A blog for promoting starbound writers

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Prologue

The sun barely starts to rise over the desert hills as Semyon steps outside. Only its earliest rays filter through the dusty sky, filling the air with a gentle purple pre-dawn haze.

Semyon dusts the mauve fur on his hands as he meanders towards the hill that marks the westward boundary of town. He never can get all of the sand out of his messy fur. Drives him nuts. Despite a sandstorm lasting all night, the only remnant of it now is a chilled, faint breeze that stirs his fur and the leaves of the rainbow palms high above. Even the massive wall of dust is no longer visible past the hill.

Large squares of blue fabric, hung like curtains and tent walls, shield the entrances of most of the houses and the entrance of Semyon’s mentor’s workshop. His mentor, an old Glitch named Bronzemarch, needed a few fresh bottles of the healing water that naturally pools under the workshop and had thus tasked Semyon to fetch them like every morning. The shimmering turquoise liquid fills the workshop—which is little more than a few work tables between crates on a rickety wooden platform long ago fitted into the side of the natural cave in the hill—with a soothing, glittering light. It’s one of Semyon’s favorite places in town.

He hums a made-up tune to himself as he uncorks each bottle he was assigned and dips it into the cool water. His rumble echoes in the silence; the whistle of the breeze through the fabric overhangs his accompaniment. But then a sudden burst of magenta light followed by an orange glow flickers through the westward exit of the workshop cave. He cuts himself off mid-phrase and mid-dip. What in the world?

Curiosity possesses him, and he sets aside his two filled bottles and last half-filled one before investigating. What’s that orange glow? A visitor warping down, perhaps? They don’t get many of those unless the merchant Riku invites someone for a business deal. Maybe someone got lost? …But a magenta warp? Avian-made teleporters create a red warp; Hylotl-made teleporters create a blue one. But what kind of technology makes a magenta one?

Semyon isn’t quite sure what he expects when he pushes aside the thick, limp fabric shielding the west exit of the cave from the outside desert. But he certainly doesn’t expect to see what he sees: a burst of flickering orange gas—no, plasma—just behind the nearby ruined sandstone pillars. Alarmed, Semyon approaches the pillars.

And finds a humanoid being, wearing a horribly tattered short-sleeved black shirt and pants; with their whole left arm, shoulder, and half their upper back gone and leaking that plasma. They’re face-first in the sand and fading fast. Literally.

“Bronzemarch!” Semyon yells as he rushes back through the workshop into town. “Bronzemarch! Come quick!”

Bronzemarch bursts out of the front door of his small shack, ducking past the blue drape and nearly colliding with the wicker-and-sandstone waist-high wall that delineates the little patio in front of the door. “Alarmed. Semyon! What’s wrong?” he demands, still buttoning up an old black tunic over his steel chassis.

“Someone’s just outside your workshop; I don’t even know what they are but they’re hurt real bad!” Semyon summarizes between huffs, pointing the way.

“Serious. Show me.”

Quickly Semyon leads his mentor through the workshop cave to where the orange plasma-person is still laying in the sand by the pillars.

Bronzemarch quickens his pace to pass Semyon and approach the person while muttering, “Bewildered. A Novakid?”

While Bronzemarch kneels next to the person, opposite their leaking plasma, Semyon blinks. “A what?”

“Focused. A being made of plasma like a miniature star. They are—” Suddenly Bronzemarch holds up a hand to stop Semyon before he can approach, his mechanical tone sharpening. “Stern. Semyon, don’t get close. This plasma is dangerous to organics.”

“Then what do I do?” 

“Commanding. Give me your jacket, then go fetch my nanowrap from the cupboard. Quickly!”

Semyon nods hurriedly, shrugging off his muted orange jacket, tossing it to his mentor, and turning around to dash back through the workshop almost in the same motion.

By the time he returns a minute later with a thinning roll of nanoweave bandaging, Bronzemarch had wrapped the person’s—Novakid’s—wounded side with Semyon’s now-inside-out jacket, rolled them to their back, and is now starting to tie the sleeves together to secure it. Bronzemarch looks up sharply as Semyon scampers over, his screen-like eyes wide for a blink before looking back down at the Novakid. He holds a hand out, and Semyon automatically tosses the nanoweave over.

Semyon shifts his weight between his feet, studying his mentor’s work while waiting to be told what to do next. Bronzemarch wraps lengths of the luminescent nanoweave bandaging around the ends of Semyon’s jacket to seal the large impromptu patch and keep the Novakid from leaking any more of their thinning plasma. But by now their plasma is so thin Semyon can almost see through their dim head to Bronzemarch’s knee propping it up. Even their uneven bob of plasma “hair” is mostly limp aside from the odd wisp here and there. He’s partially surprised the metal-looking symbol on their face doesn’t make their...face...cave in. They don’t have anything in the way of facial features at all past that symbol—which is in the shape of a triangle with short lengths extending out of its vertices. Or it would be, aside from the white-hot fractures that almost separate the bottom left vertex from the rest of the symbol.

