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sumcringeboi · 1 year

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This is the first in a series of short stories taking place in the near future of ~2080, after a great calamity befalls earth, 1 thousand ‘Seedships’ (semi-inspired by an underrated text based mobile game called Seedship, it’s free go get it) are sent in all directions, each housing 1 million colonists frozen in stasis as well as the ingredients to build a new civilisation, the technology aboard the ships is sophisticated but fallible, rushed, prone to error- leading to some successes, but very much more failure. All compounded by a cartoonish about of human suffering told from varying points of view.

So without further a-due;

Lightyears alone -prologue: rouge deconstructors

The date was January 4th, it was seemingly an unremarkable day like any other, it was not this of course but the only people in any sense of panic were astronomers, but it all happened too fast to inform the public, by the time anyone knew what was going on the sky was already blanketed with the leering, ominous view of jet black voidships hanging over our planet.

The mothership was stomach churningly enormous, nearly as big as earth itself, and swarming around it were tens of thousands of support ships, from armoured battleships to tiny ripper drones, all had shown up to the feast.

From the second space unfolded to give way to the invasion fleet, the sky began blaring a message down to us, encoded in binary, translated it read something adjacent to;

“The Cerbrex Collective has claimed this world.

This world will be dismantled and rendered.

All organics on this world will undergo grid amalgamation.

Primitives and pre-sapients hold no right to worlds within pre-established boarders.”

The message repeated on the hour, every hour as drones swarmed the surface, pulling it apart in chunks where it would be hauled up by curriers to the awaiting maw of the mothership.

As desperate, and utterly futile defences took place, the scientists and engineers behind the scenes toiled to answer questions and build the first of the Seedships. It was discovered that the mothership would respond to certain questions beamed back to it in binary;

“Who are the Cerbrex Collective?”

“Fleet designation for automated planetary deconstruction and prospecting fleet #771258332”

“Why have you come here?”

“This planet has been marked for deconstruction- scans indicate: plentiful organics, sodium water oceans, combustible aged organics, radioactive materials, pre-refined minerals, liquid peridotite mantle.”

“What is grid amalgamation?”

“The process of chemically reducing organics in order to harvest electrical charge through cellular breakdown”

“Who are your creators?”

“-(unintelligible)-“

And perhaps the most enlightening of all- “where is your homeworld?”

This prompted a string of coordinates that, when zoomed in on, revealed the dead home of these ancient mining drones. A large planet hangs around a blue star, dimmed by a surrounding Dyson swarm, the planet itself only reveals itself as pale grey blotches briefly visible past the surrounding swarm of ancient technology and asteroid fields of perfectly rectangular chunks of refined planet. ancient automations unknowingly harvesting a random world for a civilisation, long dead. unceremoniously dumping the spoils of there crusade upon a world, long broken.

Beyond weakening morale, the knowledge of our invaders nature did little to effect the war, any hope of diplomacy was dashed by the AIs unfeeling, uncaring, unsympathising logic, we are primitives of course, unable to overcome the perils of space travel, at least according to the date of the machines starmaps, and of course, we hold no right to the planet we evolved on, it being within the ancient borders of buried bones, trapped at the mercy of laws that no mortal being had spoken for perhaps thousands of years, with no chance of appeal.

Every day our planet lost mass our armies lost people, for every thousand men dead a lucky few would perhaps manage to bring down one of the colossal harvesting units, the corpses of these titans would have to be hauled off quick to avoid being recycled by the fleet, but if successful the scientific benefits of such godlike technologies were untold, the AI cores especially, through analysis, it was discovered that these enigmatic creators stopped pinging updates to the automated swarm around 3400 years ago, weaker received radio signals continued for some 700 years after the assumed extension of the creators, suggesting one or more other galactic civilisations perhaps being in play at the time.

The dismantling of the drones and unlocking of the secrets of the AI cores lead to the completion of the seedships and the invention of the PC, the personality construct, it’s purpose was to sit at the helm, making decisions for the frozen colonists mid flight as well as to be a calm voice of reason and understanding to gently guide the colonists in reconstructing civilisation in the best possible way, or at least something resembling that…

And at last the seedships were finalised and 1 billion of us, a good fraction of what was left, we’re corralled like cattle into 1 thousand colossal, city sized ships, 1 million frozen body’s each, scientists, engineers, leaders, fighters, farmers and the every day folk all sealed away in dreamless sleep.

The space on the ships that did not accommodate our icy selves was instead filled with scanners and sensors, a cultural and scientific database containing all of humanity’s knowledge, armour and weapons, deciphered from the drones of course as well as scores of small specialised service drones knows as ‘limpets’, prospector, medic, attack, construction, ect.

And in the bowels of the ship the power centre is housed, far away biological tissue, it’s known as the ‘Blue heart’ due to its blinding glow, and with the salvaged magic of entropy inhibitors, they can make for a near infinite power source for the ship and early colonies, with regular maintenance from the limpets of course.

On the day known as ‘The Rapture’ as our world lay dismantled beneath, 1 billion frozen souls left earth surface for the last time, stretching out into the cosmos like dandelions in the wind, preying to happen upon some fertile soil, on another world in another time.

With the ruins of our once great world behind us and all systems nominal our 1 thousand seedships spread out into random directions and enter transition, the lights wind down as the ship lowers its power usage, by the time it wakes up, the ruins of earth will be long gone and proceed, presumably dumped upon the heaping rectangular asteroid swarm, with all the other innocent worlds that happened upon the fleets warpath.

The fleet of spores, now long in slumber, wait upon there first destination to scan, slowly drifting as time and the universe passes them by

And these are some of there more interesting tales:

(Refer to any of the soon to come short stories)

#sumcringeart #lightyears alone #creative writing #writing scifi #scifi #scifi short story #stories on tumblr #short story #sci fi writing #scifiworld #short fiction

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fool-in-his-wedding-gown · 2 years

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for the mc ask game: 6, 30, and 35!!

