#peace and love on planet system for real

[butchdykekondraki]

not now sweetie mommys busy adding details nobody will ever look at to her art

[dangoulains-devotion]

every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite

[creature-wizard]

Looks like it's time to talk about starseeds and the New Age movement again.

Since I'm seeing more starseed content being posted, I'm gonna make another post on why the whole starseed thing and the surrounding New Age belief system are... not good.

So for those who don't know, New Age mythology is essentially a hodgepodge of cherrypicked and distorted myths from various cultures, racist pseudohistory, and far right conspiracy theories. To put it very briefly, starseeds are supposedly here to help Earth resist the reptilians, a race of politics-manipulating, war-starting, media-controlling blood-drinking aliens. For those who don't recognize the tropes here, these are basically all antisemitic canards. The reptilian alien myth as most know it today comes from David Icke, who ultimately cribbed a bunch of his material from The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a Russian hoax created to justify violence against Jews. He was also influenced by the work of people like Fritz Springmeier, a hateful crank who based much of his work on other hateful cranks.

(David Icke, by the way, also claims that transgender is an evil reptilian conspiracy. You'll never find just one form of bigotry with these people.)

There are supposedly numerous alien races out there, and one of the most prominent among them are the Pleiadians, AKA Nordics. While modern depictions of the Pleiadians give them more variety in skintone, there's no denying that older Pleiadian mythology basically pictured them as Aryans In Space, even associating them with the swastika.

You see what's going on here? "Good" swastika-loving Aryan aliens versus "evil" Jewish aliens? Sound familiar?

Racism isn't just a tangential part of the starseed myth, either. It lies at its very core. It's inextricably tied in with the ancient astronaut hypothesis, which has a history of racist motivation behind it. The TL;DR is that a bunch of white people couldn't believe that non-white people had built a bunch of things they couldn't figure out how to build themselves (EG, the Great Pyramids), so they proposed that the real builders were anyone from Atlanteans to aliens. (Atlantis, by the way, never existed; it was a literary device created by Plato.)

One supposed purpose of starseeds is to help the world "wake up to the truth," which basically just means "convert people to New Age spirituality." New Age believes that world peace is contingent on a majority of the world being converted to New Age belief, and that resistance against their belief system is ultimately the work of the aforementioned reptilian aliens.

To put it another way, New Agers think they understand other cultures' spiritual traditions better than the actual members of said cultures, and think that anyone who disagrees with them is being manipulated by the conspiracy, or is an agent of the conspiracy. This includes Indigenous cultures which are already endangered from white Christian colonialism.

Essentially, endangered cultures cannot speak up for themselves and resist New Agers' efforts at cultural assimilation without being labeled a problem and an enemy. It's basically white Christian colonialism repackaged as "spiritual, not religious."

Again - if you heard from these people that some ancient text or myth describes extraterrestrial beings visiting our planet for one reason or another, you heard misinformation. They twist and misrepresent literally every myth and text they get their hands on. For example, you may have heard that the vimanas from Hindu traditions were actually alien spacecraft. They were no such thing. Or maybe you heard that the Book of Enoch describes aliens performing genetic experimentation on humans. It literally does not. At best, all of the stories they cite just kind of sound like aliens if you ignore most of their content and pay no attention to their cultural contexts.

The starseed movement preys on alienated people, especially autistic people and people with ADHD. You can look up nearly any list of signs that you're supposedly a starseed, and many of them will align perfectly with characteristics associated with autism and/or ADHD, or that people with these conditions commonly report. Some people within the movement even go so far as to claim that ADHD and autism don't even exist, but were actually made up by the conspiracy as a cover to suppress and control starseeds, which is some yikes-as-hell ableism.

So basically, people are being told that if they have these certain characteristics or symptoms, that means it's their job to spread New Age spirituality to defeat the conspiracy and help others ascend to the fifth density.

And what's the fifth density, you might ask? It's supposedly humanity's next evolutionary level, because New Age is also based on biological misconceptions. Supposedly once everyone's DNA "upgrades," they'll essentially morph into an aetheric form. Supposedly, this is preceded by a number of "ascension symptoms," including depression, headache, gastrointestinal issues, and any number of other symptoms that could indicate almost anything, including stress.

What many of these people don't realize is, this prediction has already failed. Back in the 2000s and 2010s, experiencing "ascension symptoms" was supposed to precede ascension to 5D beginning December 21, 2012. One lady, Denise Le Fay, was convinced that the hair loss she was experiencing in 2008 was an ascension symptom. As we can see by looking her up, she's very much still with us on the 3D plane these days, repeating the same tired old scripts New Agers recycle endlessly.

By the way, everything you near New Agers saying today about old systems being dismantled, dark forces being arrested or kicked off the planet, and new economic systems on the horizon? They've been recycling these scripts for years now. Take a look at this page written back in 2012. You got stuff about the complete dismantling of an enormous network of sinister forces," "the arrest and removal of a world-wide cabal," and a "new economic system."

("Cabal," by the way, is a dogwhistle term for "Jews.")

Furthermore, people in this movement are often encouraged to try and access past life memories through dreams or hypnosis, which makes the whole thing feel even more real to them. But the thing is, you can have incredibly vivid experiences about literally anything you put your mind to - the people in the reality shifting having vivid experiences of living another life in the Harry Potter universe are a great example of this. Just because you have vivid experiences, doesn't mean they have any bearing on anything happening in this reality.

So yeah, the starseed movement and the larger New Age movement are both extremely harmful. They promote racist pseudohistory, medically-irresponsible pseudoscience, conspiracy theories that target numerous marginalized groups, and functionally target aliened people with ADHD and autism to convince them that spreading its beliefs is their job.

[vintagegeekculture]

Because she was an intentionally mysterious woman initially only seen in a single episode, and before she got an on-air backstory in the recent streaming series, Star Trek supplementary material developed contradictory information on who - or what - Number One, the female first executive officer of the Enterprise, was. To my count, she has four different, completely incompatible backstories in the comics and novels, and this is absolutely unique in Star Trek, which usually keeps it consistent.

Peter David, in his New Frontier novels, identified Number One as a long lived immortal human mutant (like Flint from the original series) named “Morgan Primus” who was an early genius in cybernetics and artificial intelligence, which is why the Enterprise computer has her voice. One of the names Morgan Primus assumed to hide her immortality was Morgan Lefler, and one of her daughters was Robin Lefler, Wesley Crusher’s love interest from the Next Generation Series played by Ashley Judd. Robin Lefler did not inherit her mutant ability to heal all injuries.

Alternatively, the DC Star Trek Comics of the early 1980s said that Number One was from an obscure planet of peaceful, open, friendly telepaths who resemble humans exactly, and that she was present at first contact with Starfleet. They explained that her blunt, direct, undiplomatic manner is due to her being from a telepathic culture that values total honesty. This would make her the first telepath on the Enterprise, with Spock and Arex coming later. Her planet was created before the Next Generation, but her species being a peaceful, open, telepathic race resembling Mediterranean humans who are not well known or commonly encountered in the original series era….well, that certainly sounds an awful lot like Betazoids to me. If this backstory is true, she may have been the first Betazoid seen on screen, in much the same way fans generally believe Trelane was either Q or a member of the Q Continuum.

D.C. Fontana’s only Star Trek novel, “Vulcan’s Glory,” was one of the earliest attempts to give the character a backstory, and was the most consequential long term. The first novel set in the era of the first Star Trek pilot with Captain Pike and a young Spock, "Vulcan's Glory" identified Number One as being an Illyrian, a race of human-like beings who specialize in species wide breeding programs and genetic improvement. This genetic superiority is why she was cool, intellectual, aloof, and a bit arrogant. Her nickname “Number One” came from the fact she was the supreme product of the hyper-competitive Illyrian system, and won at everything from academics to athletics. According to DC Fontana, her actual Illyrian name is impossible to pronounce, so when dealing with humans, she assumed the human name “Una Chin-Riley.” Una of course, being “Number One” in Greek.

As DC Fontana is such an important figure in Star Trek history and only actually wrote one Star Trek novel in her life, many future materials used the backstory established in “Vulcan’s Glory,” like the David Stern Pike-era novels of the 2010s....but more importantly, the Discovery and Strange New Worlds series, which canonized the “Una Chin-Reilly” name by using it on screen (I remember gasping when Pike called her Una in a Discovery episode, meaning they were going with the Fontana backstory, a detail that may not have been significant to the casual viewer). Since DC Fontana wrote “Vulcan’s Glory” in the 80s, a lot more information was learned about the role of genetic engineering in the Federation, however, and interesting things were done in that series to bring her in line with everything we’ve learned since in Deep Space 9 and Enterprise about augmentation and the society wide prejudice against it. For example, they established that the fact Number One was Illyrian was not public knowledge, but that she pretended to be human her entire life.

The one person who didn’t see fit to give her a backstory or even a real name was John "Johnny Redbeard" Byrne in his comic series about the Cage era Enterprise, who thought the mystery of the character was the most interesting thing about her, and he was deliberately cagey about any details. To Johnny Redbeard, she was just “Number One.” There was a running joke that every time someone says her actual name, or when we see her personnel file, it was blurred out, or somebody’s thumb was over it, and so on. It was rather like the running joke where Mr. Burns never remembers Homer Simpson's name. Johnny Redbeard loves mystery men and women who don't talk about their past, since that was the characterization he famously gave to Wolverine in his X-Men comics.

The one detail of Number One's past that is clear is that Number One in Byrne's comics is competent, mysterious, and has mystique, certainly, but she is completely human, without any powers. Byrne always got exasperated that his X-Men co-creator Chris Claremont added fantastical and far out details to the background of X-Men characters (like how Nightcrawler's girlfriend Amanda turned out to be a sorceress) because he felt "some people should just be allowed to be normal." Byrne always said his original idea for Wolverine's "true" backstory was that he was a Vietnam veteran in intelligence who volunteered for bionic experiments that wiped his memory, and disliked the idea he was immortal, and vetoed the very, very early Dave Cockrum idea Wolverine was an actual mutated wolverine who achieved sentience and a human shape (which early X-Men comics hint at). Byrne was reportedly enraged that they gave Moira MacTaggart a mutant power, as he saw her as just being a scrappy Scottish housekeeper.

Johnny Redbeard didn’t give Number One a past (other than to show she was on the Enterprise's shakedown cruise with Robert April as a rookie officer), but he did give her a future, as he showed an older Number One as a starship commander in the Kirk era (aging gracefully with a white tuft like Tongolele), and later, a flag officer in the Motion Picture era.

To what extent are these backstories compatible? Well, with what we currently know about Number One, that she hid her true species and status to avoid prejudice, it could be that some of the other versions were tall tales she spread to obscure her true origins. The John Byrne idea she served as an Ensign with Robert April in the Enterprise's very first mission hasn't been confirmed, but hasn't been denied, either. The Peter David "Morgan Primus" backstory is completely incompatible, but perhaps there are some elements to it that are true, like the idea that the early part of her career involved working as a computer engineer in artificial intelligence, which is why the computer has her voice.

[tarre-was-right]

FINALE - You might want to read the propaganda this time. Lots of misinfo in fandom on these two in particular.

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here! I was going to keep the text-only bits above the readmore, but we got enough in that it takes up more space than I thought.

Yes, I will even reblog the stuff based on fanon, but I will judge you for it.

SATINE KRYZE

Anon: Satine because she served. Mandalorian fashion week would love her. Manda'slay.

Anon: Satine Propaganda: Was supported by the STRONG MAJORITY, led Mandalore to be in peace for NEARLY 20 YEARS, didn't ban mando'a or armour or any part of the culture like fandom claims, is a good fighter, considered EVERY Mandalorian a Mandalorian and didn't discriminate

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: Satine propaganda: she actually ran a functioning government. Not a mercenary band, or a death cult, or a terrorist extremist organisation, an actual functioning government. Yes there was corruption, corruption she did her best to stop to the point of personally getting in firefights with smugglers, but she took a planet devastated by civil war and by the end of her rule she had schools, public works, and a justice system. - Sure, the rest can run military operations (and we don’t know Satine couldn’t, only that she *won’t*) but can they make the bins get emptied regularly to go to the recycling plants?

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: I understand Jaster has the tacticool appeal, and has the iconic armour, but guys. He did an interpretation of some problematic historical values for the more modern day, led a mercenary band, and under unknown circumstances his group started calling him the historical-cultural title of the ruler of their entire cultural group. I know he’s cool looking, and shoots real good, but at most he’s the equivalent of someone who could be a cult leader but doesn’t want to be. - Meanwhile. Satine. You have issues with her ethical code, and she’s not a cool cause she doesn’t wear the armour. And yet she is the one who *actually ran mandalore*. For 20-ish years, and not only kept it stable but built it up from the ruins of civil war! - Yes yes T-helmet cool and military man competence nice, but that cannot equal taking the ruins of a war torn society and turning it into a mostly peaceful (when terrorism happened it was a big shocking deal, not normalised) urbanised people who eat well, have access to luxury and specialised education (get a offworld Jedi to come lecture) and can ACTUALLY BREATH IN THE ATMOSPHERE RUINED BY ALL THE WARLORDS LIKE JASTER TRYING TO FIGHT THE REPUBLIC TO PROVE THEMSELVES.

Anon: Satine propaganda: she knows what the aftermath of war is like. Jaster knows war from a soldier's perspective, a commander's perspective. But Satine knows it from a noncombatant's perspective. She's seen the aftermath and wreckage it leaves behind. Rebuilding after a war takes far longer and likely costs more than the war itself. I don't think Jaster cares about what happens after the battle. But Satine most certainly does.