Semyon can’t help but feel like the Novakid is somehow staring at him without eyes. “Are they...conscious?” he eventually musters the courage to ask.

Bronzemarch shakes his head as he finishes wrapping the bottom end of Semyon’s jacket around the Novakid and tucks the remaining nanoweave into his trouser pocket. “Grave. No. She’s vented a lot of plasma and received serious damage to her brand somehow.” Gently he slips his arms under the Novakid and lifts them—her, apparently—up as if she hardly weighs anything at all. Which she probably doesn’t. Then he nods back towards town. “Directing. We need to stabilize her as best we can. Go get the bed ready for her, then talk to Riku and see if he has any access to raw metal suppliers. We may need some.”

“Got it.”

~~~~~

And thus it begins! Stellar Acclimation is going to be the first “episode”—as I like to call it—of I Was The Sun!

Next Chapter>>

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Stars

The world around Scout is blurry as she slowly comes to. Blurry and far too bright. Very bright. Everything hurts. Ow….

Sunlight from an unfamiliar star filters through what might be a window above her head. It blooms far too brightly and illuminates enough dust in the air to blind her for several long seconds. But then she realizes that there’s something soft under her. Soft and a bit plush but hiding thousands of pokes. She would shift to try and push the pokes down but she’s too tired to bother.

Gradually Scout also realizes that there’s…wood above her head? She’s in some sort of small shack or something; a few wooden beams criss-cross along the ceiling, propping up some sort of beige brick. She only barely registers that she’s laying down after she half-contemplates trying to touch the low ceiling.

Why’s she in a shack? It’s warm and dusty and the middle of the day, but the last thing she remembers is…

Actually she can’t remember. Where was she just now? Before the shack? Can’t have been the shack, right? Why can’t she remember?

A shiver ripples through Scout’s plasma as a thought eats at her core. Maybe she’s dead. Or was just dead and is somehow not dead. Is being dead supposed to hurt?

Because everything still hurts. The shudder pings sharp feedback through Scout’s brand and makes her fizzle with pain. Which only sends more pain through her brand. And makes the sunlight feel even more bright.

Owwww…..

Something stirs near Scout’s head. Focusing on anything takes a huge effort, but after a moment she discerns…is that a face? Someone’s hovering over her head. Big nose, huge eyes, curly mauve fur everywhere but his face. He says something, but the words don’t register and the low frequencies of his voice make Scout wince.

The furry guy frowns when Scout doesn’t answer whatever his question was. He studies her for a moment—why does he keep glancing down her—before turning around and grunting something. Someone else is in there?

Scout tries to move, to turn her head and look at whoever the furry guy is talking to, but even the effort of moving her shoulder or turning her head makes the world ignite in pain again. Now her head feels dizzy and light as she wilts back into the almost-plush pillow she finally registers is under her head.

Low frequencies of hard footsteps on soft wood pierce through the haze enough for Scout to make herself try and focus again. This time to find a silvery metal head looking over her. The metal man has nothing on his head except for two domed plates over where ears might be on a different creature. He has a screen with two red rectangles for eyes in the middle of his face, and as he looks over her those rectangles narrow. Eventually he looks at her face and says, “Gentle. Are you awake?” His voice is a good deal quieter than the furry guy’s, but it’s tinny and still makes Scout wince.

Scout barely finds enough energy to mumble a blurry, “Yeah…”

The metal man’s eyes narrow a bit more, and his head tilts. What’s that supposed to mean? He shares a glance with the furry guy, who mutters, “What did she say?”

Scout bubbles blearily. But when the metal man shrugs and mutters back, “Bewildered. I don’t know. I don’t recognize that language,” she realizes that they’re speaking a different language. A round and soft, yet choppy and simple language that she somehow still understands. 

So dully she makes herself switch languages and repeat, “Yeah… ‘m awake… I think.” She’s distantly aware that her words are slurring together worse than someone who has just downed one too many swigs, but spacing words out takes energy she doesn’t have.

But still her answer makes the furry guy blink and bounce his shoulders with a surprised huff. “Oh! She does understand Common,” he grunts quietly. Then he leans forward, scooting whatever he’s sitting on towards her—making a gosh-awful grinding sound for a moment in the process—and asks, “How’re you feeling, then?” 

Scout buzzes quietly until the pain from the noise dies down and she can gather enough energy for words again. “Ow,” she fizzes, “You…sure I ain’t dead?”

A corner of the furry guy’s lip curls upwards in what’s probably supposed to be a friendly expression as he rumbles with a laugh, “No, you aren’t dead, fortunately. Nearly were, though,” he adds with a glance at the metal man.

“Wh…Whaddya mean?”

“Informed. Semyon found you just outside of town,” the metal man says, gesturing to the furry guy—guess his name’s Semyon, “Apparently you had just beamed down and were severely wounded.”