6. Do they have a playlist? Share a link! Why did you choose the songs you did?

I'll drop some explanations for the songs after I answer the other questions :3

Putting this under a cut because WOAH this post got long

30. What was their life like before the plague? Their childhood?

Saturn spent the first fourteen years of his life living with his parents & siblings! It was after he realized he was trans that things between them soured & he moved to Vesuvia to live with his aunt. There, he kicked his studies into high gear. He'd always had a fascination with the cosmos, and he'd always been curious, but now he was really taking it seriously. He was fifteen when his aunt died and left the shop to him, which wasn't exactly ideal. She was really the only person he had in Vesuvia (and especially the only person who saw him for who he was), but he couldn't exactly go back to his immediate family, so he stayed. By this point, he was an established researcher and astronomer, so running the shop on his own wasn't really a problem, but he was grieving and he was only fifteen. It took a lot out of him.

At sixteen, he couldn't take it anymore. The pursuit of knowledge (especially in his own field) had always been of the utmost importance to him, and he needed to get away. So when the role of a navigator aboard a merchant ship opened up... I mean, come on. Of course he took that chance. So, using his skills in starmaps and skycharts, he navigated this crew through the seas for a solid year. He was absolutely terrible at everything else (which was to be expected, he was the second-youngest person aboard with no previous nautical experience), but he kept the crew safe and away from dangerous shores and guided it through countless storms. He stepped off that ship at seventeen ready to expand his studies. The time abroad steeled his resolve, and he finally felt ready to combine his skills in his field and pour them into the study of magic. He pursued that for two years on his own. Lots of textbooks and disastrous failures, very little learning by example. His specific area of study was in truth-seeking, revealing, shedding light on dark corners. That's what he'd been doing since he was fifteen. This was just an extension of that with a different, much more efficient tool.

But pursuing it on his own could only take him so far. When he was nineteen, he realized he wanted to learn pyromancy & how to read tarot, and he realized he'd need help. Pyromancy is incredibly finicky and dangerous when wielded by inexperienced hands, and tarot is extremely hard to learn if one isn't being taught by someone already personally familiar with it (besides, it's not like he had his own deck). So he did some poking around and, through the grapevine, he heard about the talents of one Asra Alnazar. As it would happen, Saturn managed to find him on masquerade night.

What started as a business partnership ("you teach me tarot and pyromancy, and I'll show you how I learned my magic near exclusively from textbooks"), became a friendship became a queerplatonic partnership. Asra moved into the shop by the time Saturn was twenty.

Six years passed roughly uneventfully (minus some accidental fires, the both of them developing their skill in magic more, running the shop together, whatever the HELL was going on between Asra and Julian).

And then the plague hit, and everything went to shit. But that's a story for another time.

35. Do they have any material objects that are important to them? What & why?

A cane of orange-brown gnarled wood, given to him by his aunt. Saturn is disabled and this, on top of serving as his mobility aid, has deep sentimental value to him.

A necklace gifted to him by Asra. It's a pendant that looks like a sun, twisting beams radiating outwards from a spherical center. He's unsure if it has any magic tied to it, but if it does, he hasn't found it yet.

Okay songs time :3

I'm not gonna go over all twenty one songs, but I will go over a few of my favorites/most fitting!!

Cicada Days - The way this song expresses & explores grief & the way the narrator speaks to the person who can be presumed to be their partner I thought really reflected Saturn's own guilt & his desperation to be kept close to the people he loves. He may pretend to be a perfectly logical, impartial third party immune to bias, but at the end of the day, he's a man in love and he's afraid of losing that which he loves. Hence "don't let me leave, I'll only take more than I gave"

Battle Cries - A dialogue between two lovers. This one is about as simple as it gets— the two are at a crossroads. Whatever their current situation is, it isn't working. They must change or part ways, and it's clear one wants the former while the other wants the latter.

Curses - Man this one's lyrics just remind me of the plot a lot. "There's a fire in my brain and I'm burning up" & "This house says my name like an elegy" & "Ashes, ashes, dust to dust / The devil's after both of us" all just contain imagery that's very evocative of the plot for me

#the arcana #i'm not even gonna get into passerine today it's Just So Much. it's So Him.#thank you for the ask!! sorry for being abnormal about him it will happen again #pleiades replies!#oc:Saturn Citrinova

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kotofvi · 5 years

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Mobile Rules

Important Notes

My mini-muse navigation on the main bagel has links to individual bios! I did this so you can get a preview on my fucks and see if you're interested, if so then you can check out their full bio! Please note the trigger warning tags before the bios. Though not all of them will have them and some will have more than others, I make it a point to put these warnings above whatever bio needs them so you have ample warning before reading them. The links in the mobile version of the bagel are for mobile bound users! I try to make my bagels as accessible as possible!

Please specify what muse you want. If you're not sure or are indecisive, that's alright! Just please tell me "Random" and I will give you a random muse! However, if you don't tell me what muse you want or tell me to give you a random one, I get anxious because I'm not sure which one of my fucks you'd like to write with and worry if I'm writing up something for the wrong muse. So please, please, specify a muse or "Random" so we can avoid all that mess.

Since I've had this problem several times before across all my other bagels: If I've written you multiple starters and you haven't responded to a single one of them, I will not write you anymore. That is just.. Unreasonable. I will legitimately write you a starter for every single muse and you can pick and choose which ones you want to reply to, so to reply to none and then ask for another one? It just really gets under my skin and makes me question whether or not its my writing or if you just have no interest. I will rewrite a starter for you if you didn't like the one you got, no problem! So please, instead of leaving me on read, tell me if you want a different muse or a new starter. I really don't mind at all. But do not just ghost me and not tell me anything then expect me to write you more. That's just rude af, mate.

Tagging system: N.SFW = Kettledrums // (I tag everything with ___ //) If you need anything specific tagged and I don't tag it, please let me know and I'll mark it down to tag in the future!

Non-Mutuals

Since I’ve had some troubles in the past about non-mutual starlings still liking starter calls or the like, I feel its necessary to address this issue first.

My lovely starlings, I will always adore you and I will come into your inbox all the time. I will send you Nonnies and HC questions. I appreciate and adore you very much! However, if I didn’t follow you back its likely because of very few reasons:

★ I want to keep my dash neat and organized and I can’t follow you (in good conscious because I will likely unfollow you soon after) if the content spread of your bagel is a bunch of varying things that I personally wouldn’t want on my dash or have no use for.

★ Your character is wonderful but I don’t think they could really interact well with my muse in a sense of actually interacting and not in a sense of different fandoms or the like. No, our muses don’t have to get along for us to interact but if your muse isn’t my cup of tea– Well I can’t see us interacting.

