, this atrocious affair could come to a quick end. Hawkes radioed Elise before he would begin the frontal assault.

"Elise, you've kept eyes on Yvette, yes?"

"The moment Greine took over negotiations, my drones were sniped out of orbit. I've sent more to locate the Miranys leaders, but-"

"But nothing, Elise! Get her in your damn sights and keep her there!"

"She'll be more likely to survive if you find her first. I can't get within a mile of the compound without my drones getting shot down, right now."

"FUUUCK!" Hawkes rasped, turning off ship comms and leveling his fiery gaze on the compound.

"Here's your 'mere' show of force, CUR."

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(Music: "The Only Thing They Fear Is You", by Mick Gordon | YT Only)

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Hawkes sprinted up the hill where the autocannon turret was obliterated, using its remains as cover when he crested the hill and spotted hundreds of gun barrels pointing directly at him. They unleashed a wall of lead and hellfire on him, tearing away the metal and fibers of the derelict autocannon and rapidly removing Hawkes' cover. A second later, one of the Magna Caedes sprinted up the hill, planted one strong foot at the crest, and propelled himself several meters into the air, gaining a bird's eye view of the battlefield and rapidly assessing the situation- memorizing the locations of the artillery batteries, underground bunkers, sniper nests and highest concentrations of Rebel soldiers, relaying this information to Hawkes, before rocketing down toward the HQ and smashing through the roof, wreaking havoc inside as his battle brothers engaged in their own devastating combat roles whilst Hawkes made his way towards the compound.

The NCO of the Caedes fireteam, Sergeant-At-Arms Eris, scaled the multi-story buildings throughout the colony, eliminating sniper contingents and picking off troublesome enemy fireteams whilst dicing her way through scores of Rebels with the War Glaive she wielded like a centuries-old battle monk. The glaive flourished between her hands, effortlessly gliding through armor, armor, armor, flesh, bone, organ, bone, flesh- disembowling, crippling, decimating, dismantling foes as if they were still stalks of bamboo. The rare moments where her glaive was not dashing between armored bodies, she was using her fists and gauntlets to punch, crush, and backhand her way through the endless waves of Miranys Rebels.

The Magna Caedes infiltrated the settlement with superhuman speed and dexterity, climbing buildings, weaving through alleyways, and obliterating enemy infrastructure through deft sabotage that was achieved as quickly as they arrived and left the scenes of gore and destruction. Those unlucky enough to carry a pulse and encounter the superhuman warriors were quickly departed from life through a violent reckoning at the business end of their weaponry.

Hawkes ran right down the middle of the war-torn streets leading to the HQ, having to dodge flying rockets, artillery shells, the heaviest of gunfire, and incoming vehicles barreling towards him with the sole intent of running him over into roadkill. One of those Armored Fighting Vehicles careened around the corner, gunning it for Admiral Hawkes and blasting their topside machine gun with unhinged malevolence-

DSSH-CREAAAAKKK-CRRSSSSHHHHH!!!!

The side of the AFV was slammed into by a shoulder check from a Magna Caedes, the AFV turning on its side and slide-crashing across the ground, screeching unbearably as metal met gravel. The Magna Caedes rounded the armored vehicle, slamming his fist with overwhelming force against the bulletproof window -shattering it- then leveled his Riveter through the broken slit and executed the passengers inside.

KRAK! KRAK-KRAK-KRAK! KRAK!

In the same time frame, two Helixads descended on the scene, blasting the Magna Caedes, Canarii, and Hawkes with triple-barreled miniguns that sprayed the streetways with a hailstorm of high-velocity bullets capable of shredding even armored vehicles. Hawkes and the Caedes took cover, a few unfortunate Canarii ripped to pieces by the onslaught of projectiles. One of the Caedes, hailed as 'Infantrier Ajax', stepped out from cover with his Plasma Cannon, leveling it at the closest Helixad and firing.

B-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH-BOOOOOOOM!!!!!

The plasma beam slammed through the middle of the Helixad, tearing it in half and sending its collateral remains careening toward the ground in a fiery haze, spinning uncontrollably as its quick-approaching demise became ever more apparent with each flitting second.

BWOOOOOSHHH!!!!!!

The Helixad exploded on impact, bursting shockwaves and fiery blasts wafting for several meters, sending plumes of smoke into the air and clouding the battlefield with a cloud of smog as the wind blew the ashes and smoke southward across the active firefight. The second Helixad pulled out of the area, retreating tactically to reform with other support battalions to avoid the same fate as the first.

