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sol-consort · 3 days ago

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How do you think the mass effect aliens would’ve reacted if instead of the humanity they met, they’d instead first had contact with the cyberpunk version? Or even just a version of humanity that went hard into the metal upgrades sorta idea?

I adore this ask because this AU has been bouncing around in my brain like a rubber ball ever since I booted up Cyberpunk.

It really depends on what elements from each world make it into the timeline

Like it's easy to highlight some key elements in ME such as

Prothean base on Mars

First Contact War

Reapers

Biotics

Mass Relays

The geth

The Citadel

While in Cyberpunk, we have (that I'm aware of so far)

Cyber psychosis

The collapse of the first web

Netrunners

Capitalism on steroids

Normalisation of carrying weapons

Streamlined cyberware

Moon terraforming project

Now we just mix and match to determine what happens in that timeline!

To simplify things, and for my peace of mind, if one variable depends on another variable to exist

ex: Collapse of first web ≤ One Netrunner

Then we assume either of the following:

It happened some other way that resulted in the same consequences

The second variable did exist but no longer does (didn't become widespread or something else)

For example, if we use the following variables

Prothean Mars base

The Citadel

Mass Relays

The collapse of the first web

You get a world where everything is relatively the same, except that humans now say "nova" instead of "cool" and "choom" instead of "friend"

Please, just for a moment, imagine a turian calling you choom.

Feels weird doesn't it?

"You big gonk jellyfish" doesn't have the same rhythm to it

A lot of humanity's past history would be lost, the elcor adaptation of hamlet might never occure :( The collapse of society would definitely be brought to discussion and used as a "gotcha" card when humans attempt to join the galactic council.

Now, if we add

Moon terraforming

To the above universe. We get super racist humans!

Weren't Earthside humans calling all the highriders by "aliens" in cyberpunk? They already disowned the humans who travel to make home in space. How do you think those very humans would react to a real alien.

Now, here are some very fun combos and "what-if" scenarios. They aren't full fledged timeline, more like predictions of what would happen it those two+ points specifically occurred in the same universe.

The geth

First Contact War

Streamlined cyberware

Cyber psychosis

The council might not step in this time to stop the war the turians started because of a teeny tiny misunderstanding.

They think humans are synthetics.

Easy misconception, but very hard to disapprove when fully chromed up cyborgs in military grade cybernetics is all that they ever see.

We might as well be the second coming of the geth. Until one salarian team who was sent to help the turians by studying the enemy and determining our weaknesses, finds out, that we are in fact, flesh and blood!

The war would've stretched to longer than 3 months. By the end, humanity's reputation would've plummeted even harder than it did in Mass Effect.

Especially with how unshackled AI is allowed to run in the wild on Earth. A lot of species would get extremely sceptical and suspicious of humanity's nature. Just how viable is it to count a 97% synthetic being as organic? Well, that's for the council to decide.

And if you add

Biotics

Netrunners

Normalisation of carrying weapons

Capitalism on steroids

Then it evens the playing field and humanity's chances to beat the turians doubles if not triples. Assuming we have netrunners while they don't, it'd be a goddamn cakewalk.

All of their advanced technology will be turned against them. Whole ships decimated before a single shot is fired.

Best thing, even when they get their hands on it and crack the technology, even if they create a perfect replica to emulate it, they can't use it.

Or well, they can, but they won't.

Because it requires cyberware, it requires an operating system that gets embedded into your brain and connects to your synthetic eyes. It required a cooling system because it turns your entire goddamn body into a supercomputer, a one at a high risk of overheating.

It's not like biotics implants where it lets you concentrate element zero (even those are rare amongst non-humans + asari don't use them; they've been genetically engineered). This is a literal computing system.

Like, yeah, sure, aliens get necessary organ replacement surgery when a person's state is critical. Swapping some parts to synthetic is cool and all.

But none of this—what cyberpunk humans are doing—is necessary. In fact, it's so out of the necessary. It's pure indulgence at best, absolute gluttony at worst.

No, their pride wouldn't allow them. Especially when the war escalation was partly caused by doubting the organic authenticity of humans.

The only thing that will give them an edge are their precious biotics.

Which, luckily, we can very easily use with some training!

Like implants? That's nothing. Your average night city citizen would get like 6 implants on a whim while drunk.

My heart goes out to the poor fool who was the first to face off a fully chromed up biotic user, goddamn, that must have been a terrifying sight.

But if the war keeps progressing with no signs of slowing down, then the galactic species would gradually integrate cyberware into their armies, eventually trickling down to the average day citizens.

And then it'd be humanity's turn to get fucked because we only had this one trick up our sleeve, and now they're using it against us. Not to mention the great breakthroughs their scientists (which greatly outnumber humanity's) would achieve.

Well until

Reapers

Ever imagined what it would be like to play ME3 but on the side of the reapers?

Much like they sent an invitation to the geth, one might get thrown in our direction as well! Or maybe just our AI's who knows.

But a good chunk of humans-turned-AI or humans with AI brainchips would get the okay.

Maybe even the rest would follow. Parents rushing to get their kids into ripperdocs clinics so our benevolent reaper overlords allow them aboard.

While the reapers might not protect us exactly, attacking our enemies will take priority, which is the same in essence. Offence is the best defence and all.

Anyway, this is the "everything's gone to shit" timeline, let's move on.

The Citadel

Capitalism on steroids

Streamlined chrome

I can't tell if Arasaka would be impressed by the asari's rebranding of slavery or offended that they didn't think of doing it first.

The legal system is about to see a lot of revisions as asari-esque laws get tailored to fit humanity. Shady business practices are akin to blackholes nowadays.

Prothean base on Mars

Mass Relays

Reapers

Cyber psychosis

The collapse of the first web

Netrunners

Capitalism on steroids

Normalisation of carrying weapons

Streamlined cyberware

Moon terraforming project

Aka "everything is the same this is just the plot of Mass Effect" BUT we're the first ever species to explore space after the prothean cycle of the reapers.

So no asari, no turians, no salarians, no aliens in general, no fun.

Just synthetic humans against reapers, who might not even see us as threats or true organics.

Maybe peaceful coexistence with reapers? AI prospering? Robots getting rights?

Or maybe we just get harvested and slurped right up.

Who knows.

Last idea I have is a world where after the destroy ending of ME3, humanity sprials into the direction of Cyberpunk humanity.

So while everything started the same...

your average human eventually turns from this

into this

Until just like the quarians, only the matriarchs asari remember what fully organic humans looked like.

I'd imagine the aftermath of Shepard's death would lead to a lot of exposé articles that present the oh ever so shocking reveal of the beloved hero commander being 99% synthetic.

(That is if Shepard truly died in the destroy ending)

and even if they recover, it'd be with the use of more synthetics.

And what does the total wipeout of everything relatively AI/synthetic reminds you of? It might as well be the second (first in this universe) collapse of the web!

Man I sound like a conspiracy theorist—spending too much time around Garry ingame, my bad.

Listen, I'm a storyteller, I'm here to build an interesting narrative on the basis of hypothetical scenarios and slightly smuged facts.

The most likely answer to what would happen if aliens were introduced to cyberpunk humans is probably nothing.

Nothing would happen. They're goddamn aliens. They out-weird us in every way imaginable. Asari literally fuck your mind. No braindance can ever beat that in the weirdness-O-meter

But nothing is boring, it's anticlimactic.

So I play up facts, exaggerate ripple effects, and add some seasoning to create a fun story to read.

You know I wish cyberpunk customization made it into Mass Effect. Not just for the player, but npcs as well.

Neon eyes, vibrant haircolours, opaque silicone skirt, and hologram tags. THOSE are what come to mind when you tell me sci-fi galactic civilisation.

Not...goddamn dresses with holes in them and the most vanilla latex tailored suit imaginable. Balloon iphone cover looking ass.

I mean goddamit look at these two characters and tell me which one looks like it belongs to the sci-fi future and which one you'd see in any of today's Pinterest inspiration board for pixie haircuts?

I wish Mass Effect took that leap. Cyberpunk still gives you the choice to look natural, but most people don't take it because it doesn't fit the setting!

Fashion evolves, and aesthetics evolve. You might think you don't comply with fashion, but you do. Hell, if you've ever worn a hoodie, then congrats, you've reached the pinnacle of the 21st century fashion.

Because fashion isn't about what's the most impressive, pretty, or eye-catching.

It's about culture, time periods, and what's COMMON.

It's a language by itself, a social language like hello and goodbye. And the most important words to learn in any language are the most common, like your hoodie.

Graphic T-shirts, button-up blouses, jeans, various prints, and patterns are the essence of today's fashion. Who cares if it's good-looking or not? It's what's the most socially acceptable currently, what spells "I'm a normie" in the street.

Alternative fashion is called alternative for a reason. When everyone is doing it, it stops being alternative and becomes the next preppy, the next casual wear. Is what happened in Cyberpunk despite it being many years behind Mass Effect, who's still latching to the early 21st century—our timeperiod—fashion. Be it in clothes, makeup, hairstyles, or tattoos.

It's all about the message you're sending.

In a futuristic sci-fi setting WITH ALIENS, if you want to comply with the norm, you dress like V. If you want to comply to the vintage style and stand out extremely amidst society, you dress like Shepard.

But because it appears jarring to us, because we haven't reached that trend yet, because this style is associated with completely different meanings in today's society, the ME devs didn't add it.

Because the player exists in the early decades of the 21st century, the devs wanted to use a language that the player understood. You would've developed a completely different first impression on the commander Shepard if a military personnel was waltzing around with blue neon hair and rainbow eye contacts.

but that's only until you see that the admiral himself has a pink goatee and you realise this is the norm for this setting! I get wanting to make communication easy but goddamit have some faith in your audience.

How to put this...

To get an idea of how different Mass Effect and Cyberpunk treat the sci-fi setting, consider how all foreign languages (alien or else) in Mass Effect are translated instantly, even in subtitles. Evebn when Shepard is at their most beat up and bloody. By some magic, the translator never glitches.

While in cyberpunk, there is a slight delay. If someone's speaking a different language, you only see the translation if you have subtitles on, which at first appear as the originally said by the different language, but quickly reform themselves into English (or the language you picked] as the person speaks.

Because your eyes are synthetics, you can very easily add subtitles into real life in the world of Cyberpunk. So this behaviour, while less instantaneous and rewarding on the short term, is imperative to the world building around you, to show you the limit of the current technology.

