#galactic migraines

[the-galactic-catt]

i've said this way too many times lately but what the fuck is this casting

clutuals have you seen this

[the-galactic-catt]

this is your not-so-friendly reminder to stop viewing wild animals with human ethics

[sketchyspudley]

[paradoxesofgalaxies]

Ughhh my neck popped and now I have a migraine and being stuck in glasses is making it worse ;;;-;;;

[glacticprincess]

Are you ok?

No bro, welcome to the show

[bedrock-to-buildheight]

It is entirely @theshitpostcalligrapher's idea to have the galactic alphabet be on clay tablet, which, combined with several weeks of wrangling the world's most uncooperative clay, produced some future archeologist's migraine!

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Do you think geese are still a thing in 40k?

The geese have taken over their own planet in the Ghoul Stars. It’s the only planet in recorded galactic history to be so utterly hostile to outsiders that the Tyranids refuse to go near it and the Orks consider the fightin’ to be “a bit much”. Khorne has declared the planet, known as Tallgeese III, to be under his protection after Karanak spent a full month being chased around by swarms of geese until he expired. Destroyer cults strive to emulate the level of antipathy the geese display, and chaos sorcerers cannot scry Tallgeese III, lest they be riven with cluster migraines.

[ledbytheunknown]

Pro Memoria

Summary: Crosshair alone in his cell on Mount Tantiss reflects on his life, his choices and all that brought him to that point.

Word count: 1590

Warnings: There is talk of pain, angst, medical issues and contemplation of death. Thoughts or regret and sadness

A/N: Written for @swprequels-big-bang The art is amazing and I just know you will al love it as much as I do when you see it.

it can be found here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" Don't you forget about dying

Don't you forget about your friend death

Don't you forget that you will die "

Crosshair sat alone in the cell on Mount Tantiss, no natural light reached this far in. The garish industrial lights often hurt his eyes, making his head fill with the pain of a migraine. He’d lost count of the days, everyone being the same monotonous routine. Wake a morning serving of sustenance that made the old republic rations look like a gourmet meal on Canto Bight. Guards moving him to a lab samples taken from his right hand, the repeated jabs left his hand feeling weak and at times it had a tremor. 

In the beginning he would be taken to a chamber much like the one Rampart and Tarkin used on him back on Kamino and his mind was probed and shocked as Hemlock tried to twist him and it to make him a perfect super soldier.

The gas Hemlock had used on him when he had tried to get a message to his brothers to protect Omega left his throat damaged and his voice even more gravely than before. It had all been for nothing. Omega was still found and brought here.

She visited almost everyday. Talked about planning and getting out. Crosshair fully believed that she should try, but that she should go alone. Leave him to his karma, his punishment, his prison.

He was not innocent. He blindly followed all the orders he was given by the empire for a long time. There were times when he closed his eyes he could see the faces of every single person he killed for the empire. He could also see the faces of those he knew die around him.

The rebels on Onderon, they honestly did not know where Saw Gerrera was, majority on that transport were civilians and Crosshair had led his squad in opening fire on them and cut them all down. Man woman and child. 

Tightness grew in his chest as the many memories flooded in. Shortly after Onderon there was a mission to Naboo to bring in again so-called insurgents who were not separatists but members of the galactic republic who were resisting the Empire's new rule.  The whole settlement was wiped out again man woman or child it didn’t matter they were gone in under a half hour and their bodies disintegrated leaving no trace. It was like that for a long time and Crosshair could always shut out what he did. Block his mind from remembering.  But now their faces were all he could see. Hundreds and hundreds of people who he was directly responsible for their deaths. Either by giving orders to the troops or by his own hand.

His hand, the right one, had started to tremble shortly after his attempt at contacting his brothers to tell them to keep Omega safe.  The tremors now were more frequent. Any time he thought about what he had done it started to shake. He reached across and held it steady with his left hand taking a deep breath and it started to settle.

Crosshair looked through the bars of his cell down into the stark utilitarian prison corridors that went in every direction. Almost every stall was occupied by former clone troopers, all ones who refused to serve the empire, all were tested and some experimented on but for what purpose He did not know. He often saw Nala Se in the halls and lab. She was his creator, not just in that he was a clone but it was her project that gave him and his brothers of Clone Force 99 their desired mutations. He saw sadness in her eyes when she looked at him and disappointment. It hurt him as he didn’t know if that was disappointment in his situation or in him and his actions.

He put his head back against the wall on his cell and closed his eyes again, this time his mind took him to Bracca, the place he almost burned to death in the fire of an ion engine. That was the start of his downfall, where his troops in the elite squad questioned his actions. It got worse on Ryloth.

Ryloth, it was all a flawed plan by Rampart to fully take over. To frame the hero of Ryloth Cham Syndulla of the murder of Twi'lek senator Orn Free Taa, but it didn’t go as planned and Cross hair was forced to arrest many clone troopers. Some fought back and for that they were killed.