After the aerial threats were neutralized, Hawkes continued sprinting along as the echoes of Riveter shells firing off rang through his ears incessantly. Two Miranys combatants approached Hawkes out of the smoke mirage, swinging their blades at him. He ducked the first one, slamming the magazine of his Riveter into the combatant's gut, causing the Rebel to keel over as Hawkes swung his greatsword in a horizontal arc, cutting through the outermost layer of the second-approaching Rebel, who managed to hop back right as the sword swung towards him. The Rebel feigned an overhead cut with both hands, then arced his grip in a crescent shape, converting the overhead attack into a sideways cut. Hawkes brought up his greatsword and deflected the blade off his sword's edge, allowing the enemy's blade to pass up the length of his greatsword and into the air-

KRAK!

Allowing Hawkes to blast the Rebel in the face with the Riveter in his other hand, sending alloy chunks, brain matter, blood, and skull fragments showering across the roadway as the headless Rebel's body stumbled, then crumpled awkwardly across the street. Hawkes quickly stabbed the tip of the greatsword into the head of the Rebel gasping for air on the ground, right as dozens of Rebels rounded the corner. Hawkes took cover, reaching for his utility belt and pulling off a cluster grenade, tossing it over the burning AFV he was hiding behind and waiting until it detonated.

BOOOSH-KW-KW-KW-KW-KW-KW!

Hawkes immediately rounded his cover, sprinting past the dying and mutilated screaming bodies of the Rebels, watching as two of his Magna Caedes closed in on a Basilisk anti-orbital battery, cleaving their way through dozens of experienced combatants and pincering the Rebels manning the battery. After slicing the last Rebel on the platform from skull to cervix, the senior Caedes unhooked a massive explosive from his utility belt, planting it on the Basilisk whilst the junior fended off both Rebels up close and afar. Dozens flooded up the steps to the Basilisk, assailing the junior Caedes with ferocity and grit- yet they were hopelessly outmatched, ignorant as they were to this revelation. No one in this era of history had fought a Magna Caedes and survived to speak the tale.

And here, they experienced it most viscerally in their last moments.

The Magna Caedes, hailed as 'Infantrier Heracles', sprinted through the line of Rebels in front of him, sending the bulk of them flying through the air and crashing across the obliterated terrain. His war maul traveled over his helmet like an unstoppable force of nature, slamming down upon the head of an approaching Rebel and crushing them right down the middle; before the war maul was pulled back and swung horizontally, slamming into and obliterating two Rebels standing next to one another- their midsections erased by the swing of the maul, sending their chunks of flesh and armor fragments as shrapnel into the other Miranys combatants in battle. Heracles raised his monstrous leg and kicked the lower half of their torsos at approaching combatants, horrifying them with the gore of their comrades for just long enough-

KRAK! SMACK! SLAM! CRCK! SHHCK! BOOSH! CRACK!

-For Heracles to render them in shock, allowing him to sprint forward and tear his way through the crowds of Miranys warriors; using his gauntlets to eviscerate, dismember, and mutilate the enemy with brutal efficiency.

"Well done, Heracles." Hawkes relayed over his communications, garnering a momentary excitement of pure giddiness from Heracles before he resumed his death-making. Hawkes and the remainder of his Magna Caedes advanced on the headquarters, reaching the front doors in little time; their auxiliary forces having eliminated the majority of the enemy's active combatants by this point.

Peering at the double doors before him, Hawkes raised his armored leg and-

BOOOOSH!

-Slammed a hard kick across the decorated and solid surface, sending the door flying off its hinges. Hawkes stormed through the entrance, followed by his Magna Caedes as the sound of continued warfare raged on outside.

BOOOSH!

Hawkes had to do the same for another set of doors, and then another, and another, and another, until he finally reached the main chamber of the Miranys leadership; peering several dozens of highly-experienced Miranys warriors surrounding the grim-faced leadership of this mutiny- including Greine, whose face was shrouded in utter misery and hatred-rage-resentment-fury.

"You fucking tyrant," Greine hissed at Hawkes, tears streaming down his wrath-overflowing face. "I was foolish to ever think we could free ourselves of autocracy at this stage."