So despite both games being sci-fi, it's very hard to mesh them together because of this very approach. Mass Effect treats technology as if it was magic, which is what it was set out to achieve, it's an action fps game, the science fiction takes a backseat despite the world brimming with alien life. Cyberpunk shows you the failures and limits of its technology, your gun can get hacked, your eyesight can be rebooted, and your AI can disobey you to abide by the company set regulations and instructions.

Swords are still a very viable option in Cyberpunk because it meshes well with the technology! They evolved with the world around them, mantis blades, and such inventions.

Yet, look at how Kai Leng is treated because he dared to not weild a gun.

#☆worldbuilding #☆character study #☆general #☆cyberpunk #☆other fandoms #☆humans

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nanomooselet · 1 year ago

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Zazie the Beast

I love this little jerk.

Gotta put a pin in talking about the character in the next episode analysis, but Zazie was such a brilliant change from the character in the manga and older series, where somehow the planet having existing inhabitants before the crash never really seemed to come up much.

Zazie, this time, has much more power and agency by virtue of being positioned as a neutral observer. The Worms take no sides. It's nothing to them that these aliens do battle, only that the battleground is the planet the Worms live on. Since neither seems like they can behave, they need an adjudicator, so the Worms field a kind of... terminal? Representative? Messenger? Agent? Impartial, neither Plant blue or human red. Zazie is effectively unable to truly die, so the stakes for them are low. I think even stuff like a Grand Worm getting bisected is more annoying than anything, because all the Worms are interconnected. They’ll return through the network and become other forms of Worm, so nothing is lost. (And it’s not like they can’t eat humans right back.) They have no understanding of individuality, so the vagaries of human relationship drama are bizarre to them - but amusing to observe and manipulate.

And despite being referred to as "worms", proverbially the lowliest of lifeforms, Zazie isn't wrong to say "The Worms are the planet".

They're visible from space.

In fact, Zazie in general tends not to lie. Even in disguise as a human child, never did Zazie actually claim to be the son of those people in the gas station. You just assume that from appearances (as Zazie gleefully points out). I suspect it's for that reason they were the ones to tell Meryl about Earth. Knives would transparently be biased and manipulative, Vash might explain it too kindly (or not at all, out of a desire to try and leave it in the past). Zazie is invested, knowledgeable, but unconcerned which side comes off better.

In a world steeped in Abrahamic trappings, Zazie is an entirely different kind of god - an embodied natural force, alien and all-encompassing, amoral, indifferent to humankind. Honest, in their own way, but not trustworthy, and loyal only to their own agenda.

Which makes it real neat that teeny tiny self-righteous human Meryl is the one they chose to learn the truth.

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #check out that shirt colour :)#also their actions in the final episode are very incheresting to me #and it is very funny that an episode after all of us desperately wanted to give vash a hug #zazie actually made a move and DID hug vash #who was like. happy w/ it #even though i'm pretty sure he knew zazie was zazie and not a kid #bc vash is a precious darling boy #zazie the beast

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illarian-rambling · 3 months ago

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Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

Character Profile Tag

Full Name: Ivander Montane

Kind of Being: Mixed human, elven, dwarven, siren, and Daramakti (alien, but he doesn't know that) heritage

Age: 31

Gender: cis man

Appearance: Ivander is a man of medium height and an unremarkable build, with a hawkish sort of face. His skin is pale enough to show off the blue blood beneath, lending him a cerulean hue. His eyes, also, are a shade too turquoise to be human. His hair is black and slicked back, and he has a pencil mustache and goatee he keeps neatly trimmed. His ears are oddly double-pointed. All of this is an illusion, however. Ivander’s true face is ruined by a flesh-eating curse. He wears bandages under his clothes to keep the blood off, and much of his ears, nose, lips, and eyelids are beginning to be eaten away. The only sign of this in his daily life, though, is the cane he walks with and the gloves he wears to keep from leaving behind bloody fingerprints. His fashion sense otherwise is impeccable, consisting of beautifully tailored suits in flattering colors.

Occupation: A detective for the Unity Bureau of Arcane Investigation, a subsidiary of their police force.

Family Members:

Antonin Montane (estranged father who neglected him for his entire childhood and who keeps an abusive hold on the entire Montane family through controlling the family fortune)

Marius Montane (uncle who raised him despite the turmoil he endured as Antonin's younger brother)

Idrin Pashan-Baijahreet (mother who went missing when he was eight, a former merchant of the Flying City)

Tomas Montane (an older cousin he looked up to)

Eva Montane (a younger half-sister he doesn't know about, as she was born after he cut contact)

Pets: Hell no

Best friends: Ceyrel Gavorn is his partner at the BAI and has been his only friend for about a full decade now. She's an ornery hobgoblin with a crude sense of humor that one might think Ivander would turn his nose up at, but they both have a love of salacious gossip that bonds them together.

Describe their room: Ivander’s entire apartment is color-coded, so his whole bedroom is purple. The walls are an icy periwinkle with ivy patterns, while the curtains are a powdery mauve. His sheets and rugs are plush and a dark plum color, over a hardwood floor. Given how fastidious he is in everything else, it's a surprisingly messy space. Dirty clothes line the floor, and there's a mountain of old cups and pill bottles on his bedside table. His wardrobe is well kept, but very overstuffed. His bed is completely unmade and covered with bloodstains he just can't keep up with washing out anymore.

Way of speaking: Camp english accent - he sounds like a gay-coded villain in a kid's cartoon. He uses lots of big words and underhanded insults.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Ivander’s posture is meant to lean. He usually drapes himself in some doorframe or another, or slouches onto a chair. From the way he moves, you can clearly tell he's in pain. From the way he moves, you can also tell he grew up at fancy dinners and investment meetings.

Items in their back pocket/purse: Eyedrops, bandages, meds, rune handbook, teeny tiny pistol.

Favorite sports: Ivander would rather die than do or watch a sport. If you tell him you're an athlete, he'll laugh.

Powers: The ability to pull miracles from a mostly unwilling god and to write an unbreakable contract.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Ivander is the king of intimacy issues. He's terrified of getting close to people, since the last person he was close to disappeared in the night. He puts up a jaded, bemused, and even cruel front to cover up his aching loneliness. He'd much rather hurt you than allow you to hurt him.

Fears: Death and damnation, living in pain forever, getting close to someone and proving to himself once and for all that he's incapable of overcoming the selfishness he was born into.

Faults: Ruthless, selfish, elitist, gossipy, cruel like a middle school bully. He can just be a real asshole when he wants to, and refuses to ask for help. He's also utterly blind to his positive qualities.

Good Points: Determined, brave, clever, cares deeply about the few friends he does have. Genuinely the last person you'd expect to be truly heroic, but he does manage despite himself. When he lets himself be, Ivander is a highly empathetic person.

What they want more than anything else: To cure the curse that's killing him.

I'll tag @the-golden-comet @leahnardo-da-veggie (this blorbo's for you, my guy) @sergeantnarwhalwrites @willtheweaver @finickyfelix and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

Full Name: Kind of Being: Age: Gender: Appearance: Occupation: Family Members: Pets: Best friends: Describe their room: Way of speaking: Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Items in their back pocket/purse: Favorite sports: Powers: Relationships (how they are with other people): Fears: Faults: Good Points: What they want more than anything else:

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #character profile

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stupidlittlespirit · 18 days ago

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Just popping in re: my ask that you answered about movies and such like last week or so. I've been on an old sci fi movies kick lately, tracking down stuff to rent from my local video rental place.

It stems from endless wondering about the movies Ford missed while he was in the Nightmare Realm and what he'd think of them post-portal. And also, what movies he might have seen growing up, like The Day The Earth Stood Still.

It would be so fun to sit down with him and Stan for a movie night once a week and go down memory lane ☺️

Hope you're feeling a bit better, since you said you were a little under the weather ❤️

Love that for you!!!! I miss going to actually rent videos, we don't have shops like that where I am anymore so I have to use the Lord's illegal internet and I miss the nostalgia that comes with the whole trip out etc. Good memories attached to it as a kid.

As an aside, I think Dipper would have taken great joy in showing him all of the stuff below in canon, too. I live with this happy image of him showing his Grunkle every single one of the movies that came out during Ford's time away and them having a little roundtable chat to discuss each one afterwards haha.

Also you've opened a can of worms by asking me about movies, so good luck from here, soldier.

So, the 80's were THE most formative time for sci-fi movies (and horror) imo, which makes it suck even more that Ford wouldn't have seen them. I kind of write off most of '82 due to the position he would have been in mentally with Bill. I think he fell into the Nightmare Realm much earlier than literally falling in, if you catch my dramatic metaphor lmao.

In '82 alone, we (I wasn't even born then but let me live) got The Thing, Tron, Blade Runner, E.T, Mad Max 2, Poltergeist - which I think is probably more horror but whatever - and more. I mean getting The Thing AND Blade Runner alone in like the same month, I believe, is fucking insane and to think! They weren't even very popular at the time! Not to mention Alien, The Terminator, Predator, Robocop and all the others.

I'm going with this idea that he was a big sci-fi horror fan but he'd have enjoyed both genres separately too. Also monster movies, of course.

Ford really, really missed out on the cinematic decade of the 80's and I would be beside myself to get the chance to show him every single movie he didn't get to see just from that period alone. First time reactions to The Thing are SO good. It's my favourite, can you tell haha

Growing up, I would assume we're talking about a period from the 50's to the 70's? So to start early, we'd have classics like Godzilla and King Kong, for example.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers was '56 but I feel like he'd vibe with that. They remade it later on in about '76 or '78 or something, and it was really fucking creepy. Think he'd dig that. Forbidden Planet was '56 as well.

The Day of the Triffids was '68, I think? I loved that book as a kid and so I'm imprinting on Ford here, but I think he'd have enjoyed the movie and book, too.

In '68 we also have 2001: A Space Odyssey, with my beloved boy HAL. I can imagine Ford berating the crew through the TV like "don't listen to the demonic fucking robot AI! He's obviously going to kill you all, are you idiots?!" and then confidently explaining how he would never fall for HAL's lies (oh sweet subtle foreshadowing save me....).

Incredibly bias addition of Barbarella because HELLO why would he not love that. I bet Stan did too, you'll know why if you've seen it.....