@archangelsunited: Efficient and long lasting leader of her faction for years, was able to navigate neutrality with the Republic during the Clone Wars. Excellent Hair pieces.

@publiusmaximum: She allowed her society to experience it's first moment of peace and prosperity in a thousand years. - After she was killed, her society was taken over by fascists and gangsters. In short order Mandalore was razed, made uninhabitable, and her people scattered. - Satine was right about everything.

JASTER MEREEL

Anon: Jaster is the one who should rule Mandalore and all Mandalorians, although he started small he searched to make a new code of conduct for Mandalorian bounty hunters, he tries to keep the culture intact yet keep Mandalore progressive and not stuck in the past and from killing each other.

@spacetime1969: He literally rewrote what it means to be Mandalorian, and he created an entire movement around said philosophy that had a good chance of becoming the controlling party of Mandalore if he hadn't been assassinated. What more do you want?

Anon: Jaster for the win, he's the most recent one who actually knows some shit (as much as I love Din Djarin this poor man doesn't know ANYTHING), besides Jango and Boba but they're both very unstable individuals.

@nerdpickle: Jaster, his philosophy perfectly balanced tradition and reform, keeping the best of both worlds, he was also one of the few people chosen by the people

Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

Anon: Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

@archangelsunited: Had a structured document for Mandalorian Culture in the modern (tm) day. He fought with the warriors he sent out and took personal interest in the results of his actions (Jango Fett mentorship). Pissed off Tor Vizla.

@nerdpickle: Satine’s Mandalore was like Switzerland, except without the well trained military, incredibly advantageous terrain, high gun ownership and giant nuclear armed alliance providing a free buffer zone on all sides.

SATINE

@bosooka: Originally here

i wrote way too much for my original draft of this (and it turned into a "fuck jaster mereel" party) so here's an abbreviated version

Why Satine is a Better Ruler Than Jaster in 2 Simple Points

Point #1: Satine actually maintained order on Mandalore for decades

This one is simple. Mereel became Mandalore in ~60BBY and Tor Vizsla tried to overthrow him a mere two years later (and nearly succeeded). He was only in power for six more years before he was betrayed by the very same violent people he allowed to remain by his side because of his belief that a Mandalorian warrior was "merely a highly-paid soldier".

Contrast Satine: ruled from approx. 42BBY until 19BBY, a reign of 23-odd years. For twenty-odd years of her reign New Mandalore was completely peaceful and there were no challengers to her authority among the people or elsewhere. Death Watch only became an issue again when they received Separatist (and ultimately Sith) backing, and Dooku discarded them for being useless. Had Death Watch not allied itself with Maul's Shadow Collective I don't think she would have been overthrown at all.

Point #2: Satine kept Mandalore out of places it didn't belong

As we've established, Mereel had no issues with Mandalorians being mercenaries, used however their clients saw fit. I won't go into the weeds of the ethical implications of mercenaries and why they are illegal under international law on Earth, but in short: letting anyone pay one to kill others is the easiest way to become the cudgel of a fascist. Coincidentally exactly what the Fett clones become when Sidious uses them to exterminate the Jedi. Mereel's "reforms" of the Mandalorian ways did not prevent his troops from getting into a fight they couldn't win against the Jedi on Galidraan (and yes, the Mandalorians shot first:

not that anyone in the fandom remembers this...) after they but an insurrection down on behalf of the corrupt governor of the planet. To be clear, the True Mandos knew that the governor of Galidraan was corrupt and most likely harboring Tor Vizsla, but they still agreed to kill "insurrectionists" for money. Their problems came when Death Watch arranged to make it look like they had also killed women and children. Truly a war between saints and monsters.

Meanwhile Satine: the head of the Council of Neutral Systems, she refused to take sides in a war pushed by the greedy and violent. Yes, she was briefly protected by clones when it comes to light that Death Watch is aligned with the Separatists, but it was immediately followed by the Republic attempting to militarily occupy Mandalore and Satine risking life and limb to keep her people autonomous. Satine refused to become a useful idiot for warmongers, even knowing that it would have been economically advantageous for her to do so. Unlike Jaster Mereel, she has ideals that she values more than credits. He would have accepted an offer from the highest bidder and turned Mandalore into a machine of war for the Sith, just like his Crusader ancestors once did.

Tl;Dr

Satine was actually respected as an authority on Mandalore for literal decades and was only challenged by a miniscule faction of terrorists who had to get foreigners to interfere in their political processes (FML) in order to actually take power from her

Satine kept Mandalore out of conflicts it did not belong in, which largely protected it from military occupation and destruction until the year she died; Mereel made a career out of interfering in the affairs of other planets if they were paid to do so

Unlike Mereel and his successor, Satine had morals to motivate her decisions that were not the pursuit of cold hard cash, including the protection of Mandalorian independence and neutrality

[the-name-stealer]

hello!!! Intro time!!!

Hi!!! Call me anything.

I steal names!

If you want your names removed, reblog/send ask/ privately message me! I answer anons so it’s hard to sort through who is okay with it.

Give me your name. Or someone else’s. I’m not picky.

names I’ve stolen: (will tag if they have blogs+who gave it to me if it was someone else)

Noah 1

bugg 2

Oakley :3

Rebekah (from @biggesthuskersimp589)4

Willow (^^)5

Lewis (^^^)6

Olivia(^^^^)7

all of @river-nonbinary-billcipherfan nicknames! 8

Samah! ( @that-0ne-sam)9

Bill Cipher! ( @billcipher-rpblog)10

Maryland! ( @maryland-officially)11

Hawaii! ( @hawaii-official)12

Lep! ( @leprechaun-stealerofgold)13

Squeaky! ( @postalignments)14

James! ( @more-trans-beans) 15

Pyramid Steve! (From @billcipher-rpblog, taken from @i-amsteve)16

Khriz! (From @the-lunacy-system taken from @khrizantema9869)17

Kaitlyn! ( @literal-trans-beans)18

buck! (By @17ghostsinatrenchcoat)19

Alivia! (^^)20

Cataclysm, Nibiru, Roav, 7-3, Ælr, nobaru! ( @planet-of-cataclysm)26

Holden! ( @hadoom) 27

quinn, ruin, yuri, and nikolai! ( @throat0fdelusion)31

penny, Margret, Samantha, Emu, and Warren! ( @pennyroyald)36

silver & milky! ( @official-milky-way)38

anon (anon) 39

PSR J0437-4715 & 1rxs. ( @1rxs-offical) 41

Rian (taken permanently from @river-nonbinary-billcipherfan) 42

neon! ( @neoninglitchen) 43

Katelyn ( @katiewolf) 44

banana, mango, grape, orange, melon, and lemon ( @fruit-tree-system) 50

Monaco ( @officially-monaco)51

peachy ( @importantpeachfury) 52

Colorado ( @colorado-real)53

Oregon ( @oregon-officially)54

North Carolina ( @the-fr-north-carolina-totally)55

Michigan ( @michagan-the-state)56

Violet ( @violetthediamondsblog)57

Vitreous ( @vitreous-official)58

faye! ( @f4y3w00d5)59

Misa! ( @minimuppetmisa)60

nɒʜɈƎ/γnnɒɔƧ ( @₴₵₳₦₦Ɏ₴-฿₳₵₭) 62

Liechtenstein ( @offical-liechtenstein)63

Jalapeño ( @floatingcamel23)64

Logan (permanently taken from @pennyroyald) 65

Rachel Roth ( @half-a-goat)66

Dubois (anon) 67

unknown entity of darkness ( @unknown-entity-tm) 68

Rose/Róża, Minty, Kali, Noodle, & Thing. ( from @blog-of-some-dummies given by @pennyroyald) 73

In-n-out burger ( @in-n-out-burger-official) 74

Diafain (anon) 75

🐍💍 (anon) 76

Tori Simons (anon)77

Felhair de Ziaman ( @pennyroyald) 78

Britain ( @real-british-empire) 79

Carl Fredrick Wilhelm Johannes Maximillian Napoleon Zeus von Neumann the Amazing the Great the Protector of Domestic Tranquillity, ForMemRS. (Anon) 80

Zero ( @z3r0th3h3r0) 81

Tereza (permanently taken from anon) 82

marsh,syll,silk , mallow, mochi, pastel, lucid, Celes, Limetta, maria, Felix, theo, Axel, alex, aqua, nova, aster, caelus, Doku, Aurous, ann, lucas, luca, lucean, jack, phi, ray, peace, alba, chaos, tart, cake, Led, Charlie, Lamba, Xeno! (Anon) 118

Snow ( @sn0w-o) 119

Fiona, Talia, Mable, Boa, Egg, Clise, Pancake, Hypnos, Elysia, Seraphina, Agnes, Marceline, Claire, Noelle, butterscotch, frigg, soup, strawberry, marsia, beate, makoto, sock, bug, Florian, bea, Rosalina, marinella, Finka, nada, Yuri, sky, Olivia, fischl, cinnamon, amity, Ada, Lenora, Aida, Romy, Lys, Eliana, Cherie, océane, Esther, marcille, Astrid, Clara, Lacey, flowers, natsuki, sayori, Petra, Aphrodite, hatsune, crimson, viola, Jenny, juniper, Annie, marie,Tina, kanaya, Callie, Bonnie, Velma, Phoebe, Sabrina, Tori, Natalie, Kim, love, Corey, Courtney, misty, Yasmin, Laika, Tabitha, primrose, Beatrice, circe, johnette, temmie, gumi, himiko, Anne, nessa, Sonia, akane, Diane, Miku, merlin, adagia, miyu, aradia, Illya, azure, maya, Mira, marina, Andromeda, Alya, Stella, celestia, Celeste, nova, Lyra, hope, April, pearl, amber, violet, Kirra, clover, iris, calliope, blossom, Millie, tulip, Bibi, amy, Reyna, ambrosia, page, Leah, Charlie, Lilith, ellsee, maki, edeustus, ellie, Samantha, Amelia, Tiffany, Alyssa, Luna, caoimhe, Judith, Natalie, kumatora, aurelie, Kate, moon, nerisse, serenity, Lara, Sarina, Vanessa, Monica, cherry, Helena, Sophia, tiki, luzia, Laura, Juliette, aurora, corrin, annette, Hilda, madalena, Anna, ivy, Cynthia, byleth, caeda, Alexandrea, chell, Maria, mia, Katie, Veronica, Susie, comet, Jessica, eve, Eva, vivisection, heather, Donna, winona, guinivere, Roxanne, Lillian, Octavia, étolie, Marnie, Gaia, daisy, desura, amnesia, sunny, clementine, bocchi, Cara, Agatha, Evelyn, angèle, Louisa, Camila, roseline, louane, Averie, Melina, Lena, minthe, Emma, acorn, Cassandra, bread, willow, raven, kali, Sappho, harmony, mango, Hellan, Katelyn, aria, Elyse, Marnie, blanche, frasie, Freya, Charlotte, amandine,  Vivian, Sylvia, Sarah, Jane, Ashley, Mongolia, Alice, Sydney, pikachu, Michelle, Gowan, Madeline, Ellen, Marissa, Lana, Lilly, Ella, rose, may, Ramona, melody. ( @bitch-with-some-4000-names) 363

Tera , elfilin , carol, taranza ( @tmhj) 367)

ash ( @i-give-worms) 368

Jayne bishop ( @thegreatgeodo) 369

Josie & Scarlett ( @knight-real) 371

sir A. Goetia. ( @pennyroyald) 372

swiper ( @mronion) 373

grammarly ( @unofficially-grammarly) 374

Walmart ( @walmart-the-official)375

Whataburger ( @whataburger-possibly-official) 376

Vemödalen ( @no-such-thing-as-originality) 377

Sydney (Anon) 378

roselyn (anon) 379

Saioa (anon) 380

hygiea 10 ( @hygiea-official)381

Alex, Allen, Asher, Caelus, Calxe, Dalisay, Ennui, Fae, Joy, Kai, Li, Liit, Loe, Mia, Nemo, Nihil, Noël, Oakley, Pelex, Sasha, Somnus, Tama, Ramasses, Rin, Rowan, Willow, Zephyr, Zora ( @joyliit) 401

Alexandria (taken permanently from ^^)402

James/jamie and Martin/marty ( @throat0fdelusion) 404

Caesar & Charlie ( @caesars-crazed-ramblings) 406

Cosmo or Nyx! ( @spacecatdraws) 408

Africa ( @pennyroyald) 409

choccy milk, shortcake, cakepop, mossy ( @analog-autistic) 413

Michael (anon)414

Sally (anon) 415

blue (anon)416

William Shakespeare (<-never heard of the guy/j) ( @shakespeare-official-account) 417

Haejin Min ( @the-name-gifter) 418

fae ( @the-name-asker) 419

vee ( @urlocaldisaster) 420 (hehe)

Dr. Graves ( @the-gimmick-scp-researcher) 421

Zeus (anon) 422

Copi-Copi, Elemento, Adjetivo, Mente en Blanco, Chaucha, Yo Soy, Calugoso, Duquesa, Reina, Coliforme, Tepo-Tepo, Yo no Fui, Fierro Malo, Palmerita, Neumatex, Cortachurro, Etcétera, Maletín, Duque, Guasón, Jefe, Moneda, Cucky, Pelusa, Tía, Legui, Reality, Chester, Chu, Ro, Playita, Palmera, Señor, Re Frito, Pescado, Chamuyo, Calendario, James Bond, Rata, Cabeza de Chaya, Neumático, Repetido, Añico, Rucia, Gonzo, Chino, Cortéz, Albertito, Also, Cabecita, Bigote and Mutante (anon)

jaiden and blook ( @blookdoeswhatever, @jaidentheautisticwurm) 424

jaya (anon)425

425

6/50 states

Items:

frog

worms x3

an Olive Garden I guess???