But he survived. He survived the fall of Kamino and spent thirty-two rotations stranded there alone. He chose to stay, he could have left with the others on the Marauder but he chose to stay. But he questioned himself if he did it because he believed the Empire would find him or if he did it to die, to atone for all he did.  The Empire did find him and after making a full recovery it was back to fighting back to killing, though he didn’t do much of the latter on the first mission with Cody. Commander Cody, where was he now? Was he safe? They said he left, that he defected, but in the Empire that could mean anything, that he went to the budding rebellion or that he disappeared to live in peace or that he had been killed. Maybe he was here in the halls in one of the many cells. 

He sighed thinking of how badly he hurt his brothers, not just his batch mates but the clone troopers as a whole. Those who had stood against the empire how he treated them. Capturing them like he had Howzer and his troops or killing some of the 981st that had defected in the time between Ryloth and Daro. 

How he had hunted Tech, Wrecker, Echo, and Hunter. He had been so close to them and now they only seemed like distant memories.

One of the times Hemlock and Nala Se worked on their experiments Hemlock informed him of Tech’s fall and subsequent death. It made Crosshair’s stomach and chest ache. They had been trying to find him, they had been trying to rescue him and now Tech was dead, and it was all Crosshair's fault.  Just as Mayday’s death was on him as well.

He should have been able to save Mayday. He should have been able to get him back to base sooner so that there would be a chance of survival instead of dying in agony on the ground just beyond the walls of the base. He should have taken out more than just the lieutenant; he should have gunned down that whole base. But he was too weak.

Always now too weak to be of use, with a trembling shooting hand and headaches that would come and go but when they came they would stay, it would linger and pulse and beat away at his head, his brain throbbing as if trying to escape his skull. 

He grabbed his head in his hands as he felt another of the headaches coming on he could feel the tremor of his hand against his head. This would be a fitting way to go, he had survived practically being incinerated, and being left to fend for himself on a dead planet but to have that pain in his head kill him make him atone for all he had done that would be perfect. 

He tried to pry his eyes open to survey his surroundings one last time. In the hall beyond the ray shielded door of his cell he could see them. It was scary, bittersweet and calming all in one as his brothers lined the halls, Tech closest then MAyday and so many others, there were non-clone faces there as well, faces he recognized all too clearly as his victims. But they did not look mad, they looked sad or was that more looks of empathy, of pity? They were waiting for him. To escort him to hell no doubt it is what he deserved.

" We focus on your death,

We focus on your death.

You share not the blood of ours,

thus we focus on your death "

The words echoed through his head so many voices in unison. Calling him to his end. So he had taken their lives or failed to prevent their deaths, it was only fitting they beckoned him to his own.

The intensity of the pain grew, his eyes squeezing shut as if to try and stop the growing throb and the searing burning pain that filled his skull. He felt his breath catch in his lungs. Then calm, darkness and silence. 

.

.

.

Beep……..Beep………Beep

Crosshair felt his consciousness leaving the void. The soft sounds around him, this was not hell, it was too calm, and smelled too clean. Way to clean.

“Ah I see you are finally waking up” a familiar voice said from a distance away.

Footsteps came closer

“We almost lost you there CT-9904, that would be unfortunate as you still have so much to give in our experiments”

Crosshair opened his eyes. He was alive but he had been wrong; he was in hell. The living hell of Mount Tantiss, and staring down at him as he was strapped to the medical table, the devil incarnate. Dr. Royce Hemlock. Crosshair looked around the room, the voices were gone as were the apparitions. So once again he would be left alone with his thoughts and his guilt. 

[thivell]

Sharing Some OCs

Hi hey! I have uhh… a Jedi and a handful of half baked clone sketches I did when I was bored (there’s a few more but post is already long)

also this is a real long post and I apologize

——————————————————————————————————

Jedi OC

Dunno how effective his pole staff works but hey it’s cool and does exist canonically -

——————————————————————————————————

Clones - most of my sillies are clones rn. Currently I’m working out a battalion that’ll be my little clone collection but I also have an oddball squad that’s a little mix of canonical characters and ocs

451st Battalion Clones

not all my babes are drawn out but a few are- they are incredibly rough though and we’re drawn when I was just finishing up the clone wars show

Commander Delgado/ CC-8933

Captain Maverick/ CT-4751

First Lieutenant Makeshift / CT-9663

Second Lieutenant Krypt / CT-5769

That’s it for my boys rn, but I’ll slowly start making my way through the rest of them- with my stuff still being fidgeted around I’ll most likely change the 451st boys into being 176th and go under my Jedi OC.

——————————————————————————————————

Marines

I have two marines Port/CT-3742 and Starboard/CT-5065. They got their names because of the directions of the numbers (Port’s are all facing left and Star’s are mostly facing right). But what’s silly about them is they’re always on opposite sides with Starboard seen on the left of Port and vice versa especially when they walk. Why is that you ask? Well it’s because while most clones are ambidextrous they still have preferred hands; for Port that’s his right and for Starboard it’s his left. They’re both little shits that when combined make one half of a braincell and that’s all they got and they definitely gaslight the shinies into thinking they have port and starboard mixed up. They were based off of two orcas with the same names.