Oh man, also War of the Worlds! He'd go craaaazy for that. Planet of the Apes.

There are so many. I feel like he'd have been a major film nerd in his down time from working. I know a lot of people have this opinion that he did nothing but work/study, and to an extent I agree, but the thought of him (when he was healthier) making time to go to the local movie theatre as a treat or him snuggled up in front of his teeny little television set with snacks is too fun to ignore.

And thank you for the kind words! I'm having days of good and not so good, you know how it is. Appreciate your thoughts <3

#asks #ford asks #oooh he is SOOOOOO!!!!!!!#all scrungly in his pjs in front of the TV watching war of the worlds on a rerun during winter when he first had the shack built!!

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marabarl-and-marlbara · 1 month ago

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hi Mara, i reread your old A:N fanfic the other day (the hatecorp one), its really interesting and i liked it!! i just wanted to tell you that + im looking forward to the next A:N fic you write ^^

hey anonymous, i appreciate that--really: i don:t think my readership is particularly high and for most of my writing i wholly expect its reception to be little more different than tossing it into a bin, so i:m always pretty happy to hear someone read/liked something i wrote (like someone snuck it out of the bin and read it);

the hatecorp fanfic is a weird one because it was my first 'clash' with going against autofiction and feeling of friction from writing simulacrum of experiences that are not my own--although i:ve been to Clearwater and talked to Scientologists and bought the books and read the books and visited teeny tiny little orgs and been yelled at by protestors and watched the Sea Org march about stony faced before entering shuttles that scuttle around the roads--i had not paid for any courses and my attempts to join the Sea Org were waved off; the hatecorp as it exists for me would stop at the org and with telling the receptionist that i want to join the org, and going home after.

i think it was part ~2 of that fanfic where i felt like i had no idea what i was writing except that i did not like the feeling i had while writing it, "i:m just regurgitating knowledge i know"--it was a fanfiction i couldn:t write with any real heart, so it only had the simulacrum of anothers heart; parts 1, 3, 4 were mostly from me (i still write about the founding sister; there are several unfinished stories about her), but it also wasn:t coincidence that immediately after writing that fanfic i decided to value my own experiences more highly and became fixated upon the Adventists and Ellen White and started re-attending my local church where i had gone for schooling and rehabilitation, and that basically all my writing after became a murk of Adventism and chirality, because, after-all: i am haunted by a ghost of adventism and christianity.

the latest fanfic i:d been working on ('which you can read as a draft on my substack on the monthly paywall posts >:-))' feels like dirt advertising a clunky draft, but i do put all my drafts in those posts) is focused on viva because, lately, i:d been wanting to reconnect with 'old mystiques,' spoon-bending, silvery flying saucers, cattle mutilation, almond-eyed aliens, crop circles, ESP, telekinesis, gangstalking, and of course: 5G, though mostly grafted onto john keel's superspectrum stuff from eighth tower--a move away from Love Corp, and a move away from a childhood in scientology that was not my childhood; i wanted to write about those blue cars i keep seeing, because i keep seeing them; just yesterday they pulled up on the shoulder and far into the grass and nudged up against the sidewalk as soon as i approached and waited for me and idled. there was that anonymous question about "what i would like to tell someone," which i still think is a silly question because as i view myself i have become stuck on a single paranoia and religion that has threaded itself through every single thing i have written and every single thing i have drawn, and every-thing is a desperate attempt to seed that singular rotten datum into everything else in different weathers and soils--and this fanfic is no different, because i can only write from the hauntings of my own experience.

fifth linebreak,

sixth,

seventh,

take care anonymous, thank you very kindly for your readership; unrelated note: i was thinking about "daydream season 3 castle rock" and what i would want to see is "protagonist is a Christine possessed teen who is starting to see the 'shitters' that are befouled by his car, and his attempt to survive the very real infection of the outer-space saucer filled with dead Tommyknockers that are haunting the town from a mile down inside the earth--sideplot is the advertising firm from Cujo is trying to establish itself within the infected town but is facing John Carpenter They Live style opposition"

#faith #archangel:nemesis

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years ago

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The music gets more intense — heavier bass, faster drums, and the shrill screech of an alien instrument he can’t name.

Lance smirks. Oh, hell yeah. He is going to crush this level.

Heh. ‘Crush’. Because this dinky game is an alien version of candy crush, basically.

Lance takes a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders. He sweeps critical eyes over the shining little animated pictures of alien plants, carefully assessing which ones are all lined up, ready to make his final winning move and —

The game freezes.

“No!”

A loading symbol turns for a couple seconds, and then a green pop-up covers half the screen — preventing Lance from playing the game, but not from seeing the timer in the corner of his phone tick down to zero.

He lost.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Now, losing a game to a pop-up is annoying. Be it for an operating system update, a text, whatever — all frustrating.

But this particular pop-up?

Oh, this popup is a thousand times worse.

It’s bright green (like, in-your-face, kelly green), with dorky black typewriter font, and a very familiar, bespectacled icon siting proudly to the left.

Pidge.

Lance grabs the pillow next to his head, shoving it in his face and screaming as loudly and for as long as he can. Of course it’s one of Pidge’s dumbass pop-ups, and of course it came up in the middle of his game. Because Pidge has an uncanny ability to know when she can be as annoying as possible, at any given time.

After screaming himself hoarse, Lance whips the pillow at the wall, sighing. He’s already lost, and it’s not like he can out-hack Pidge. The only way to get the damn pop-up to go away is to fucking interact with it. Ugh. He glances back to his screen, reading the stupidly persistent thing.

Your phone just got hacked, loser. LOL.

Lance scowls. God, she is so fucking annoying. He angrily presses the ‘okay’ button at the bottom, because it’s the one and only option. It clicks to a new popup.

However, I have just one question for you…

Lance hits ‘okay’ again, trying to get this shit over with. He wants to go back to his game, so he can finally beat the level. (It’s humiliating, but Lance is kind of addicted to candy crush-type games. There’s something about the deep, gravelly voice that plays when a level is cleared successfully, praising you for a game well played…well. There’s no action in space, okay? Lance is deprived. If a sexy disembodied voice telling him he’s doing a good job is the only action he’s going to get, then he’s damn well going to take it.)

(In fact, when he first was blasted into space, after the whole Sendak debacle, he was bored as hell in the stupid MedBay cots for a checkup that he played the game for hours, just to hear the voice. Of course, his phone eventually died, and then he realized that even if he did bring his charger to space, there was nowhere on the stupid space castle to charge it. He now had, in place of a phone, an electronic brick, basically, and that meant no photos of his family, no texts to look back on, nothing. And he didn’t know when he’d see them again. He’d cried for hours. Thank God for Altean mind-meld helmets that doubled as memory projectors, or Lance would have cried himself into space sans helmet.)

(But, anyway. Back to Pidge’s annoyance.)

Just one, teeny-tiny, baby question… the stupid popup reads.

Lance presses ‘okay’ for what feels like the millionth time, wondering what the hell Pidge needs so badly that she’s being a shit about it.

…Can you please bring me a sandwich?

Oh, Lance is going to kill her.

He’s going to kill her dead.

With a fury he didn’t know he was capable of, Lance slams the ‘no’ option as fast as he can, and continues to slam it when it just leads him to more pop-ups that ask the same question.

“For fuck’s sake, Pidge!” he shouts, after several minutes of unsuccessful refusal.

Ugh! Little sisters are so fucking annoying. Lance hates not being the youngest anymore. How dare the universe punish him for being an annoying younger sibling for so many years.

Gritting his teeth, he finally concedes, clicking the ‘yes’ button and scowling as a stupid happy face pops up. He stomps over to the kitchen — he knows damn well that if he doesn’t bring her a stupid fucking sandwich then she’ll keep sending pop-ups because she is a jerk — and assembles the most mediocre sandwich he could possibly make, taking care to pick the only plate in the kitchen that Pidge hates (it makes a horrible screeching noise if you accidentally scratch it with your nails) to place it on. Then he stomps over to Pidge’s workshop, kicking to door open and practically slamming the plate on her workbench.

She grins at him sunnily, placing her hands under her chin and tilting her head as if she is the picture of innocence.

How dare she. How dare she use the move that Lance uses when he’s being intentionally frustrating.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly.

Lance glares at her. “Texting is an option, you thick-shelled cockroach.”

She shrugs. “You would’ve ignored my text.”

“You could always — oh, I don’t know, make your own damn sandwich!”

“Not a chance, Lance-pants,” she says, turning back to her laptop. “Not a chance.”

Lance mimes strangling her when her back is turned, Homer-Simpson style. It makes him feel marginally better.

As he stomps back to his own room, he resolves to get her back. He may not be a tech genius, but —

He smirks.

He has four older siblings. Pidge only has one. Lance has been perfecting he art of driving siblings insane since he could walk — longer than she’s been alive.

He’ll get her back.

———

based on this post

#this is so dorky abshabajsbajab #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #pidge #pidge holt #lance & pidge #team as family #youngest brother lance #youngest sibling pidge #teasing #fluff and humour #my writing #fic fragment #longpost

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ssruis · 7 months ago

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cpdb rui + nene cards and emu5 tsukasa + emu cards for the alien alien/niccori survey team/opera space opera “alien race w the goal to spread love and cheer because positive emotions are their society’s fuel (like monsters inc. laughter as a fuel) invasion for Benevolent Reasons” ruikasa/emunene au where emu+tsukasa crash land on earth and are found by rui+nene who have to hide them from authorities/fix their ship… maybe len as the alien ship AI rin as the AI rui made/found/whatever… do u see my vision… the dish I’m cooking up…

Assorted vague ideas that may or may not end up making the cut:

> CPDB cyberpunk dystopia being a result of emu’s grandpa giving earth (his favorite little planet) some technology because he was like surely the humans will use this to usher in a new era of peace and love 😊 (he was wrong)

> emu’s grandpa gave them souped up hyper competent chat gpt/ai to solve their more boring meaningless issues so they could focus on creating art and then capitalism ruined it 😔

> no I don’t have an agenda against ai generation what would make you think that (graphic design major being told to use generative AI because “that’s the future” when it Looks Like Shit)

> emu crash lands them on earth when they’re meant to be going elsewhere because she wanted to take “a quick teeny weeny detour” to look at her grandpa’s favorite planet (she knew something was wrong w it. Energy outputs were bad? Maybe the alien society wrote off earth as a lost cause) and tsukasa’s like no absolutely not (they wrestle with the controls -> crash land -> emu’s like oopsie daisy 😊 while tsukasa has a hysterical fit)

> if I want to be really evil emu’s grandpa could have died on earth and she wanted to see if he was alive? But I don’t want to hurt emu like that… I’d rather just go the path of her Really Really wanting to save earth. Au version of Wonderstage.