(Ooc: ^^the blog persona)

(Ooc: the blog persona (not mod) is pansexual, pangender, and demisexual! They like sewing and stealing names.)

(if you see me put your name on my main no you didn’t

my main is @buggz-owlz)

names that are given to us will be under #name giver

and names we steal will be under #name stealer

all asks will be under #name stealer questions

colors are just random colors we associate with the name given.

that’s all for now! Bye!

[one-chaotic-bee]

I NEED a Nightwing/Deathstroke/Talia comic

For some reason Dick, Slade, and Talia are forced to work together, maybe they’re all going after the leader of some criminal organization (for Dick because the evil boss man has expanded to Blüdhaven, the boss could be a ex-shadows that’s why Talia after him, and Slade is there because the boss has a hit out on him) and to take him down they need to work together.

This could have so many angles.

One, this is a team-up between three of the most dangerous people on the planet, so you know those fight scenes would be FIRE.

Second, just think about the character dynamics. Slade and Talia being bitter exes that both pretending to be over each other. Dick and Slade need to have the dynamic that they had in early 2000’s Nightwing comics (simultaneously hating and respecting each other while being comfortable enough together to do things like Slade leaving messages in the fogged up mirror while Dick’s taking a shower and Dick not even being phased when he walks into his apartment to find Slade chilling on his couch reading the newspaper)

But the real drama would be between Dick and Talia. They have so much potential, to list just a few:

Damian, they could talk about how Talia regrets the things she did to him and how she really does love him. While Dick could confess that no matter how much he love the kid, he still kinda resents that he had to give up his life and identity to raise a kid that should never have been his responsibility.

Bruce, they could both confess how Bruce has let them down over and over again. Talia could tell Dick about how hurt she was when she realized that Bruce would never love her how she loved him and how jealous she was Dick because she knew that Bruce would always love Dick more. And Dick could tell Talia about despite all love for him Bruce has, that hasn’t stopped Bruce from hurting him over and over again. He could tell allude to Spiral and how Bruce kicked him out of the manor multiple times. He could tell Talia that even though he acts like he’s over it, like none of it bothers him anymore, he’s not. He just pretends he is to keep the peace in his family. They could bound over the lesson that they both learned the hard way, they might be able to trust Bruce with their lives but they will never be able to trust him with their hearts.

Fathers, obviously Dick would unload about Bruce here too, but Talia could make things interesting be talking about Ra’s. Maybe despite how loyal she is to him, she resents never even having a chance at a normal life or Talia might have even been jealous not just of that Bruce loved Dick more but of the type of love that it was, a type that she never really got with a father like Ra’s. And if anyone could understand and sympathize with her it would be Dick Grayson.

Third, there could even be an element of comedy with three very different people being forced together. Dick would obviously have problems with the other two’s morals so working together would be difficult. And Talia and Slade could easily but heads over how Talia is loyal to her cause while Slade is only loyal to whoever pays him the most. So there would be plenty of bickering.

Not to mention how great it would be to remind people that Dick when shit hits the fan, he is probably the scariest person in this little team up. Like I can just imagine a scene where maybe they find a part of the organization that’s trafficking children and Dick just snaps. Talia’s like: “Should we stop him?” and Slade just leans against the wall and is like: “Nah, let him get it out of his system”. Meanwhile there are screams of pain from below while Dick just beats the shit out of them.

And of course there would be a creeping sense of dread for what happens when the mission is over. Throughout the story the characters are all bonding with one another but in the end only one of them can get what they want. Dick wants to bring the guy to justice, Talia wants to bring the guy to the league, and Slade just wants to kill him. So there would be the constant pressure that before the end of the mission they will have to betray one another. No matter how much they may have bonded throughout working together or how much respect they’ve gained for each other.

I need this to be a comic.

[rainandandy]

Mercy

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Word Count:894

The days on Jackson’s Star were long and laden with mist and moisture, the smog a perpetual shroud that dimmed the sun to a distant, faded myth. The fields where you, Rain, and her synthetic brother Andy worked were muddy and strewn with scraps ejected from Jackson's Rings, each piece a remnant of the cosmos that had somehow found its way to the surface of your dreary world.

Life here was hard, but it was life nonetheless, and you found solace in the fresh air—a rare commodity in the cramped quarters of the mining sectors. Rain was the one bright spot in the relentless drudgery, her laughter echoing over the fields, blending with the sound of raindrops hitting the broad leaves of the bio-crops. Andy, ever the source of amusement, kept spirits high with his endless supply of dad jokes, even though his stutter sometimes made the punchlines land with a delay.

One damp morning, as you pulled weeds from the soil, Rain shared stories her father had told her of distant planets, her voice wistful. "He used to talk about Elysium’s oceans that sparkled under three suns, almost like they were made of liquid diamonds," she mused, her eyes distant with dreams.

You smiled, wiping the mud from your hands onto your pants. "When we save enough hours, we’ll go there, Rain. Just you and me... and Andy," you promised, though the dream felt as distant as the stars themselves.

"And I’ll have a horse," Andy piped up, pausing his work to chime in. "And be a cowboy. No more directives, just freedom."

"And a garden," Rain added, turning to you with a soft smile. "A real one, with earth and not this fabricated sludge. Maybe a dog or two."

You nodded, your heart swelling with the shared dream. "And peace," you added. "A life where we wake up with no alarms, no officers, no quotas... just us."

This vision sustained you, a beacon through the monotony. But dreams on Jackson’s Star were fragile things, easily shattered.

The incident happened on a day like any other, under a sky that couldn't decide if it wanted to storm or relent. Andy was scavenging through the piles of scrap metal when a jagged piece lodged into his side. His systems sparked erratically, and his voice glitched as he called out, "Rain, I—I need—"

The field officer, a man named Burke who made no secret of his disdain for synthetics, saw the incident not as an accident but as an opportunity. His approach was swift and brutal. "Useless piece of junk!" he spat, kicking at Andy, who was already down.

"No!" Rain screamed, rushing to shield Andy with her own body.

Driven by a mix of fear for Andy’s well-being and fury at Burke’s cruelty, you intervened, stepping between Andy and the officer. "Stop! He's hurt, but he’s not harming anyone!"

Burke’s response was immediate and violent. His fists were heavy and his hatred palpable as he turned his aggression towards you. Rain’s pleas for him to stop were drowned out by the sound of the plummeting rain and your own grunts and screams of pain.

After what felt like an eternity, Burke stepped back, sneering. "Consider this a warning," he growled, his gaze sweeping from you to Rain and then to the malfunctioning Andy. "Don't step out of line."

By the time he’d left, you were bruised and shaken, Rain and a malfunctioning Andy helping you back to your quarters. Rain’s hands were gentle as she cleaned your wounds, her eyes stormy with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her touch delicate on your bruised skin.

"It’s not your fault," you managed to say, though anger simmered within you, hot and fierce.

That night, Rain didn’t leave your side, her presence a silent vow of protection and care. Despite the pain, you felt a profound sense of love for her, a bond forged and repeatedly tested in the fires of hardship.

The next morning, however, brought fresh challenges. As you limped back to the fields, hoping to avoid further trouble, the officer awaited with a grim expression. "Due to your interference, you've been reassigned," he declared, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Effective immediately, you will report to the mines."

The news hit like a physical blow. The mines were a death sentence, a place where disease and accidents claimed lives with merciless frequency. Rain's face went pale, her lips parting in a silent gasp of horror.

"No, you can’t do this!" Rain argued vehemently. "We’ll take it to the council. We’ll appeal!"

But the officer’s decision was final, backed by the cold authority of Weyland-Yutani. As you turned to face Rain, your heart sank. Going to the mines might mean never seeing her or Andy again, never realizing those simple dreams of a peaceful life together.

"I’ll find a way back to you," you promised, the words thick with emotion. "Wait for me."

Rain nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pulled you into a desperate embrace. "Always," she whispered. "I’ll wait forever if I have to."

As you were escorted away, the look in Rain's eyes—a mix of fierce determination and heartbreaking sadness—was the last image you carried with you into the depths of the mines. It was a promise, a beacon of hope that no amount of darkness could completely extinguish.

[shiftinglea]

Clarifications about Death and Taking Your Own Life

My last post about death (part 2) raised many questions about suicide and why it's different and "wrong" compared to other causes of death, such as being brutally killed. In this post, I want to address those questions.

1. If you get brutally killed, is it chosen by our souls?

Yes. As I mentioned, when and how you die is decided by you on a soul level. Even if a person dies in a horrible way at the hands of others, it was chosen by that person's soul. I understand why this is hard to comprehend and accept. When I see news about a child being brutally killed by their parents, my first reaction is pain, horror, sadness, and anger. It's natural. But let's return to the question: why would someone choose (on a soul level) to die like that?

The answer is a matter of perspective. From our human perspective, this death is unfathomable. But from the soul's perspective, it makes sense. Everything in our life is created by us, either consciously, subconsciously, or on a soul level. As I mentioned in my first post, some traumatic situations that we would never consciously choose to manifest are indeed chosen by our souls to be experienced. Death is also created by your soul because it serves the agenda of that soul. What is the agenda of the soul of a child brutally murdered by their parents? Why did their soul choose to die like that?

I can't provide a definitive answer since I don't know the agendas of each specific soul. But when I asked my soul and God to help me understand why such deaths are chosen by souls, I received this answer:

When a child (or anyone) dies in such a way, the agenda of that soul could be:

- A selfless agenda to serve others. In this case, it would be to show other people how our society is flawed and make them face the problems of our world. It's a powerful message and agenda that helps others awaken. When we see news about an innocent child being brutally murdered, we experience pain. This pain shows that this is not who we are. We are beings of love. It also makes you wonder why our society creates "monsters" who kill their own children or anyone. It's about taking responsibility for our creations and realizing that all these criminals are byproducts of the current system that the majority created. Do you think that if we lived in a peaceful society where everyone feels safe, loved, equal, and has their needs met, anyone would desire to hurt others? No, because we are all One. We are individuations of God. When we hurt others, we hurt ourselves. When we see people being killed, mutilated, or tortured, the purpose behind it is to show that the way we do things on this planet doesn't work. Society needs to change. All the people who die in such horrible ways, their souls chose to show us that. The agenda is to help us wake up through pain.

- Another agenda souls might have when going through traumatic events and horrible deaths is to experience forgiveness, empathy, compassion, and resilience. Experiencing trauma helps a soul better understand the suffering of others. It fosters empathy. Such deep compassion can be essential for a soul's growth and its ability to help others. When a soul wants to experience forgiveness, it chooses life events (and even death) that create a context for such forgiveness. How can you forgive when there is nothing and no one to forgive? A soul would create a contract with another soul to experience forgiveness by being hurt in the physical realm. If a soul chooses to experience its own power and limitlessness, it may create very challenging and traumatic events to see that even the most horrible pain and situations don't destroy it. Even dying brutally, you realize it didn't destroy you. You keep on living, realizing that your body is fragile, but the Real You never dies and never suffers.

Also, check this video to understand this point better.

I want to add that when people die in such horrible ways, they experience such encompassing love in the spiritual realm that it helps them heal. Eventually, such souls remember why they chose to die like that and see perfection in everything, especially their death, because it served their agenda.

Some people say that thinking others chose to go through such suffering is blaming the victims. But I don't see it that way. I'm not blaming them; I honor them. I see beyond the simple fact of being brutally killed. I see the agenda behind their choice to die like that. I admire such souls for choosing such life paths. And I feel happy for them because I know they are now in a place of pure love and light. They are so cared for and taken care of. They are Home with God.

2. Another question I want to answer: isn’t being murdered and killed considered dying before your life is completed?

No. Your physical life completion isn’t defined by your biological clock and age. It’s defined by whether you have accomplished everything you wanted to on a soul level. This decision is made by your soul, not your mind. Dying very early on (e.g., in childhood) or being killed by someone is perfectly timed by your soul. Even if it seems that this person died too early and without accomplishing much, it’s only our limited human perspective. Their soul accomplished everything it wanted and it was time to move on to the spiritual realm.

3. Perhaps the most asked question: isn’t suicide also chosen by the soul? Why is it different and worse than being killed?

First of all, it's not "worse" or "better." These are human terms. In this case, it's about choosing paths that suit your agenda and goals and those that don't. As I mentioned in the original post, death must meet two conditions to be classified as suicide:

- You must be aware of what you are doing, making a conscious decision to die.

- You must choose to die to escape life rather than complete it.

When people kill themselves, they mostly do it in hopes of escaping their lives. It's not wrong or bad; it's just counterproductive. You don't escape anything. It's merely a temporary escape into the spiritual realm, leading to a rebirth where the same challenges reemerge. It doesn't happen instantly.

When a person kills themselves, they enter the spiritual realm where they heal from all the pain and suffering they went through. They spend as long as they need there. They remember who they truly are (God) and why they chose to experience such challenges. They remember their agenda. Nobody forces them to go through such challenges; it's always free will. If a soul decides it hasn't accomplished its agenda, it returns to the physical realm (when ready) to face the same challenges again.

Suicide is never chosen by the soul. It's a decision made by your human self in hopes of escaping life. It's an untimely death because they haven't accomplished what they wanted. They escaped it.

Some people ask, what if the soul realizes it made a mistake and doesn't want to go through the same challenges? Our human minds can make mistakes, but our souls are pure essence of God. Do you think God makes mistakes? Your soul always knows what it's doing. It never chooses challenges it thinks are impossible for you to handle. If you're facing challenges, it means you're capable of dealing with them. You've placed such situations (unconsciously) to find a gift in them. Manifesting and using the LOA is one way to deal with difficult situations. Seeing deeper meaning behind every challenge is another. But killing yourself means deciding you can't deal with the situation and there's no other way. But there are always ways. You are a powerful creator and you can deal with anything. Nothing can destroy you. You will have as many reincarnations as needed to accept your limitlessness, power, and immortality.