★ Our writing won’t work well together. I read a handful of threads when I go to check out your bagel and if I feel our writing won’t work well together, I can’t follow you because I don’t want to be the asshole who follows you then never interacts with you.

★ If I have no interest in writing with your muse I won’t follow you because, again, I really don’t want to be that asshole who follows but never interacts.

None of this is personal, okay? I love all you beautiful starlings and I really do appreciate you so much! You’re not too OOC (may I direct you to my constant bagel situation? Look at all that endless OOC.) You’re not a bad writer. You’re not anything bad at all! These are just my preferences!

This doesn’t mean we can never talk or interact, though! But here’s the rule of thumb:

★ Please do not send me asks or the like with Memes that aren’t relative to drabbles or HCs. Please do not send me asks or the like with inquiry to thread! I don’t want to have to tell you no, I’m really really bad at saying no, okay? And when I don’t say no, but I want to say no, I end up dropping threads and then no one feels good. Which is really not okay because I don’t want either of us not havin’ a good time!

Following

I take great measures to check your bagel out! I’ll read your writing, check all your pages and I’ll basically stalk your bagel for a bit before I decide on following you or not.

Please note though: Sometimes I can take a while to get to checking you out! This is because tumblr doesn’t notify me, I’m too busy working or I didn’t see the number change concerning my followers! Typically I’ll post when I’m checking new starlings out though!

If you’re going to follow me, please note that I do tag everything as extensively as possible. If you need something tagged with a custom tag, please let me know! I’ll take care of it!

Tagging in general: I always tag all forms of NSFW (Nudity, Violence, etc) as “Kettledrums //“ and I always tag Water, Blades, Eye contact, Scars and other things as “water //” etc.

Unfollowing

If I unfollow you, don’t come at me asking why. Don’t come at me interrogating me for reasons as to why I unfollowed you. If we’re close friends or if we’ve always been following each other and suddenly I’m not following you, then yes, please IM me because I’m p sure that tumblr fucked up somewhere there.

But if not? Don’t come at me with that please. I am a very anxious person and I really don’t want to have to deal with that.

The same goes for you unfollowing me though! I won’t come at you for it! Its your decision who you follow, not mine! I understand completely and you do you sugar!

Threads

My threads vary in length but generally they tend to get long all on their own. Even if it starts off with just a sentence or something, it usually evolves into paragraphs within a few replies.

I don’t mind length matching. You don’t have to match my length and you definitely don’t have to try to make it longer just to keep up. I want you to have fun writing and if you can only give me two paras on a three or four para reply, that’s fine. However, if I’ve given you six paragraphs and you only give me one, I’m likely to lose interest in the thread unless I’m told that you’re having writer’s block or something.

The reason for that is because when the reply length drops that dramatically, it makes me feel as though you have no interest in it. If I think you don’t have any interest in it, I’m not going to make you continue it. If you want to drop a thread with me, let me know! We can always have a thousand threads and only ever really do two of them. I mean, it happens a lot pfft.

The point is: Relax. Threads are meant to be fun after all!

Muse

PLEASE DO NOT EQUATE ME TO MY MUSE. However, whatever similarities may arise between us: I AM NOT MY MUSE. Anything they may do or say is not necessarily supported by me.

Shipping

I am multi-ship but I ship on chemistry. We can talk about shipping our muses all day long though! If you wanna ship with me, let me know! Just kick my inbox door down and say “HEY FUCKFACE LETS SHIP” and I will be down for discussing it!

Shipping is not just Romantics here either. Platonic ships such as Familial, Best friends, etc. Hateful ships too. There’s various ways to ship, romanticism isn’t the only way.

If you drop your ship with me, that is perfectly alright and I understand completely. Sometimes things change somewhere along the line and the ship doesn’t work anymore!

Please note: ANY UNDERAGE MUSE / MUN WILL NOT BE INCLUDED IN ANY NSFW / SMUT WRITING. I will not write it with my underage muses and I definitely will not with underage muns, I do not wanna go to jail, thank you.

Personal

Don’t come here with any Anti bullshit. If you follow me and you’re an Anti, I’ve probably already blocked you. I don’t allow unneeded drama and bullshit here and I will protect anyone who follows me from it by keeping that shit off my bagel.

If you send me anon hate or anti ask bullshit, I will report and block you. NO ANTIS ALLOWED HERE. I’m not down with that life and this is a NO DRAMA ZONE. You bring it here, you’re INSTANTLY BLOCKED. I won’t answer you, I won’t respond nor react– I’ll just delete it, block you, report you and move on. Ain’t no one got time for that. Beyond that: I welcome you with open arms!

The general Do(s)

★ Message me if you are interested in my muse!

★ Send me memes when I reblogged them!

★ Tag / Mention me in anything!

★ Ship with me! If there’s chemistry, I am down! Even if it’s unrequited or anything of that sort! I mean, dang, ship in platonics! Do the thing my friend!

★ Ask me anything your little heart desires, even if it’s just some help or advice you need!

★ Like/Reblog my roleplays if you are involved in it!

★ Send headcanons or drabble prompts! I’d love to hear them and hell, will probably accept them!

★ Interact with me even if you’re from another fandom!

★ Interact with me even if you’re an OC!

★ Interact with me even if you’re a multiblog!

★ Interact with me! Just do it friend! I do not bite!!

The general Don’t(s)

★ Attempt to write smut with me if you are underaged. Mun is above 18 and would really rather not go to jail!

★ Expect me to follow you back once you followed me! Truly, I usually do follow back, but I also take the time to read every page on someone’s blog to see if I’m interested! It wouldn’t be fair to anyone if I just followed them back and never interacted with them due to lack of interest! Not to say that your muse(s) aren’t great, they’re just not my cup of tea!

★ Expect me to be my muse.

★ Expect me to solve every problem on my own. If we’re interacting with each other and run into a problem, I want to be able to communicate with you and solve it together! While I am an agile problem solver, I can’t do it on my own because it risks upsetting you by accident if I do something wrong!

★ Assume I’ll ship with you just because I’m Multiship. I am multiship, but I ship upon chemistry!

★ Guilt trip me into replies! I do them as quickly as I can and I try my very best! Please do poke at me if you feel I’ve missed it, but don’t give me hell for it, okay?

★ Message me and corner me into doing something I’m uncomfortable with. While I’m pretty laid back and am up for just about anything, if I express that I’m uncomfortable, please respect that!