Scout’s plasma dims warily. “I what now?” she mumbles. Alarm and curiosity bubble a churning ripple through her plasma, somehow possessing her despite the pain and making her attempt to sit up. Her attempt doesn’t last long. She only manages to slip her right elbow under herself before her attempt to balance caves as she finds nothing supporting her left side. The metal man’s warning and Semyon’s alarm go unheard through the sharp spark and drone that escapes her as she flops back onto the bed. Nothing exists for a moment except pain reverberating through her brand and plasma and back again.

After a small star-filled eternity Scout barely registers a thick hand steadying her right shoulder and Semyon’s worried voice urging, “M-maybe don’t try to sit up just yet, ok? Not without help.”

“Clinical. You’ve lost a significant percentage of your plasma already. Sitting up right now would only cause you more pain,” the metal man adds.

Scout groans a long wave of static that bubbles through her chest. Which only makes more pain feedback through her brand. And as the worst of the blinding pain calms down, she dully realizes the rest of it still clutching to her back and left side. As well as a secure pressure wrapped around her middle and left shoulder. She gathers enough strength to at least lift her head and look at whatever is wrapped around her. 

And finds a lot of bright blue bandaging. It’s wrapped clear around her torso and even loops around her shoulder. Or the space her left shoulder should be.

She sparks with alarm and demands, “Wh—what in tarnation? What happened to my arm?!”

“Whoa! Calm down!” Semyon quickly urges, gently pushing down on her right shoulder until the sudden surge of energy leaves Scout wilting back into the pillow like a sad candle. “W-we don’t actually know. We’ve just done what we can for you, ok? Bronzemarch?” he then grunts almost pleadingly with an aside glance at the metal man. Bronzemarch. Whatever his name is.

“Expectant. We were hoping you would tell us what happened,” he gently notes. He pulls out a small tablet from the pocket of the trousers he’s wearing and scans whatever’s on its screen with his rectangle eyes narrowed almost to slits.

Scout just fizzes wearily, “How do y’all…expect me to know that.”

Bronzemarch’s eyes affect a frown. “Concerned. Do you not remember anything about the event?”

“…No…”

“Cautious. What is the last thing you do remember?”

Scout lays there for a long moment, straining to focus. Beyond the wood and brick and loose strands of thatch here and there above her head, beyond the strangers next to her…the only thing coming to mind is distant stars. Twinkling away like they’re outstretched hands trying to bring her home. Wherever that is.

Eventually the image of the stars fades, leaving a gaping empty feeling inside Scout, and not just because of low plasma or a missing arm. 

The wind outside whistles for her, punctuated by the sound of heavy fabric flapping. A few moments later Bronzemarch makes a sound like a recorded sigh and taps his tablet. “Diffusing. Let’s back up a bit, then. What’s your name?”

Scout gathers her focus back enough to register his voice and respond, “Scout.”

Tap tap tap. A sharp noise of metal on plastic but dull enough to not make her brand hurt too much. “Patient. Do you know what the date is, currently?”

“No…?”

More taps. “Pensive. Interesting,” Bronzemarch mutters.

Low frequencies of voices register, but for a moment Scout almost thinks they’re coming from Semyon grunting words she doesn’t understand. But when both Semyon and Bronzemarch glance up at the window above Scout, and when a shadow interrupts the stream of sunlight coming through, she realizes the voices are coming from outside.

And Bronzemarch and Semyon seem to recognize them. Bronzemarch’s eyes narrow to annoyed slits and his shoulders sag for the first time Scout’s seen him. “Exasperated. Semyon, go tell them to back off,” he sighs, “They’re being disruptive again.”

Semyon nods and stands up, backing up what Scout now registers is a stool from her bed and quickly striding out one of the shack’s two doors. He closes the door gently enough, but his footsteps are still heavy and the low frequencies of his bark at whoever is outside still pierce. Scout winces.

Meanwhile Bronzemarch’s shoulders continue to sag a bit as he shakes his head and says, “Weary. Sorry about that. A couple of the other townsfolk here get…a bit nosy, shall we say.”

Scout would laugh if she had an ounce more energy left over. But as it is her plasma just bubbles a bit in tired amusement. “S’alright,” she manages, “…Where is ‘here,’ anyhow?”

Bronzemarch slips his tablet back into the pocket of his trousers and brushes a wrinkle out of his black tunic as he glances at the window. “Cordial. We call this place ‘Haven Valley.’ Amused. I will admit it’s a better name than my first idea,” he muses with a short chuckle. A dull flop registers as thick fabric now blocks all the sunlight coming through the window, making Scout’s dull plasma illuminate the room like a candle in its stead. 

As he starts to walk to a corner of the shack occupied by a small work table decked with vials and jars of stuff Scout doesn’t recognize and doesn’t have the energy to focus on, he tells her, “Advising. You should try and get some rest, Scout. Your body needs time to regenerate the plasma you’ve lost. Patient. If you get hungry or need something, you can let either me or Semyon know. One of us will remain in here at all times until your condition improves.”

Rest sounds good. Scout dully fizzes against the sleep already trying to take her. Stars are already trying again to fill her mind. “Ok…” she eventually mumbles. “‘Night…Bronze-head.”

She doesn’t fully register what his reply is before sweet, painless stars take her.