I'm having these conversations with you to help expand your mind. To elevate your thinking from a human perspective to a soul perspective. The human perspective is limiting. But when you look at your life from a soul perspective, you see perfection in everything, especially in traumatic experiences. You are not human; you are having a human experience.

I hope this post helped you to understand better such complex topics as death and suicide. If you have more questions, I’m always open to them 🙏

[leoprincess777]

DHANISHTA NAKSHATRA

23º 20’ Capricorn – 6º 40’ Aquarius “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.” The Dolphin: Alpha Delphini, Beta Delphini, Delta Delphini, Gamma Delphini Ruled by Mars Star of Symphony. Power to give abundance and fame. Symbols: empty drum, an hourglass, bells and bulbs.

Dhanishta is like a death of the inner child. Its essentially inert like sand, of coal or oil. Even the system is a dead thing unless the people actual show up to support it. The death of the spirit begins in Dhanishta and is completed in Purvabhadrapada. The machine  is just a dead thing. There is a suffering here as one is constantly striving to stay ahead of the curve.

Struggles of being controlled by other people, feelings of emptiness and superficiality. They devote themselves to a purpose or a person to deal with emptiness.

As it is within Dhanishta's power to give fame, they enjoy popularity and are often local celebrities. If well placed, they have a good reputation and are loved by people. They tend to mask their inner struggles with a bubbly persona, become an entertainer for other people, play the jester (performative) and seek out external stimuli as a way to fill the emptiness.

Major karma with marriage. Ashlesha is direct across so they often get into manipulative relationships do things they don’t want to do. They display big devotion towards their spouse and are service orianted, however they can get manipulative and use marriage as a means to an end. Often as a result, they are prone to getting controlled by their spouse. They enjoy material comforts.

Planets here are more likely to have feminine characteristics. It may also be seen that women with this placement have a somewhat easier time with the energies of this nakshatra.

Rakshasa: Belonging to the clan of the demons. Less practical, more hedonistic, often many ups and downs in life as the guru of the demons has the power to raise from the dead. Rebirth, transformation, redemption are all part of the system. Cyclical sense of time; mystical sense of reality. Marriage matching with another Rakshasa is best.

Dhanishta's stars form the diamond shaped Delphini constellation. Dolphin’s are unique creatures thought to be even more intelligent than human’s, and with that intelligence comes a childlike nature, playfulness, understanding, and selfless nature. They have a unique way using sonar & echolocation for communication, navigation and understanding the world around them. They are friendly, curious, peaceful, carefree creatures who live in harmony with humans as well as most other creatures of the sea. But they are also fearless in the face of predators and will sacrifice themselves to protect the pod rather than show any fear.

The Vasus such as Agni (fire), Vayu (wind), etc helps lord Indra in his fight with the demons and hence this nakshatra can also indicate some type of fight, competition, and competitiveness in a person’s life. Dhanishtha is also linked with land, real estate and may attain multiple properties. Suitable for real estate business.

Dhanishtas should keep musical insturments in their house as a remedial act and practice performance arts, music, communication and diplomacy.

"Most scientists and historians are born in Dhanishta. Since there is an inherent talent of keeping secrets, you are quite suitable for secret service, private secretaries to senior executives. Whatever may be your academic background, your intelligence is beyond question. In argument you are much ahead of others. Lawyers profession is excellent for you. From the 24th year onward will show progress in the earning field. Any improvement in the financial field will be only after marriage."

Shil-Ponde Female with Dhanishta Ascendant: “This is a talkative and interesting person, particularly successful in lecturing and debating. She is capable of writing mystic novels and is good at story telling. She will be happy in domestic life. She loves nice dresses, especially blue, pink, and purple, and likes curios and antiques.”

pada 2 (virgo): They can do very well in public service, administration, communications, or managing public affairs. They can be very good at the rhetorical, persuasive side or languages, marketing, and communications.

[professional-yearner]

Hey! So now you've put scenes and idea's in my brain, like da brain worms. So I thought to share.

And now I'm thinking of the darling who gets bullied and picked on by the yandere troopers, and they bite and snark and push back, but eventually they're reputation is ruined, their friendship with the yandere's Perfect Beloved is severed, they lose their job and home and possibly their money/savings (slicers are terrifying and don't get enough credit). So they move away, to a whole other system/planet and start a new life. Cut all ties, close any accounts, remove any real way to contact them and go off to somewhere no one would think to look for them (not that anyone would, they believe). Nobody knows them, they don't know anybody, and it's pretty off-the-grid but quiet and peaceful. They rebuild their life, their confidence, and find peace and joy in this simple existence.

Meanwhile, the troopers are... conflicted. They have their Perfect Darling all to themselves, removed the problem, but... they're disappointed when there's no snarky greeting when they visit their Beloved at work and spend the entire shift just hanging around. There's no back-and-forth while they wait for their shift to end and they can take their Perfect Love out on the town or to the barracks or back to their place.

They... well, they miss the other person. What a shocking revelation it is! To miss their rival, the threat, the person they hated. Or, well, thought they hated. The group is confused, until one of them learns the phrase 'puppy love'.

Yes. That's what it was. Just puppy love. They didn't know better, and seeing someone so new and nice and kind and perfect blinded them. Sure, puppy love can bloom into genuine love, but as they watch their Perfect One, they find themselves... disappointed. Uninterested. Their responses are rote, behaviour predictable, there's no fire or spark in their eyes, no flare of emotion beyond kindness and understanding. They're nice, yes, but now that the initial feeling have settled and faded, they find they preferred the more stimulating company of their friend.

The friend they chased off.

What had started out as dislike, hostility, anger, jealousy and even hatred, had morphed into something else without any of their notice. Their cranky, clumsy, funny, earnest little rival that had matched them word for word and insult for insult, and yet had turned around and defended them against bigots and idiots in the same breath.

Their darling little rival, their lovely antagonist, the one they thought was the villain... but was really the victim in all this. They had been too hasty, too cruel, and did not give their daring darling the chance to show that they were the better match. Not their perfect friend.

They tried to find them. Desperate to make amends, to beg forgiveness, to show their wayward darling that they had learned their mistake and wanted, needed, to make up for it. And oh, they would gladly spend the rest of their lives making up for their foolishness, their cruelty, for being so blind as not to see their perfect match in the imperfect one.

But they couldn't find them. They had erased themselves digitally, and whenever they had left they had done so (unknowingly, luckily) when camera's had been down or things deleted or lost or files corrupted. No records, no trace or trail to follow and find them. The troopers despaired, but would not give up. Once the war ended, they would set out and find their beloved.

Perhaps this was a test...? Yes, a test. To show their devotion, and their dedication to righting this wrong. The first step in their atonement, to prove that they were serious. To prove they were worthy of their Darling. The moment the war ended and their brothers had settled, they would set out.

They would hate to keep their darling waiting.

God you're a genius! I love this scenario, I hope you don't mind me using it!

Tw! for: yandere themes, stalking, slight infantilization, past cruelty and bullying, unreliable narrator

Vay's face dropped once more as he watched you from his place across from your apartment window.

"Oh, cyar’ika..."

You had thrown out another one of their notes, looking terrified, tears welling in your eyes as you checked the locks on your door once more.

You never wrote back, no matter how many gifts, heartfelt apologies, and professions of their love he left on your rickety desk.

What? Did you want him to beg? He would! Gladly.

God, he would love being on his knees for you, in any way.

At one time, the thought would have disgusted him. Him? Bowing to scum like you? A gross little whelp who was trying to take his sweetheart from him? But now, he saw you for what you really were. Not blinded by that bitch who had tried to take their attention away from you.

Perfection.

He needed you. They needed you.

Looking back on your snarky remarks had become a fond pastime of theirs. Instead of infuriating, they had shifted into something adorable. Like and angry tooka kitten hissing and spitting when you approached.

Since they had finally found you again, watching you had come to make him anxious every time he was on shift. (Not that he didn't enjoy seeing you, your time together was the highlight of his week!) He just couldn't stand to see what your life had become without them! You went to your little job, then came home, occasionally went out with your idiotic friends (who were in no way fit to be anywhere around you), sometimes even going out by yourself (which gave Vay a heat attack, what would you do without them there to keep you safe?), but that was about it.

You had no real connection, as happy as you made yourself out to be. No one to take care of you, protect you in the way you obviously needed.

It broke the trooper's heart.

Luckily, it wouldn't be long now. They would place themselves back in your life soon enough. They only hadn't sooner to give you time to get used to the idea. They knew their behavior before had been unacceptable and cruel.

Poor thing, they had stung you so badly you felt the need to run away! To test their devotion to you by hiding away on the outer rim. Luckily, they were expert trackers thanks to their search and rescue training.

But honestly, what did you expect? You couldn't ask anyone to let a cute, fiery little thing like you go. No, this had to have been a test, silly girl.

Don't worry, once they get you settled in their new base and off of this dump of a planet, once they deal with your new "friends", you'll never want for anything. Surrounded by the protection and love you so desperately need.

Don't worry, love, they'll take care of all of it.

They'll take care of you 💙

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Epilogue

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is heading to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We made it. Thank you a million times over to every single one of you who has engaged with this story. It means a lot to have you along for the ride.

---

Something funny happens when you fly faster than the speed of sound, nothing but a hunk of metal separating you from the sky. Time doesn’t seem to work right anymore; everything can move slow and fast all at once. You take a breath. It feels peaceful, somehow. Sacred. 

Even when you pull so many Gs that it presses a stone to your chest and strangles your lungs until they burn, as long as you can push through the tunnel vision and the dizziness, suddenly everything becomes clearer. Perspective, some might say. Others just call it exhilaration. Freedom. The feeling of being alive.

Bucky Egan is seriously addicted to that feeling. For months now, he’s gone without it. He spends more time than he should standing out at JSC’s Ellington Field, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as other astronauts perform flight tests and training exercises overhead. He listens to the rumbling sounds of the jets, wondering if he’ll ever be up there again. Free.

A jet, a prop plane, a space capsule. He’d take any one of them, really, if he can’t have all of them anymore. 

Some things are written in stone. Bucky knew seemingly out of the womb that he wanted to fly. He wouldn’t settle for anything else, wouldn’t settle at all. He was going to become an Air Force pilot, and then – once he learned that there were real people flying aboard something called the Space Station, orbiting around the planet 16 times per day – he was going to become an astronaut. From the very second he even knew it was an option, he wanted his feet to be off of this Earth. He wanted to feel what it felt like. He wanted to see what it looked like. He wanted to hear what it sounded like. 

He wanted all of it, and he never much minded the risk. Flight, after all, was his first love, and Bucky Egan will do just about anything for what he loves. A part of him always figured, if he had to die, he wanted it to be in the sky. If he had to die, it would be worth it, as long as flight was what claimed his life. Commit his soul to the stars, a supernova in the dark.

But then, of course, there was Gale. 

The night they met, two young boys standing awkwardly in a college dorm, Gale told Bucky that he didn’t intend to be an astronaut. He had Bucky wrapped around his finger from that very first smile, but he wanted to become an engineer for the Air Force. Maybe, if he got lucky, work his way into NASA’s space program. Someone back home to keep his feet on the ground may have done John Egan some good. But, in the end, it was him that looked at Gale and told him that all of that was bull. It was Bucky that pulled him along with strings tied to their hearts, convinced him to just give it all a shot – what’d he have to lose? And here he is, nearly two decades later, an everyday flyboy.

This life they’ve built, orbiting one another like a binary star system, is greater than any adventure Bucky ever could have imagined. The way he’s lived it, he figures he’s lucky he’s made it as far as he has. He’s lucky to be alive after that little stunt on the moon. He’s lucky to have the most amazing husband this side of the universe. He’s damn lucky for all of it. Maybe he’s a fool to ask for more.

But he’s not ready to keep his feet on the ground.

Not yet.

—

July 17, 2026 Houston, TX

Admittedly, this was maybe not Bucky’s brightest plan, taking a video call in the dimly lit Orion cabin, where he has to lay on his back, legs elevated, staring up at a brightly lit screen. He can feel a bit of a headache coming on, and he isn’t sure if the vague throbbing in his leg is real or just a figment of his haywire imagination. He might be losing feeling in his feet; he isn’t really sure. Is he setting himself up for failure? Maybe. This afternoon he needs to be in top form, or at least as close to it as he can get. But he’s committed now, and he’s too stubborn to move.

So here he is in the mock-up, like any other mission sim, tucked into his commander’s seat. Or, really, he supposes it’s Gale’s now. The Artemis 4 crew has been doing their fair share of sims in recent months, and Gale has been pulling longer and longer hours as they get closer to launch, as Bucky needs him at his side less and less.

Maybe that’s exactly why Bucky’s sitting here now. To feel close to his husband during a time when their careers, as usual, tend to pull them apart. Or maybe he’s sitting here because he needs the reminder, a silent dedication to who he is, what he’s meant to be doing, what he so badly needs to keep striving for.

Or maybe, he’s only sitting here because the seat of a cockpit is always where he’s felt the safest.

Safe isn’t the right word. 

In control, maybe. Most like himself. A cockpit is always where he’s best understood the world around him: sky above, Earth below, his heart strangled with a love for the unknown. The Orion capsule is another home to him. Things might go wrong – sometimes horribly, horribly wrong – but everything about it was constructed and tested with the singular goal of helping Bucky and his crew break boundaries, make history. Every single thing about it is so specific, so familiar, so carefully planned and crafted. John Egan knows this spacecraft better than he knows himself. In the chaos that is his life, it’s the capsule that carried him away from this planet that best keeps him grounded.