★ Bring me unneeded drama! I’m here to have fun, not bitch at people over the net, y'know?

★ Bring your “Anti” bullshit here. I’m not about that life.

Credits

Main images on this bagel by by Len-Yan.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! ❤

#[ Mobile Starmap ] ;;#[ Psa ] ;;

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tarisilmarwen · 3 years

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@badthingshappenbingo

Title: “Don’t Come”

Prompt: Used As Bait

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Character(s): Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger

Warnings: Depiction of electric torture, threats of violence and death

AO3, FFNet, Request a prompt/character

Inspired by a suggestion on the Star Wars Fanfiction Discord.

---

Searing sparks flashed across her body and her armor was useless, pain assaulting her senses, rushing through every inch of her twitching form. Sabine writhed under the electric assault, hands twisting in the restraints that bound her to the interrogation slab. A few flat grunts and gasps were all that escaped her.

With a sharp motion the Imperial official had the chair cut off. The electrodes fizzled out, releasing Sabine from their attack, and she slumped forward, shoulders and back hanging off the table.

Sabine panted hard, her eyesight blurring a little as she stared towards the ground. Sleek black boot tips entered her vision and her eyes hardened, flicked up with a hateful glare at the man.

Moff Herizod, small-time governor of the Trans-Hydian region and noted art collector, narrowed his ice blue eyes at her with a cold look.

"Your stubbornness will only prolong your pain, Mandalorian," he said. Stepping forward he grabbed her chin roughly, gloved fingers digging into her jaw. "I'll ask again," he growled, "where did that boy take my starmap?"

Sabine focused her eyes with effort, sending the Imp the nastiest look she could. "It's not—" She coughed harshly, involuntarily. "—your starmap, sleemo," she finished. She shone with defiance as she declared, "It belongs to the Jedi!"

He looked down his nose at her. "The old Jedi Order is dead, my dear," he sniffed. "As you will be if your companion does not return soon."

Behind them, the bustle of the dig site continued. Workers picked and picked at the stone crevasse, silhouetted against the harsh white floodlights, uncovering more and more of the beautiful carved architecture of the old buried temple. But of course the real prize had already been found; Ezra and Sabine had snuck in under cover of darkness and entered the temple to recover the Jedi holocron from a secret inner chamber, a holocron containing a detailed starmap of every Old Republic Jedi outpost spanning the Great Hyperspace Wars to the rise of the Empire.

Unfortunately they had no sooner discovered this priceless treasure than the Empire's forces had stumbled across them, forced them to fight their way back up to the main operating base camp. Sabine had been cut off from Ezra in the confusion, had screamed for him to leave her and go as the troopers surrounded her and grabbed her arms, and after a heartbreaking moment of hesitation, he had closed his eyes in solace and done what she'd ordered, disappearing into the trees that surrounded the dig site, vanishing into the underbrush.

A trooper towards her far left spoke into the speaker for a PA system that surrounded the whole hollow, his filtered voice ringing out loudly across the vale.

"Ezra Bridger, if you can hear this broadcast, we have Sabine Wren," the trooper said, repeating his message for the third or fourth time. "You are ordered to return to Site 24 and immediately surrender yourself and the holocron to ensure her safety."

Sabine let out a huff, adjusting her wrists in the metal restraints. "You're wasting your time," she told the Moff. "He won't fall for that."

Her voice was confident, but her heart wavered. She knew Ezra, knew how painfully he struggled when duty to the cause conflicted with his selfless Jedi protectiveness. Don't come, she begged towards him in her mind. Please just get away and come back for me later. I can handle this. I'll be okay.

She wasn't sure she would be, actually. Herizod had proven... particularly sadistic. The mere fact that he had a set-up, ready-to-go mobile interrogation table was proof enough of that.

Sabine wondered idly if many unwilling workers had been broken into quiet service on this table.

Herizod was sneering up at her, his mouth curdling with a twisted smile. "Ohhh I'm sure he will," he said. "Jedi are empaths are they not? He can sense your pain? Even from a distance?"

Faint beats of fear sounded in Sabine's heart, even as she bravely squared her shoulders.

"Let's make sure he can hear it too," Moff Herizod decided, turning and barking orders at his lackeys.

Microphones were shoved up near her face, wired into the PA system and Sabine did her best to control her frantic breathing, echoes of her breaths already sounding across the distance, loudly broadcasting for all to hear.

She braced herself as the table was turned on again.

***

Sabine wasn't sure how long she lasted. Every time the electrodes fired up, she heard their sizzling crackles in the loudspeakers and was able to prepare, clench her fists and teeth tighter, curling up as the painful shocks coursed across her chest, desperately, determinedly holding her lips pressed tight, only allowing short grunts to escape.

She couldn't be the reason Ezra was caught. She had to protect him, be strong for him. Even though every nerve ending felt like it was on horrible fire, she kept her screams in, smothering down the pain, the fear, the helplessness, not allowing herself to feel any of it, trying to be numb to it all.

You're not getting him, she thought determinedly towards the blurry form she thought was Moff Herizod. You won't use me against him.

The Imperial watched her impassively as she thrashed and shook, never letting herself cry out, holding back as pain stabbed through her every limb, violent and tumultuous, like a million tiny knives slicing through her.

"Mmgh," Sabine whimpered quietly, as another horrible spasm jerked through her.

On and on it went. Sabine's stubborn Mandalorian pride versus the patient Imperial Moff. She held back and held back, groaning close-mouthed with tight fists and screwed eyes until she felt like a string pulled taut, the pain wearing and wearing on her despite her defiance.

The Moff stirred as he observed her, stepping closer.

"How long do you think you can last?" he asked her, his voice icy and cruel. "Do you really think you can protect your little Jedi boyfriend?" he challenged.

Through the crescendo-ing pain Sabine pried her eyes open, glaring sourly at him.

The electrodes turned on again, burning their pain through her, and Sabine curled tight, holding back a sob as her body was assaulted with agony, sharp and hot, digging into her down to the bones.

Hold on, she told herself.

It was so hard.

She moaned behind her lips, her breath stuttering from the shocks. The biting, stabbing electricity became all she could perceive, tearing apart every inch of her until she wanted so much just to pass out, to let oblivion cover her mind and steal away her thoughts just to have a bit of momentary relief from the fire.

Moff Herizod stepped closer, his voice harsh and threatening.