~~~~~

<<Previous || Next>>

[dru-plays-starbound]

The 'Shroom Witch

CW: Implied drug taking Words: 785

"They tell me you're the only one who might help," I say as the door is opened. I've slogged through mud and jumped tussocks, braved rotting jetties, to see this person. The agaran witch stares at me impassively as I huddle on the doorstep, coat pulled against the driving rain. I feel like I've entered a test of wills. Stubbornly, I stand, ignoring the drop of murky swamp rain trailing down my face. It plops off my chin, splatting on the jetty. The witch grunts and steps back to let me in.

I stand, soaking the creaking planks of the vestibule, and a hand is waved at the table. Two steaming cups already sit on the blackened surface. "Nab, nab!" the witch says. I take that to mean I should sit. The chair settles with an alarming noise as I ease my weight onto it. The witch sits opposite and lifts their cup but doesn't yet drink. "Hoom, squishfish," they say. I take up my cup. The liquor in it is a peculiar shade of purple, like coral too far from the surface. The witch gestures I should drink. I raise it to my lips and sniff; it smells of over-ripe berries and old blood. Sensing my reluctance, the witch reaches across and tilts my hand so I'm forced to drink or spill the liquid over myself. Bitter warmth flushes through me. Fermented boneboo must be an acquired taste…

"Nab! Mesti hab carpa, squishfish," the witch says and stands. I follow through a close corridor, separated by two damp curtains, and into a darkened room at the back of the mycelium house. "Nab, nab!" The witch sits at a table, the dark wood unfinished and covered with a burgundy cloth. On its surface is a small metal dish, tarnished and dark. The witch watches me until I take the other seat. "Hoom, hoom. Halhoom!" A light springs forth in the darkness. Sickly green, like a ball of marsh gas, it spreads along the mycelium walls. The witch's mushroom cap turns a toxic yellow, and their face is a shadowed, spectral mask. Unease stirs in my gut. The walls seem to waver and spin. "Hoom! Toi lmose, squishfish," the witch says, drawing my attention to the green ball of light floating about its tarnished dish. "Toi lmose." Words tumble out of me at the witch's command. "I need insight. I am to fight a beast which destroyed a planet. A planet which contained my friends, my purpose of being. This being is ancient and terrible and has been locked away for millennia. A more powerful being than me put it there. If they couldn't destroy it-" My voice wavers and fails. "Hab." The witch nods. A dirty white glove pats my hand. "Lli yuca, squishfish. Hab?" The witch tilts their head back, hands placed around the bobbing light. "Halb! Halb! Vay toloclbo, rtori! Toi seemo, seemo!" A tremor runs through the house, the mycelium shivering as if a great wind has struck it. "Lmose, vay toloclbo. Rtori squishfish nab!" The witch's head snaps back. They stare at me, eyes burning with sickly green light. Their mouth moves. A voice, like a crashing wave, speaks. "Chop onrsi! Smashroom onrsi! Nab oaken smashroom cantaloupe!" I can hardly breathe. The presence of this being has chased the air from the room. I feel crushed beneath the weight of a million gallons of ocean. "Squishfish cantara?" The air comes rushing back, purest salt-breeze. I nod – I do understand. I am filled with clarity of vision; with vim, and purpose. "Halhoom!"

The witch crumples. Their hands fall away, and the bobbing light falls back into the tarnished dish and vanishes. I rush to their side. "Auert," they croak. I don't know the word, but yet understanding still lingers. I dash back through the curtain and up to the next level. The mycelium is soft and giving underfoot as I move to the apothecary table and snatch up a bottle.

Back downstairs, the witch takes a grateful glug. When they appear cognizant again, I take their hand. "Thank you for this gift. I understand now how to defeat the Ruin. How can I repay you?" The witch laughs. "Halb! Icub nheei. Smashroom onrsi nab cantaloupe." The witch pats my hand. With effort, they stand and shoo me towards another door at the back of the room.

Outside the rain has stopped and the sun is rising. Mist seeps from every cranny. I'm ushered out of the house. "Thank you again." The witch gives a satisfied nod. "Vay toloclbo mesti, squishfish." With the witch's blessing ringing in my ears, I teleport back to my ship, finally prepared to end the Ruin forever.

Build & written for the SB Autumn Prompts: Agaran, Giant Mushroom, and Boneboo.

Mods used: Prop Pack, Casa Obscura Furniture, WW Furnishing, Immersive Props, Galactic Dungeons, Foodie's Furniture.