——————————————————————————————————

Oddball Squad Clones

so the oddballs are essentially clones that look too different or are deformed due to genetic degradation, you can think of them as being like 99 but being the precursors to the bad batch. As stated earlier it’s a mix between canon and non canon clones. As of right now there are

Two canon clones - Captain Vaughn and Commander Blackout

I have not drawn Commander Blackout but he has aniridia which is an eye condition where there is little to no pupil in the iris, causing vision issues. For him it’s not too severe, he needs some corrective measures in his helmet but can see even without them, but he does have light sensitivity and often gets migraines due to fluctuating pressure changes behind his eyes. He also has incredibly dark eyes and blackout styled tattoos that start from his upper back then go down to his pecs and down his arms, also has some on his calves.

Vaughn I have drawn- he has vitiligo that in the photo mainly collects on his face with multiple different layers of different skin pigmentation showing, but it is a full body thing (it even goes to his hair). But it’s one of the main reasons he keeps his helmet it on for long periods of time

There’s 4 non canon clones right now: Whiteout, Zombie, Caid, and Discovery. Both Whiteout and Zombie have sketches but Discovery and Caid don’t.

Caid (Kade)

Caid’s thing is that he is completely mute due to the fact that his larynx never developed. He’s got some skin warping and scarring over his throat from it. He has quite of a few scars over his face and notably knuckles because he throws himself into every battle. He’s a little spicy and sassy. you can think of him as Bumblebee from the transformer series if you’ve seen that. Right now his backstory is a little wobbly but everyone in the oddball squad usually has multiple facets of training if they can. Caid mainly works as a nursery care taker and watching over the tubies and the other very young clones but he also goes on high stake reconnaissance missions to gather intel. The way he communicates is mainly though GHS (Galactic Hand Signing- my SW version of an international sign language) and he also has short field commands embedded into the com device in his vambrace (he usually has a data pad on him too to type out anything he needs).

Discovery

Discovery has two major deformities that affect his arms; his left arm barely ever developed and ends mid bicep and his right arm stops just after his elbow for a few inches. For this he was given cybernetic replacements but he’s mostly used as a lab rat for testing, he doesn’t like it but it hardly squashes his never ending child like curiosity with the world he’s been exposed to. Usually getting him in trouble with Vaughn and frequently visiting Whiteout, the medic.

Whiteout/ CT-8651

Whiteout has full albinism, from his skin to his eyes, and while they aren’t true twins- he and blackout consider themselves ones as they have been in the squadron the longest. Whiteout specializes in being a medic but also does pretty well with a sniper. He’s incredibly soft spoken and sweet and occasionally gets a stutter but he’s trying his best. Especially with Zombie watching over him now he feels safer to stand up for himself.

Zombie

now .. the zombie explanation has to be a little lighter for the sake of ages and tumblr. I cant sugar coat this exactly but I won’t go into the nasty details.. Zombie got his name dude to the fact he was put back together with parts that belonged to other squad members. It was a suicide mission and none of them came back alive but they were used in an experiment by one of Nala Se’s apprentices. He got his name zombie 1) from his lack of talking 2) his usually stone cold or mildly agitated exterior and 3) from the fact his scarring show off how he was literally stitched back together.

He wasn’t originally part of the oddball squad since on his original body his only odd thing was the fact he and green eyes but after he comes back he very quickly gets pulled into it. He has an absolute soft spot for Whiteout and is the equivalent to scary attack dogs with separation anxiety

Whiteout and Zombie as of right now will eventually be tagged on to 104th with Wolffe and Caid might be going into 212th or works mostly under them for missions.

that’s all for now lovelies, thank you for reading!💕

[unfair-water-plane]

I’m very new to talking about things online, but just wanted to share a headcanon.

After the events of ME:3, humanity has to start rebuilding. Arcturus is gone, very likely much of earth’s governance is gone or indoctrinated beyond the ability to lead. They are going to need new faces in high places, and whose is chock full of people who have shown their mettle? The Alliance. It’s natural that leaders will rise from military places, and that can be dangerous. It’s so easy to go martial law when everyone is…well, martial.

But you know who probably be okay with leaving the alliance? Who has the moral fiber to stand not just for earth but as a leader for the whole galaxy? Who has not just the trust of the Spectres but has earned their way among them, and who they know will not treat them like cannon fodder in the rebuilding of everything?

That’s right, introducing humanity’s new councilor:

Kaidan Alenko.

The way I see it (and your mileage may vary, I’m basing this on my own experience if not service), if I had busted my way all the way to N7, was an operational commander and had a frigate no one had the balls to take from me I would be in no hurry to just end that rise. I have a headcanon that N7 is hell in career growth since they don’t drop a bundle on training and then promote you out of the field, so Shepard’s probably primed for a life of spec ops service with Commander, or maybe Major eventually, as his high water mark.