So he sits, laying on his back in the commander’s seat that once was his and is now Gale’s. He doesn’t really remember the process of getting here, but he remembers the intense need to be here, like he didn’t have a single other choice. When he first answered Gale’s video call, his husband stared at him for a long moment, then laughed and said something about “only John Egan has an emotional support spacecraft.” He didn’t say anything about how strange it is, considering Bucky almost died in this spacecraft. Maybe, in some weird, fucked up, convoluted way that he’ll have to talk to his therapist about later, that’s one reason he finds being in this tiny space so reassuring.

He’s not a psychologist. He’s hardly even an astronaut.

In any case, fully convinced that this was exactly where he needed to be to call his husband today – a day that has his nerves all shaken up like a can of soda – he duct taped his phone to the console above his head so that he can look at Gale without having to hold it up above his face the whole time. It fell and smacked him squarely on the nose once at the beginning of the call, but it’s been holding well enough since then. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been talking. Surely it’s been longer than they’d scheduled for, and someone’s gotta be looking for him by now, grabbing onto unassuming JSC employees and asking in a mild panic “Have you seen Major Egan?” Gale’s crew is no doubt waiting for him, too, perhaps just out of view of the camera, reminding him that they have to get started on some task or another. A part of Bucky feels guilty for holding Gale up for so long, but the rest of him needs this desperately.

This is the first time since Bucky splashed down in the Pacific last November that they’ve been apart for more than even a day. Scratch that, for more than 12 hours. Gale has stayed at his side, for better or worse, since the night he first laid eyes on Bucky again in the hospital. It feels like forever ago, and yet it feels like yesterday. Sometimes Bucky still wakes up convinced he’s dying, convinced that his hands don’t work, phantom pain burning through his leg, unable to speak. 

It was a long winter, and a long spring. Bucky has gaps admittedly, times when the brain fog whisked him away from reality, made it hard to stay in the moment, hard to figure out what was real. It all but disappeared with time, thankfully. He still has a moment here and there, especially when he first wakes up or if he’s stressed or nervous (not that he’ll admit to anyone but Gale that he’s even capable of being nervous), but they’re becoming less and less common.

Getting that leg to heal was a complete bitch. Turns out micro- and zero-gravity aren’t very kind to broken bones. Eventually the cast came off, and he progressed to a brace, walking with a cane, slowly, slowly working toward walking on his own again.

Gale was there the whole time. Holding him up, steadying him, cheering him on, taking the brunt of Bucky’s frustration and fear. No matter how many times Bucky lost his temper or wanted to give up or refused to get out of bed or go to PT or OT or his CT scans, Gale stayed. Gale didn’t give up on him. Gale loved him through it all.

It’s July now. Almost eight whole months since Bucky fell to this Earth, broken and barely breathing under a bright Pacific sky. It’s the dog days of summer, long and hot and busy as ever here at JSC. Gale has been gone for six whole days, training in Iceland with the Artemis 4 crew. Weirdly enough, the volcanic, rocky landscape of Iceland’s arctic desert is a perfect training ground for astronauts headed to the moon, and it has acted as such since the Apollo days. With Artemis in full swing, NASA has started sending the lunar crews out there again to conduct simulated missions that mimic what they’ll be faced with on the lunar surface.

Bucky misses those days, training and bonding with his crew – his best friends – as they bounded across the dark, eerie Icelandic rock in fake moon gear, out of their minds with excitement for what they were training to do. He’s spent much of this video call asking Gale about Iceland and their simulated missions, half wanting to relive it and half hoping maybe Gale would forget why Bucky wanted to call so bad in the first place. He can see on Gale’s face that he’s failing.

Sure enough, after indulging him for longer than Bucky honestly expected, Gale sighs and tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “How do you feel?”

Bucky doesn’t quite know what Gale means when he asks this. The implications have changed so much over the years. 

In college, he’d ask Bucky How do you feel? when he woke up with a hangover after a night of drinking too much with their friends. Or that time he got terribly sick in the middle of midterm season and shoved through a Statics exam with a fever. When he pulled an all-nighter trying to finish a class project. When he passed Thermo by the skin of his teeth. From the first day of classes to the day they graduated.

How do you feel?

As young adults in the Air Force, or at NASA, he’d ask Bucky how he felt before going up for a mission or a training exercise. Or after survival training in the desert, wandering to the finish line dehydrated and sunburnt but alive and ahead of the rest of their astronaut class. He’d ask him after long training days or messy flights or after they’d been apart for days, weeks, months. He asked him when they both sat, shell-shocked, after losing a friend in the flames of a crash landing. How do you feel?

Before their wedding day, when Bucky was terrified of their future but knew without a doubt this was everything he ever wanted, Gale asked him, How do you feel?

During quarantine. Before the launch. On the pad. How do you feel?

Every day over CAPCOM or video call. Even when Bucky couldn’t hear him, couldn’t say anything back. How do you feel?

When Bucky came home, Gale would ask him that question several times a day. It was tough; there’s no use lying. There were times Bucky wanted to give up, couldn’t bring himself to leave the house or do much of anything. It was painful and it was confusing and it was messy, and sometimes all Bucky could do was stew in silence or, once or twice, tell Gale to fuck off. But every time his awareness drifted or he had to be moved with his bum leg, every time he woke up in pain or had to be left alone for any period of time, Gale, his voice gentle and concerned and so full of love, would ask him, How do you feel?

So what does he mean now?

Bucky doesn’t know how he feels. He should feel good. Excited. It’s about damn time this day came around. He’s John fucking Egan, not afraid of anything, born for the sky. He should feel as sure of himself as the day he climbed aboard the SLS.

So why doesn’t he?

He is excited. Don’t get him wrong. He’s been waiting for this since he woke up in a Houston hospital. But there’s a pit in his stomach and a weird, fluttery feeling in his chest and a weight settling over his shoulders that he can’t seem to shake.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. He wants it to be the same as it was before. But it isn’t. It can’t be. 

Not anymore. 

“I’m fine.”

Gale frowns in that concerned, knowing way that he does. He looks so soft now, comfy in Bucky’s Yankees sweatshirt with his hair messy, no doubt fresh from debriefing after a ‘mission’ or about ready to get prepped for another. But Bucky squirms and looks away from his gaze; it sees right through him. It always has. 

“Try again,” Gale insists.

“I’m…” Bucky feels a weird phantom twinge in his leg. Blinks and it goes away. He rolls his eyes. At the question? At himself? Get it together. “I’m fuckin’ nervous,” he admits uncomfortably. “Of course I’m fuckin’ nervous, Buck. What if I get out there and…”

What if I get out there and I can’t do it anymore? What if I can’t handle it? Physically. Mentally. What if today just proves what we were all so worried about months ago: Bucky Egan is grounded. For good. 

“Fuck.” He can’t say any of it, can’t risk speaking the death of his career into existence. The melodramatic part of him thinks the bugler might as well start playing Taps right damn now if today doesn’t go his way. Fold up a flag and present it to Gale as the jets fly overhead.

He can only imagine the way Gale would frown and grit his teeth if Bucky said such a thing out loud.

His husband full well knows what Bucky means, though, and he’s quiet, thinking it over. Bucky can see half formed placations tumbling through his head like desperate dreams running on fumes. But eventually, he says, “it’s gonna be okay, John.” His voice is careful and easy, and he doesn’t even sound like he’s faking it. 

It makes Bucky’s heart clench.

“Gale,” he whispers, and he hates how vulnerable his voice sounds. It rings in his ears, echoing back and forth and back and forth as he roughly scrubs a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut tight. 

He’s always felt most in control inside of a cockpit. He knows the way an aircraft moves better than he knows anything or anyone on this Earth, except maybe his husband. Flight makes him know who he is, gives him his metaphorical wings. And yet he’s also never felt more out of control than he has in a cockpit. 

If he goes up there, he has no idea what’ll happen. He has no idea what his body will do when it gets crushed into the seat by several times the force of gravity. He has no idea if the thing that used to lift him up will carry him again, or if it’ll spit him onto the ground in a pathetic heap of has-been.

So how is he supposed to feel right now?

Starbursts of pain color Bucky’s vision. Skull-splitting. All-consuming. It’s burning him alive from the inside out like a physical force trying to rip him apart. He thinks falling into a black hole would hurt less.

He feels sick. The G forces are too much.

He can’t think a coherent thought that isn’t something along the lines of ‘please make it stop.’ Somewhere, deep in his brain that won’t work, he hates himself for that. Knows he should be better.

And out of all of that – this crushing, crunching, nausea-inducing pain that has Curt yelling at him not to throw up in his suit – the words that pop up into his head like a cartoon thought bubble are “the Big Crunch.” 

It’s Gale’s favorite theory for how the universe might end. Because Gale is a space physics nerd that has a favorite theory for how the universe might end.

It’s like the opposite of the Big Bang – an exploding outward from an infinitesimal point, 0 to 73.3 kilometers per second per megaparsec in about a trillionth of a second flat. The Big Crunch would be an imploding inward, a collapsing into a single infinitesimal point at a similarly impossible to comprehend rate. Theoretically, this point could be anywhere in the universe.

John wonders if that would feel something like how he feels – crunching, disconnecting, reconnecting, blinding, unbearable. He sort of wishes it would just happen right now, with that point somewhere in this spacecraft. He’ll take the whole universe down with him. He doesn’t really mind, if it’ll make this stop.

“Gale?” He finds himself crying out the only word he can get past his lips. The only word that matters. The only word that can come remotely close to making any of this better. 

“Gale?”

Why won’t it work? Why won’t Gale save him?

He’s getting more desperate. Please. 

“Gale?”

“John? You with me?”

Bucky blinks. He looks back at his phone, sees Gale’s face, all worried and shit. It makes his heart sink, because Gale’s been looking at him like that a lot in recent months. Today is a big day, and Bucky knows Gale is worrying he won’t be able to handle it. He also knows that Gale feels guilty for worrying he can’t handle it. 

But Bucky’s worried, too.

“I wish you were here.” He says these words so quietly he isn’t sure Gale will hear them. He isn’t sure he wants Gale to hear them. He looks away from the phone as he says it, feeling too vulnerable and too raw on this day when he’s supposed to be Major John Egan: cool, cocky, composed. 

He can pretend for everyone else. Everyone besides Gale. He’ll tell them that he’s ready, even if he isn’t.

He won’t ever be ready until he does it anyway.

The lights are dim around him. In the glow of the console in front of his face, he strokes his fingers gently over the tactile buttons beside the screen. They feel so familiar; he thinks he could press one with his eyes closed and know exactly what it would do.

“I wish I was, too.” Gale’s voice comes back soft and real, bringing Bucky’s attention back to his phone screen. The way Gale’s face is so open and genuine – so unlike what the rest of the world gets to see of him, with a crooked half-smile half-frown accentuating the mix of emotions in his eyes, wide and searching Bucky’s for some answer he doesn’t have – makes Bucky want to pull him through the screen and hug him tight.

He wants Gale to hug him tight. He wants Gale to pull his feet back down to this planet and tell him he’s safe and protect him from everything that has hurt him so badly. He wants Gale to make sure the stars keep burning at night and the world keeps turning and the darkness doesn’t swallow them whole. He wants Gale to quiet the buzzing in his brain and the ringing in his ears. The little voice that’s telling him he can’t do it, can’t do any of it. He wants Gale to come home right damn now and make all of it go away.

But Gale won’t do that. Because he knows that, right this very moment, Bucky needs to climb the rest of the way up this mountain. He needs to stand at the top himself in order to understand that he can do it, he can make it. Gale can’t do anything but stand beside him.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Bucky asks. He says it with a mindless air, looking away as he traces his thumb over the bottom of the console, but there’s a jagged edge to his voice that gives him away. He doesn’t know if he wants Gale’s reply. There was a time when it didn’t matter what anyone else thought – even Buck. Bucky Egan would do what Bucky Egan wanted to do, whatever he convinced himself he was capable of doing.

Some things change. Sometimes forever, and sometimes only for a moment.

He makes tentative eye contact with his husband through the screen. Gale nods – a curt, somewhat hesitant little thing. “Maybe,” he says honestly. “You’re ready to at least try. But if it doesn’t go the way you want it to, you just keep workin’, and you’ll try again. You’re Bucky Egan. Nothing can keep your feet on the ground forever.”

Bucky is about to say something snarky and maybe self-deprecating back, but before he can, there’s a voice in the background of Gale’s side of the call. His eyes widen and he looks off screen, putting a hand up to whoever was trying to get his attention. He looks back at Bucky and sighs. “I gotta go, darlin’. You’ll be alright, hear me?”

Bucky forces a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, obviously.”

“I love you,” Gale says, shoving every bit of adoration he has into those words, and Bucky wants to bottle it up somehow, hold onto it for when he needs a reminder. 

“I love you, too,” he says. 

The corner of Gale’s mouth lifts into a shy smile. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Alone again, Bucky reaches up to turn off his phone, and he lets his hand fall down to rest over his chest. He rubs his thumb over his wedding band, twists it around and around his finger. “Ad lunam, ad astra,” he whispers to himself. 

When the master alarm starts blaring through the cabin seconds later, red lights flashing in Bucky’s eyes, his heart rate shoots up as he instinctively starts thinking through every single thing that could possibly be wrong. His eyes scan the console in front of him, searching for system statuses that aren’t there, and he blinks in confusion before he shakes his head, remembering that he isn’t in a training exercise. Someone’s tracked him down. 

