#silverjetsystm

[morgansmornings]

What’s your favorite TV show?

This Meme: Accepting @silverjetsystm

So I may lose cookie points for this answer.

I have always loved Star Trek over Star Wars. I know don't set me on fire or throw me in the trash! I wouldn't be able to escape anyway.

A few reasons are an idea of becoming a single voice and seeking out to have positive and helpful relationships with those beyond our reach.

This is the kind of world that I would like to live in. Yes there are conflicts, but they can be resolved with minimal loss of life in most episodes. That is something that I can only Hope Humanity gets before it is further too late.

As for my favourite series? I have to choose Star Trek; The Next Generation.

[predctory]

@silverjetsystm

He’d slipped away while she & Reese had been talking. Greer’s sensitive nose didn’t typically allow her to make friends of the undead kind, but the kid was funny. Had spunk.

Still, T’Challa had sent her to do some work — & the night was still young.

Greer tracked Marc’s scent to the buildings’ rooftop, the only sound she made was the closing of the stairwell door. She was silent; a natural predator, blending seamlessly into the jagged shadows cast by the city lights around. Marc was stark white against the black & neon of the skyline.

She thought about Rutger Hauer bleeding out in the rain in Blade Runner.

“Well, that was fun. I left my invoice with Reese.” she joked, moving to take a seat beside him on the ledge of the building; green-yellow eyes looking across to the waxing moon.

She turned her head to look at the waning moon to her right. She could smell dried blood. “Penny for your thoughts?”

[positivelybeastly]

🌸 the blog/s that most inspires you

Oh, well, IT'S FUNNY YOU SHOULD BE THE PERSON TO ASK.

The blogs that inspire me the most! (Apologies, everyone I'm about to tag, but I do it out of love and affection and because I genuinely just. Stare, at your writing, in adoration.)

@silverjetsystm

@themckaytriarchy

@themarvelliteraryuniverse

@notmymamasboy

@thissquirrelgirl

@southern-belle-outcasts

@bothsidesofaquestion

@emmatriarchy

@iobartach

@straysomethinginthewoods

@kojiscorner

@snkts

@perditos

@overclocks

@revenantinflames

@virdiancommander

@maximummuses

@doctorbrown

In the old days, children, we used to call these follow forevers, and we had fancy graphics, and giveaways, and -

[templeofvengeance]

@silverjetsystm (From here):

Amazing. Show stopping. I'm imagining Khonshu with the David S. Pumpkins voice

(Also @themckaytriarchy )

[externalconceit]

@silverjetsystm

She smiles slightly at Khonshu while nomming on a chunk of cheese. What a beautiful night with the moon shining upon them, milky and cheese-like.

[iobartach]

@therapardalis , in response to; spider-vampire standoff

"Honey while you're there, get Moon Knight's money."

"Wait... what? @silverjetsystm , is that true?" Because he'll mostly definitely try to get back what's owed.

[kinomorebi]

Caffeine chatter and small talk. The scent of warm vanilla bourbon and milk wafts through the air to mingle with the gust of fresh wind that nulls a customer’s warmth as they exit the coffee shop door. All is still... until the stranger begins his approach. Violet hardly notices until a tender brush of wind smooths her hair down the line of her left shoulder. Karsys' own protective warning. She's learned to listen with far more than her ears. Even the floorboards announce him.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Voice soft and unsure, but friendly nonetheless(always friendly). Her words smooth at their edges when she meets the stranger's gaze, a clear recognition settling within brown hues. She's already taken his order once today. Not that she's complaining! He seemed friendly enough– or at least not the type to make a scene over something as simple as a botched coffee order... which is precisely what she presumed he was here for now.

Why else would he approach a second time?

Violet sets the mug she's been towel-drying down for the time being, cleaning tasks for her shift's end sidelined. She'd loop back around to it after tending to the customer's needs. “Something wrong?" Her smile is a precautionary white flag, features gentle and approachable, even when there's an energy shift in Umbra that makes her uneasy. Makes her on edge.

[ "He sees. They all do." ]

Violet's brows furrow in confusion. Now is really not a good time to ask Umbra to clarify. After all, conversing with an unseen entity in a public space would not do any favors for the rumors circulating about Violet being insane. She'd only just moved to town. A fresh start for the hundredth time. It's getting old.

"I'm more than happy to remake your coffee if it's not to your liking...” Her gaze softens, lines in her facade ironed out in an effort to refocus on the stranger and present a friendly face.

for @silverjetsystm

[kylo-wrecked]

"we bring out the best in each other, when we aren't 'ruining' each other's lives." Only lightly ruining and it's more Marc than [music!]Ben doing the ruining, if Marc's to be believed. (is he?)

{ 🫀 @silverjetsystm broke and bought: Music!Ben :// not accepting }

They are outside. 

That’s right. Outside. In public. Marc’s backlit by a sherbet sun melting over the East River and getting smart; syrupy. Ben doesn’t pout. That’s just his face. Like that’s just Steven’s suit draped around those arching shoulders and that’s the good tie collaring his liquor-lubed throat. Just like this was Steven’s reservation. 

They’re on a fucking boat. Champagne flutes. Oysters. Ghostly little tablecloths.

It’s more than funny. It’s funny oh boy. 

“Lighten up, will you? Pete’s sake.”

Ben’s brow scrunches behind his shades. He’d fuse them to his fucking face right now and he’s sober. Which may be the problem. But liquor was scarcely more than a balm for the ~OG.~ So, no. Maybe the problem is that he misses Marc’s quotations hanging in the air, sea green and wet like white rum. 

“When’d we ‘ruin’ each other’s lives? You just got here, baby. Cool your jets.”

No, not that either. 

Ben nods toward the Marc-est of Marc selections and folds his arms, crimping the ribbed velour crew neck he chose because Steven’s not here, and because, if he can somehow see Ben, it might piss him off. 

“Finish that, it’s driving me fucking nuts.”