> or maybe tsukasa and emu are just sent to see why it’s failing. But I think the crash landing thing is really funny.

> ohh maybe instead of emotions it’s music based (harnessing the true emotions behind music) and the reason earth has begun to fail is the increasing drive to create empty pop songs that go viral. That would be a better explanation than the general positive emotion harvesting if you’re assuming everyone in the CPDB dystopia is “happy” (complacent with the status quo of capitalism driven entertainment)

> “it’s a tragedy to view it from this small fry of a planet, but it’s a comedy if you view it from space” “I fell in love with you from far far away” “when this song reached over there and resonated, it was you who gave it meaning! Sure enough this universe is wonderhoy!”

> “I don’t read the lyrics anyway, so give me something catchy” “is it about the numbers than the artistry/awful price to pay for vitality/then what do we do? Was that how it’s supposed to go?/the mind going in circles and slowly dying away” “don’t disguise yourself, fantasies and ideals are fine”

> “The trembling streetlights, the pelting rain/My wavering feelings, an emotional telepath/The lost two make contact/And my heart learned of love “A fluorescent light repeatedly switching off and on/The paranormal confusion quietly ate into you/The parallel signals intersected due to singular point/Created-reality-blind acceptance-itus, sensitivity instinct”

> “we will set out to study the world’s smiles” “Between us, we have something that will turn the impossible into a possibility”

> ^ I can probably do something with those lyrics. General vibes to work with. Etc.

> (rui kamishiro voice) sometimes the cure for complete apathy/hopelessness and disillusionment with the current state of the world can be two goofy aliens (nene kusanagi voice) what the fuck are you talking about

> obligatory rui making joke threats about dissecting emukasa (as he did w wxs sekai plushies/aliens in 2024 April fools) & tsukasa going “y. You’re not serious right” “hehe” “RIGHT??”

> tsukasa initially is very “we need to fix this ship and Leave we have a job to be doing” (realizes the state of the earth) “nnnrgg FINE we have to fix this”

> (sees one bug) “nvm emu can we explode this planet into a million pieces and leave- emu. Emu why are you letting it crawl on you dONT GET NEAR ME WITH THAT” (emu chasing him around w a centipede in her hands)

> emu is immediately infatuated with nene “your voice is the prettiest thing I’ve heard in the whole universe” -> “you make me happy just by existing and I want to make you smile every day”… nene goes from “I want nothing to do with this” to “ok I’m involved now. Not just because emu asked. Rui stop laughing at me. (Would be crying and throwing up on the inside if emu was even a little upset)”

> as with all my aus the ruikasa dynamic is “oh he’s pretty and very talented” vs “what an interesting guy (I want to put him in a maze and watch him solve it for rewards)” -> “this guy is fucking insane and is going to kill me one day (said with begrudging fondness and irritation at his own shit taste)” vs “what an interesting guy (I want to put him in a maze and watch him solve it for rewards) (also I am madly in love with him)”

> they destroy the ai thing or something yay happy ending. Idk. I’m not a polisci major you can’t expect me to have a good neat solution for a huge societal issue.

> ending is hard because I don’t want to separate them but emu + tsukasa have way too much left on the home planet to ever consider leaving it permanently… hmm ending where emu + tsukasa are like we gotta go back for a bit but we’ll return to check on the progress -> more permanent way for visits to happen is set up with the eventual intention for rui and emu to join tsukasa and emu on their adventures?

> saki as a researcher on the alien planet w the rest of L/N… tsukasa prioritizing getting communication set back up first and foremost and rui’s like “is he gonna contact his home planet and ask to be rescued even after he promised to help” & then tsukasa calls home just to tell saki (+ she updates toya) he’s ok (she was understandably distraught thinking her brother fucking crash landed somewhere and died) tsukasa tenma voice I’ve upset my sister. I’m going to go run directly into traffic.

> rui and nene live together (making money thru mechanics and programming). Nene has a shit load of arcade games that she and rui fixed up. Neither of them like how society is but they’re both kind of like “wtf can we even do” although rui does his guerrilla shows on the side (how he finds emu+tsukasa maybe?). Rui dragging himself home at 4 am wounded from nearly getting caught by security and nene’s like are u fucking kidding me.

> actually I think nene playing video games and making money by being a top player is a funnier idea than her helping rui with mechanics. She has some tech knowledge by virtue of living with him but she’s also rank #1 in several competitive games. Nene is the real bread winner in this household.

> I think nene should play video games with emu… emunene arcade date while ruikasa are in the workshop downstairs fixing up the ship (tsukasa is kinda useless he’s just micromanaging/doesn’t want to third wheel emunene because nene kept giving him death glares last time)

Nene: (long winded gaming explanation) so that’s why you want to keep the higher ground during the game

Emu: woaw! you’re so smart nenechan!!

(Loud explosion heard from downstairs) (tsukasa screaming) (rui laughing)

Nene: um. Is tsukasa ok.

Emu: yep he just does that sometimes 💕!! Ooo what’s this game called??

Nene: (whatever it’s not my problem and I’m having fun with emu) this one is called DDR do you want to play 🥰

#‘why don’t you work on the aus you already have or the fics you have started. stop making new ones’ no I shan’t #jokes on you this was the first au I made I just didn’t talk about it because I didn’t have any ideas beyond the basics #but now that cpdb+emu5 cards gave me ideas…#also I already added another fic idea last night. what’s one more to add to the pile.#actually I lied soul eater was the first au I made. i think. which I’ve also been rotating in my mind again recently #but the soul eater + hmc + fantasy aus can wait. shiny new idea serotonin.#mine #emu #rui #tsukasa #nene #yet another au where rui drags emu+tsukasa to nene’s house and she’s like What The Fuck #because it’s always funny #take your bets on which one will have something written for it first. the answer is probably not this one idk how to end it 🫠#probably soul eater because I can just do one shots and rely on the soul eater world building as a crutch #if I can restrain myself from rereading soul eater again.#my writing

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femmigjedraws · 9 months ago

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Teeny space alien!

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wanderingchocolateeclair · 1 year ago

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May I introduce my Space Rangers AU, just a teeny tiny bit?

At least- some initial doodles including some designs for it-

While there are a lot of other characters that have fun designs and backstories for this au, these four (+ Rusty) are the main focus for now-

They're space experiments, escapees from A.F.O (not the person), an organisation that experiments and tries to create perfect beings using solar and lunar energy extracted from suns and moons!

Brief character info:

PL:

Was stolen as a child from Earth and experimented on, ended up busting out and saving a bunch of the other kids.

Took them to Yuuei (a built up safe haven for all, home of the space rangers)

Ended up going on some adventures with Ecto, who was now his best friend that would tag along with anything.

Became a ranger captain and eventually built a crew with Ecto

They accept odd jobs and commissions, no matter the manner of them, and get money through them (+occasionally thieving things)

He ends up rescuing and breaking out more experiments from different A.F.O bases, and takes them to Yuuei for safety.

Rescued Rusty, who was in the animal space trade, and now looks after him and treasures him.

Hes about 70% space rock and metal and random alien blood at this point-

Loves to visit earth to get the snacks there.

Ecto:

Was a royal from a planet with constantly shifting gravity, so his body allows him to just kinda switch his own sense of gravity around if that makes sense-

(he can just vibe on the ceiling whenever he wants lol)

Also has this shadowy bone demon that lives within him/as part of him.

Got stolen and his planet kinda got wiped out, and off he went to go get experimented on.

He was supposed to be 'scrapped' but survived bc of Higari.

They made friends with each other when still young, Higari saved Ecto from being killed and he helped him break out.

Ever since then, he stuck with him and became a ranger with him (also ended up falling for him and becoming a huge mess about it)

He really likes the sweets that Higari gets him from Earth.

Tsunagu:

From an ancient civilisation that is now long gone, his entire kind was wiped out after him and a other kids got stolen by A.F.O.

Was part of the original experiments carried out by the actual AFO(person) before Tsunagu kinda went rogue, killed him, destroyed the original base and fled.

He is OLD as fuck.

He would qualify as a "royal" but wouldn't use that title, as within his civilisation they were all perceived as noble beings.

He can shapeshift, never shows his natural form due to insecurities with how he was experimented on, and trust issues.

The experiment on him went VERY wrong, and he was accidentally injected with the Solar energy of an ancient Celestial Solar Being :]

It inhabits his being and goes rogue sometimes. It is searching for its "Home", which happens to be its other half - an ancient lunar being <3

He is dangerous and grouchy as hell, but has a sense of humour deep down.

Also met Higari and his crew by being broken out of jail by him and now constantly relies on him to break him out of jail. Very often.

He's a captain of his own ship and crew.

Shinya:

Was stolen from earth quite a long time ago as a baby and not only experimented on, but raised by the scientists.

He was brainwashed and all that jazz to become one of their "higher functioning mercenaries".

He aided in their schemes and killing for quite the long time until he was sent on a mission out to earth.

This didn't go well, and he ended up losing all of his memory to do with A.F.O and space and only knew the information he was given to fit in: "Shinya Kamihara, age 33, scientist and medic for space exploration"

He came back out to space on an expedition and it went wrong, he got stranded with important dangerous stuff, and eventually gets helped by Higari and his crew and meets Tsunagu.

The rest is all a very long plot. He has to find out who he was and is.

He has hidden markings from his experiment mercenary days, and only certain circumstances/equipment/technology can reveal it.

He also, mirroring Tsunagu's predicament, is the host for the Celestial Lunar Being that is searching for it's home.

Rusty:

The Bestest Boy

Is a Space Travelling Dinosaur

He is small, very huggable, and likes to eat seeds and nuts and occasionally anything else thats handed to him.

Rescued by Higari from being traded in the space trade.

He can blow lil sparkly galaxy bubbles from his nose-beak-thing, and step on them if he wants to.

He is The Best Space Ranger.

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firespirited · 6 days ago

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2024 wrap up:

Music (tagged/music for more).

Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral. I've loved a couple of singles for decades but had never listened to the full work. I happened to do so about a week before my own mental break and parts if it carried me like a teeny tiny life ring.

Afterwards, I really enjoyed Iximusic's very thorough dissection of the motifs and samples.

Songs:

Roxy Music- Take a chance with me (for that bass)

Kelis - Forever Be (Hyper remix) (for that euphoric trance y2k style)

°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°

TV:

DEVS by Alex Garland. Prestige TV in every sense.

Star Trek Lower Decks: this got to the heart of what Star Trek is about while being silly with it.

Procedural TV that's not terrible: Brilliant Minds

Twin Peaks/The Return: just watch it. watch every excruciatingly silly or slow moment. it's a story worth absorbing until Laura is in your veins. Highly recommend Maggie May Fish's video essays about them.

°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°

Film

Event Horizon: This hell cathedral is also a possessed space ship?! YES! This has some of the best character intros and practical effects I've ever seen (it's also very schlocky) - I loved it and watched it three times in a row.

Nope: A heist movie with psychodrama and aliens and siblings. 10/10

The Menu, Femme, A Different Man and The Substance were fantastic slaps in the face.

Wicked was the blockbuster technicolour fun we've all been craving. Dune was the blockbuster technicolour tragedy we've all been craving.

This was a year where I pushed myself to catch up on several classics that technically you already 'know' and are already spoiled for because they're part of the cultural zeitgeist but worth the watch anyway: Carrie, The Fly, Dead Ringers, Midsommar...

°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°

Other:

Whistlindiesel destroying a cybertruck - schadenfreude at its best

shitposting about Dune and Interview with a vampire characters was top tier on tumblr this year.

watching Belphegor the kitten survive and grow up

Pale Fire by Nabokov, just the poem. on genius.com

Dolls: VIP pets hybrids, Rainbow High customs, everyone making Barbie into what Mattel won't actually make.

Doll of the year: Monique Verbena

Squicks/hateration: Taylor Swift: insulting. Voting discourse/posting as praxis/dunking on conservatives: cringe, eurovision: spineless, dollette: barely veiled thinspo, horror that doesn't deliver on gender bending beyond transphobic shock value: worthless.

@TheLeftistCooks, started out 2024 thinking they were insufferable and now love them both.

Red Letter Media: I hated their star wars reviews and general gimmicks but they clearly love cinema and stories.

People making power banks from thrown away vape batteries.

The Rise and fall and rise and fall of X

webcurios.co.uk & garbageday.email

new SSD instead of HDD was a stupendous time saver.

fibre internet meant I could reliably upload pictures and even video.

°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°*~*°

Wish list for 2025

watch The Shining, Oddity, Good One, Raw, Suspiria (both), Let the right one in.

learn to root microbraids without smashing the braid

read Judith Butler's work on war

rewatch Made For Love (tv)

no dolls in particular (unless MGA decide to do fantasy skin tones again)

a proper coat

finish the witches books from Pratchett's Discworld

adopt a dog

#saf

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on-the-shoulders-of-rootstock · 1 year ago

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What The Fuck Is On The Shoulders Of Rootstock?

If you're anything like me, you have a love/hate relationship with the Human Domestication Guide writing project - which is not to say that I hate it. There's a lot to love!

I love the indulgent depictions of post-scarcity, I love xenobiology and xenoculture, I love the ten-foot plant-monster mommy-dommies, I love seeing capitalism and imperialism smashed into teeny-tiny pieces over and over. I can't get enough, and it's what sucked me in.

However, I also personally disagree with the way certain aspects are handled, and believe they impede HDG in general:

My kinks are not your kinks.

The Affini are too perfect.

Over-focusing on kink.

No sense of scale.

I've started this blog to set up an organised central worldbuilding reference for anyone else interested in taking the same tack with HDG. You should absolutely send in asks if any of this interests you.

Why don't I just go start my own post-scarcity worldbuilding project specifically tuned to my own tastes? One, I've already done that (like, twice). Two, HDG still has the aforementioned elements I love and want to work with, and I want to riff on them alongside others I know who also play within HDG's space.

More detail below:

1. My kinks are not your kinks. This is the big one for me. I acknowledge that HDG was originally started explicitly as noncon intox hypno brainwashing petplay erotica, but that's not my speed. My relationship to submission is about maintaining self-control and making the decision to obey, rather than having my decision-making forcibly taken away from me. Intox, hypno, brainwashing, etc. all run against my ability to enjoy the HDG themes I do like, and I am picking and choosing what's on my plate while still leaving room for others to add the usual stuff in.

2. The Affini are too perfect. This is with regards to the way the Affini are written in "canonical" HDG media as being perfectly-competent supreme overlords who can do no wrong and have negligible rates of failure at anything they do. For me, this is boring. Characters in media are fun because they are imperfect, because they fuck up every once in a while, because things don't always go their way. Mistakes are how people learn, and a character that doesn't learn is very dull. I want to introduce fallibility and limits to the character that is The Affini Compact as a whole, making them a more compelling and interesting force within HDG stories. Conversely, I also want to depict the Affini as having earned their seat on the galactic stage. I want to see them engage in the sort of logistical and political exercises needed to remain such a powerful civilisation. I want to see the kind of underhanded and manipulative tactics you need in order to invade and pacify other cultures without harming them. It makes them feel more powerful and alive.

3. Over-focusing on kink. Just like #1, I feel that most depictions of Affini in canonical HDG stories flatten their biology and psychology to the bare minimum required to be titillating objects. Every single Affini is reduced to a slavering predator eager to abduct and mindbreak her next victim. Yes, HDG is erotica, but where's the nuance? Where's the rest of the iceberg? What do the Affini do when they aren't fucking aliens? How do the Affini maintain such a dominant political position in the galaxy? These things are missing, and so too is any sense of the Affini being real people.

4. No sense of scale. Canonical population estimates sit at some silly number like 10^30 individuals, with a territory covering at least a dozen galaxies. This is comically large, and makes the Affini a dominant supermajority crowding out just about every other species. Also, where are the Affini going to find a floret for everyone? It's just silly.

Q: What does all this mean in practice?

A: It means I'm currently worldbuilding a bigass lore document for Affini, My Way and it's growing every day. It's still in a very rough, draft-y state but I'd love to hear what others have to say about it if this project catches their interest. My personal favourite highlights are "Affini are omnivorous heterotrophs" and the name for Matter Trainers. See below!

Further up on this canvas are my notes for outlining a planned HDG story set in this style, but they're not ready to be shown to anyone just yet (would love to chat about my ideas, though).

#HDG #Human Domestication Guide

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persephoneflouwers · 1 year ago

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i used to go here a while back even though i wasn’t rlly a proper larrie (complicated lol). at one point i started talking mad shit about them and everyone hated me only for me to come back and see how different people move now. womp womp :/ i genuinely feel like everyone dislikes them a teeny tiny bit, it’s weird to see. back then it was a big deal if you got away with a tad bit of criticism and anyone who was proper bitter was ousted into a small corner of this site where they stayed bitter with their anons. and it was also like 3 people. now im checking random blogs and literally everyone has some shady thing to say. DESERVED tbh. leaving before I say more. sorry if this is annoying or unnecessary. i just wanted to say it 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

I mean… if you’ve been following closer, they have been clearly very hard on larries for a while. Take Harry for example. This past summer he made his life purpose to destroy all things larries used as… something lol blue bandana? Here, X*nder have it. Sweet creature? It’s for Gemma and he said it in front of 90K people which was very humiliating imo. Umbro shirt? Listen, he’ll have it for a pap walk he will have to promote his brand and yall like bluegreen nail polish. And the last one, the one people willingly ignore, he has O*ivia name tattooed on his INNER THIGH. I dont think it gets worse than this lol do I even have to mention the biking sessions to promote a theatre play or…?

Louis has been a dickhead on twitter since he was in the band. Yesterday he was even more of a dickhead than he used to. If he wants to be the third Gallagher brother he should be asking them first. He was unnecessarily rude with everyone and with the chicken parmesan thing he showed to me he doesn’t even read the tweets or whatever issue with reading comprehension he has going on.

The good thing about social media instead of live or interviews is that you can take your time to write down some articulated response and that you happen to choose what you reply to.

He announced he was going to do this thing 24 hours prior, went online and treated everyone with sufficiency. Totally unprovoked. Can you see how prepared this was? That makes it even worse because he is acting like this on purpose and everyone knows it. Like what’s the point of doing that speech on stage everyone gets so emotional for if you go online and bicker with your fans? They’re not taken for granted when they buy your tickets, but when they tweet constantly about you and keep you relevant on social they’re? This tells a lot to me.

The problem is he wants to deny what he created (he mentioned the recipe even for walls promo) but he puts a target on larries’ back as always, because his fans can be unreasonably nasty and the pop world hates larries already they don’t waste a minute to start alienating them, insult them and bully them out of the safe space they have created for themselves. It’s the marketing they have chosen, their propaganda.

It’s weird when accounts with huge following interact with this part of fandom, because they never do it to “protect” them. We’re talking about a loud, mostly queer and young side of his fandom… I wonder what would happen if larries finally decided to turn their backs at them (which I encourage to do). Yes, there still might be a target on them but at least it wouldn’t be like that. I’m pretty out of the fandom, barely talk about them but I still follow some blogs so I know a few things. I’ve realised I’m not comfortable anymore here. I still want to write a few stories because it’s fun and I like the exercise but that’s going to be it.

#it is very deliberate to not mention Palestine and the genocide #and honestly they can get fucked for that #casella di posta numero 32

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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years ago

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #28)

Alexander is back and he's ready for.... napping. No, no this chapter is interesting, I swear.

Chapter #28. Alexander wakes up from his nap but has a much harder time getting Nat to come to from hers. How will he solve this problem? You guessed it. Through rage and yelling.