"Pathetic little girl," he spat. "I have troopers combing the woods. It's only a matter of time before they find him," he said.

Sabine clenched her teeth tighter, biting down so hard it hurt, aching in her jaw.

"I'm going to gut him in front of you," the Imperial threatened. "Right down the middle of his abdomen. Let you watch his blood spill out onto the ground."

A muffled sob crept past her control. Sabine squeezed her eyes closed, praying to whatever gods or Force were listening to be able to hold on, just one moment more.

Herizod seemed to zero in on her weak point, breathlessly promising to hurt Ezra, detailing all the ways he could kill him, going into gruesome detail.

Despair pierced through Sabine's heart. She gripped her fists and jaw against the pain, the elecrodes sparking hotter, more intensely, as the Moff called for more voltage.

Everything dissolved except for the agony. She could barely hear Herizod's voice, shouting in her ear about all the horrible ways he was going to make Ezra suffer for her silence.

"You know, we found this Mandalorian relic once," he told her, the sound of his voice drifting around her head, somehow too loud and too soft at the same time. "Marvelous construction, solid stone and metal. I think it may have been used to restrain Jedi."

Sabine gasped, inhaling sharply, the pang of hot fire stabbing through her heart mingling with the panic shard that pierced her brain. A Vault? It couldn't be. They hadn't been used in forever. Did any of them even still exist?!

Keep it together, keep it together! she told herself desperately.

"As much as I would love to make that little padawan bleed in front of you," she heard the cruel voice saying, "how much worse would it be to kill you while he's in there, completely immobilized and helpless to do anything but watch?"

Her mind provided an image unbidden, Ezra shackled inside the sarcophous-like Vault, watching through the thick glass window as she was mutilated before him.

Her chest hitched. A helpless sound escaped her.

No, she thought. No no no no don't put him in that thing! she begged frantically inside her head. Not Ezra. No! Please don't hurt him!

As the voltage increased again she broke, her head snapping back, screaming, shrieking out her pain for the whole valley to hear.

***

Ezra tightened himself into a miserable ball, curling up, squeezing his hands harshly around his ears. Sabine's screaming continued over the speakers, loud and unbearable, a horrible sound that stabbed straight through him.

He gasped, whimpering helplessly, as his senses pounded with the echoes of her pain and her sobbing.

His eyes clamped tight. The gilded holocron was in his hand, shimmering and beautiful, singing with the Force in a warm chorus and Ezra let out a choked sound.

He pressed himself harder into the trunk of the tree.

What could he do? He could barely focus with Sabine's agony assaulting him through the Force, beating on his head with horrible clarity. But the holocron... the starmap... those lost Jedi temples waiting to be rediscovered, priceless knowledge and history, his heritage, his birthright as a Jedi... how could he give that up? How could he let it fall into Imperial hands for them to find the outposts and desecrate, and plunder, and spoil? Palpatine had destroyed so much of the Jedi Order already. He deserved a good kick in the teeth from the remnants of the culture he had tried to wipe out.

But that was Sabine down there and she was suffering. He thought frantically as Sabine's distant, sound-system boosted shrieking pounded on his resolve.

Focus. Focus, focus, he had to focus, he had to be clear-headed so he could assess his options.

Ezra took a slow inhale, letting go of his fear, reaching out to the Force and letting his mind meld with it. Calm filtered through him. His jitters stopped, and his hands loosened off his ears. He could still hear Sabine, but now her cries weren't sending him into spiraling panic and filling him with rash impulses.

He glanced towards their shuttle. What did he have to work with?

He spied the thin, enameled wood case that the holocron had been stashed in, cracked open next to him.

He had an idea.

***

It hurt. It hurt so much. She could barely think through the pain.

Sabine tried to bite back her screaming, tried not to give in, but it was too much. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, trapped in this agonizing moment, with electric jabs shooting through her and shattering her resolve, turning her into a blubbering, sobbing little girl on the table.

Distantly, she remembered she shouldn't be showing such weakness. She was a Mandalorian, and she was a Rebel to boot, she shouldn't be coming apart like this, thrashing and shrieking until her voice was hoarse, until she couldn't even twitch anymore, so exhausted by the pain that oblivion hovered threateningly on the corners of her mind.

"Stop!" she heard a young male voice cry, in her periphery hearing.

The blur that was Moff Herizod raised his hand, and the electrodes at once powered down, mercifully.

Sabine gasped and sobbed, crying so hard her chest hurt, bleary eyes looking up towards the edge of the work site.

Ezra stood there, pale and brave, the gilded wooden case of the holocron in one hand.

Her vision blurred; she blinked back tears of shame at her failure, her mental voice screaming for Ezra to get out of there, to run, to not do this.

Her breath hitched pitifully as she watched the Moff turn slowly in Ezra's direction. She thought Ezra was shaking a little, as his voice drifted to her.

"I'm... I'm here," he said. "Please let her go," he begged, raising hands in surrender.

A motion from Herizod and troopers were rushing forward, grabbing Ezra's arms and wrestling them behind him, one of the men prying the pretty box from his hand and bringing it over. Sabine bit her lip tightly as they roughhoused him, all her worst fears coming into play.

They pushed him to his knees, holding his wrists firmly, awaiting further instruction from their higher-up. He met eyes with her across the way, warm blue concern beaming to her.

She hung her head, unable to even look at him.

The Moff was appraising his prize gleefully, taking the light wooden box from his lackey with eager carefulness.

"Wise choice, boy," he drawled. "I don't think your Mandalorian friend could have taken much more."

Ezra said nothing, staring with even, calm eyes forward. Moff Herizod turned away from him, running his fingers along the latch of the box.

He cracked it open slowly, a vulture-like excitement in his eyes.

Sabine saw him frown suddenly, confused. She glimpsed an oddly familiar circular device inside the box, heard a strange beeping.

The Moff cursed and flung the box away and the thermal detonator dropped out and rolled towards the heavy equipment.

She knew enough to close her eyes and squeeze tight as the explosion sounded.

The BANG! popped in her ears, almost deafening. Herizod stumbled back in a daze, near senseless, the bright whiteout from the explosion still pluming. The fuel inside an excavator caught a spark and ignited, a secondary explosion blasting them with force. The troopers and workers stumbled from the shock.

Ezra rushed forward, struggling free of the troopers' grip, beelining straight for her and reaching for the metal straps that held her to the table.

