#but it's sad

[plethomacademia]

🌹

There was a cute post to send me a rose and I'll send you a WIP sentence, but it looks like it was deleted! I am still going to do those, but I am using this as a way to make myself write, so all these lines will be new.

Also I am incapable of sending single sentences so these are likely to be snippets.

Here's a minor argument leading into Shakarian smut:

“Mm.” He tucks his chin over her head and she breathes in the heat of his soft neck. Her fingers flex as she remembers how the pebbles of his scales there feel. “Let me guess,” he says. “You don’t want to talk about that either.”

She reaches back to find his hip, then runs fingers along the seams of his casual clothes. “Not really.”

“Katie,” he says, the pitch of his voice lowering.

The sound of her nickname sends a lump to her throat. She swallows. “Look,” she says, “It was just a dream. It’s not important.”

“You tried to attack me.”

“I did not!”

“Your biotics lit up and your body went into a defensive position.” When she does not reply, he adds, “I know you.”

[dspd]

horribly sad AU where Jon falls for Martin on day 1 but they're both chicken and after Martin gets replaced by the Not!Them and Jon finds out (basically parallel s1-s2 au) he obsessively listens to the handful of recordings the original Martin is in and basically this song stanza floats around in his head

[littlediscoveredstars]

Padme Time-Travel AU

Just gonna start off, this isn't done. I haven't edited this story in weeks and I lose all desire to do so as soon as I open the chapter. So, have this first chapter. I'll add the second at some point too

Chapter 1

An explosion ripples out as soon as Padmé leaves hyperspace. The shockwave throws her ship out of route and something hits them hard. Threepio's mechanical shout joins her own as she struggles to steer them out of their spiral. The ship resists her commands, nearly making her pull the handles out of their sockets as she grunts with effort. Her heart beats faster and faster until, finally, the thrusters return and she's gotten control again.

"We're dead!" Threepio shouts from where he's fallen onto the floor.

"We have to land!" Padmé's eyes trace over the navicomputer. It glitched in and out, Aurebesh letters buzzing on her screens. She ignores the red flashing lights as she spots the green planet set before her. Other ships are traveling to its surface, so she joins them. More rubble attempts to knock her out of the sky as she grips the control harder. She will not die to this. Padmé refuses.

She follows an unfamiliar starfighter into the atmosphere, where she then slams on the brakes to avoid gaining more speed. The ship groans in protest and it's forced to resist the pull of acceleration and gravity. The ship can take it, she knows. Nubian ships are made for rough treatment. This one in particular has lasted through some of Anakin's flying. If it can survive that, then it can survive her.

Padmé hopes.

"Mistress-" Threepio is thrown, once again, to the floor as the ship jolts sharply. She sees smoke billowing from the right, nearly covering her viewport. It's bad, but she'll make it.

Another jolt and she knows they've hit the ground. Her seat buckle digs into her side, nearly cutting her with the intensity of their crash. The ship continues to slide against the ground, crushing the nose of her ship and taking the other wing. Trees crack over her viewport, smashing the screen until it's about ready to cave in.

Padmé closes her eyes, her lip trembling. Her knuckles turn white as she holds the steering. She hopes, somehow, that Anakin can hear her as she begs for help. Please, Force, just let her live past this. This one crash among many. She wants to live.

The next thing Padmé knows, she's stopped. Dirt has filled the cockpit and she has to pull her legs up from it as she unbuckles. Her steps hurt as she tries to get out, a hand going to her side immediately. No blood, just bruising. She'll survive this.

Padmé climbs up a sharp slant to the ramp. It lowers clunkily, then falls to the ground and out of view. She then climbs out of the ship and tumbles down onto a forest floor. Looking out, she can see a clear path where her ship carved into the planet's surface. It's a miracle she survived, and without breaking anything. That she knows of.

"Hold it right there!" A voice shouts and Padmé jumps as several orange-suited humanoids rush toward her with blasters in hand. She raises her hands in the air, then winces again as her side pulls. Stupid. She should've thought to grab her own.

"I...I mean no harm!" Padmé pants, her voice nowhere near the elegance she would like it to be. Not that her general appearance is much better. Her clothes are ripped and covered in a thick layer of filth. Her hair has fallen from a high bun and now curls down her back in a tangle. She's lost her velvet jacket at some point, but it's less a concern now that she's facing off eight -no, ten armed people.