"The first intelligent remark you've made." Hawkes simply sneered, basking in the misery of Greine. "Where's Yvette? Even a degenerate like you wouldn't shove her into battle. She'll be leading your colony after I dismember you precisely. At least you accomplished something."

Greine chuckled, half in madness and half in pure hatred for the circumstances he'd been cursed with. "If I'm going to die at the hands of dogs, allow me a duel, you cankerous fucking cunt."

Hawkes was stunned, at first, by the outright declaration of a duel from a far inferior opponent; then the creases of his mouth slithered upwards in a malicious, predatory grin. "Let's go."

Hawkes waved his Magna Caedes to the side, walking himself to the far edge of the circular decor that etched the floor; seeming akin to a dueling arena for just the two of them.

"If I win," Greine spoke aloud, as if challenging the atmosphere that wanted badly to choke him to death in his own panic. "If I win, tell your Canari to fuck off and let us flourish on our own, or under the protection of Canaris if that's what they vote for. If I win... I want your oath that you will-"

"I predict, you will die in one minute and twenty-one seconds."

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(Music: "Revolta", by ARXMANE)

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Greine Altomeier was UTTERLY ENRAGED.

He sprinted forward with d-e-a-d-l-y determination, evading the first few swipes from Magna Caedes before leaping into the air and unsheathing his las-blade, wreathing it down upon Hawkes' head with murderous intention-

Whoosh!

Hawkes sidestepped the downward attack, slamming his helmet into Greine's and sending him careening across the floor. Greine reoriented himself, swinging his blade upward as Hawkes approached. Hawkes tilted his head backward, narrowly avoiding the particles of the blade's deadly laser edge by centimeters, before darting into arms' reach and bringing his visor only inches from Greine's helmet.

"THIRTY SECONDS."

Greine headbutted Hawkes, rolling away and unclasping a smoke grenade from his belt, tossing it at Hawkes whilst activating his thermal vision and moving in rapidly for a killing blow. He was shocked as Hawkes countered his straight stab by using the flat side of his greatsword to allow Greine's blade to glide along its shaft- CRACK!- and Hawkes used the opportunity to smash the sharp end of his blade into Greine's helmet, shattering dozens of layers of armor and nearly reaching his left eye. Greine rolled away several times, reasserting his combat stance and in a much more frightened position than before. Fighting a Canarii Warrior was absolutely nothing like fighting Magna Caedes or Admiral Hawkes himself- this was a fight that Greine was despairingly beginning to realize had outmatched him by leagues. All he could do now was land a potential killing blow and get his home colony a chance at-

SHHHHCK!

Greine felt his left leg cleaved away from his body by a Magna Caedes that had closed the gap in the second Greine took to compartmentalize his fears- SHHHHCK! -and could hardly process as another of the Magna Caedes sliced her Glaive through his armor like butter- CRACK!

Greine Altomeier died instantly as Heracles' War Maul slammed over the top of his helmet and pulverized him from skull to clavicle, ribs, organs, cervix, floor- BWSH!

The leader of the Miranys rebellion was left in a pulverized mash of blood, flesh, bones, and sinew. Those gathered in the expansive war room-turned-battlefield were either Magna Caedes or scared-shitless sub-leaders of the rebellion, who were quickly wrought to their knees by Canarii that flooded the room, tying them up and hauling them out as Hawkes interrogated the survivors on the whereabouts of Yvette.

"You fucking indigent. Where is she? Yvette. Yes, Yvette. Your third-in-charge, you PRIMITIVE FUCK!" KRAK!

"You. Yes, you, motherfucker. Location. Yvette. Yes, HER! STOP PLAYING FUCKING DUMB-! KRAK! FUCK!"

"No, no. No teary eyes. Tell me where she is, or you die. It's that simple. You can't be fucking serious. You can't-" KRAK!

Hawkes bared his teeth at the universe as he stormed away from the half-dozen interrogated corpses in his grip only moments prior. His mind simply ignored the worst possible outcome- he had only the picture of the young girl he'd first seen when visiting this planet; that stupid-faced, bright-eyed, freckle-faced, always curious-

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(Music: "Two Hearts", by Atticus Ross)

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Oh. She was dead.

Hawkes stared down at the mutilated, half-crushed corpse of Yvette Talima, his long-time pupil and friend during his service as the Martial Governor of Eranya. The memories stabbed through his brain and dug into his soft, squishy brain matter with a blackening, primeval, antediluvian rage and agony that had been materializing in Hawkes' mind for decades.