Click, click, click, and then she was free, stumbling forward into his shaking arms.

"How...?" she asked in confusion, her mind and ears still spinning from the blast.

"Hid it near the Phantom II," he told her in brief explanation, his eyes wide and worried, gathering her up into his arms like a limp blanket.

Sabine clutched arms around his neck, hanging on tight, trying not to be a burden as he pulled his lightsaber, the green blade a warm hum on her senses, reflecting red bolts that shot at them as he ran towards the edge of the dig site, his other hand under her limp legs. Workers rushed past them to the ruined excavator, frantically trying to suppress the fire before it spread to the other vehicles and Herizod screamed orders, pointing sharply after them, expression twisted with fury. But he and the troopers and the fire became a blur behind them as Ezra ran full-tilt through the trees and up the ridge, gaining distance quickly.

She pressed her face against his neck, tired and sleepy, breathing in the comforting earthen scent of him, as he carried her away.

She drifted in and out, exhausted from the shocks, alerting briefly when he set her down on a cargo seat inside their shuttle and ducked back out, returning momentarily with the precious, beautiful holocron.

He passed it into her hands as he went to take the pilot's seat.

Sabine smiled faintly as she held it, rolling its gilded edges in her palms. The shuttle roared to life and Ezra didn't even wait for them to clear the trees before launching them forward, somehow managing to avoid the trunks and tree branches with such dizzying precision she thought it must have been Force-assisted.

A stray bolt managed to ping them, and they jostled, but then the night sky smoothed into the void of space and they were in orbit, the planet behind them rapidly falling away.

Sabine's eyes and head drooped, she startled a bit at the jolt to hyperspace, and then she was blinking drowsily again, her lap blurring.

She heard Ezra give an exhale from the cockpit.

His clothes and gear rustled as he stood, and Sabine pulled her face up to smile at him as he came over to her.

His eyes studied her in concern. She knew she probably looked a mess; she could smell her singed paint and hair and flesh. There would be burns for a while. That was okay.

Ezra reached out, softly brushing her bangs from her cheek. Sabine hummed at the gesture, closing her eyes contently.

"You okay?" he asked, quietly.

She groaned. "Ask me again in about a week," she said.

Ezra said nothing, choosing instead to turn and ease himself down into the seat next to her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders.

She leaned into him, setting her temple against his, taking comfort in his presence.

"I'll be all right," she told him.

He nodded, just letting her rest.

Sabine drifted off to the gentle thrum of the shuttle and the soft breathing of the boy next to her.

---

Oh dear I made it Soft™.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabezra #bad things happen bingo #BTHB #fanfiction #prompt fics #whump

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sequoiajune · 5 years

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what are your UTMV aus?

Okay so

I have like

Imma split this up

Various Published Fics

Behold, my AO3 account.

Overcurious - arguably my most popular. It is, fundamentally, an Error×Ink supernatural modern au, with a dose of plot. I haven't updatex it since August by pure virtue of procrastination, horrible interal clock measuring a month to the same scale a few days (etc. being like "oh it feels like I updated it a few~ days ago, it's fiinee" twenty days after i updated it), procrastination, distraction, overall lack of motivation, inability ro focus, inability to word, perfectionism, and anxiety (partially caused by the amount of notifications i got overnight for it, that first thing ive publicized in a while and the first to get ANY sort of significant comment feedback, and aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAA, that being said I do not regret publishing it at all becuz i met a lot of cool people and it made me rlly happy in the short run even if it sort of threw me off in the long run, and it's rlly happy and calming to look back at the comments and seeing me interacting with people, like a little while after publishing the second chapter i got into a fight with my mom, i don't even remember what it was about, but it hurt a lot at the time and i think i was crying and i calmed down and aaaaahhhh by rereading the comments becuz. Just. Not even what they were saying but seeing myself interacting so positively with people?? Idk if you knew this but because im homeschooled and awkward and tense i dont see other people my age a whole lot or in general (tho i do have some great irl friends) and i just, like, dont participate in a lot of stuff, tho mom prob wishes i would. It's a little odd but i find seeing myself, by reading internet conversations and things i did to make people happy like ChickenSmoothie and FR gifts and old texts, doing positive interaction because it's just like. Revisiting and seeing it, recorded and there- not memory but actually all there the same way i experienced it because that was literally It, exactly the same way i first had the conversation - just. really nice. Anyways im kind of oversharing and rambling again oops) and did i mention PROCRASTINATION, THE INABILIBTY TO FOCUS ON ANY ONE TRAIN OF THOUGHT FOR OVER FIVE SECONDS WITHOUT DYING, AND PERFECTIONISM? Still proud of this tho

It's not dead, it just sort of took a vacation from my head.

And on the bright side, i cant think oh it took this author so long to update >:( because i have no sense of time. (Also im not rude and insensitive or judgemental and can empathize with that) Example: the fics i met @parspicle on. Maybe it was a couple years ago they updated. Maybe a couple weeks. Maybe a couple days. Maybe a couple decades. Idk man, don't look at me. Idk if they will update again, but they updated some unspecified time ago and thats good enough for me, of course not saying that i dont want to see more. Just @ everyone whos fics i read, don't ever worry about how long it takes to update because i literally have no clue. At worst I won't see it because i got distracted something shiny.

Aaaahhh that had nothing to do with the fic im just rambling at this point.

Starmaps. Still into that idea, but again, other shiny stuff. Also I might want to revise or reorder the first chapter because depsite having a large portion of the story mapped out, (p)unintentional, I sort of wrote the first chapter on a casual whim without really thinking about lil details and how i want to go about it. On hold for now. Wrote the first chapter in my Hyperfixate on Nightmare and Cross, not necessarily as pair. Also Dream phase that may or may not have passed.

Trashy Families, Trashier Lives, and Trashiest Gremlin Nerds. Its a nightink royalty au, my brain is absolutely convinced it was super recent but apparently i publish it on October 22 and it's currently December 13th, over a month away? Time is wack. Anyways, i loved writing this and am proud of it, though i know less about whats going on than ive probably convinced all my readers. Probably a lot of subconscious inspiration from the dragon prince.

Mediums of Art and Error. It's an errink green eggs and ham au from when my bro got me to watch the netflix adaption with him. that's pretty much all the explanation needed, tbh.