They get closer and she steps away until her back hits the ship wall. "Wait, please! I'm a Senator!"

"On the ground!" One from the front shouts, his voice intense as he motions with his blaster.

She complies, but not without argument. "I mean no harm! I just came out of hyperspace and-"

"Quiet!" Another snarls.

Just as they've come close enough to cuff her, a familiar voice echoes from inside the ship. "Mistress Padmé!" Threepio shrieks. Padmé looks up to see him holding her jacket in one metal hand and her comm in the other. He too is covered in dirt and a few dents cover the shiny surface of his casing. "Oh my! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" He yells, almost tumbling to the ground as he waddles back a step.

To Padmé's surprise, the ambushers pause. "Is that..." Two exchange looks.

The one from before lowers his blaster completely. "State your ID."

Threepio turns his head to the side in confusion. "Oh. My name is C-3PO, human-cyborg relations!"

All blasters lower now and the man pulls off his helmet to show a younger human. "It is." He sighs, then looks back to Padmé. "Come with us. General Organa will want to see you."

Padmé goes willingly now. Four ambushers walk with her while the rest help Threepio out of her ship. It's...odd. Beyond odd. How do these people know Threepio? Has Anakin been here? If so, she dearly hopes he's alright and not also being led places by blaster point.

"I am a good friend of Senator Organa's," Padme says, hoping they trust her. "If it's any help-"

"Quiet." A Bith woman nudges her forward. "You're not innocent yet, Ma'am. For all we know, you could be an Imperial spy."

Imperial? What is she talking about?

Padmé spends the rest of their walk in silence. She does listen to the conversations around her, hoping to pick up clues about her assailants and how this all connects together. She didn't even know Bail had operations this far out.

"How did that droid get here?" Someone asks the man. "Wasn't he with Captain Solo on the ground?"

"No idea." He replies. "But Luke was also not supposed to be in the Death Star, so..."

"Fair point."

They reach a small clearing where more ships are settling. Some are badly damaged -though, not as heavily as hers- and others seem perfectly fine. People hug as they exit their ships, tears falling from their eyes as they cheer. In fact, the closer they get to a series of tall trees, the louder that cheering seems.

Through the darkness, Padmé sees several lights glowing high up, in a settlement of wood and ropes. Music echoes against chirping insects and other critters. She spots a clumsily made elevator that she, Threepio, and the man step onto. The others leave them and return to the ships.

While Padmé could probably take on this man by herself, she also knows that he's expecting it. With any sudden movement, he could shoot her and be done with the matter. So, she stays still all the way up the tree, until the music is nearly deafening. A few trees down, she sees a fire burn and several beings all dance together. Little small Wookies throw sticks against helmets and instruments as they sing a tune.

The man doesn't take her that way. Instead, she's escorted into a little hut, where a familiar face is sitting.

"Mon Mothma?" Both she and Bail are involved in...whatever this is?

Mon Mothma stares at her with glowing eyes. For a long moment, the woman doesn't speak. Then, her eye water as she races toward Padme and wraps her in a too-tight hug. "Padmé...Padmé, how-" She pulls away and looks at Padme properly. "I don't believe it. I just...How? How did you..."

Something cold comes over her and Padmé holds Mon Mothma in return. "Where am I? What was that explosion that early killed me? Mon, what is happening?"

A smile crosses the woman's face. "We've done it. The Empire is no more."

"What Empire?" Padmé asks desperately.

The smile fades. "Padmé, what do you remember?"

The cold intensifies until she's almost shivering in the humid air. "I...I was looking to meet an informant about the Separatist lead-"

"What year, Padmé?" Mon Mothma insists.

Year? "5043 GSC." Shouldn't that be obvious?

But the way Padmé's friend looks at her makes that seem a little less so.

"...No. It can't be true." Mon looks up, haunted. "You've been gone for twenty-three years. Dead. I attended your funeral on Naboo and the tomb still stands."

Padmé stumbles back, nearly falling over. She just barely catches herself on the hut wall. "No...no, no, that's not right! I'm not-" She's not dead. She knows she isn't. And twenty-three tears? It's ridiculous!

But something in her cut twists all the same. She sees it in Mon Mothma's wrinkles, how there are more than she recalls. She also knows that whatever Empire they've mentioned can't be a collective joke. This is too elaborate.