[dru-plays-starbound]

To Make an Ethereal Connection

Universe: Starbound Context: My entry for the Sept 16th prompt to the Homestead’s Fall Prompt Week. The prompt was: Theme: Rot & Purity; Colour Scheme: Earth tones; Quote: “To wander on a nameless road” / “Unsung hymns gather rust”. Concrit welcome on this piece. CW: None Words: 1270 Tagging: @homesteadchronicles​​ @strosmkai-rum​​

I sighed with contentment as I sat back against the boulder. Over the horizon, the sun was starting to rise, bathing the world ahead in a soft buttercream glow. An easy breeze ruffled the tops of dry gasses like a fond uncle. It’d been a tough night over on Dakota’s farm – bringing an electric fluffalo lamb into the world ain’t ever an easy job. Poor flighty thing, shocking everyone in range who weren’t me. But that was over and done with now, the new mite snuggled up and resting with his ma; me with a bacon and salsa sarnie in my hand as a thank-you breakfast, and a fine desert view to eat it in front of afore heading back star-side. It started out so quiet, at first I wasn’t sure I was hearing what I was hearing. But then the sound grew louder, taking over the twittering of the birds and that easy breeze. It was like a chant – had that same repetitive cadence – only it weren’t no words I ever heard afore.

Keep reading

[starheartcomic]

[awful-roffle-archive]

Starbound // Drills

CW: Death, but not really?

A/N: oops! all starbound fics

"I don't know how much more climbing I can take.. Are you sure we can't turn back? It's been days..." Nona groaned as she took a seat on the ground, nursing her wounds.

"No! You've seen the ship, I'm running out of room to put..well, anything. We need to set up a base somewhere that ISN'T in a zero-gravity environment." Phzi countered, tossing her a couple of half-smushed bonbons wrapped with a blue fabric.

"…Tasty." She rolled her eyes and pulled the package apart, tossing a bite into her mouth. "Even if we need a camp somewhere.. Did you really *have* to choose a rainforest, of all places? I think I'm going to smell like mud for weeks."

"Come on, it's not that bad. Besides, what about all the cute animals, huh?" He leaned back against the branch as he also began to eat, pointing up at a rather colorful bird.

"Last time I went up to one of those it tried to eat my hair!"

"So they're territorial! You'd be upset too if somebody marched into your house unwarranted."

"Hmph. What about the humidity? *Your* hair is standing up! And the weather? Not only are we constantly walking through mud, the air feels like-"

"Shh- shh, hear that?"

"Don't you shoosh me-" Nona protested as Phzi clamped a hand over her mouth. "Mmmf!"

"Shh.." They whispered and slowly stood up, unholstering their gun before pulling out their flashlight. A squelching sound filled the air - the sound of quite a few footsteps walking through the muddy leaves. A pack of bulbops had wandered close, with a large mandaflora following nearby.

"Shit, stay close." Phzi ordered, motioning a hand in the air before opening fire on the large beast. As the creature was enraged it spun through the air, tossing dirt and leaves in every direction. With the beast charging towards the pair, Phzi cursed and yanked Nona out of the way - making her drop her meal on the ground.

"My bonbons!.. Ugh. Alright, alright. Safety first, captain!" Nona tossed her crewmate his helmet before pulling out her own weapon to shoot at the smaller bulbops.

The mandaflora tore through the environment haphazardly as Phzi ducked under branches and between trees trying to get a good shot at it. Bulbops leaped and chewed at Nona's limbs, tearing off pieces of her clothing. The enemies were relentless, with Phzi's gun not succeeding in doing much to the Mandaflora and Nona quickly getting pinned to the ground.

"Hey- Hey try whacking them with the side of your--!!" Phzi yelled back towards her. Not watching where he was going, he ran straight into a branch - causing a chain reaction of rolling down a hill.. leaving the mandaflora to finish him off.

"My.. My what?! Phzi? Captain?!?" Nona yelled before smacking at the bulbops with her gun, throwing them to the side to get some distance. Shooting at anything that got near she bolted in the direction she had last seen him. "CAPTAIN?!" She yelled once more, pulling out her flashlight in an attempt to see between the large trees. "Come on! This isn't funny! ..The drill things aren't that hard to kill! We've done it before! What about all the trash talking you did before, huh?" She continued speaking into the forest, sincerely hoping the mandaflora wasn't still lurking around. With her momentum failing her, she, too, almost fell down the hill.

"Ah-! ..CAPTAIN? YOU DOWN THERE?" She shouted and waited a couple of seconds, frowning at the lack of response. Unhooking her climbing rope from her belt she began making her descent, keeping an eye out above - and below - her to make sure nothing snuck up on her. As she slowly reached the bottom of the hill she gagged at the sight. "Hey you leave him alone! He saved my life!" She screamed as she tore holes through the beast with her gun.

As the creature was slain, she took a breath before pulling him away from the creature to hold him in her arms.