So thats ao3. There's a few other things but I'll reblog with that to make sure that tumblr won't delete all of this when I press post becuz mobile

#ask #insane-but-smart #june jay speaks #to be tagged

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herdustisverypretty · 5 years

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I’m interested and I’m gonna hit you with... 13, 23, 30, 74, 87, 94, 96, 100

I never got around to answering these cause I swapped to mobile and then I just forgot lmao.

13-What talents do you have?I feel like that’s a subjective question 😂 I’m good at writing I guess, though I’ve barely written in the past like 2 years so I’m probably a bit rusty. I can sew pretty well too, but sewing makes me reeeaaally angry so my stuff often turns out a bit rushed lmao. I’m pretty good at baking too, I can make cupcakes without following a recipe if I’m feeling particularly lazy.

23-Have you ever met any celebrities?Yeah I’ve met quite a few actually! I met Rose McGowan in 2014 (no photo with her since I was way poorer back then), Nathan Fillion & Adam Baldwin in 2015 I think? (I do have photos with them but they’re packed away somewhere - I can’t quite remember meeting Nathan but I remember Adam said I looked cute in my lolita outfit), Mark Meer in 2017 (he was sooo sweet and I am in love honestly I still swoon over it), as well as both Summer Glau (she was really lovely, and tall) and Troy Baker (in his stupid jean shirt. his jirt if you will) in 2018. I met them all at Supanova conventions in Sydney. I almost met Troy in 2015 I think as well but I got really sick and ended up not going. Since I’d paid for an autograph token already I got my sister to get it for me and he said that that was very nice of her. That year she also got a recording from him wishing her and her boyfriend happy anniversary as his Uncharted character. Was very cool 😂

30-How many pillows do you sleep with?As many as possible. Currently I’ve got about 3 that I sleep on as well as an extra cushion that I use when I’m just in bed on my phone etc. But I need more 😂 I have really bad neck problems...

74. Are you ticklish?Maybe a little? I used to be as a kid but not so much as an adult. Strange.

87. Do you keep a journal?I used to when I was younger but I always ended up slacking off and then forgetting to use it for months, and then years. I bet if I checked my old journals they’d be really cringey. Last time I kept one was when I was like 17.

94. What are you strengths?This is almost the same as the talents one lmao. Uhhh do I have any? I’m REALLY good at arguments. As in, I’m really mean and very good at insulting a person where it hurts them specifically. It’s really not always a good thing... I’m also a very good friend as long as you don’t piss me off, in which case I become a very bad friend. I think all my personal strengths revolve around me being great until I’m not tbh....

96. How did you get your name?This has a few answers depending. My birth name my parents chose cause they couldn’t agree on a name (read: my dad had too many exs) and they both liked Nicole Kidman so, Nicole it was. I was apparently nameless for like 2 weeks. My preferred name I was originally given by my friends in high school. We called ourselves the APC (Australian Pretty Committee) which I think is from Gossip Girl or smth idk we were 13, and we all had special nicknames that just our group used. I think my old friend @starmaps was the one who actually gave me the name of Nix, which I still use since I’m a slut for Greek mythology and also it sounds cool 😂 The personification of night is very fitting. The only reason I haven’t changed my name to it legally is cause the meaning of Nicole is really nice (victory; it fuels my massive ego) and I’m also a slut for name meanings.

100. Color of your room?It’s purple. It’s still my sister’s old room, we’ve never gotten around to painting it for me, which is about how it always goes yeah. The purple is fine enough though. It’s not pink but it’ll do.

Holy shit there’s so many questions lmao. Thank you again for the asks :)

#self #answer #humanitys-shortest-soldier

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kamuiia · 4 years

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Where is you mobile header from? It looks so cool!

OH thank you! It’s from Destiny! I tried looking for it again and it’s a screenshot of the starmaps Bungie did. Here’s the vid: https://vimeo.com/148556229 (could also search up Bungie starmaps) The art for the game is so good!

#asks #anon #my old one was overwatch but that game is now my enemy destiny 2 is my best friend now and i get a little robo friend who floats

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starlightwrites · 7 years

Note

You said you'd write prompts so how about "it’s okay to hurt & breakdown. you don’t have to be strong all the time” with Sara Ryder and your preferred LI? Please and a hundred times thank you!

Hi! Thank you for asking! I used my Sis!Ryder,Cressida, since I am more familiar with her and Liam’s relationship already(aaaaaand I’m a little rusty with Andromeda). I hope that’s alright! I’m sorryin advance if this isn’t quite what you were looking for, but I tried my bestand I hope you like it! Prompt under the cut.

Thank you!!!

–Star

The lastthing Cressida Ryder really remembered was hitting the ground. She barelyremembered shouting about kicking ass while Liam propped her up on his shoulderand Drak looked her over with his best impression of a Krogan raised-eyebrow. Shemobilized the Remnant ship with Cora gripping her arm. Vetra started to reachout to her, but stopped as she stomped past. Re-boarding the Tempest was hazy at best. Then, she wason the bridge, with Lexi looking her over under the too-bright lights. Poking here,prodding there. There was the sharp jab of a needle on hr inner arm as thedoctor slipped her a cocktail of drugs. The world flashed into violent color,burning around her. Cress blinked a few times until the corona around theoverhead light dimmed enough for her to look back at Lexi, who was haloed inrainbow light.

“Am I readyto go?”

“Are you?”Lexi’s scanner lit up orange and swept from Cressida’s feet up to her head. “You’vedied three times now. Three.”

“If I didn’tknow any better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

“Ryder.” Lexididn’t look up from the scanner on her wrist. “We all are.”

Lexi walkedaway and the door to the bridge slid shut before her brain could figure out whatto say. She wondered what SAM would say about it all.

She wrappedher arms around her rib cage as far as they would go and squeezed tight, like shewas trying to hold herself together.

SAM.

SAM wouldknow what to do. SAM was the key to her success as a Pathfinder. Cressida Ryderwithout SAM could barely get Liam and Jaal through the remnant doors and backto the Tempest. They had almost beentrapped down in the bowels of the Remnant City. Jaal’s family would never haveseen him again. Liam wouldn’t have been able to set up a home here. They wouldn’thave made it back to the ship and crew. Her head throbbed hard. Interfacing withthe Remnant consoles had sent bright hot shocks up through her hand, touchingevery nerve as they raced up into her heart. SAM had been the one doing thelegwork with the Remtech. And now, SAM was gone. It felt like she’d been zappedwith a defibrillator fifty times. In fairness, she decided that fifty timesmight be a bit of an exaggeration. But she still felt like she’d been kicked inthe chest by a Fiend.