Previous: Chapter #27

Next: Chapter #29

Word Count: 6,603 Read Time: Approx. 51 mins

CW: adult language, angst, allusions to medical abuse

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 , @honey-olive , @bittykimmy13 , @aceouttatime , @imvenusasaboy , @liminaldaze , @windshield-patent , @joxter-coded , @rosella35 , @narrans , @rubeau-art , @littlescaryinternetguy , @jae-from-discord , @kitn-underfoot , @secretly-small @writing-forever , @iinogongju , @tales-of-aestus-deactivated2023 , @itsgothgirlthyme , @make-me-giant , @reborrowing , @whatthisfemsheplikes , @soapysoap69

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #28: Rosemary for Remembrance

[Natalie’s POV]

My heart leapt in my chest as I looked over what I’d carefully crafted. Balanced delicately on the aluminum lid of a mason jar, which served as a tray of sorts, was a tiny place setting, complete with a dish I could balance on my pointer finger, a miniature glass of water with a few drops filling it to the brim, a mug of tea, and teeny tiny little utensils, small enough that I had to press the tip of my finger into them to pick them up. Piled high on the plate was a simple, very finely diced, medley of chicken and peppers over an adorably small bed of quinoa. Simple, yet filling and wonderfully displayed in perfect, proportionate miniature just for him. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I revealed it to him. I delicately placed a paper napkin over the top of it all and laid the whole thing in the flat of my hand.

Picking up my own plate, I padded down the hallway, almost giddy like a little kid. I couldn’t deny, it hurt when he’d thrown his little fit about the clothes. I’d been excited for them, how could I have possibly known he expected to dress like freakin Downton Abbey every day? I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as a smile curved my lips, in spite of myself: what a little mess he was. But hey, for all his fussing about clothing, maybe I’d be able to make it up to him with a warm meal. He must’ve been starving at this point.

I paged the door with my side as I slipped into the room, biting my lip to keep from beaming. I’d just opened my mouth to announce that dinner was served when I laid eyes on him.

Instead of finding him fidgeting impatiently in his little desk chair or pouting with his arms crossed on the edge of the bed, face flushed from the horrors of being forced to dress casually, he was fast asleep, splayed out on the right side of his tiny mattress. My heart melted.

I gently laid out two very differently sized place settings down on the surface of the vanity, carefully balancing the mason jar ‘tray’ on his little desktop. With one sweeping motion, I made sure the thin napkin stayed in its place, serving as an extremely low budget cloche.

Once all was settled, I turned my eager attention to the sleepy little life below me. His deep slumbering breaths caused his chest to rise and fall to the rhythm of his slowed heart. I felt a thrilling tingle trace my spine as I noticed what covered that tiny beating breast: crimson letters each no bigger than 8-point font. I’d secretly hoped his keen eyes would spot what I’d purchased especially for him. Smart little thing. If anyone deserves a free ride to Harvard, it’s you.

His right hand lay slack over his abdomen, rising and falling with the air in his lungs. His injured leg was splayed straight out, while his left was bent, tucked beneath his hurt knee. His left hand had fallen limply at his side, just barely balancing on the edge of the mattress. I don’t know why, but the detail of seeing his tiny head, usually all full of blustering anger and intellectual fervor in his waking hours, resting on a tiny pillow, almost overwhelmed me. It delighted me to no end to see him interacting with furniture that fit him. For a moment, if I squinted my eyes, I could imagine my perspective was just an aerial shot in a movie and the little man before me wasn’t tiny at all, but belonged perfectly to a world that matched his proportions. I suppose he’d dreamt of such an impossible fantasy quite often.

Hello there, Alexander. I propped my head on my elbow and took in the mesmerizing sight of the man who could fit in the palm of my hand. Dinner could wait a minute… or thirty.

There was something wonderful about watching him in this moment of total tranquility, it was like a window into a future where he felt safe and satisfied. Poor little man, even without knowledge of all the details, I could tell he’d had a hard and painful life. I could imagine pretty much everyone at his size had. They were so vulnerable, after all. Looking at his bandaged leg, I was reminded that despite all his boisterousness and snapping, he was actually quite a fragile little being. It was easy to forget sometimes. He put so much effort into tricking you into thinking the opposite, after all.

I knew he was utterly wiped. Especially after all the melodrama in the bath. He deserved to sleep peacefully, knowing no one would ever dream of hurting him again. Not on my watch. As long as he’d let me, I’d be more than happy to do everything in my power to give him that peace of mind.

A pang of guilt rushed through me as a biting, critical thought burned through my cortex, searing the edges of my amygdala (did I remember Psych 101 well enough to get that right?). Despite my genuine desire to keep him safe, I’d hand-delivered him to hell on earth, myself. He couldn’t recall the details yet, but I believed him when he said they’d been cruel. I felt the burning sensation cut through my chest. Would I ever be able to make up for what I’d done? Or would he want nothing to do with me the second he could stand on his own two feet? Could I even give him what he needed to be happy if he could stomach the idea of staying with me?

Just then, he twitched in his sleep. It was nothing more than a microscopic little clenching of his fist and twitch of his brow as he pursed his tiny lips, still, I felt my heart skip a beat. Enough agonizing over the future, all I could do right now was relish in this precious moment. He was with me for now, and maybe that was enough. Not only that, but he was safe, comfortable and relaxed. That’s all I wanted for him.

Staring down at his little form, practically sinking into the surface of the mattress, I felt a tingling sensation run the length of my spine. Would this ever get old? I couldn’t imagine it would. The only thing that could possibly make this better is if it was my hand that held his limp little body aloft as I felt him twitch against the surface of my palm. Blood rushed to my cheeks just thinking about what a precious gift it was to get to hold him while he slept. I didn’t think I’d ever forget how that felt, even if I wanted to (not that I ever would). And he’d looked me directly in the eyes and requested it from me! He saw me, at least for that one moment, as a safe place to rest his head. All I wanted was to be deserving of that trust. I was painfully aware I had a long road ahead of me for that.

I shook my head, banishing the guilt again. Present moment, Nat. I reached for my phone and flipped on the camera. If I wanted to stay focused on the gift of this precious instant, I supposed it could last a lot longer if I captured it in a photo.

Making sure the flash and shutter sound were off, I aimed the camera at his little sleeping form, delighted that all of him fit easily in the frame, and took the picture. There, now when you’re pissing me off I can remember that sometimes you’re actually pretty cute. Granted, it’s only when you’re unconscious, but, we’ve gotta start somewhere don’t we? I couldn’t help but smirk. He was such a handful, this angry little spitfire, but he was also the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Who else was gonna drag me kicking and screaming through my last semester, and guilt me into cleaning to boot? Not to mention being the perfect pocket-sized, taste-tester for all my recipes. I knew he meant a thousand times more than all that, but I blushed to even think of those things.

I could stay here and stare at him adoringly for hours and not even feel the time go by, but he deserved to rest as long as he wished without me accidentally waking him. Poor thing, I imagined it’d be kinda terrifying to wake up with someone gigantic just looming directly overhead. I needed to give him his space.

Reluctant to let go, I sighed, settling on the edge of my bed, as close to his little sleeping form as I could get, resting my head at the foot of the mattress, so my gaze lined up directly with where he lay. If he needed anything I’d be close at hand. Sweet dreams, Alexander, I’ll be right here when you wake.

Much more quickly than I expected, I found my eyelids getting impossibly heavy as my breathing lagged and sleep claimed my mind and body. I’d forgotten how little rest I’d had today. It felt good to drift off into oblivion, knowing that tiny life, only an arm’s length away, was safe and sound.

******

My sleep was blissful and dreamless for a while, my body sinking into the surface of the mattress... My mattress. I desperately needed the rest, it was evident by how quickly I’d fallen asleep in the first place. I was warm, safe, and the aching pain in my joints faded with my consciousness. My body craved a moment to recover, that much was clear, and it was a delight to be able to give myself that gift.

But, as my breathing slowed to a deep, dull cascade, and my muscles melted into the fabric, releasing every fiber of tension into the forces of gravity, the ghost of an image began to form in my mind’s eye.

It was hazy at first, like the tendrils of silvery smoke in the split second after a flame has been extinguished, flashing in and out of sight as it dissolves into an inky black void.

I saw something electric blue, hurtling toward me, massive, forceful, frightening. Its surface undulating with strange lines and shadows. I wanted to run, to yell and fight, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Another appeared, and another and another. As if emerging from the very pitch blackness of my subconscious. They were wrinkled, undulating, living.

My head spun and a bad taste rose in my throat like bile, but stinging, my lips and tongue abuzz with the sensation, as one of those tendrils slammed into my chest, pinning me like some prized butterfly in a case, unable to escape the possessive gaze of all who looked upon me. These blue things were fingers. Fingers attached to a human hand. This was not a fantastical nightmare, but a memory.

Another one, thick, strong, in no way holding back its immense strength against my fragile frame, pressed into the soft flesh of my throat, tipping my head upwards, while others suspended the motion of my wrists and ankles. Truly like a bug on display, all pinioned and poised. In the distance, my ringing ears could make out voices, rumbling with the thunder of a burgeoning storm: one male, one female, like boisterous claps of thunder, terrifyingly loud yet impossible to discern, at least not in this fever dream of a memory. I watched in helpless horror as something cold, and biting slid into my arm. A needle as thick around as my littlest finger, the liquid burning as it entered my veins.

Don’t fall asleep. Just don’t fall asleep. You must fight. You can’t let them win. The wind rushed from my lungs as I was lifted again, head lolling as the drugs began to take hold. No wonder I’d struggled to remember this… I’d been utterly intoxicated! If they wanted a more pliable plaything, they certainly had one now, these monsters. They were faceless, nameless entities of evil who delighted in nothing more than torturing me simply because they had the power to do so. I felt an insatiable urge to cry and scream all at once.

But as I was picked up against my will, in my final moments of lucidity, I’d managed to throw my gaze down far below. Just what had I seen there? I knew it was important by the way I could feel my heart thundering away at the mere thought.

Yet, as I anticipated the most pivotal moment in my waking nightmare, the image was growing hazy, the smoke of this ephemeral ghost-like memory was starting to burn itself out.

No! No, not now! Please not now. I must remember…

I willed the images back from the void of my exhausted brain. Black uniform lines on white, as crisp and pristine as a raven’s feather on new fallen snow, began to materialize. The type font, militant in its precision, seemed to repeat endlessly in an upside down sea of useless text. I’d been well on the way to passing out by this point. It was entirely possible the anesthesia had erased these final moments from my mind.

I refused to accept that as a possibility. Think, Alexander! The rumbling, gruff and ever irritated voice of my sometimes caretaker, sometimes torturer entered my mind, as I recalled the many times he berated me for misquoting a Latin verse of Homer by a single mis-conjugated verb, “Make use of that little engine between your ears… think! It’s the one thing I shouldn’t be forced to do for you!”