"Come on…come on, we can get you back to the ship, maybe SAIL knows what to do, or- or maybe the Ark, maybe they know what to do, huh? Come on.. Who's gonna pay me if you don't? And I mean..hey, I don't know how to run a ship.. Hey..hey.." Her tone became much quieter as tears began streaming down her face, holding Phzi's..rather grisly appearance close. Although that didn't last long, as his body..vanished.

"Wh- Captain? Who- Wh.." Rather confused, Nona wiped off her face as she looked around. "..Hello? I..I.."

No response.

Baffled, she sat there for another 20 minutes hoping something would change. Eventually giving up, and very quietly packing up what she could carry of his belongings, she headed back to where they had set up a camp for the night. As she reached the small clearing, she groaned as it started raining.

"Of..course." She sighed in defeat and set everything down, putting up a makeshift tent out of leaves and branches. It wasn't great, but it would have to do. Contemplating throwing some more wood onto the fire she sighed - knowing it wouldn't do much good in the rain. Using her backpack as a pillow she curled up, eventually crying herself to sleep.

---

By the time she had woken up it was daybreak, and the rain seemed to have stopped for the time being.

"Hey, morning sleepyhead. I made a bit of slightly burnt steak and some scrambled eggs with an egg I found off some old house." Phzi smiled at her, putting his book down as he sat up. "Hungry?"

"I- What- But- You.. You were dead! I held your corpse!" Nona kicked at the dirt as she backed up, pointing her gun at him. "You were in pieces!!"

He gave a joking laugh in response, holding his hands up. "Well, clearly I'm not dead or in pieces now - am I?" Nona narrowed her eyes at him and picked up a small rock, throwing it at him. Catching it in the air he held it up as he spoke, "And that settles the fact that I'm not a ghost, either."

"How did…how are you.."

He shrugged. "Don't know. Woke up in the ship feeling a little woozy, took a nap, then made my way back. …Found those steak and eggs I mentioned on the way." He held out the crude leaf bowl of breakfast once more. "So.. Hungry?"

She hesitantly took the bowl, picking at the food as she stared at the ground. "…But it took us days to get this far. How did you get here overnight?"

"I'm really good?"

"Captain.."

"Okay, okay. Well uh.. Truth be told, it DID take me days."

"But that was yesterday, you died yesterday!"

"For you, maybe. For me it's been like.. A week? It's weird, I know. I haven't really figured out what's going on." He explained with a frown, "Eat up and we can get off this planet, alright? I think it's cursed or.. something."

"What-.. Yeah..yeah. Okay." She exhaled and rubbed at her head, still trying to fully comprehend everything.

[techmomma]

The whole sequence so far with Ed! (And kitty!)

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 (contains flashing lights) | part 6 | part 7

[spacecowboysandmoonshine]

What if I linked my practice fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689029 

Haha..just kidding..unless..?

[nyotasaimiri]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Been a long, long time since I last flicked this thing around, but if you’re new to my blog and want to know who the heck that fluffy grey lady is, or any of the other names around, there’s my original Starbound fanfiction! 

Tuesday updates are the chapters on this story’s sequel, so naturally they do contain spoilers for it if you’re just arriving here. They’re all tagged “arc two” though if you want to save the surprise for later.

[gamergeeker]

Vercel’s Story, chapter 3

His awakening was nowhere near as kind as his sedation. He had the fuzzy hands of a large Apex slipped around his chest as the silver-haired primate-man plucked the smaller Avian from the bed. Thankfully, whatever that sweet nurse was doing while he was out was working like a charm, as the skull pain and aching in his right side had subsided.

The Apex set Vercel on his feet and looked toward the entryway as a Glitch and a new crew member, a Floran girl this time, carried another survivor from the horrible event. This Floran was wearing the high-cut tee shirt with the small chest plate, standard pants, and an iron Floran circlet. From this perspective, it was far less flattering than it looked in the texts. Now it was smeared with blood as she helped carry the newest victim.

This time it was a human that was in pretty bad shape. There were massive amounts of blood and as this man was set down, the violet Avian that cared for Vercel swept in and buckled the injured man into the same cot that was only recently vacated.

While the patient was being buckled in, the Glitch decked in Protectorate gear headed below decks, a swift pattern of clanking metal impacts marking his descent to the main area of the ship. Upon his departure, the violet Avian merely reached into her bag for her medical supplies.

After a moment of peace, the ship lurched suddenly as they swerved to avoid a maroon tentacle akin to the one that destroyed Vercel’s ship, making the horrified Avian cling to the bars of the prison-like door that Ruka must have scavenged on her travels. The violet Avian simply held onto the cot, and the Apex braced himself against the plated wall.

The metallic crashing and clattering from below-decks got Vercel worried about cargo falling over, until he heard the cursing of the Glitch, “Angry! Crap, warn me when you guys swerve like that!” The clanking and clattering was replaced with a little more organized sounds as the Glitch seemingly picked himself back up.