So, she's left to wonder how, but more importantly, what. What has changed? What has she lost?

"Rest for the night. If you can." Mon Mothma winces at the music continuing to fill the forest. A forest Padmé has never seen before and on a planet she may not know existed. "We'll sort things out. I'm sure our Jedi can help." Mon seems to recall something, then she shakes it away.

The woman has gotten easier to read. That's a poor habit to lose.

"There will be many shocks, I'm sure. Just...rest. I'll escort you to our med-tents. You look like you could use some bacta."

Before Padmé can be ushered back to the rickety elevator, she stops. Pain like a knife in her head begins to flare. "Wait, what about Bail?"

Mon Mothma looks at her with a gentle confusion. "Bail?"

The knife sinks deeper. "Someone mentioned an Organa."

"...Right. We can talk to Organa in the morning. Please, Padmé, you look terrible."

The fight leaves her as they descend again. Twenty-three years. She still can't believe it, no matter the evidence.

Perhaps it's a bad dream.

Threepio goes to follow Mistress Padmé into the hut but stops at a familiar set of beeps.

"Artoo?" Threepio turns in the direction of the celebrations. It does sound quite lively and it's just the group Artoo would enjoy. But however could he be here? There was no word of Master Anakin or Kenobi arriving here. None that he can recall.

Threepio makes his way down a long and rather unstable-looking bridge to the next settlement over. As he nears the bonfire, he sees a large group of little creatures all gathered in song and cheers. The language they use registers in his translation program as Ewokese; though, with a heavy accent.

Oh. They must be Ewoks then, native creatures of Endor's moon.

Well, it certainly explains where he is, but now why? Mistress Padmé and he were certainly not looking to stop at Endor of all systems. That can't be good. It may take a long while for them to repair her ship and if they don't meet her informant in a timely manner-

That series of beeps pulls Threepio back to the present. "Artoo?" He calls again, now heading away from the Ewoks. The little creatures don't seem to mind him passing by, which is a relief.

The sound comes again and finally, Threepio finds the blue and white astromech at the third settlement, in front of an even larger fire. Any larger, in fact, and Threepio might worry it will burn the trees down.

"Artoo, what are you doing here?" He calls to his friend, as well as peeking over the tree base to possibly see more of this celebration. He reads human voices as well.

Artoo wheels toward him quickly. [Threepio? Why aren't you celebrating? Everyone else already is.]

"Not celebrating? I just arrived at this settlement! Why are you here?"

[Me? What do you mean?]

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'?!"

The devilish thing starts to wheel away, back towards the fire. Threepio stops him just past the bridge. "Come back here, Artoo! That explosion was quite dangerous and you still have yet to tell me how you're involved. And don't act like you aren't! It's just like you to get up to trouble like this! Always dragging me along in your silly adventures."

[...You mean the Death Star we just blew up?!]

Threepio is simply dumbfounded. "The Death Star? Oh my, that certainly sounds menacing." His optical lenses face the dark sky, where this supposed star once stood. "Well, if it's as dangerous as it sounds, then I'm glad it's over with."

The astromech keeps rolling away, mumbling insults as he does, but then he stops upon rounding the corner. That shiny lens stares out at the crowd, then slowly turns back to Threepio.

Something changes about Artoo. His binary turns harsh and accusing. [You're not Threepio! Threepio's in there dancing with Ewoks!] The metal dome hits Threepio in the legs, making him stumble back.

"Artoo, be careful! I might fall!"

He doesn't stop. If anything, the bumping gets worse, along with the accusations. [Who are you?! A spy for the Empire?!]

Threepio is forced back into the bridge. The sudden give of the floor below him makes the battle against gravity even more difficult. He clutches the twine rails as best he can. "A spy?! Artoo, what are you talking about?!"

[I haven't left Threepio's side since we landed on this moon! Who are you, some kind of cheat copy?!]

"That's quite enough!" Threepio hits Artoo over the dome. His sensors start to heat up as he glares at the rusted old thing. "I did not survive that crash with Mistress Amidala just for you to accuse me of being a clone of myself! Honestly, Artoo, it's absolutely outrageous! Only organic scan be cloned!"

Artoo startles. [...You shouldn't know that. Not even Threepio knows that!]