No, I won. I killed them. I won. Fuck them. Fuck them. I won. I won. Your blood will consecrate the future of millions. Yeah. Yes. Yes. I WON. HA. HAHAH! BASSTARDS!

Hawkes stumbled out of the crumbling headquarters, watching as thousands of surrendered Myranis Rebels were hauled into the wetlands and lined up in massive rows for the Admiral's decision, an approaching storm bringing a most fitting and sorrowful downpour on the morbid after-carnage of the battlefield. He surveyed the vast collection of miles-wide destruction that was wrought over everything that could be seen by the human eye, augmented or naught; buildings leveled, corpses littering the vast landscape, massive craters from repeated artillery strikes; and in the distance, dozens of Miranys-hijacked and Canari space vessels had crashlanded, their behemothic structures adding an otherworldly aesthetic to the grim, bloody battle's aftermath.

"What's the progress of the takeover?" Hawkes muttered despondently into his internal comms network. Lord-Commander Leonidas answered him with a growling, sonorously gritty voice.

"It has been done, Lord Admiral."

Admiral Hawkes affirmed, turning off his radio and wiping the few tears that surfaced from his eyes; excessive stress fomented into inevitable sorrow and mourning for events that seemed entirely out of his control- no matter how intelligent he was, some events in the universe seemed like tragic fate. The cold, indifferent cruelty of life and the silent-cackling universe that endorsed this cycle of violence.

He stomped down the steps of the grand entrance to Miranys' city center, his dissonant and despairing eyes staring past the rows of captured Miranys Rebels. As he walked past their numbers, he stayed deathly silent, merely glowering at their cowering figures whilst he surveyed the extent of widespread destruction across Miranys, as well as the death toll on both sides of the conflict.

"Where the fuck is Nemdo?"

As he uttered the malicious question, the individual in question was hauled out roughly by Chevalier and Caz, thrown to the wettening streetside as rain came in a torrential flurry from the greying skies. Nemdo gazed up with nothing except pure terror, resentment, and hatred beaming from the slashed glare of his irises.

"I know how the Hannou feel now," Nemdo crowed as Chevalier hauled him up onto his knees. "Eranya will not forget this, you piece of shit! You've brought a curse upon you and your ship, Lord Admiral! You fucking... piece... of shit. I hate you."

"Is that all you have to say." Hawkes stated, forgetting the questioning format and simply leveling his Riveter between Nemdo's eyes. "Suffer after death."

KRAK!

He blasted Nemdo's head into pieces, watching as his lifeless, headless body crumpled to the ground. All three leaders were dead now. Their mutineers were obliterated; their defenses shredded beyond recognition along with their landscape. The rebellion was quelled. The job was done. It was time to leave.

He beckoned to his Caedes, watching them storm back to their drop pods which would soon be retrieved by industrial drone carriers and transported back to the ship in quick fashion. Despite the mission's end, Hawkes found it incredibly difficult to move at the moment; his mind was glued onto the corpse of Yvette.

What am I doing? Hawkes wondered. It had been thirty years of service. This was the anniversary date of his first year of admiralty. Consecrated by the death of ten-thousands and the blood of undeserving collateral. What the fuck- what the fuck am I doing??

Thirty years. Thirty years of service. In all that time, he had been hoping to find a reason or purpose for his existence. The war and death and terror was a long distraction, but late into his career, he began to realize that the endless carnage was not what filled the void in his heart.

There might not be anything that does, Hawkes wondered, and immediately he began to eye the Riveter holstered to his hip. My nation is in a great place. They have the Magna Caedes. They have the Canarii. They have the best generation of Atriarchs we could ask for. They're on the top of their game. And they're free of past historical atrocities, I did the heavy lifting there. We're good. We're good to go. We're good to go. I like this view. I really like this view. I didn't think I'd like the view this much. But I wouldn't mind this last view. I think it's the best I'll get. I'm happy with what I've achieved. I hope my people flourish. I hope my crew is happy and successful. What great people I've been surrounded by-!

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(Music: "Over & Over", by Rio Romeo)

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"Lord-Admiral, WHATTHEFUCKAREYOUDOING-?!"

Hawkes raised the Riveter to the underside of his helmet-

KRAK!