The Floran didn’t seem to have any problems with this whole thing, having quickly padded across the floor and stepped off the wall to keep from losing her stability. She seemed to follow the gyroscopic flow of gravity in this one moment. It was rather fascinating to see.

With gravity returning to normal, there was the unmistakable sound of someone beaming as there was the accompanying sound of a few buttons pressed on the Teleporter pad. The crew members seemed a great deal more organized than Vercel knew, and this made him worry if he even had any way to thank these rescuers.

This pretty violet Avian seemed to have more-than-expert hands as she patched up this man, blood flow stopped now as her care oversaw injury after injury. Vercel even saw her hand dip into her pouch for a moment to grab a syringe filled with something red that was unknown to the half-blind yellow Avian.

The female Avian injected both sides of a gut-turning injury before pulling the needle and letting the final few drops of the contents squirt along the gash of the open wound, before holding the open flesh together and starting a bandage around the human’s thigh.

Vercel noted that she works very fast, but as he looked over her once again, there was a rumble from the planet that was soul-shatteringly deep underground, and as the members of the crew looked out the portholes at the planet below, Vercel managed to take a quick peek as a few ships managed to leave the atmosphere, before the planet itself suddenly ripped apart in countless chunks of crust and cooling magma.

Earth was no more.

[gamergeeker]

Vercel’s Story, chapter 2

“Captain… Vital signs stabilizing. It’s safe to say he’ll be alright. We hope…” A light feminine voice was seemingly directly over Vercel, his eyes still closed despite feeling himself waking.

“Good. Poor kid needed some kind of help, if nothing else.” A more confident female voice from the other side of the room, it seemed.

“True to that, Captain.” That same light voice.

“And you’re sure he was the only one?” A little more commanding of the second female.

“Affirmative.” A deep male voice this time…

“Captain, he may be waking up…” The pretty voice again…

“Captain Ruka, we can’t afford to stay much longer!” A different, lighter, and much less confident male voice came from another room.

“To Hell with this! Start an orbit and keep scanning for more survivors!” The assertive voice, Ruka, was clearly not pleased with the idea of having to leave as she marched away from where she was, maybe down a set of steps?

“Captain, we can’t! That thing will be coming for us next if we don’t leave!!” The same uncertain voice was pleading.

“I said start an orbit zone, Russik, before I do it!” She must be in the room with this Russik fellow, and she was clearly getting more upset by the moment.

“Captain, we’ll end up just like that Avian upstairs if we wait any longer! We need to leave now!” Russik knew what happened to Vercel’s ship, unless this ship has more refugees than just himself.

There was the meaty sound of a slap, and the light male voice yelped before the sound of a body hitting a metal wall. Ruka must not be pleased.

“Shocked. Ruka please refrain from further combative interactions!” So there was a Glitch as well. He didn’t seem any happier than the guy that got smacked.

“If we leave now, every single Protectorate that dies is on all of our hands! I will not let that be us. We are not some terrified little civilian vessel! Now put this bastard in orbit before I do it my damned self!” Ruka was determined, it seemed. Vercel found himself glad he chose to keep his eyes closed.

“I know you’re awake, Protectorate.” That light female voice whispered to him, since most of the people on the ship were supposedly either out of the room or below-decks. Vercel felt a soft hand caress part of his cheek, the other part covered by something cloth. A bandage?

Attempting to open his eyes resulted in a great deal of pain from the right side of his head, as well as a sickeningly empty feeling from his right eyelid. The world was blurry from the left eye, but he could see a few ship lights and the familiar face of another Avian, of violet and yellow. The right eye was still dark, however, and he moved to touch his eye when her violet-clad hands darted to his own wrist. “You don’t want to do that, sir. I… I’m afraid I couldn’t save your eye…”

As his left eye sharpened and focused slowly, he noted the expression of raw worry in her features as he began looking around the room. “What…. happened?” he managed to hoarsely whisper out.

“From the injury… you’re lucky you weren’t one step further to your right… heavy damage to your right shoulder and eye, as well as a concussion and the loss of vision on that side.” She moved her hands down a bit to apply a bit more bandages to his right arm and wrist, before setting a hand on his forehead and looking down.

“There is much repair-work needing done, Captain Vercel… and unfortunately I can’t have you awake in the process. I will wake you when it’s over, I promise.” With her light voice, he couldn’t help but relax under her touch as she slipped a painless needle into his arm.

His world faded to black once again as red kimono-clad Hylotl in thigh-high boots stormed into the room, before looking at Vercel and her jaw clenching, the line of her mouth a thin separation between her bright pink skin tone and black-ish belly color. The words she opened her mouth to utter were lost as Vercel surrendered to the tranquilizer this Avian gave him.

[gamergeeker]

Vercel’s Story, chapter 1

The dawn broke as it normally does, with training demanding he wake before the sun. The training itself was mostly drills and piloting practices. Coming back from rather accurate scores and successful landings, he stopped at the vending machine by his bunk room. 