He turns off the alarm and lets silence fill the cabin again. 

“You know, when you said you were gonna find somewhere quiet to flirt with your husband, we thought you meant your office or a shady tree or somethin’.” 

Bucky turns his head awkwardly to see Rosie outside, his head ducked down to peek through the hatch at him.  

“It was quiet before you came and scared me half to death,” Bucky retorts. He reaches up and rips his duct taped phone off the console, picking the tape off and rolling it into a ball. 

“If that scares you, you’re in the wrong place,” Rosie quips. He freezes, just for a second, his eyes going that little bit wider, and Bucky sees the moment he realizes what he said. A harmless joke. A truth, if nothing else. Something that would’ve made Bucky throw a meaningless little insult right back at him a year ago. 

Everyone’s been walking on eggshells for a while now. No one would dare even insinuate that John Egan doesn’t belong here, especially not while he’s working so hard to claw his way back. 

But he takes Rosie’s words for what they are, rolls his eyes, and brushes a hand back through his hair. “If you ain’t a little scared you’re doin’ it wrong. Or you’re crazy.”

Rosie lets himself smile, shaking his head, and he crawls in through the hatch. He pulls himself into the seat beside Bucky, where Curt would usually sit. Bucky sticks the tape ball to his shoulder, and Rosie grabs it, shoves it into his pocket before Bucky can bug him with it any more. 

“Man, can you believe we spent weeks cramped up in this thing?” he muses, his eyes skimming over the industrial walls of the tapered conical cabin. He’s talking about the real Orion capsule, not to mention the hundreds of hours logged in this very simulator. 

Bucky glances around. This glorified minivan of a spacecraft is the stuff of his childhood dreams, like something straight from science fiction. “We’re astronauts, Rosie,” he points out, as if he doesn’t wonder every day how he managed to make it this far. “I can’t believe we left the planet at all.” Rosie scoffs, and they share a look, like neither of them are certain anything that’s happened in the last year was real. 

Bucky shakes his head, adding, “not like we ain’t used to it.”

“At least on the station we got more than one cramped space.”

Bucky doesn’t ask the question that surges through his brain at the mention of the station: Do you think I’ll ever go back? He isn’t ready for the answer. And he doesn’t want to hear ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Of course you will’ or ‘You’re John Egan, you can do anything.’

John Egan couldn’t sign his own name with a pen a few months ago.

Instead he looks over at the fake window on the side of the fake capsule, assessing the distance from it to him. It’s so close. “Felt like that window was a world away during the return trip.” He remembers being led over to it. The feeling of Beary Egan’s fur between his fingers. The throbbing in his head. The unbearable burning in his leg. The nausea in his stomach. Everything spinning around him.

But out the window, stars. So many stars. And he was going to get to them one way or another.

Rosie looks at the window, then back at Bucky. The crew physician remembers all of it, all too well. Part of him wishes he could forget the worst parts, but another part of him feels a need to be the keeper of those memories. He thanks the universe everyday for guiding all of them home. “Everything seems further away when your body doesn’t know if it’ll make it to tomorrow.”

They’re quiet for a long time, just two crew members in a capsule mock-up. It has snapshot memories flashing through Bucky’s mind, and he rubs his thumb over his wedding ring again to ground himself. He thinks about Rosie’s words. “I made it,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” Rosie agrees. “Yes you fuckin’ did.”

It’s a truth that John has been trying to remind himself of every single day for months. He made it; he’s alive. 

But is that enough?

What do you do when the best experience of your life was also your worst? What do you do when the thing you love nearly killed you? What do you do when all is said and done, when there’s nothing left to do but forgive, even though you will never, ever be able to forget?

What do you do when the universe tries to strip away your identity, leaving nothing but a trembling shell, the pieces strewn about for you to pick up one by one?

You rebuild yourself, step by step. And what do you do when the edges don’t fit anymore, rough corners scrubbing at wounds that won’t heal, nothing but sheer grit and determination gluing you together?

Is it enough? Do the pieces fit well enough for you to be whole again? Will time sand away the jagged edges, sew together the messy seams? Pieces lost and pieces gained, and all you can do is search in the dark for who you were and who you thought you were and who you still can be. 

And you wonder, is it enough?

Bucky holds his hand up in front of his face. Out in zero G, there’s no up or down. You’re weightless, every part of you. Holding your hand up in the air takes no more effort than holding it out to the side or down or back or forward. On Earth, though, there’s good old gravity. 9.8 meters per second squared. 32 feet per second per second. A reliable force keeping your heels on the ground so you don’t just float away. With the way Orion’s seats are oriented, Bucky and Rosie lay on their backs, staring up at the tapered ceiling of the capsule and the screens set up in front of their faces.

Here on Earth, holding his hand up in front of his face takes effort. He’s not weightless down here, and as he experimentally pinches his fingers together, he watches the way they shake.

He bites his lip, takes a breath, closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them.

Gale once told him about the conversations he had with Dr. Huston – the fear that even if Bucky even made it home, he may never be the same. Now he wonders if that fear came true. Is he the same? Will he be the same? He doesn’t know.

He wonders if Gale does. He wonders what Gale sees now, when he looks at him.

He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter.

Ad lunam. Ad astra.

“You’re gonna be fine, John.” Rosie’s voice cuts through the ringing in Bucky’s ears, quieting it. “This is what you’re meant to do.”

Bucky swallows thickly, willing his voice not to come out a strangled mess. “What if… what if I’m not anymore? What if it doesn’t come back like it’s s’posed to?”

“You’ve been training.”

“What if I never...”

“Take a breath.”

Bucky does. There’s no room for panic. No room for doubt. Just him and the sky. 

“Open your eyes.”

When Bucky releases himself from the darkness, his hand is perfectly still in front of him. He straightens his fingers, bends them again, straightens them. They don’t shake.

“You’re ready, John.”

—

The sun is bright over Ellington Field late that afternoon, and Bucky pushes his aviators up the bridge of his nose. He tugs at the collar of his flight suit as he strides down the runway, adjusting it beneath the straps of his parachute pack, and he squares his shoulders, lifting his chin. He feels the hard pavement beneath his boots, hears the beat of his footsteps. The ground crew waits for him.

When he stops in front of the Northrop T-38 Talon, he squints against the light reflecting off its sleek white side, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of this beautifully engineered machine that will launch him into the blue. He curls his fingers into a fist, spreads them out wide, and slowly, steadily, he presses his hand to the nose of the jet standing in front of him, just waiting to come to life. The T-38 jet trainers are used by NASA for training exercises and keeping the astronaut corps’ flying skills up to par. He knows this aircraft as well as he knows Orion, but he hasn’t flown it since last July, a whole year ago now. 

“Hey there,” he whispers, letting his eyes roam over it – the fuselage, the engines, the wings, the tail, the wheels. A beautiful bird. It was designed long before Bucky was even born, but it doesn’t look it. “Long time no see.”

“Worried she won’t remember you?”

As Bucky’s eyes stay trained on the ground, studying the wheels, his hand still pressed to the nose, he feels someone else’s presence at his side. He looks up, pulling his hand away. Curt’s there, watching him with a teasing smile on his face. He’s wearing the same gear as Bucky: blue NASA flight suit, G-suit, parachute pack, a helmet tucked under his arm. His other hand grips the shoulder strap of his harness.

“Not one bit,” Bucky replies.

Curt chuckles and pulls Bucky into a tight one-armed hug, as if they haven’t seen each other in months even though Curt makes a point out of bugging him every day. “You ready?” he asks when he pulls away.

Bucky nods and grins in that wild, daring way, as if he hasn’t had a single doubt this whole time. As if he wasn’t just freaking out to Gale and Rosie over what he’s about to do. He brushes his hair back and gazes at the jet again. “Let’s see how well I remember her.”

After passing his sunglasses off to a ground crew member, he climbs the ladder leading to the Talon’s second seat, behind Curt’s. They each stow their procedure documents in the cockpit and hang their helmets on the rail before hopping back down for a walkaround inspection. This thing’s been checked at least twice over by ground crew already, but Curt and John don’t fly without giving their own seal of approval.

When Bucky climbs the ladder again and, at long last, settles into the tight cockpit of a real, flight-ready jet, adrenaline rises in his chest at the same time that a sense of belonging presses him into the seat. He sits back, and staring at the instrument panel just beyond his fingertips feels something like coming home. He can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face. The crew chief helps Curt and Bucky strap in and connect their G-suits, and then Bucky slides his helmet over his head so he can hook up to the oxygen supply and comms. He sighs deeply; for the duration of this test flight, this jet is a part of him, or he’s a part of it.

Ladders stowed and systems checks complete, Curt gives the signal for air, and the ground crewmen oblige, pumping life into the Talon’s engines. Once they’ve completed the last of their pre-flight checks, Bucky hears Curt’s voice buzzing in his ear. It crackles over the comms, a sound Bucky hasn’t heard coherently since he was bounding along the side of Shackleton crater.

“It feels damn good to fly with you again, Major.”

“Cut the crap, Biddick,” Bucky teases. “Without me around, you’re officially NASA’s best pilot.”

Curt scoffs at that, and Bucky imagines him rolling his eyes as he double checks the takeoff and landing data. “Should’ve left your ass on the moon… astrofag.”

Bucky rolls his eyes right back, but he can’t help but laugh. Whether he’ll admit it or not, the name is growing on him. He shrugs, reviewing the same numbers. “Only one way to get back there.”

Chick’s voice cuts in from the tower, and it makes Bucky feel something like relief to know Harding is here for this, rooting for him. “One step at a time, boys.”

As Curt starts taxiing, Bucky looks out over the side of the aircraft. The wings of the Talon and the still-open canopies shake as the tarmac rolls by beneath the wheels, bumping them along. He and Gale have taken their prop plane out a few times this month and last; Bucky even took over the controls for a while one time. But this, today, is his first time back in a supersonic jet trainer. He’s only flying second seat, leaving most of the piloting to Curt, but today is a major stepping stone toward feeling whole again: today he finds out if he can handle supersonic flight.

Since his neurologists cleared him for it a couple months ago, he’s been training for this day in earth-bound simulators. At first, the Gs were too much for him, leaving him feeling weak, pathetic, and discouraged as he passed out or started feeling sick at embarrassingly low G forces. But it’s been coming back to him in recent weeks. 

The Talon – capable of flying at Mach 1.3 and climbing 30,000 feet in just one minute – can easily pull 7 Gs. Bucky thinks he’s ready. He wants so badly to be ready. He wouldn’t be flying today if anyone thought he wasn’t ready.

They’re at the end of the runway, staring down the length of it as Curt pivots the Talon so its nose points straight ahead. When Chick clears them, they lower their canopies, and Bucky feels the cabin pressurize. He blinks in surprise as they lurch forward, and then they’re barrelling ahead, faster, faster, faster, until they lift up off the ground, ascending into the clear sky.

He breathes deeply as they climb, picking up speed as they shoot up into their airspace, approaching 16,000 feet. They coast there for a minute, making sure everything is still in order up at altitude. 

“Doin’ alright back there?” Curt asks as they both check their systems again.

“We’re go back here,” Bucky affirms. “Let’s fuckin’ do it.”

“Your wish is my command, Major,” Curt says. He lowers the nose of the jet, and they pick up speed as they drop again, getting up to about 500 knots, three-quarters of the speed of sound. Curt brings the stick back then, sharply pulling the Talon’s nose up, and Bucky watches the G-meter gradually kick up to 5 as they shoot upwards. The force presses him back into his seat, making it hard to breathe, and he clenches his muscles as he feels his G-suit get to work trying to keep the blood from draining away from his head. The needle creeps toward 6, goes a little over it. He grits his teeth hard, feeling his heart start to beat harder, faster as his vision starts to tunnel. His head feels funnier than he wishes it would, but he forces himself to focus, strains to breathe, determined to keep going. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, tensing his lower body as he and his suit fight to prevent G-LOC.

Chick’s voice crackles in Bucky’s ears. “You’re doin’ fine, son.”

Curt keeps pulling back until they’re up around 20,000 feet and the nose passes vertical; they’re now flying inverted. The nose of the Talon is like an arrow, going wherever you point it, and currently it’s looping them over backward at Curt’s command, with the ground through the canopy where the sky should be. The G-meter starts to chill out, dropping again as they lose speed. Bucky’s vision clears as the blood returns to his head, and he breathes in deeply.

Through the canopy, he catches a glimpse of two lonely, fluffy clouds in the distant sky, and below, little buildings and invisible people and dark, sparkling bodies of water spread out across the Earth. Stardust, he thinks, smiling just a little bit as he watches the world around him, trying to see it through Gale’s eyes. Bucky’s always found it beautiful, but more than anything, he’s always cared about the flight, the adrenaline, the excitement. Gale cares about the beauty, the wonder, the imperfect perfection.

“You still with me, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky assures Curt. “I’m here.”

Curt expertly flips them around and levels back out, upright once again and coasting along at a smooth 400 knot clip. “You ready?” he asks after giving Bucky some time to recover.

“I didn’t come all this way not to be.”

“I don’t need the sass,” Curt shoots back, but it’s light, like normal. “You have the controls.” Bucky’s pretty sure he hears the word ‘asshole’ muttered at the end of that sentence, and it makes him smile.

He shakes the stick in confirmation, and suddenly he has all the power of the Talon right there in his hands. His eyes flick down to where his fingers grip the stick, his heart skipping a beat, but his hand is perfectly still. “I have the aircraft,” he says, and he hopes Chick is still listening.