And she’dalmost killed everyone.

She still could kill everyone. The odds were notin her favor. Cress slumped down into Suvi’s seat and looked around the emptybridge. It was almost never empty.Kallo and Suvi were fighting with reactors or cores or whatever the hell it wasthat ran the ship, and Peebee was helping the rest of the crew out on the deck.SAM wasn’t chimig about messages at her terminal every few seconds. It was justquiet, all around and inside her. It was just Cress and the starmap now. Theremnant city winked at her, massive and ominous in the faint glowing light ofthe screen. She could have gotten up and stood at her console to shut it down,but the energy drained out her fingertips and she curled up in the chair.

She had diedenough times where it should feel blasé, but all she could think was that dadwouldn’t’ve. Dad would have led the charge. Dad would have already been on hisway to Meridian, locked and loaded, while Cress and Scott helped the crew readythe ship for the fight. Dad wouldn’t have needed resuscitation three separate times.She cast a glance at the patched-up N-7 helmet sitting in the corner of the roomwith the other bits of armor she’d dropped so Lexi could look her over. Well. Shewasn’t dad. She was Cressida, and Cressida was scared of dying for good thistime. She thought about Dad handing her his helmet on Habitat 7, knowing fullwell that he would die where he stood right after finally landing boots onAndromeda. His dream. The helmet was laying on its side. At least it was herand not Scott. Scott was a bigger softy she was. Dad must have been so disappointed to have had not one but two pathetic children.

Stop that, she chided. Self-pity never helped anyone.

She buriedher head in her arms, but she was too tired to even properly cry.

Her commblinked and Liam’s voice spilled into her ear, warm and soft.

“You’ve goteveryone working, Pathfinder. Where are you?”

She took aminute to respond, but finally managed to mumble “bridge.”

It tookeverything she had to pull herself up out of Suvi’s chair so she was uprightwhen the doors to the bridge slithered open. She had tried in vain to suit upand was about halfway through fastening her armor over her flight suit. His silhouettefilled up the doorway before the doors closed behind him. Liam always lookedbroader-chested all suited-up. Bigger and stronger than cozytank-top-and-sweats Liam who sat with her and watched movies late into thenight cycle. He looked at her for a minute and she flashed as convincing of asmile as she could manage. He’d seen her cry before, but it didn’t feel rightto cry on his shoulder when she’d almost gotten him sealed inside the Remnantcity. He stopped just short of her and stared until she felt as transparent aspolished glass.

“Hey you.”

“Hey.”

“That was agood speech out there. You can really work it when you need to.”

She didn’tremember half of what she’d said, but at least it must have sounded prettygood. She nodded.

“Bradleysays they’ll throw in however they can.” She had never heard him call Bradleyanything other than “Auggie.” Somehow, that made everything all the more real. “It’slooking good, Cress. Real good.”

“Good,” sheechoed.

He was quietfor a little too long, but she didn’t know how to fill the awkward silence. Sheshot him a grin, but her face wouldn’t quite cooperate. He frowned. That bad?

“Are youokay?” He took her hands gently. “Because I get that this is our one shot andall, but it’s important to me that you’re okay.”

He was usingthat soft, low voice. The same one he’d used when Scott had first woken up andshe’d accidentally shocked him into a coma. Soothing-a-scared-animal-voice. Tearspricked at the corners of her eyes.

“Aww, Liam. You’recute when you worry.” She tried to laugh, but the sound she made didn’t soundmuch like a laugh. He hunched down and brushed a thumb under her eye.

“Hey.”

“Mmhm?” She pressedher lips in a hard line. The tears trapped in her eyelids spilled over. And thenshe was just so frustrated that her cheeks burnt up and she cried even harder. Cresssucked in a deep breath, but that didn’t help at all, and she made thismortifying stuttering sob sound. She could never lie to Liam.

“Come here.”Liam pulled her in against his chest and hugged her tight, hands flat againsther back. His armor was stiff and cold under her cheek, but that felt good withall the blood rushing to her head. Her brain throbbed like it was swollen insideher skull. Drowning in all those tears she was doing a bad job of not shedding.Who was she trying to fool anyways? She’d always been a bit of a crybaby. And nota pretty cry-er either. Scott had made fun of the way her face screwed up andcontorted since they were kids. If she had a scrap more shame, she’d be so embarrassed.Liam pat her back with his chin rested on the top of her head. They stood therelike that until the hiccupping sobs finally faded into slow, steady breathing.

“I’m sorry. Someday, huh? I almost get you killed, and now I cry all over you.” Her voice wassmall and hoarse. She didn’t want to look up at his face just yet. He wouldn’tjudge her. Or be mad at her. Even if she was being selfish, he’d kiss herforehead and say it would all be okay. That was just the kind of guy Liam was,and that was almost worse. He rubbed her arm like he was trying to warm her up.

“It’s okayto hurt and breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He’d managedto catch her off guard with that one. She hiccupped again and when he lookeddown at her face, the gentle laugh pulled an actual smile out of her.

“There yougo.” He kissed her cheek and the suddenness of it brought a sad, teary little giggleup out of the depths of her chest.

“You shouldn’tbe coddling me. I’m supposed to be the Pathfinder.”

“You are the Pathfinder.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek beforehis hand came to rest against her neck, just under her jaw. The touch spread asoothing heat under her skin, like he was a human hot-shower. She wondered, notfor the first time and not for the last, how in the hell she’d gotten luckyenough to fall in love with a guy like Liam Kosta. “But you’re also Cress. And that’swhy we’ll win this.”

Damnit.

He pressedhis lips against hers gently before scooping up the shoulder segment for herarmor and fastening it on for her.

This wasn’tthe way Dad would have done things. She wasn’t sure how Dad would have done it,but this was how she was going to doit. Her. Cressida Ryder, Human Pathfinder. Liam latched the last seal on hergauntlet and she was ready to go.

#fanfic #promts #Anyonymous #Mass Effect Andromeda #Hurt/comfort #Liam Kosta #sis!ryder #quest spoilers #thank you so much for sending a prompt!#I tried to respond PROMPTly #geddit #i'm so sorry i'm like this #I love you all!#Thank you for reading!

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