I strained to turn the infinite lines of ink, which seemed to be shrinking more and more as I was pulled farther and farther away, into meaning. And that’s when, as if bending to my force of will… I remembered precisely what I’d managed to read in a panic before succumbing to their methods to pacify me.

I shot up, with a cry, body soaked in a cold sweat. All the pain that had faded with sleep now coursed through my spinal cord, lighting up my neurons as I couldn’t help but wince. Light tortured my eyes for a moment, before I was able to take in the world around me. I was still in my bed, still on Natalie’s dresser, and still safe from the nightmare I’d just relived. My chest was heaving as my fists clutched the sheets and I struggled to breathe. Yet, right in front of me, something was quite different.

Instead of the barren, unmade bed with its sea of tossed sheets, a woman, a mess of curls obscuring part of her face, occupied my view, fast asleep and heedless of my tortured dreams and frightened waking. That woman, who’s fingertips had become more familiar with my body than any other set of human hands, lay on the very edge of her bed, her head resting at the foot of the mattress. She’d arranged herself in a rather unorthodox way… Why? Her positioning seemed neither comfortable nor practical. Had she been so exhausted she just passed out like that? I supposed I wasn’t in a position to judge, I’d essentially done the same thing.

I admit, it was a bit of a blow to my pride that even my anguished cry as I woke from a bad dream was too tiny and unremarkable to stir the human before me. She was fast asleep as I looked on, my blood thrumming though my veins and pounding in my head as my breath came in broken hitches. She was the picture of perfect stillness while my body trembled with anticipation. I’d remembered! Finally, I knew, in excruciating detail, what they’d done to me.

I watched her with hawklike precision, her breath heavy like a rolling, lazy tide. I leaned forward, speaking with a sharp whisper, “Hey! Natalie…” the tide rolled in and out, unburdened by me. I felt a tightening in my chest as I tried again, “Natalie! Wake up!” Nothing. Dammit, really?? I cupped my hands and gave a shout across the vast cavern of space that in reality was only maybe three or four feet across, “NATALIE!!” She didn’t even flinch, her breathing deep and unencumbered.

Fired up now, and without a moment’s hesitation, I leaned over the bedside and clutched a scrap of brown packing paper from the floor below. It came as no surprise that it lay precisely where it had fallen: of course, she couldn’t be at all bothered to put anything away in a neat or orderly manner. Her lack of cleanliness now came to my aide, as I ripped off a piece, and crumpled it into a ball only a bit larger than my fist. I took aim and fired. It fell short.

Damn my little frame!

My face flushed hot with anger as I fashioned another projectile and tried again. This one hit its mark, glancing off her forearm, which cradled her head. My celebration was short lived, however, as I watched her twitch slightly and then nestle further into the crook of her arm, mumbling slightly.

Wake up already, you giant indolent fool! I’m at the absolute limit of my patience!

In a flurry of motion, I made several more projectiles and began lobbing them as hard as I could. The first glanced her cheek, the next nestled in her hair, but the third smacked her right between the eyes.

Bullseye!

She woke with a groan and flailing of limbs. This sudden movement would have been frightening had I been within striking range, but seeing as I was at quite a safe distance, her reaction was rather amusing.

“What the fuck?!” She batted at the attack, opening her eyes as she wrinkled her nose, as though it had made her itch. The one paper ball that had tangled in her hair stayed trapped amongst her dark tendrils, even as she began to sit up, “Alexander! What the fuck are you doing??”

I replied with another volley of paper, narrowly missing her eye by perhaps a quarter inch. She gasped, startled, as her spine straightened and she sat upright on the corner of the bed. She was much taller than my line of sight again, her head high enough that I had to crane my neck to look at her, but, I supposed, that was the norm. Her forearms flew up to protect her face, as I threw what ammunition I had left, she cried out in a frustrated protest “Stop it! Stop! You have a shockingly strong throw for someone your size. You’re gonna stab me in the eye with one of those!” I refused, taking out all my anger about the vet, about being too little for her to even hear, and for not being there when I needed her, as I prepared to throw my final round. I twisted over my shoulder wrenching my wrist far back behind, prepping my elbow for a strong follow-through, as her hands were raised in frantic protest.

************

“Alexander! Stop that! I’m up now!” What the hell, little man?? I thought we’d made good progress, yet here he was hurling things at me in a tiny fit of rage!

He wrenched back to throw it, muscles twitching, “Alexander!! Don’t you dare! Do not throw that at me!” We were both still as statues, frozen in time, staring each other down, “…I mean it! What’s gotten into you?? Put it down.”

He didn’t budge.

“Seriously, you little bastard, what the fuck happened to you between the time I left and came back? You were sleeping so soundly when I came in. You were goddamn adorable and I thought ‘Awww, he’s actually pretty sweet’… and then it’s like you went all Mr. Hyde on me on a dime… Ah! I see your arm twitching. Don’t! Don’t do it! Why are you so mad? What happened to that pretty little smile, huh?”

That was very much the wrong thing to say apparently, because a ball of packing paper collided directly with my cornea less than half a second later. Ouch. But also? Good aim.

I sucked in a deep breath to calm myself before gingerly pushing off of the corner of the bed and kneeling in the carpet, closing the gap between the angry little man and I by about half the distance, while also getting us closer to eye level, “Okay…. I don’t understand what just happened, but clearly we’re not communicating in the best way possible and you seem upset. I’m sorry for that. What can I do, Alexander? How can I fix this? It may surprise you, because of how often it happens, but I’m really not trying to piss you off, I swear.”

He avoided my eyes, as I blinked mine rapidly, tears falling down my cheek as my eye recovered from the blow. He sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, “Hey, please tell me what’s going on in your head. I obviously did something wrong to get the surface of my eye scratched. I’m sorry if I offended you. Are you mad because I fell asleep? Did you need me and I wasn’t there? I’m so, so sorry. God, and all this time I still haven’t given you your pain meds. I’m sorry, Alexander, you must be miserable and I’m fucking it all up. I’m still kinda getting used to this whole ‘learning to be responsible for another life’ thing…”

As I stumbled over my words, I noticed his shoulders soften, as his stiffened spine relaxed a little, and he let out a sigh before finally tipping his chin to meet my eyes. That crystalline blue gaze, usually sharp enough to cut like a knife, was just a tiny fraction softer, more forgiving, “I am in a dizzying amount of pain, I’m starving, and as you could see from my recent unconsciousness, I am desperate for sleep. Perhaps, because of these contributing factors, I was responding a bit more strongly than I should have.” Wow. That was the closest to a kind of apology that I’d ever gotten from him! Well, besides those little flowers. He continued, “But I…. I wanted to… I was hoping that… Natalie, I remembered what they did to me.”

It felt like a bomb went off in the foot and a half space between us. Just like that, my heart was in my throat. I could feel the throb of my agitated pulse in my neck, pounding in nervous waves. What had they done? I was terrified, but I had to know, “Oh my god! Alexander! That’s… that’s huge! Why didn’t you tell me sooner??” The dead pan stare I received was all the reminder I needed, “Oh… right… well, I’m ready to listen, now, I promise. But do you want food and medication first? What do you need most right now?”

*******

She gingerly placed her right hand on the surface of the dresser, a pointer finger absentmindedly floating up to caress the top of my left foot and ankle, which dangled off the side of the bed. This was as close as she’d dared to get and I felt myself instinctually jump when her skin pressed into mine. Normally, I would have pulled away, frustrated by the contact, but just now, I got the sense that she needed to touch me, almost as a way to soothe herself. She clearly felt badly for having fallen asleep and for upsetting me. I could see she was really trying to apologize and do better. That counted for something. Maybe this human was capable of improving.

“Yes, something to eat and some pain relief would be very welcome right now. Thank you, Natalie.” As I spoke, I caught her eyes. Her lips pressed together into a line as her brow furrowed compassionately, and she nodded.

“I bet the food is pretty cold now. Give me a second to heat it up and prep your meds, okay?” She very softly patted my ankle as she pulled her hand away and stood. It was my turn to nod, as she reached across the dresser for something covered by a paper napkin sitting on my desk. I hadn’t even noticed it was there before.

I didn’t like being left alone right then. The second she disappeared behind the door, images of my torture came flooding in. I saw blood, scalpels, fingers, so many prodding fingers, my nerves ablaze with pain, their grotesque faces twisted into saccharine smiles as they teased me. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I laid back, resting my head on the pillow, trying to keep my heartbeat steady and my mind clear. I wish I’d asked her to take me with her. The discomfort of being held and carried paled in comparison to the anxiety that was assaulting my senses now.

My forehead became damp with a cold sweat, blood thundering in my ears, as I clutched crimson letters and fabric in a fist, applying pressure to my fluttering chest, as my stomach churned. I couldn’t help this psychophysical response to the painful memories that were battering my brain. It was as though I was reliving it, despite being safe from harm. It was embarrassing, to say the least, not having control over my own nervous system.

Air was suddenly difficult to come by, as my chest heaved and found no real relief. I kept seeing those indistinct blue devices of torture, squeezing my face, yanking my hurt leg, pinching my bruised ribs. These very small parts of the human body that each were enough to subdue me. I trembled, face growing redder as air continued to evade me.

Just then she returned, saying something about the meal. I wasn’t exactly listening. But the moment she saw me, half collapsed on the bed, clutching my chest, she put down what she was carrying and rushed to my side.

*******

“Woah, what’s wrong? Hey, hey, Alexander? You having a hard time catching your breath? Okay, I think you’re having a panic attack. That’s okay, we can get through it. These things are a pain in the ass but you’re way too chaotic yourself to be bested by one of these fuckers…” I spoke softly, and couldn’t help but notice the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a hint of that crooked smile, “Can you sit up? Okay good. Is it okay if I get nearer? Can I touch you?” His brow furrowed as he winced from pain while sitting upright, but he still managed to nod in the affirmative and flash his eyes up at me. Those pretty blue eyes. Even in a crisis they managed to burn an impressive shade. As he adjusted himself, I laid my right palm beside him, my pointer and middle finger very gently stroking his back, while my thumb smoothed his hair away from his eyes, before resting in his lap. He propped his left hand on the knuckle and squeezed, blinking rapidly. He needed help regaining control, “Hey, look at me, let’s try to breathe nice and slowly in and out. Follow my lead, okay?” He did so, still gripping onto my thumb as tightly as he could, “I’m so sorry they hurt you. They will pay for what they’ve done. I know you’ll make that happen. But they’re not here and they can’t get to you right now. It’s just you and me. And I don’t ever want to hurt you. I may annoy the ever living hell out of you, but I’d never want to harm you.” He shook his head slightly as he hugged my thumb against his chest. He was finally getting air into his lungs and I could feel his little hummingbird heart slow to a more manageable rhythm. I ran my pointer finger along the length of his spine, delighted he was allowing me to physically comfort him at all.

