(altered) (white sphere)
FANDOM: Star Wars/Alien crossover.
SUMMARY: eli vanto knows he is going to die. there is a bone deep certainty being written in the marrow of his bones as his future unfolds — it coils inside him and it bites with pearly white teeth.
Chronologically takes place after (blank) (white space) and before (indistinct)(white noise); how Eli sleeps, cocooned inside a Xenomorph's nest and Thrawn wakes, in a galaxy far, far away. Unconventional narrative styles.
AO3 HERE.
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Anybody who dedicates himself to exploring the human condition, there's always a detached eye that's watching. In any situation, a little part of me is observing it, to see if there are any raw materials to create something else later.
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~name aesthetics~
I reached 500 followers over at @pushkins. EVERYONE AKSDJAKLDA THIS IS WOW. Thank you so much!! I know it’s a long shot but if I got 1k by my birthday in July that would be amazing.
Inspired by @thewinedarksea‘s aesthetics from a few days ago!
Must be following me and/or my writing blog @pushkins
Reblog this post, likes don’t count!
Please check mine and @lxcuna patreon?
Send me your name (not on anon please!) and if you want tell me something nice that happened to you recently!
Please don’t let this flop.
Blacklist “eliot does names” to avoid seeing these.
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sanabaakkoush → rosepaige
hello everyone! now that my finals are over and that i can dedicate a bit more time to this blog, and since i’m still in tlj mood, i’m changing my url! a big big thank you to mica who gave it to me!
i’m still gonna be tracking #sanabaakkoush for a while, but if you want to tag me in anything (please do) i track #rosepaige now
please reblog to spread the word, and may the force be with you ♡
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Diego Luna photographed by Craig McDean for Vanity Fair (September 2017)
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bandwagons roll through our lives. it's up to you whether you jump on them unquestioningly or jump on them to overturn them and subvert them.
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what chance do we have? the question is "what choice?". run, hide, plead for mercy, scatter your forces. you give way to an enemy this evil with this much power and you condemn the galaxy to an eternity of submission. the time to fight is now!
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THE REBEL: a jyn erso playlist
arsonist’s lullaby - hozier // believer - imagine dragons // control - halsey // hope in the air - laura marling // seven nation army - greta salóme // she’s a rebel - green day // stars - grace potter & the nocturnals // sweet disaster - dreamers // the opening - françois paul aiche // trouble (the wild honey pie sessions) - cage the elephant // youth - daughter
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Padme Amidala is a ghost.
She’s an electric blue outline filled in with shades of dove white and steel-hull grey. When she smiles the galaxy shines that much brighter, hope filling the corners where darkness has lingered for far too long.
She seldom dreams of the galaxy since she became a memory trapped beneath a respirator and shell-like black armour. She sees Star Destroyers like stars — leaving a history of ruins from which children emerge as fledgling warriors.
She commits each name to memory, tangled names weaving her dress even as she forgets her own beneath the molten ore of Mustafar, inside a bacta tank, inside a bleak fortress suspended by gravity. This is not the legacy envisioned (when tangled in bed with Anakin’s steady heartbeat against her they talked of the future; an ongoing horizon of possibilities, filled with lives as constellations: bright, bright, bright).
— she smells sulphur, then the sterile hospital chemicals; it’s dark.
—bisections of stars; scene v(x) || Eliot C. ||
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