"Mistress Amidala is my co-owner! Why in this wide galaxy would I not know her?! Artoo, are your wires crossed?!"

[Fraud!] With a single touch of Artoo's port, Threepio's circuits overload with electricity. He shouts as his sensors go off then on again. It's too much and if he were organic, the pain would be overwhelming.

Another hard slam, this time higher up on his torso, and Threepio is sent over the side of the bridge. He tries to grip the twine but his metal fingers slip away without much force at all.

On his way to the ground, Threepio realizes two things within nanoseconds. First is the fact that his most trusted friend has just attempted to kill him. Artoo meant to throw him off the bridge. He intended for Threepio to shatter against the forest floor and power off for good.

Second, is that he may very well succeed.

Wet roots and soil meet metal with a loud crack. Threepio's components jostle within the cage of his casing, causing more snaps and pulling. Then, once Threepio can process his situation, he sees warnings if oil leaking at rapid speed. One optical lens has been shattered while the other hangs loose in its socket. When he tries to turn his head in hopes of seeing just how much oil he's losing, the bulb pops out, rending him blind.

Nothing will move. This knee brackets jolt, but won't turn. The fingers in either hand go completely unresponsive and his neck joint has bent in a way that limits how far his head can go, not that it matters much.

Low oil.

Threepio attempts to shout for help but what comes from his vocoder is a glitching shrill of mixed languages and binary.

Low oil.

How could Artoo do this? After all the nights they've spent charging together, or bickering until someone orders them to shut up?

Low oil, shutting down.

What about his maker? And Mistress Amidala? Will he ever see them again? Will they ever know that Artoo betrayed him?

Shutting down.

Artoo betrayed him.

Shutting down.

Artoo Deetoo, his best friend...

Powered off.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

.

[emmanuellececchi]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaw.... sorry.... I found octopus so fascinating and... sorrowful.

I mean... do you know females die after taking care of their eggs? Like each f***** time?

The saddest part? Once I went to an aquarium where they were taking care of one of those great octopus (I think it was the giant pacific, sorry not good with their name). And she had laid eggs. Problem was, they hadn't been fertilized... (don't ask me how it was possible I'm not a biologist! - just a rock girl, okay?). Well, even though those eggs were going to give nothing, she was going to die...

And I felt so sad. I mean if it's not one of the fucked up of evolution, I don't know what it is, okay?

(there are only a few species that don't do that but... shit)

The wonderful Glass Octopus. Living at depths of around 3000 ft and only being about a foot long, these strange little creatures are rarely seen by scientists.

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

I think one of the kindest things you can do for people with various mental health struggles is just... let people back into your life after they've been absent for a while.

Making friends as an adult is so fucking hard already and isolating yourself from other people is a very common symptom of depression, anxiety, burnout, ocd, trauma, grief, etc. Which means that someone will do the hard work of recovery/healing and resurface back into a world where their previous friends have written them off because they stopped showing up.

So if you know someone where you're like "yeah we could have been better friends but they fell off the map a bit" and that person suddenly reaches out, or starts showing up to events even though you kind of forgot they were still in the group chat... well they may have been Going Through It and you don't actually have to punish them for their absence you can just be glad that they're back.

[baroquepopcorn]

[sadclowncentral]

cannot stop thinking about the french man who during dinner responded to a person asking "should we be naughty and get desert" by pulling a face and going "naughty? it is chocolate, it is not an, uh, threesome"

[qqueenofhades]

Honestly, this sounds fucking FANTASTIC to me, and we should do it. Cry harder, Mitch.

[shadowbends]

Hope you don’t mind if I tack on @calliopechild​‘s insights here, but I couldn’t leave these gems in the tags. They make my heart hurt, but are fascinating to ponder.

AU: what if Donnie and Raph were the only brothers who survived the apocalypse?

I totally didn't draw a 7 page comic just because I had this idea of the final 2 pages stuck inside my head.

[sleeplessv0id]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

[gorgo4ne]

"Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. You could have taught an old fool like me a lot."

Referenced Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan (1885)

[longsightmyth]

People are so stupid about snakes. If there's a little black racer chilling outside just leave it alone, you don't have to kill it, it's probably dealing with all your pests for you, jesus christ

[stevenrogered]

Dame Maggie Smith as Muriel Donnelly The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015)

[futuristic-koala]