-The bolt propelled like a rocket from the cartridge, slamming into his jaw and fracturing it, even with the RMPDs attempting to neutralize the nauseatingly close collision. The Magna Caedes, who had locked into the drop pods, were practically carving their way through the front door hinges to reach the Admiral as he was attempting to kill himself in rapid fashion.

"STOP! STOP, HAWKES!" "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" "NOOO! NOOOOOOO! NOOOOOO!!!!!!" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA, PLEASE STOOOOOP!!!!"

Please take me out-! PLEASE-!

KRAK!

Another bolt delivered to the underside of his helmet; even with the armor he wore, a point-blank shot from a Riveter was the equivalent of a horse kick to the face. His jaw was shattered, his teeth pulverized by the blast; the rest of his skull reverberating violently and shaking his brain in such a forceful way that he nearly suffered an instant concussion. DEAR GOD, ONE MORE-!

Crck-KRAK!

Infantriere Perseus, screaming bloody murder, smacked the activated Riveter out of Hawkes' hand with such force that he shattered Hawkes' arm and broke it in several areas, promptly tackling the Admiral and pinning him to the ground to prevent him from attempting to harm himself any further.

"LORD ADMIRAL, HAVE YOU LOST IT?! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US ALL?!"

"LEEHHH 'EEEEE 'IIIIEEEE, 'UUUU 'UUUCKKKINNN' INNGRAAYYYHHHEEE!"

Admiral Hawkes frothed at his half-obliterated mouth, utterly enraged at still finding himself painfully conscious and alive, writhing against the unsteady hold of Perseus. The rest of the Magna Caedes moved to help secure Admiral Hawkes, who pushed several of them off and attempted to reach for the Riveter before having his arm broken and secured against the floor.

"Fucking hell!" Lord-Commander Leonidas muttered through his internal comms; the only time in his entire life he had been genuinely shocked and upset by the turn of events unfolding before him. "A manic episode. Tend!"

His laconic language was aptly communicated to the other Magna Caedes, who quickly hauled the restrained and quickly-sedated Admiral onto a Helixad which would transport them to the Argonaut II. Leonidas stood at the steps of Miranys' headquarters, peering out with a grim expression at the destruction wrought upon the once-humble and bustling labor colony.

"Infinitely fortunate ROT OF THE SOIL," Leonidas hiss-growled like an abominable hybrid of feral animals; venting his frustrations in this rare moment when he hardly ever got the chance to otherwise. "Dread that day our Icon perishes, if ever; it will be the last day you experience Peace."

[too-many-eyesandwings]

dividers by : @kodaswrld

RUN IF RELIGIOUS THEMES UNCOMFY THEMES EYES, ELDRITCH HORRORS, DEREALIZATION AND SHIT LIKE THAT ARE NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA

Also RUN BEFORE VOLO AND I'S CARNEL RELIGIOUSLY PSYCHOTIC LOVE FOR EACHOTHER MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

Name: Mystic/Dream/Moop/ or any of my fictionkin names

Gender: Nonbinary/Gendervoidflux/Novarian

( I seem to be one of Liminality and of the unknown void .The gender is there, but sometimes it is not... It stretches into the formless abyss. For the sake of my sanity, I just but if I had to put a term to it it would be gendervoid or Novarian(Masc Nonbinary)(Preferred Pronouns are He/Him They/Them, it/its but you can use any)

I am Gothic/Voidpunk and an occultist/pagan who loves books Astronomy, plants, birds, esoteric/hermetic/religious/occult concepts and philosophy

INTJ-NT and 5w4

The rest of the information about me is in this digital cesspo . Find it yourself

This is my general otherkin shenanigans blog (mostly my fallen angelkintype, void/Eldritch kintype and some of my Demonkin shenanigans)

⚠️⚠️ I am an eldritch being of stars, abyssal energy and thought up dreamscapes a borderline nullified conglomerate of angelic and demonic abstractions rotting away in a physical human vessel ⚠️ I self ship with Volo (from pokemon) he is my husband

the vibe I am when it comes to being an angelkin(a biblically accurate Seraph to be precise) is Mostly Eastern orthodox chants with hints of being fallen and corrupted with some unsettling airs that this is an otherworldly being beyond your understanding...and the knowledge of its existence is horrifying to minds whom cannot conceive of it. It is ethereal and beautiful but deadly and eldritch

My angelic vibes in a collage

Pie Iesu Domine. Dona Eis Requiem

Я — великий грешник на земном путиГосподи, помилуй. Господи, прости!