Now add in the fact that your husband (because you know the minute Shepard managed to open even one eye Kaidan was welding a ring on that finger) is going to be humanity’s councilor. He’s going to need someone in his corner who is unquestioningly loyal, fiercely protective, and has once a month spa dates with the Shadow Broker.

But I think Kaidan is like be so good at that role. He’s a natural peace maker, has spent a lifetime developing control over himself and his action. The first time one of the other councilors starts to just pass down uncollaborative mandates Kaidan drags them all aside for six hours of methodical debate and a galactic sized MCPP. By the end of the first month he’s completely eliminated standing on the platforms and holding condescending debate in front of applicants. Round table discussions with home planets, involved parties and unbiased observers becomes the norm. There will never be another ‘cruel and unfortunate truth’ moment with Councilor Alenko demanding the mindset of respect through service.

(And in the background, completely uninvolved in the discussion but never too far away during the emotional debates, Reaper Killer and Galactic hero Commander Shepard alternates between staring at humanity’s councilor like he hung the stars and seeing how quickly he can intimidate an end of a meeting at the first sign of a migraine).

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. Wanted to get it out of my head.

[mschupacabra]

@shadow345 requested the prompt back in August: “Albedo finds a purpose (albedo becomes a kind of anti hero).”

A/N: This is a preview. I am not done yet, but this is just what I have so far. I wanted to post this to let you know that I didn't forget about it. I have been trying to get out of a creative block lately. I'll let you know whenever I slap it up on ao3. Sorry it has been taking me so long.

Rough Draft

Many of his former memories were no longer fully accessible to him. They were still there, occupying his mind as technicolor nonsense. If he thought about it too deeply, the migraine that followed was debilitating. His skull felt like it would split open from the inside.

And he couldn’t stand it. 

On Bellwood, he was like every other human - barely able to slightly grasp onto that tiny edge of… Everything. All that was. His psyche tried in vain to translate all that he once perceived as a Galvan. In his dreams, he swam through the mental noise and horrific visions that ripped him away from the sleep his undeveloped, prepubescent body constantly craved. Poisoned with symbols he would never again make sense of, his mind tortured him, leaving him with near-permanent discoloration beneath his eyes. The precious memories he shared with Azmuth, back before his nightmares began, now churned between his ears as incomprehensible slop never again to be understood by him.

They no longer spoke the same language.

And Albedo couldn’t stand it. 

Most humiliatingly, the worst part was watching as Ben Tennyson was allowed to live his life. While Albedo remained locked into his childlike form, the boy – whose likeness was forced upon him – went unpunished. 

Ben Tennyson was allowed to be his own person.

Ben Tennyson was allowed to learn from his mistakes.

Ben Tennyson was allowed to change and grow. 

Ben Tennyson, who now had graying hair and was impossibly taller than Albedo, held him by the back of his shirt. Dangling there in the man’s grip, he wildly swung the only weapons at his disposal: his dainty fists. Frustration overloading his system would not allow him to logically conclude that touching him was an impossibility. Logic no longer existed; there was only his own burning rage filling his soft, pale face with hot blood. His ears pounded with the pressure of his own heartbeat:

Thump. Die!

Thump. Die!

Thump. Die!

Ben Tennyson did not deserve to merely die; he deserved to suffer – suffer as miserably as Albedo had been made to suffer. But as earnestly as he attempted to thrash the man, he was held at a distance, only able to sway back-and-forth in the air, carried by his own momentum. In spite of the injustice that had been done to the frosty-haired boy, the universe refused to correct itself. 

Ben Tennyson remained: amused, chuckling, and still unpunished.

“I-It’s not fair,” Albedo spat through his teeth. If he unclenched them, they would release the wrecked sob they were holding back. He was mourning the life that should have been his before Tennyson cursed him with his hellish prison. His violent struggling did well to disguise the way grief made him tremble. Despite his efforts to contain his emotions, they got the better of him, dripping down Albedo’s rosy cherub cheeks in a stream of sorry tears.

Except that Ben knew he was not really sorry. He did not find Albedo’s statement amusing either. He stopped his laughing and resisted the urge to strike the former Galvan across his deceptively innocent face.

“Not fair?” He questioned. “What part of this is unfair to you, Albedo?”

He had just tried to poison Ben. 

It was rare for the Tennyson family to have festivities together anymore. After Ben had become a galactically renowned hero, the Plumbers had taken many of his closest relatives away from Earth and into a form of witness protection. They were held on a new planet undisclosed to the public and under the watch of the Plumbers. For the first time in years, the entire Tennyson family was together again to celebrate Carl Tennyson’s sixtieth birthday in one of the Plumbers’ headquarters. Even after trying their best to keep the event quiet, they attracted the negative attention of would-be assassins like Albedo anyway. 

Unconsumed, much of the tampered food littered the floor on shattered plates and bowls. Albedo had never planned to kill Ben’s entire family; they were irrelevant. It was only Ben who needed to perish, but even if his family had died along with him, would it have mattered? They would have been unfortunate but ultimately insignificant casualties. The universe would not miss the absence of a few worthless, mediocre humans. Their only merit was sharing genetic material with Tennyson, and he had accomplished nothing for himself either. Without the Omnitrix – had it not been for Azmuth – he would have died in obscurity along with the rest of his mongrel kind. 