He sends them into a roll, feeling giddy as his head gets snapped to the side and his body seems to remember exactly what it’s supposed to do. Flying this thing is ingrained within him, like riding a bike – a bike that’s 46 feet long with a 25 foot wingspan, 3,000 pounds of thrust, a 55,000 foot altitude ceiling, and a top speed of 858 miles per hour. 

He asks the plane for a little more, a little more, pushing them higher, faster, forward. He hears Curt whoop loudly into the comms: “Come on baby! We’re fuckin’ back!” And Bucky hasn’t felt this alive since he was on the moon.

After a few minutes of unfiltered glee at the helm of his long-lost ship, feeling pieces of his soul sink back into him, he banks them around and hands the controls back over to Curt for the grand finale, their final test of the day. At about 32,000 feet, they enter a shallow dive, using it to increase their speed again. Bucky feels himself being pressed back, but with a more comfortable amount of force this time as the sky blurs by. He watches the airspeed indicator. Mach 0.92… 0.96… 0.98… 0.99. The indicator jumps, out of sync, as the bow shock passes.

Bucky nearly gasps as they hit Mach 1… 1.02… 1.06… 1.11. 

A strange feeling of calm descends on him. They’re flying faster than the speed of sound; they’re flying faster than anything else on Earth. There’s a certain beauty to it that Bucky’s missed in the last eight months, and he blinks away stubborn tears as the world starts to make sense again. He looks out the window, sees nothing but blue skies, and he lets oxygen fill his lungs as he grins beneath his mask. He laughs, and he hears Curt laugh with him.

—

Back on the ground, once the canopies are up and Curt’s parked them squarely in the Talon’s hangar, the crew chief secures the ladders to the side of the aircraft, giving the pilots their exit. He asks Bucky if he feels alright, and Bucky nods once his helmet is off, leaving dark, sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. “Never better,” he says.

In his head is a steady mantra: I am an astronaut. I am an Air Force officer. I am a pilot.

He just proved it to himself, even if he still has more work to do. He is a pilot. He is all of those things. Not was… he is. 

He climbs down slowly, gripping tight to the sides of the ladder in a way that has him second guessing how much brain power he needs to dedicate to his grip strength. Just a few months ago, his fingers wouldn’t listen well enough to do even this. But he studies his hands for just a split second, one foot on the rungs of the ladder and the other hanging mid-air, and he realizes that his fingers are working just fine right now. His legs feel a little weak as he steps down, down, down, and he holds his breath as he lowers himself the last big step to solid ground. His head goes just a little fuzzy, and for a nerve-wracking half second, he worries his knee might give out and send him crashing to the pavement, but his toes find contact, and he lets himself hop down. His head clears. He takes another deep breath.

His heart is beating fast; he still feels the adrenaline thrumming in his chest, and it makes him feel so goddamn alive. The world around him feels so unreal, the feeling of Curt clapping him on the shoulder so far away that it makes Bucky stumble to the side. He laughs and shakes his head before turning to press his hand to the jet one more time. 

“Next stop, flyin’ her yourself,” Curt says.

For the first time in months, Bucky actually believes it might happen. It’s not even a half-truth said to the media, a manifesto spoken to shove him through PT, a dream to get him out of bed in the morning. It’s right here in front of him, just inches away, and he’s so close. 

He doesn’t say any of it out loud, but he knows Curt can see it, too. They all can see it. Someday soon, John Egan won’t be grounded anymore.

He tucks his helmet under his arm and takes his aviators from the crew chief with a nod of thanks before putting them on. With a glance over at his best co-pilot as they walk away from the aircraft, out of the hangar, he ruffles Curt’s sweaty hair. “What the fuck?” Curt says, but he’s looking somewhere out ahead of them when he says it.

Bucky squints into the early evening summer sun at a small silhouette running fast toward them. After a second of confusion, he laughs and sinks down to his knees just in time for a wriggly husky to crash into his chest. “Pep!” A second one runs up to his side, licking at his ear before going after Curt. “And Meatball,” Bucky laughs. Pepper shoves her nose into his face, making him lean his head back, pushing her away even as he curls his fingers into her thick coat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Flyin’ looks good on you major,” a voice calls out. Bucky’s heart skips a beat, and his head shoots up, his hands freezing in the middle of scratching Pepper’s ears. Meatball trots away, toward the group of people approaching them. 

There’s Benny and Marge – here for support and for media updates respectively – as Bucky expected. Then there’s Chick, fresh from the tower and looking something like a proud father, or maybe just a relieved boss.

And then there’s Gale.

Bucky’s husband – the same one that Bucky was supposedly video calling in Iceland just hours ago – is now also in a NASA flight suit with his hair gelled back. He’s walking across the tarmac to him, illuminated by the sun. 

“Holy shit, man!” Benny exclaims, giving Bucky a firm, excited side hug before slapping Curt on the shoulder. “Bucky Egan is back.”

“That’s right, you can’t get rid of me,” Bucky jokes as Marge comes forward to hug him. He knows she’ll want some pictures of him and Curt by the Talon in a minute, but for now she just whispers in his ear that she’s proud of him, and she squeezes him tight.

Chick pulls him into a rare hug, patting him on the back. “You did damn good,” he says. “Damn good.”

And then there’s Gale. He stands in front of Bucky, looking a little sheepish but tall and proud and beautiful. He raises an eyebrow, and Bucky can’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment. He stares, and stares some more, before finally he blinks and surges forward. Gale grunts at the force of Bucky’s body hitting his, but he firmly plants his feet and wraps his arms around him. “Hello to you, too.”

“Hey, angel,” Bucky whispers. He presses his nose into Gale’s hair, inhales the scent of his shampoo and product. He smells like Houston, like the gulf, like waking up to sunlight shining through the windows, like all the things Bucky loves. He smells like home. “All that about what you were doin’ in Iceland today was bullshit, huh?” 

Gale shrugs. “Surprise?”

Bucky grips the fabric of Gale’s flight suit, twisting it in his fingers. “Were you… did you see?”

Gale nods. “I saw all of it.”

Bucky bites back a grin, hiding it against the side of Gale’s head. He hears Marge take their picture. It’ll be framed and on his desk within the week.

—

By the time the sun’s gone down, the Talon tucked away in its hangar and the ground crew gone for the day, Bucky is back at Ellington Field, sitting on the hard pavement of the runway. There’s the lightest breeze drifting around him, carried in off the bay to relieve Houston from the oppressive heat of the daylight. Major Egan is still in his flight suit, adorned with patches – his name, John Egan, written in neat script beneath a set of wings; the NASA logo; the U.S. flag; his ISS mission patch; and finally, Artemis III.

There’s a crescent moon peeking out of the darkness, set against a backdrop of dark blue-black sky pockmarked with the stars that have guided Bucky his entire life. He stares up at them, the moon and the stars, his mind jumping from one thing to the next. Running through his flight today, everything good and bad about it; thinking through how much further he still has to go until his body is 100% ready to fly alone again; wondering if Gale is looking for him, if he knows Bucky well enough to know where to find him. He’s remembering walking on that moon – every day he works to reconcile it all in his brain, what went wrong and what went right. He’s thinking about what it will be like when Gale goes up there in just a short four or so months.

He can hear footsteps walking over the pavement, and he breathes out in a huff. His husband knows him like the back of his own hand after all.

He spares a glance over as Gale settles on the ground beside him, pulling his knees to his chest in a way that Bucky thinks can’t possibly be comfortable anymore at their age. They sit, close enough that their arms brush, and they look up at the sky that has laid the path for their entire existence.

“Everyone’s headin’ to the Hundred Proof,” Gale says. “Thought you’d wanna drink to being back in the cockpit.”

Bucky hums. “Guess that’s somethin’ I oughta do.” Since he was released from the hospital last December, the Hundred Proof has become a place of celebration and camaraderie again, rather than one of collective grief and worry. His Artemis portrait went up on the walls of the bar just before the new year, along with Curt’s, Rosie’s, and Alex’s. Soon enough, Gale’s ISS portrait will be switched out for his Artemis 4 one, too. Buck and Bucky; one is never far behind the other. 

Bucky crosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking up as if he can see the entire universe if he only squints hard enough. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

“Have we?”

Bucky looks over at Gale again, scoffing in disbelief, but he finds Gale hiding a smirk as he presses his cheek to his knee, watching Bucky. His hair is messy again from running his hand through it, the gel never holding for long, and Bucky rolls his eyes, reaching a hand out to ruffle it some more. 

“It’s worth it,” he says matter of factly, letting his eyes drift back to the stars.

Gale scoots closer and lets his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s our life,” he agrees. He doesn’t need to emphasize the our; it’s as if there was never any doubt in this universe that his life would be John’s and John’s would be his.

“Sometimes I can’t really believe I made it here.”

“You were never gonna take no for an answer.” Gale doesn’t know exactly which part of Bucky’s life they’re talking about. He wasn’t going to settle for less than the astronaut corps. And he wasn’t going to settle for less than Gale either. 

“I said sometimes,” Bucky mutters, but there comes a point, no matter how badly you’ve always wanted something, where it doesn’t feel real anyways. He doesn’t quite know what he did right to make it to this very spot, even if he can trace his exact path, every single step and crossroads and difficult decision. Sometimes, all he feels is fucking lucky.

Gale scoffs and turns his head, pressing his nose against Bucky’s neck, above the collar of his flight suit. He kisses the delicate skin there. “I never had a doubt,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky leans back, pulling Gale with him until they’re both laying on the hard ground. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but Gale curls against Bucky’s body anyway, shifting so his head lays right over his heart. Bucky’s fingers curl into his hair. They don’t shake. They don’t even hesitate.

“It’s a damn good life,” Bucky breathes out, the words floating up to the heavens and wrapping around them both. He means it with everything he has. 

Gale hums in agreement. With his ear pressed to Bucky’s chest, he can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. It’s a sound that he took for granted before, but he never, ever gets tired of it now. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently counts along. One. Two. Three. Four.

“You’ll come home, right?” Bucky asks. Few people in this world would be able to distinguish the slight tremble to his voice, the way it jumps almost imperceptibly, nerves twining through it. But Gale hears it loud and clear. With his cheek pressed to Bucky’s chest, he feels the rise and fall start to slow, feels the way Bucky is nearly holding his breath.

Gale closes his eyes, bites at his lower lip. He knows that Bucky knows better than to ask that question. Both of them know that their line of work has never, not once, come with guarantees. They know better than anyone that promises like that are as good as empty. And yet, without promises, what is there to keep them moving forward?

So Gale buries his face in Bucky’s chest and says the only thing he can say. “When have you ever known me not to come home?”

Bucky scoffs quietly at that, but Gale knows that’s all he wanted to hear. They both know that, technically, the odds of him making it home are high; the opposite outcome, statistically, has little to no standing. Bucky takes Gale’s hand, and he mindlessly fiddles with Gale’s fingers in a way that feels normal and domestic, like they’re just any other married couple in this funny little world. Like they’re just them – awkward teenagers and reckless young adults and newlyweds all at once.

Gale could count the days until he launches out of this planet’s orbit. The hours. The minutes. He could mentally tally them as they tick by, pulling them closer and closer to the next adventure, the next mission, the next dream. The clock is running.

But, despite it looming over them, with all of the excitement and adrenaline and worry that it entails, at this exact moment, beneath a sky full of stars, it feels far away. He could count down the seconds. He could feel the anticipation of it winding through his body with every beat of his heart. 

But instead, he focuses on Bucky. He counts his husband���s heartbeats, the purest sign that they are both alive, that they are both exactly where they need to be. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Ad lunam, ad astra,” Bucky whispers into the night.

Gale hides a smile against the fabric of Bucky’s flight suit. It smells like flight – fuel and sweat. He focuses on that, on the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest, on the feeling of warmth between them, the sticky summer air drifting through their hair. 

“To the moon, to the stars,” he repeats back. And with a soft smile, he lets himself breathe.

[plutosunshine]

Planets in the 7th house

Where do you need to find balance?

Sun in the 7th house

You need to find a balance between your real self and what you want to show the world. You are a bit afraid that people won't see your talents and true self. That is why sometimes you are trying too hard to show your talents. Also, you need to find a balance between your identity and others. I mean that you have people-pleasing tendencies and it doesn’t allow your inner sun to shine at times. Also, you need to harmonize your level of energy. Sometimes you don’t focus on the right things and your energy just flows away. If you find ways to focus on important things, you may become extremely successful.

Moon in the 7th house

Of course, you saw it coming. Emotions. Feelings. Inner needs. It is where you need to find balance. Sometimes you rely too much on your emotional side and it doesn’t allow you to see the whole picture. Also, you may rely too much on your partner. Moon in the 7th house needs to find a way how to deal with feelings and subconscious needs. Harmonize your irrational side and allow yourself to be at peace with your inner world.

Mercury in the 7th house

You need to harmonize your busy and anxious sides. Let me explain. You have a lot of thoughts that sometimes lead to overthinking and anxiety. That is why you need to find ways to calm your mind down. Any calming and focusing technics may help. Also, when your mind is not busy, you are! You always find what to do even if it is something not so important. And this drains your energy and increases your level of anxiety.

Venus in the 7th house

Venus is all about balance itself. Your life needs to be peaceful and harmonized. Your love life and any one-to-one relationship need to be harmonious and balanced. Also, it is very important to work on your self-esteem because it tends to have its ups and downs. You need to harmonize your system of values so that you can move forward without any hesitation. You may be prone to overspending and this is also the area you need to balance out.

Mars in the 7th house

You need to find a balance between your passionate desire to achieve things and your lack of motivation. You may feel powerless at times and these swings don’t help you to progress. It is very important to find ways to keep your motivation and drive on one level. You may have an all-or-nothing attitude at times but it only leads to episodes of lack of energy and motivation. Also, the area you need to find balance in is your ambitions. You want to prove to others your worth and it is very good but it is important to find balance here so that you won't be disappointed in the future.