My various forms:

Fallen Angelkin/Biblically accurate Seraphkin/Divinekin)

(Biblically Accurate Angelic Avian Horror with too many eyes, wings and a glowing white four pointed star, white ( sometimes grey or black) Iridescent feathers with accents. Combines owls, peacocks, doves and gods know what else. Looks similar to the Erosion bird, Sometimes it has black goop(?) falling out of its eyes and or mouth. A totally horrific incomprehensible abstract avian thing(?)

Eldritchkin,, Abyss/Voidkin and Cosmickin(conceptkin)

I just call these shifts 🚫 null states. It is my default rawest form when it comes to not feeling any noticeable perceived shifts. A shifting eldritch blob of voidmatter, eyes and nebulae from the abyssal void that stares back. Looks like Void Entity from Hollow Knight(Also concept kin)(✨️)(🦋)(👁)

I am also Cryptidkin(Not Deer, Jersey Devil and Erosion bird specifically), Demonkin, dragonkin, Chimerakin(concept) and Werewolf kin and my newest

A TEETH MONSTER( thing but instead of just suction cups It has teeth. LikE teeth all kinds of teeth

Theriotypes

Corvid (Cladiotherian), Barn owl, Indian Peafowl, Long Tailed Chickens(Sumatra/Onagadori/Phoenix/Yokohama), Sighthound(tricolored black Saluki, Black Borzoi and white Silken Windhound), Giant Centipede, Sea Angel, Siberian Forest Cat, Opossum, British Primitive goat, Gyrfalcon, Marrella splendens(Paleotherian) Datura/Nightshade(Phytotherian)

My other main fictotypes:

Dream of The Endless(The Sandman)(self ID)(Also known as Moop)

Stolas(Helluva Boss)(Self ID)

Giratina(Pokemon)(Self ID)

Doctor Strange(Marvel)(Self ID)

Void Entity(Hollow Knight)(Self ID)

Rick Sanchez(Rick and Morty)(Self ID)

Lord Sesshomaru(Inuyasha)(Self ID)

Alastor(Hazbin Hotel)(Self ID)

Aaravos(The Dragon Prince)(Self ID)

L Lawlet(Death Note)(Self ID)

Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon(My Little Pony)

Alucard(Hellsing/Hellsing Ultimate)

Belphagor(Helluva Boss)

Reshiram(possibly shiny?)(Pokemon)

Andrealphus(Helluva boss)

Undertaker(Black Butler)

Stardust Cookie(Cookie Run)

Lord Shen(Kung Fu Panda 2)

Sera(Hazbin Hotel)(mostly in her avianoid form)

Yoshi(Yoshis Island)(Cladiotherian)

Alpaca God(Alpaca Evolution)(yes I am dead serious)

Freak deer(Adventure Time)

+more

Apparently volo loves that so much he creams out half his body weight in divine pleasure and fervered worship

More info about me and my ship with Volo if you care-----V

[izar-tarazed]

[luminaryofblood][post dlc] "... What's this?"

Izar offers a glass cabochon of dark blue color, just like the night sky; and indeed, tiny specks of silver are glinting within. The blue itself is faintly iridescent, with hints of purple and black reminiscent of a nebula. Held by a small golden frame, it comes with a cord of dark leather; she has deliberately avoided anything that would resemble a chain. But it could be worn as a pendant, or attached otherwise.

‟…so my idea was to replicate the view you had from Mohgwyn Palace. I made a star map back when I… came there, and hoped to use it as a pattern. But to be honest, it’s impossible to tell whether the positions of those silver dots are all accurate, and there was no way to make it more exact.

But the colors are fine, I think, so I thought… it would be like having a piece of your subterranean night sky to carry with you. A memory of home, maybe.”

[morgenlich]

this week i’m wearing LynB Designs’ Cat’s Paw, a cool green with pink/red/gold iridescent shimmer inspired by some pics of the cat’s eye nebula. a great first week of september polish lmao, giving a bit of “leaves just starting to change colors” and “candy apple”

it’s a bit sheer after 3 coats, and i’m curious to see how it layers over black; also when i place my next order with holo taco (looks like that’ll be later this week 👀) i plan to get halogen glow, which i think will look good layered over this to add a bit more of a gold shimmer lol but i do like it as is! LBD is a favorite indie brand and i can see why from this + the swatches of the rest of my order that i did last night