“You’re very lucky,” Ben said softly. Dangerously. He shook him harshly by the back of his shirt, rattling his tiny bones. “You’re so lucky nobody here got hurt, or I wouldn’t be taking this so lightly. I should kill you.��� 

Albedo stopped struggling, gritting his teeth against the force of his grip, reaching up to grip Ben’s wrist. He could not make him stop, crying out as he was very nearly given a painful whiplash. 

“You want to talk about fairness, Albedo? If I were being fair right now, I would end your life here. You would never do me the same mercy of sparing me. You just want me dead at all costs, even the lives of others – my family and friends – who’ve done nothing to you. Well, a life for a life, right? That’s how it goes. That’s more than fair, but you’re right. Life isn’t fair, so here you live.”

“You think you are showing me mercy?!” Albedo shrieked. “This is kindness to you, Tennyson? I’ve never wanted anything to do with you or your wretched species!” 

Unable to regulate the emotions coursing through his small body, Albedo’s breathing became unstable. He clawed at the fist that held him in the air, digging deeply into the flesh, scratching at Tennyson’s wrist and knuckles. 

Without even flinching, Ben threw him face-first against a table, breaking it along with the remaining dishes and glass cups. The shards and splitters dug into Albedo’s skin causing him to bleed from the corners of his lips, nose, and forehead. 

Sandra and Carl Tennyson could not help their soft gasps; parental instinct flared, and Sandra raised a hand to grab at Ben’s shoulder. She could only see a baby and not just any baby. Albedo wore the woeful expression of her own baby at the age of eleven. He was just a boy, a tiny thing that could not possibly protect himself against the strength of an adult man. Disarmed by the sweetness of his face, Sandra shouted at her real son: 

“Ben, that's enough! Don’t you think that’s too much?!” 

Ben ignored Sandra, narrowing his eyes at Albedo. It sickened him that the Galvan had the ability to play upon the heartstrings of his poor mom. She was defending her almost-murderer, and Albedo should have suffered even further for that.

Albedo pushed himself up onto his knees, still crying, trying unsuccessfully to wipe his pathetic face. 

“I-If you truly wish to show me any kindness, you would put me out of my misery already. You… You must realize this is torture, Tennyson. Surely you of all people, the Omnitrix wielder, must realize the cruelty that is my existence. Can you not empathize with me? Having your form mangled and reshaped – for me, that torture is magnified tenfold because it is against my will. 

“I can no longer think as I used to. I feel sensory stimulation too intensely now. Every waking moment, I am flooded by brightness and noise I cannot shut out from my mind. I have been reduced to a sentient sponge, only able to experience pain and unable to fully comprehend why. Well, I can bear this pain no longer. This life– Your life– This prison has been thrust upon me without my consent!” 

Raising his chin, Ben could only sneer down at him, lip curling in disgust. 

“Don’t give me that, Albedo. You’re over a hundred years old. This is embarrassing; you should be embarrassed. You’re where you’re at because of your own mistakes. Accept responsibility for once. You’ve been blaming me for the consequences of your own actions ever since I was an actual child.” 

Unclipping the Null Void Containment Egg from his belt, Ben threw it up in the air and caught it a few times. “You, on the other hand, aren’t an actual child, even if you may look like one now. You can say what you want about my “wretched species,” but at least we learn from our mistakes. You’re telling me that when you were a Galvan, with your advanced intelligence, you never knew how much of a tool you were? You couldn’t foresee that it would be a bad idea to turn against Azmuth? I’m betting you knew. Galvans know everything. You weighed the risks; you just decided you didn’t care.”

Through watery eyes, he looked up at Tennyson’s blurry form. “Just kill me!” 

“No, you don’t even deserve that much,” Ben said before imprisoning him within the containment egg.

[TBC]

[ranger-ribbons]

"I appreciate you so much." - Brody/Preston please?

I love, love, love it!

~

Brody doesn't look up as the front door opens, he already knows who it is. He sniffles miserably as footsteps pauses in the entryway to the living room, then continue to the kitchen. Brody doesn't get up to greet his guest, he doesn't have to.

There's clanging coming from the kitchen, but it's not loud, which Brody is grateful for right now. His headache has been raging all day and he still feels like death may be an option his body will take.

Something warm sparks against his legs, where the red blanket had been kicked when the heat started getting worse. The blanket is shifted upwards to cover Brody to his waist. Brody sighs as the cold feeling plaguing him for the past twenty minutes finally abates. A click and the mess on the coffee table disappears as well, the trashcan under Brody's head lifts and sets itself to the side to be cleaned later.

"You know, if you'd take the medicine your doctor prescribed, you wouldn't have a migraine right now," teases a gentle voice as a pair of hands set down a soup bowl full of broth.

Brody looks up and meets warm brown eyes. "I know, Preston. Thank you for coming."