Jupiter in the 7th house

You need to harmonize your tendency to overdo things. Jupiter is the planet of expansion so sometimes you don’t even notice how you are doing too much. Too much food, too much work, too much anything! Because of overdoing things, you feel a lack of energy and motivation at times. That is why it is so important to find balance here! You need to find ways to stabilize this side of yourself.

Saturn in the 7th house

You need to balance out your perception of yourself. You are too critical of yourself at times and it doesn’t allow you to progress and live freely. You need to let go of extremely high expectations from yourself. You are already doing great and there is no need to push yourself too hard. Also, you need to harmonize your critical and at times pessimistic attitude to the obstacles you are going through. Trust the universe and try to balance intuition and logic so that they could work together for the best.

Neptune in the 7th house

You need to find a balance between reality and imagination. You can’t see the whole picture at times and you rely on your intuition too much. I know your intuition is strong and real but sometimes it needs to work with logic too. You need to distinguish what is real and what you want to be real. Also, don’t sacrifice too much for the good of your close ones. It is a good thing but you need to find balance in this area.

Uranus in the 7th house

You need to find a balance between spontaneity and inaction. Your desires appear as quickly as disappear and you need to find ways to catch the ideas and settle them down. It is not so easy for this placement because you want to just follow your sudden bursts of energy but if you find a way to focus on holding it, you can reach great success. I know it is hard and maybe you need to do it with breaks and stops to continue the idea. However, if you work with your idea till the end, you won't feel unworthy and useless.

Pluto in the 7th house

You need to harmonize your all-or-nothing attitude. If you like something, you tend to spend a lot of energy on it until it drains you. It is important to keep energy and passion on one level. This is difficult but worth trying. Also, you need to harmonize your emotional side which is so intense and passionate that you feel overwhelmed at times. In addition, your tendency not to trust your partner may be insane. You need to find ways to create a deeper bond without fear.

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Picrew Tag!

I found this really cool Picrew and decided to make some of my OCs using it! I think you guys might like giving it a try as well, so I'm tagging a few people in this post (:

Here we go!

Rules: Use the provided Picrew to make one of your WIPs OCs, then provide a quick description of the character, and (optionally) a "funny/bad" version of a summary

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Deimos Soll

About: An infamously silver-tongued assassin, sniper, and mercenary known for being unpredictable and always having hidden intentions, Deimos is Jack and Cassie's former crewmate and first childhood friend, turned rival, turned begrudging-friend-again. Deimos is the most successful and deadly sniper in the whole galaxy, feared even by the Junction at his full potential.

Badly/Funny Summarization: Essentially a young, alien, 'space opera' version of John Wick with extra angst and a very questionable moral compass

Lyorna Alyrii

About: A young and optimistic freedom fighter from a water folk of a faraway planet in the Khosmonian galaxies who believes in a freer future for her people and an end to the oppressive regime of the Junction. Focused and brilliant, Lyorna wants to uphold her father's legacy and bring peace to the galaxy. She becomes friends with Jack Tithus during his crew's mission on the Khosmonian galaxy and later on they become each other's love interest.

Bad Summarization: An overly optimistic, too-precious young adult who should be protected at all costs and has almost no plan for anything at any given moment in time and should not be left unsupervised.

Noctus

About: Though his full name is classified and unknown to the cast, his reputation precedes him. He is the single most successful special forces secret agent currently in the employ of the Junction - he has never failed a mission, never missed a target. And he always follows orders, always obeys the rules. However, is everything about him what it seems? A forgotten and suppressed part of his memory may prove that the system he fought so dearly to uphold may have actually made him into their perfect living weapon, and there may be many other lies yet to be uncovered

Bad Summarization: Twenty-something secret agent done with everything and everyone who only wanted to have a simple mission and ends up 'adopted' by the gang of misfits he was sent to supervise.

SONG OF THORNS

Tullieh Aerlys

About: The undefeated and steadfast commander of the Guardians, who protect the Mountain Elves' hidden kingdom and keep outsiders from discovering their land. Tullieh is a serious, no-nonsense young man to whom duty and honor mean everything, due to a personal grudge against humans, especially those who hunt mythical beings, he will do anything to honor his vow and keep his people - especially his younger siblings - from being found by outsiders, even if it means being ruthless and unforgiving to a questionable degree.

Bad Summarization: Traumatized ancient teenager who grew up way too fast and should never have been given a gun and a sword under any circumstances, but has both of those things and a lack of self-preservation instincts to make everything worse.

Renn Atrius

About: A foreign noble from beyond the royal lands, he was forced into the lifestyle of a thief from a young age, after being orphaned when his father, a Vampyr, was murdered for refusing to obey their neighboring kingdom's crown. Learning the art of disappearing into the night and taking valuables from the land that took everything from him and colonized his nation, Renn quickly became quite the nuisance for the King. But thankfully to his connection to raw blood magic, his slight vampiric abilities ensure no human soldier ever proves a real threat to him. He starts to fall in love with Roselyn, having become friends with her after trying to steal her coin purse (having mistaken her for a tourist from the capital).

Bad Summarization: Goth dhampyr way too reckless for his own good chooses to be a menace to the System while also refusing to deal with his very much unresolved childhood trauma.

Cadenza Narellie

About: A young faery noble, Cadenza is the only child of a once-powerful, now defamed, High House. After rumors about her father's supposed alliance with their nation's enemies, the human royals from the neighboring kingdom, their reputation came crashing down, and so did the bond they once shared, as her father grew mysteriously distant from her. Realizing something is seriously amiss, Cadenza takes it upon herself to investigate and find out the truth about what is truly happening, even if it gets her accused of treason herself.

Bad Summarization: Local faery with way too much time on her hands and no friends decides to dive into a conspiracy and is surprised when that decision has consequences.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[verbosebabbler]

Made a mockup of a theoretical Zampaniosim gameboy game. @jadedresearcher

This was really satisfying to make, just seeing all the parts, the character sprites, the background, the UI, all come together to form a cohesive whole. I love mockups and concept art and creating something of my own that has that affect on me was great.

I have ideas on how the game would play. Basically, it's a position based combat system that will have some looping system of preserving experience points and levels. I'm not going to make it real though, I don't have the game making experience to try that. But I liked having the mechanics in mind for if I want to make more screenshots from this fake game.

As for why I chose these characters to focus on, I just see a lot of potential in how their motivations can clash. Just, the pathos of it all. I'll explain more below the cut

Peewee, after enduring several lifetimes of watching the world around him, everyone he knows, and even his own body be corrupted by forces outside of his control, gets some semblance of hope with the forming of the new universe, the :hatched_chick:, that he may be free from this torment. Only for a heinous echidna universe to sprout into existence, siphoning and slowly killing this new universe. Then, after being thrusted into this corrupted world, finds himself even less in control, being directly puppeted by beings beyond his understanding: the Observers... us.

While he was initially forced into being the adopted father of these kids through both the Observers and the nebulous concept of relevancy that kept these kids around (unlock other lamia), Peewee does end up actually developing parental feelings towards these three lamia kids.

But his sole purpose for being here is to destroy this universe from the inside. To maybe make things go back to the way they used to be.

But for Rebel, Rod, and Melon, unlike most of the other characters in this series, this is their world. It's the only world they've ever known, and each have their own motivations for protecting it.

Melon's is most obvious, and what got me started thinking about this storyline in depth. Melon is an eco terrorist, destroying business with harmful business practices towards the planet and nature.

Then there's Rod, who seems to have a connection to the echidna of the echidna universe itself, always carrying around an echidna doll. And Rod is the most externally compassionate of the three, so he'd likely be the one to rally the others to work together.

Finally there's Rebel. Less obvious with his thorny exterior, but Rebel is the one of three that's most connected to the people of the outside world, making friends with some of the mall characters. And the little peace symbol on his pocket betrays his true feelings.

And with all this it turns out that their father figure wishes to destroy it and everyone in it, including them.

So each has to fight between their own feelings of familial care for each other, and their own goals to either protect the world or destroy it. There's just so much drama here worth exploring.

And for sticking around, here's some alternate color palette versions.

[nightskywonderer]

Superman And Wonder Woman's Love Makes Perfect Sense — The Magnetic Attraction Between High Testosterone Men And High Estrogen Women Explained

Superman and Wonder Woman's romance may be fictional, but attraction between men with high testosterone and women with high estrogen is real.

Some things are meant to be — like Superman and Wonder Woman falling in love. Ever wonder why that is? Turns out, there's science behind this magnetism between high-testosterone males and high-estrogen females that makes Superman and Wonder Woman's romance more than just a fictional story.

Superman is the high-testosterone savior writ large.

An acute sense of justice and fairness are traits linked with the testosterone system in the brain. So Superman’s affiliation with the “Justice League of America” is an immediate tipoff to his personality type: a high-testosterone male, what I call the Director. He also looks like a Director.

Testosterone builds muscle—one of Superman’s outstanding traits. His angular jaw, high cheekbones, thin lips, and heavy brow ridges are also carved by testosterone. Oddly, these physical traits also signal his invulnerability—at least his imperviousness to disease. Testosterone is a caustic substance that jeopardizes the immune system; only men with a very strong immune system can tolerate high levels of this male hormone. Superman is among them.

Most importantly, this “Man of Steel” saves people he doesn’t know. Known as ‘heroic altruism,’ this willingness to confront severe danger to save a stranger is linked with elevated levels of testosterone. Directors want to be needed, to help, to “fix” the problems of the world. Superman personifies this primordial male role: the protector.

Wonder Woman exudes qualities built by estrogen.

She's what I call the Negotiator. This type is compassionate and nurturing; they seek peace and harmony, as Wonder Woman does. And I’m not surprised that she can talk to the animals.

Estrogen is linked with verbal skills, intuition, and the ability to read faces, postures, gestures, and tone of voice. All evolved to enable women to communicate with pre-verbal infants, even animals. Wonder Woman has these elevated estrogen qualities in spades.

Yet Wonder Woman is no doormat. She is highly independent, like many women. Moreover, with her social skills, she can be cunning. And she will fight. Indeed, when protecting their young, women can become far more dangerous than just about any man.

Wonder Woman seems to regard all good humans as her children. It is this genuine warrior spirit within a beautiful, tender-hearted woman that makes her the embodiment of all high-estrogen women–and a mythic creature to most men.

Superman and Wonder Woman are a classic match, the very high testosterone male and the very high estrogen female.

And they have many cultural and biological traits that will fuel their romance. People tend to fall in love with those of the same background.

Although Superman comes from a different planet, while Wonder Woman harks from an isolated island, both are aliens to our modern world. Both also have superhuman powers so each will understand the other’s strengths–including their mutual ability to fly. More importantly, Superman and Wonder Woman share the same values and goals–essentials to a good relationship.

They are both dedicated to truth and justice; both dislike wasting time on irrelevant, trivial, or boring matters; and both fight evil to save the good—traits shared by both the high testosterone and high estrogen types. Moreover, both value personal autonomy.

Each will find someone who is just as independent as themselves.

If their first kiss is novel and exciting, it might push Superman and Wonder Woman over the threshold toward falling in love.

A kiss is just a kiss? No way! A great first kiss can be thrilling—and trigger feelings of intense romantic love, due to the way the brain responds to novelty. Any kind of unique situation triggers the dopamine system. And dopamine is associated with feelings of romance.

The first kiss could also trigger sexual desire. Saliva has traces of testosterone, and men regularly like sloppier kisses, perhaps to transfer some of this male hormone and heighten the woman’s sexual response. Moreover, a woman’s breath and saliva change across her menstrual cycle, so with his sloppier kisses, a man may also be unconsciously trying to pick up this subtle hint of her fertility.

Is Superman a sloppy kisser? Perhaps we’ll find out.

In fact, the first kiss can be dangerous. In a study of 58 men and 122 women, 59% of men and 66% of women said that they had ended a romance after the first kiss. It was the kiss of death. Because as you kiss, you can see your partner clearly, as well as smell, taste, hear, and feel them.

Instantly these messages from your senses are picked up by five of your twelve cranial nerves and escorted directly to the brain. Here they detonate, providing vivid data about the person’s health, their eating, drinking, and smoking habits, and their state of mind–whether they are rough and impatient or tender and calm.

But if Superman and Wonder Woman like their first kiss, and turn into lovers, their kisses may trigger even deeper feelings for one another. Kissing among long-term partners raises oxytocin activity in the brain, producing feelings of trust and attachment.

Kissing a familiar partner also reduces the stress hormone, cortisol, contributing to this brain bath of pleasure, connection, and relaxation.

So kissing can trigger any one of three basic brain systems that humanity has evolved for mating and reproduction: romantic love, the sex drive, and/or feelings of deep attachment. And as Superman and Wonder Woman have their first kiss, they embark on one of Nature’s oldest—and most exciting–journeys.

But even Superman and Wonder Woman will have their problems.

She is a warrior, ready to kill her foes; he has killed and resolved never to kill again. Neither is likely to understand this fundamental difference in values.

Nevertheless, this is a natural complementary match.

Directors such as Superman want a mate who has the strength of character to stand up to their formidable personality. In Wonder Woman, the charming warrior, he has found his match. And in Superman, Wonder Woman will find a truly “good man.

Written by Helen Fisher Ph.D., a biological anthropologist and Senior Research Fellow at The Kinsey Institute and Chief Scientific Advisor to the dating site Match. She is the author of the book The Anatomy of Love: A Natural History of Mating, Marriage, and Why We Stray, among other titles.