He fished out his last few pixels from his Protectorate Uniform, slipped them into the slot, and punched in the buttons for the reef cola, seeing as he wanted something more soda-like. 

That is wonderful and all, but nothing happened.

Tapping the buttons a few more times, he groaned and rested his head against the glass. “Damned machine ate my pixels!” The yellow Avian closed his eyes and let his hand hover over the cola for a few moments as he sighed. He did, however, move out of the way when a graduate looked like he was going to get a soda. 

Vercel stepped back and sighed, opening his mouth to warn the human about the machine eating pixels, when there was a can of Reef Cola shoved in his hands.

“What’s your name, by the way?” the human trainee asked. 

Popping the cola and shrugging, Vercel looked up and replied, “Name’s Vercel. Thanks for getting this, man." 

Eagerly taking a drink from the soda, Vercel savored the sugary goodness as that human began walking off with a chuckle. Vercel gulped to clear his mouth and called out, "See you around, friend?”

The human turned around and popped a thumb upward, before smiling and stating, “Sure thing, Vercel. Also, my name’s Valek,” and walking away. He found himself smiling and nodding as this human headed off down the hallway.

Finishing his own drink, Vercel tossed the can into the appropriate disposal and headed to his bunk to get some hard earned sleep. Step by eager step, Vercel felt the weight of the day on him as his usual routine continued wearing on him. Captain’s Training was not entirely kind to his sleep schedule.

He almost kicked his shoes off when the solid metal flooring began to shake, his mind began waking up slightly with the vibrations flowing through the steel flooring. He looked up just in time to see the far wall of the bunk room ripped off by a massive maroon tendril covered in bumps and even eyes. This shocking information jarred Vercel fully awake.

In less than a few moments, he had commanded his SAIL to beam him aboard, just in time to see only a glimpse of a maroon tentacle shooting his direction before his vision was surrounded by the bright light of the beaming process. He landed on his pad in a panic, frantically going over himself to make sure he was still in one piece.

After a moment or two, Vercel dashed to his control panel and set a course for somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t in the immediate vicinity of Earth. Seeing as he was the only member aboard this vessel, as he hadn’t organized a crew yet, Vercel slammed his palm against the confirm button on his navigation panel and braced himself for the initial liftoff inertia.

It didn’t come, but the ship itself did shake and shudder. The whirring did start, but with Earth still unmoving out the window, Vercel began to panic. Then with a sickening weight settling in his stomach, he saw why. There was a gigantic maroon tentacle just at the edge of the window’s view, snaring his ship and holding it in place.

Seconds felt as minutes as Vercel felt the ship lurch to the side as the FTL drive kicked in, scorching the side of the tentacle. It gripped harder as it shifted, and with a deafening roar of crumbling steel, Vercel witnessed a massive tear ripping through the cabin. Pressing back against the console, he began stuttering in panic as he knew this was his end. FTL drive broken now, since the tentacle busted the thruster after being scorched, and the cabin ripping apart…

Chunks of metallic debris began breaking free as the house-sized tentacle began ripping the ship in half with naught but strength.

In a rush of desperation, Vercel put out a distress beacon for his ship. He gave his Protectorate code for rescue so that he could be beamed out if anyone was available, feeling even now that it was in vain.

Another lurch an ear-splitting screech of torn metal caught his attention, forcing him to turn around and face his demise. The last thing Vercel saw was the tear ripping up through the top of the cabin, and then a massive plate of tungsten wall plating break free and rushing downward onto his little Avian frame.

[star-fi]

3 dorks from the terrene protectorate that collectively have one(1) braincell

[toxicbengever]

Starbound

 I’m not sure the Glitch speaking form is right..

[nyotasaimiri]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

It’s occurred to me that I didn’t share this one? Or if I did, I didn’t tag it right ^.^;; This is the prologue of As Long as We Remember (and I’ve set it up in Ao3 so you can find the rest of it too, it’s all in the series). If any of you are new to my blog and have no idea what’s going on but like what you see, here’s where it all began!

[novaelith]

chapter 3 up now!

under a threadbare sun has updated to its third chapter, and gotten new cover art to boot!

i am VERY excited to get back in the groove of things! as i said in the chapter notes, i am so so sorry this chapter has taken forever. hopefully, with me being a little more used to the college life, i will manage to balance my time a little better!

in this chapter, we start to see a little glimpse of why our (anti)heroes have made it this far, and what mysteries they’re going to uncover. next chapter will be isobu facing the dreaded lunar base mission!

[starbound-fanfic]

Hi, @bubblewonderabyss here, I’ve made a blog for starbound fanfic because I don’t think any exist yet and somebody’s gotta do it ;D 

This blog will primarily feature: -chapter fics -short stories -RP logs (with participants’ permission) -cartoons/comics -headcanons -builds that have accompanying lore 

Reblogs are very appreciated, both to spread the word and to convince tumblr I’m not a robot