Preston nods. He reaches over and helps Brody sit up, gently arranging the pillows to help Brody feel comfortable. "It's just chicken noodle, all you had in the cabinets. One day, I'll get you to try potato and tomatoe soup. Your medicine is right here," Preston explains as he holds out a pill bottle stamped with Brody's name.

Brody takes the pill bottle. It was a lot of work explaining to the government that the Romero family was alive, just kidnapped several years ago by the monsters that attacked Summer Cove. It was easy to get Cosmo to agree to it before the Rangers took him away to be judged by the galactic government. The Tien money provided by Marcus Tien at Preston's request helped a lot.

"Preston," Brody says. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

Preston smile, a little flush overtaking his face. "It's no problem, Brody. You're... Well, you mean a lot to me."

Brody smiles. "And you to me," he replies. "Come sit," he bids, gesturing to the couch. "Or do you have to get back?"

Preston shakes his head, despite the fact that Brody knows he has a board meeting today. "I'll stay a while," he replies.

Brody's grip in the English language is stronger than it was when he was 17 and just coming back to Earth after 10 years away, but he still doesn't have enough words to tell Preston exactly what his Blue is to Brody. "Thanks, Pres," he settles on, gently patting the seat next to him.

Preston doesn't hesitate to sit down.

~

Thank you! @takingback-thepenguin

[the-galactic-catt]

μόλις είδα το νέο βίντεο του 2j

[paradoxesofgalaxies]

Great. Of course a migraine would hit right before we have to go grocery shopping ><

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba'din - Chapter 17: Power

Summary: Jaine finally tells the Bad Batch about her past, but it all goes wrong when she gets startled.

Warnings: discussion of death, accidental injury, panic, Tech has an Attitude™

Author's Notes: *mushu voice* I LIIIIIIVE!!! Alrighty folks, hiatus is sort of ended (I’m not going back to my previous posting schedule quite yet, but I will be posting new chapters of this fic every Monday until I'm able to get back to my regular schedule! I’m really loving where this story has been going and I hope you all do too! 💛🤟

« Previous Chapter Next Chapter »

Jaine fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, part of her wishing she didn’t have to leave this little medbay ever again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the Marauder after being away from it for only a day; something about it just felt right to her.

There was a light tap on the door, and it slid open to reveal Crosshair, his face still painted with concern.

“You can still back out of this, you know,” he whispered, taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently.

The softer side of Crosshair Jaine was now seeing warmed her heart. She wondered if anyone else had been allowed to know this side existed, let alone having it presented to them so wholeheartedly.

“You know I can’t do that,” she replied. “I’ll be okay.”

Crosshair’s eyes searched hers for a moment, before letting out a quiet sigh.

Crosshair led her out to the galley, where his brothers had gathered, waiting for her.

Jaine tried to read each of their faces. Crosshair was obviously still skeptical over whether or not this was necessary, and Echo had a similar look, though mostly concerned. Wrecker had a fairly neutral expression, if a little nervous. Hunter, with his arms crossed over his chest, wore a scowl that could indicate a migraine. Jaine wanted to ask, and grab his drink blend if he needed it, but she didn’t want to seem like she was trying to delay the conversation. Tech was looking at her directly, his datapad nowhere in sight, which threw Jaine off a little, but his was the hardest to read.

Tech usually had no problem deciphering how he was “feeling”. At least, that’s how it used to be. Over the past few months, however, he had noticed that he was experiencing multiple emotions simultaneously, and more frequently. This bothered him; these types of things weren’t alien to him, he just preferred to focus on other things, more interesting things. But this? This was a riddle that consistently pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, distracting him from all else. It was a complicated equation, one for which he was missing a few key elements, making the whole problem feel unsolvable. It frustrated him.

Jaine took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ve died four times in the past 10 standard years.”

Just that tiny nugget of information made her heart leap into chest, but she pushed on.

“The first was when my ship crashed while I was attempting to flee my homeplanet with my Uncle and…his accomplice.”

“Was your uncle a criminal?” Tech asked.

“Tech, ask questions at the end,” Echo chided.

Tech hummed. “I am merely asking for clarification.”

“But you’ve interrupted her.”

“It’s okay,” Jaine chimed in. “I think I’d rather just answer any questions you guys have. And, technically, he was never accused or convicted of any crimes by either the Galactic Republic or our planetary government.”

Tech raised his finger, a question on his tongue.

“Qoljak,” she answered before he even began speaking. “My home planet was called Qoljak, before its civilizations were destroyed by a meteor shower. It was so far into the outer rim that most people just considered it wild space.”

Tech seemed satisfied with this answer, but Jaine was sure he’d be researching the little moon as soon as he could.

“What was all the red stuff?” Wrecker asked.

Jaine took a deep breath, raising her hand out in front of her, her palm up. She shut her eyes as she broke that promise she’d made to herself all those years ago; she brought her power forth. The red smoke cascaded from her palm, flowing like water, spilling over her hand and dissipating before hitting the floor. The squad watched with varying degrees of interest, awe, and anxiety.