“That was… I… I apologize for, whatever that was. It was highly illogical to respond that way—“

“—Uh-uh. Nope. We’re not doing that. No beating yourself up today. You ever heard of complex PTSD? You had a traumatizing experience. Your body and brain needs to process that. There will be no self-shaming here today. Thank you. Maybe try tomorrow.” I started to pull my fingers away to fetch the newly warmed food from his tray, but a pair of tiny, lithe hands pulling on the tip of my thumb stopped me in my tracks.

“Thank you… I…” He looked up at me in a manner I’d only ever seen once before, when he was truly vulnerable and scared, clinging to my pinky finger in the waiting room of the clinic. He sucked in a breath as if he was about to say something and then thought better of it. He cast his gaze down to the hoodie, and as he pinched the fabric between his little finger and thumb, he chose these words instead, “This was a thoughtful purchase.” He didn’t look back up at me. Poor Alexander, it seemed he’d hit his limit of being vulnerable today. But I’d take what I could get.

When I placed the tray of perfectly proportional dinnerware before him, I couldn’t help but notice a flush of pink to his cheeks, as he looked on, immediately clutching the knife and fork that didn’t, for once in his life, tower over him.

*********

I couldn’t help from swallowing hard upon seeing what she sat down on the bed beside me. A fork, knife, spoon, a dinner plate, a cup for water, a mug with steam curling into the cooler air, all perfectly sized for my hands. I felt a wave of emotion creep up and threaten to spill over, but I managed to keep myself grounded by inspecting the individual tines on the fork. It looked just like its human counterpart. How marvelous!

Her eyes were poring over me, delighted by my life carrying on in miniature before her. How stereotypically human of her. I was about to request that she not loom so hard, when I stopped short. What if this wasn’t about a human cooing over someone little? What if it was more like the delight of a person who’s given a gift relishing in the joy of the receiver? Being the recipient of gifts was not something I was really at all familiar with. Yet, an instinct told me she wasn’t trying to insult me, in this instance. I’d choose to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I seemed to be in a giving vein today, or maybe that was just aftershock from her having to see me shaking like a pathetic wet puppy. It was not my intention to ever let her see me like that again.

However, my body could no longer withstand abuse and the sharp pang of hunger that ripped through me reminded me of the task at hand.

Evidently, we were both quite hungry, because we ate in relative silence. She paused once to point at the steaming mug, with the butt of her knife, to say, “I mixed your medication with herbal tea. It might taste awful, though, just FYI. I put a drop of honey in, hoping that would help, but let me know how I can make it better.” I don’t know why, but that simple act of thoughtfulness touched me. It showed how she’d considered, beforehand, what my experience might be like and tried to fix it. She was stupid, she was loud, she was infuriating and sometimes altogether overwhelming, but there was no denying she had a kind heart.

The flush of color to my cheeks told me it was time to quickly switch to another train of thought. I considered the objects in my hands, once again, to calm me down. I’d never actually gotten to use a knife and fork before, but it was important that I do my best to mask my ignorance. After all, I’d spent countless hours of my meager existence watching humans chow down right in front of me while I waited for scraps. I was more than capable of learning through observation. However, it was an entirely new experience to have the actual sensation of wielding them myself, by delicately slicing a mouthful of food before piercing it with the fork (tines always turned down of course, I may have been born in America, but I’d be damned if I conducted myself like one at the table… Natalie seemed to have no such druthers as she used her fork more like a shovel than anything else. I tried not to watch).

When the meal was done, which, it must be noted, was flavorful and extremely satisfying, I plucked up the mug and imitated what I’d always seen humans do: I wrapped my hand inside the handle, cupping it tightly with both hands to savor its warmth. To human ears, I knew this would sound ridiculous, but I had not anticipated the sheer thrill of being able to just effortlessly pick objects up. I wondered if lifting this mug up from its surface with such little muscular effort was akin to how she felt lifting me into the air. It was so easy. If I wanted a drink, I could pluck the glass of water from where it sat with one hand and lift it with hardly any effort. No strain, no overwhelmingly large utensils and portions. No constant reminders of my littleness to fluster and embarrass me. For the first time in my life, I found total ease, grace, and peace in an activity that had, historically, haunted me. This ‘breaking of bread’ was something humans actually seemed to enjoy, whereas I had always grimaced and done what was necessary to sustain life as quickly as possible, hopefully avoiding too much ogling from the giant pairs of eyes around me.

Now I found myself clutching a white, ceramic mug, propped up against the headboard of my bed. With a low perspective and a squint of the eyes, I was indistinguishable from a man indulging in a nice cup of tea after a long nine to five shift. Why did that simple idea make my heart beat faster? For the first time in my life, there were things around me that accommodated me.

“Have you tasted it yet? How bad is it?” Natalie’s voice, always just a notch or two too loud, even though I was fairly certain she put effort into lowering it for me, tore me from my thoughts as I gazed up at her and shook my head, raising the mug to my lips.

Dear god. It tasted awful. I struggled not to spit it back in the cup.

“That bad, huh?” She winced, brows furrowing as she propped her head in her hands, and looked down at me. I shook my head with a grimace, flashing her a thumb’s up as if to say ‘no no, it’s great’. She laughed hard enough that she snorted, which made her laugh even harder. I rolled my eyes at how worked up she became and downed the rest of the concoction in one go, trembling from disgust as the taste medicine coated my taste buds.

“Woah! Glutton for punishment, are we? You’re braver than me, I’m such a weenie when it comes to taking meds.” She raised her brows, as I put the mug down. I shrugged, gingerly wiping the corners of my mouth. As I looked back up, I saw she was holding the glass of water, looking absolutely tiny pinched between her finger and thumb, before me. I softened a bit more. She was being awfully kind. Did I actually feel a bit guilty for getting so worked up at her earlier? I took the water from her and nodded in thanks. What was this strange feeling seeming to generate from the pit of my stomach and rise to my heart? Maybe the medicine was kicking in?

***************

He drank like a horse. Well… If a horse could be satiated with nothing more than a few drops of water. He drained the glass quickly, clearly desperate to wash down the bad taste. I hope it’d at least ease his pain. I felt so badly that I hadn’t taken good care of him. He’d been languishing in pain just after a major surgery and that was entirely my fault. Everything had been so chaotic in the last few hours it’d been hard to keep track of time. With a wince, he leaned over his right side and set the tiny glass down, which was clutched in his left. That seemed funny to me, why wouldn’t he just pass it off with his right? Was he left handed? I smirked, overcome with how adorable that was. In any case, I had to actively restrain myself from offering to pluck it from his tiny grasp and put it down for him, so he didn’t push himself too much.

“Natalie??” He waved his hand dramatically to grab my attention. I shook my head and cast my eyes to my lap (I’d pulled my desk chair up to the vanity to eat). Face flushed hot, I felt guilty for staring… again.

“S-sorry… Okay, so, you’ve been happily fed and medicated… You have my full attention Alexander, tell me what happened to you back there.”

He raised his brows expectantly, waiting for… Well, I didn’t know what. He crossed his arms, disapprovingly, when I didn’t get it. For someone so little, he could be so condescending sometimes!

I was totally confused, “W-what?”

“You should get something to take notes. What’re they teaching you in that law school anyhow??” He smiled for just a moment at his own joke, but it was enough to melt my heart.

Little Nightmare, I’ll be the butt of all your jokes as long as I get to see you happy.

I spun the chair and fished for a notebook and pen from beneath my pile of student trash and returned to his side. I clicked the pen and waited eagerly.

He pushed himself up against the headboard, resting his right hand in his lap, his left gripping the sheets, before peering up at me, those two brilliant irises hardened and haunted by a memory. The air suddenly felt heavy. I could feel the nervous pounding of my heart inside my chest.

When he spoke, it was with a definitive conviction that was impossible to dismiss, “I have substantial evidence that they’re in violation of federal law, Natalie. We have a case. An open and shut one, at that, from my perspective. They violated federal malpractice statutes 73A and B from the American Animal Hospital Association. There was an investigation less than a year ago, they were court ordered to make that information publicly available and clearly refused!” He looked up at me wide eyed and passionate. He may as well have spoken a foreign language for all I understood.

“R-right.” I clicked my pen, looking askance and trying to pretend I was following what that even meant. But of course, nothing got past his shrewd little gaze and he caught on immediately.

“You don’t even know what those statues are, do you?” Way to call me out! My face flushed. His eyes bored into mine, waiting impatiently for a confirmation of what he already knew to be true. I bit my lip and shrugged as his shoulders slumped and he sighed, rather dramatically, while pinching the bridge of his nose, “I hope you have plenty of paper in that notebook, because it looks like we’ll have to start from the very beginning.”

I felt embarrassed that I didn’t already know what he was going on about, but I looked forward to learning from the most brilliant, tiny mind in the world. I just hoped he had the patience to educate me, “Okay, Alexander. Teach me. Tell me everything that happened to you.”

I watched those brilliant little eyes light up at the invitation to share. Of course he was excited, someone was willing to listen to what he had to say! I may not know everything you want me to right away, but I hope you know I’m on your side, Alexander.

With a another click of my pen and a nod from me, he stood a little straighter. He licked his lips, swept his bangs from his eyes, sucked fresh air into his lungs and… began.

My only hope, as I pricked my ears to listen to his story, was that I could be all he needed me to be in order to fight back. After everything I was sure I was about to discover he’d gone through, this brilliant, relentless, little fighter before me deserved to win. I knew I’d do everything in my power to help make that happen and so, I prepared to write down his every word, feeling both eager and terrified to discover just what sort of living hell unfolded from behind that swinging metal door.

#Alexander is a great alarm clock #And he might have a future in baseball?#How long do you think it took her to plate that?#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t related #size difference #g/t angst #g/t fluff #a fraction of justice #oc:alexander #oc:natalie

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