“Some of the people of my planet were…gifted. From the beginning of our people, the Chromira blessed seven with these powers.”

“‘Chromira’?” Tech questioned.

“Powers?” Hunter repeated warily.

“One at a time; don’t overwhelm her,” Crosshair scowled at them, before looking back to her, his gaze softening considerably.

“The Chromira were our gods. They blessed us with our strength and guided the powers to their destined bodies,” she shrugged. “When a Chromai would pass, their power would move onto the next Chromai.”

Her eyes fluttered open, looking carefully at each of her squadmates, the red smoke fading from her hand as she wrapped it back around her body, almost as though she were hugging herself.

“When Mistress Ailyn Auten got sick, I told my father. He was a medic, and I told him we had to go help ‘the red lady’. He didn’t understand until Rix Auten commed. Sure enough, Mistress Auten, the Crimson Chromai, passed that night.”

“Who got her powers?” Wrecker asked, clearly gripped by her story.

Crosshair looked at his brother in disbelief.

“That would be Jaine,” Tech replied for her, adding a small “obviously” under his breath.

“How does it work?” Echo mumbled, his eyes still on her hand.

“I-I’m not really sure,” Jaine spoke, shifting her weight between her feet. “I was really young when I got my powers, and I was only trained a little before…”

Hunter squinted at her. He could hear how loud her heart was beating; he could feel how nervous she was and he hated pressing her like this. “‘Before’?”

Jaine swallowed hard, trying to force down the bile she felt rising in her throat. “Before my uncle started the war.”

The words settled heavily around the group. Echo looked at her mournfully. Tech, for the first time since she’d emerged from the safety of her medbay, glanced away from her. Wrecker’s face was full of concern, as was Crosshair’s. Hunter had a look of pure concentration, his eyes trained on her. He nodded lightly.

“It was my eighth birthday. I was coming home from training with my mentor, Mistress Rastee, the Rosate Chromai. K-kuna,” she trailed off, hating the way she stuttered over his name and the hot tears pooling at the corner of her eyes.

“Cyar’ika,” Crosshair whispered, watching tears begin to trail down her cheeks. He rose, coming to her side, reaching to take her hand in his.

The moment his hand made contact with hers, he pulled back, yelping in pain, and gripping his hand.

Jaine jumped, her hands falling away from their positions wrapped around her chest, the tiniest hints of red buzzing around them. Tech leapt to his feet, rushing to examine the burn now prevalent on Crosshair’s hand. Jaine didn’t miss the way his expression had lost all signs of his typical curiosity, replaced instantly with anger and fear.

Hunter, who could hear the way Jaine’s heart began to race, the way her breathing became rapid and shallow, came to stand in front of her. He reached out to her, but she pulled away.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, as though trying to comfort a cornered animal. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is her fault,” Tech spat under his breath.

“Stow it,” Crosshair growled.

Red electricity was sparking from her hands as she stared wide-eyed at the men before her.

“It’s alright, Cyar’ika,” Crosshair assured, the hints of pain leaking into his voice. “I’m alright.”

“You need some bacta,” Tech replied gruffly, hauling his brother toward the medbay, his eyes cold and calculating as they passed over the frightened medic. Wrecker, stunned into silence, followed, worrying after his brothers.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whimpered, staring after them. “I didn’t- I never-”

“We know,” Echo tried to say calmly. “We know, and it’s alright.

“I-I didn’t mean to-” her breathing was becoming more rapid.

“She’s going to hyperventilate if we don’t get her calmed down,” Hunter warned.

“Hey, Jaine, I need you to breathe, okay?” Echo whispered. “Just breathe; Cross’ll be fine.”

The mention of him brought fresh tears to her eyes and they poured down her face as she fidgeted nervously.

Her hands were still sparking red, and she looked down at them in horror.

Hunter seemed to follow her train of thought, watching as she looked from her hands, to them, to the door behind him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered, almost pleading. “We just want to help.”

“I don’t w-want to hurt you,” she cried.

“And you won’t,” Echo replied, reaching his hand hesitantly towards her arm.

“N-no!” She sobbed, tossing her hand in front of her, unprepared for the blast of energy to lash out from her hand, hitting Hunter and Echo across their torsos, throwing them back against the table and booth behind them.

“No, no, no!” she wailed, rushing toward the door, opening it up and freeing herself from the confines of the ship.

“Jaine!” they called after her, but she couldn’t hear them. Her feet were carrying her quickly, and she paid no mind to where they were leading her.

Hunter groaned, gripping his side as he pulled himself to his feet. Echo rose next to him, looking about the same as Hunter was feeling.

“I’m going after her,” he told Echo.

“Hunter, wait-” Echo sputtered, but it was too late.

-

Hunter had been tracking her through the city for nearly an hour. She had the advantage over him; yes, she was panicked and likely not thinking straight, but the barrage of stimuli constantly changing and shifting, covering her trail remarkably well. He’s always hated cities. Her scent was nearly all he could go off of this time. He resented that the normally sweet, comfortingly warm scent was marred by her fear and hopelessness. He needed to find her, to tell her it was all going to be okay. He could feel himself becoming frantic, his own worry growing like the pain in his side.

And then he saw it: the Jedi Temple. Maybe she’s seeking out Kenobi.

“Hey! Hold it,” ordered a Coruscant Guard as Hunter approached an entrance to the Temple.

“I’m looking for a woman,” he started to explain.

“Ain’t we all,” chuckled the other guard.

“She’s my squad’s medic,” Hunter replied gruffly. “I think she came this way.”

The first Corrie hummed a little as he thought. “Shorter girl, red hair?”

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” Hunter confirmed with relief.

“She was crying, you know,” the second Corrie said, walking over to join the conversation.

“And she had the right access codes to get in,” the first added. “Makes you wonder who could upset someone looking as precious as that, someone who can get into the temple. Who is she, a youngling?”

“Like I said,” Hunter asserted. “She’s my medic and-”

“Why was she crying?” the second guard asked. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, Roller?”

“Really does, Tuck.”

The first guard, Tuck, as Hunter now knew, stepped towards him, and without needing to see the regs’ face, he knew he was scowling.

“I don’t want any trouble boys, I just want to help my medic,” Hunter said, low. “I need to take her back to our ship.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Roller mused. “That’s right, you’re the sorry leader of that sorry batch of defectives, aren’t you?”

“Are you then? How’d you end up with a medic as pretty as that?” Tuck chuckled.

“And worse off, how could you fuck it up badly enough she runs off, goes crying into the temple like that?”

“Yeah, what’d you do to her anyway? How should we know if she even wants to go back with you?”

Tuck prodded Hunter’s chest, clearly trying to provoke him. Hunter was seething, but doing his best to take steadying breaths.

“Gentlemen, this is hardly the place for playground squabbles, don’t you think?” All three men straightened to attention at the sound of General Skywalker’s voice. The General, along with Commander Tano, were exiting the Temple.

“Apologies, sir,” Tuck spoke, his voice rigid.

“Sergeant Hunter?” Skywalker said, approaching him.

“Yes, sir.”

“What is this I heard about your medic running off?”

Skywalker eyed Hunter suspiciously, but Tano looked between them, concerned.

“I thought everything was fine after the meeting. What happened?” she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

“Wouldn’t be more of those pesky ‘irreconcilable differences’ again, would it?” the General chuckled, ignoring the stern look from his padawan.

“Hunter?” she prompted.

“Lieutenant Vale was filling us in on certain aspects of her history, but she got upset and ran off. I followed her trail here.”

Ahsoka thought about this for a moment, before looking up at Anakin. “Master, I’ll meet you at the ship after I escort Sergeant Hunter into the Temple, and assist him in locating Lieutenant Vale.”

Anakin had a soured expression, but nodded, huffing off to his ship.

“Thank you, sir,” Hunter said warily.

“No need,” she waved him off as they entered the halls of the Jedi Temple.

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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[otterandterrierwrites]

For the bird ask game?

🦉 a clever quote (something you're proud of!)

okay, revisiting The Proposal AU, I found this one I like:

The Imperial crest had always reminded Leia of a bull’s-eye. It was ironic that the symbol had been adapted from the old Galactic Republic sigil—often referred to as a cog in the books she’d read during her private history lessons as a young girl, Leia thought it looked more like a weapon’s sight. A favourite game she’d developed a few years after that, to stave off boredom or frustration, was imagining she was flying up in space, aligning sight and target, and hitting the heart of the Empire over and over. Her face, of course, betraying nothing.

🦅 an angsty quote (something PAINFUL!! ouch ouch ouch!)

Vampire AU:

And she still wanted nothing to do with him. The look of… revulsion that had crossed Leia’s face was like an icicle falling in the middle of his chest. What could he have possibly done to her to deserve a look like that? She had grown more irritable since she’d left the medcenter, and with good reason—Han knew about the migraines. He could understand that she’d lash out to him just because he was closest, like she’d done so many times. He could take it standing and push back, that was how it worked between them. But that look… that had been something different. And she’d told him to stay away, for good measure. So, he was done. Cross his heart.

🕊️ a sweet quote (something sweet, fluffy! maybe it's cute or funny banter! or sappy wedding vows!)

wow so apparently most of my wips have not reached fluffy stage! lots of angst there... but this is from a follow-up to Night at the Grand Regent Hotel (aka sex pollen fic) that I still don't know if I'll ever finish:

In all honesty, he’d never needed pheromone enhancers to feel drawn to Leia. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, either. From the first moment, he’d felt a pull to her—or a push-and-pull, but the pull was getting increasingly harder to ignore. For him. Leia probably did okay. Han, he’d been about ready to go for a while, just waiting for her to give him a sign. That was what he’d thought had happened during their stay on Hubin. When someone who had been making eyes at him for the whole day took him to their room, discussing an elaborate revenge plan wasn’t exactly the first thought on Han’s mind.

Thank you!! ✨

send me birds for my wips?