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#art#artists on tumblr#illustration#artwork#my art#fantasy#fantasy art#digital art#artist#teeny space alien#little alien#alien#alien art
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Thinking about Krok and his og squad again...
#mostly thinking about radar....#listened to mitski's ''a pearl'' one too many times while zoing out. and yeah... that goddamn finger man.....#(my scav inspired playlist is incomprehensible at this point. rip)#but like. thinking about all that led to another odd thought nugget about krok. his og squad. and the scavs#i think ive rambled about the concept of krok projecting his old squad onto the scavs before a bit. but i didnt think too deeply about it#but considering comparisons. and squad ''roles''. it struck me that radar was most likely the ''tech'' guy. krok's tech guy#and radar was possibly (or at least implied to be) who krok was closest too. (outside of his pet ofc :(...)#so that role. that space. that empty space. is important to him. greatly so#and until they found fulcrum. no one exactly fit that space. fit that role. krok was still searching for his squad#but now fulcrum is there. filling that empty meaningful space. playing that role. but its not the same. its too different#smth smth. another idea as to why krok holds a particular grudge with fulcrum for no obvious reason#because he wants radar back. but hes gone. and fulcrums there now. but hes not radar. kroks still mourning. and fulcrum just isnt radar#not that hes actively choosing to project radar onto fulcrum. but subconsciously hes trying to fill that space. and its not the same#hence the bitterness. a sorta uncertain discomfort about fulcrums presence and attempts at getting closer that disturbs the hole radar left#maybe im thinking too hars about these teeny tiny details. but theres so much underlying themes of grief in mtmte. esp with the LL crew#so?? like?? idk. it makes sense that itd be there with the scavs too?? or smth like it??#its probably way super obvious ive frequently thought too hard about the scavs and their grief by now#and not just like. grief in only the mourning death sense. but just loss in general. loss of purpose. loss of meaning. loss of stability#the way in which decepticon are made up of ''rejects''. but the scavs are the rejects of the rejects...#i could go on about how they each prob experienced alienation from their own. but i need to go back to sleep lol#the sleepiness has finally returned since i woke up a bit ago. so. not wasting the opportunity#but rq. thankss insomnia for making me associate krok with mitski songs again. thats very joyful and happy. ill sleep tear free.. totally...#also also. the posts and art and sthffs aboht radar and krok back whenever... so glad radar is fine and safe and happy and alive🥲👍#ok. jokes done. goodnight and goodmorning. bcs its like. 7am... oof
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At the off chance I haven't gotten flagged as a robot again for hanging out in the void for too long-
A lil' drabble for your Mecha Pilot AU!
I bummed myself out thinking about a clueless Prowl and his bacteria boyfriend's enevetable, fast aproaching demise. So to cope, I came up with a possible lil' "solution" for the whole 'shortass teeny-tiny lifespan' situation all mecha pilots got going on!
So Vortex is haunted, right? Ghosts are a thing here. And the pilots own wellbeing automatically goes to the backburner when piloting their mecha, just no awareness of their own body whatsoever.
SO WHAT IF, after a grand'ol time of being lost in space with a bunch of aliens and aiding the local community, Jazz tries to disconnect from his mech for a bit only to find he can't, the other end of the line is completely silent.
At some point during the venture, maybe in a battle or because of some technical issue he wasn't privy to (or just flatout ignored), his vitals flatlined and he had absolutly no idea. He could have been rotting in there for weeks and he didn't notice. Not sure how he'd handle that revelation to be honest. But hey! at least he won't have to worry about mortality anymore! :D
(I really need better coping mechanisms)
…………….YOUR BRAIN ANON
Alright alright. HEAR ME OUT.
Do you remember how we were talking about sparks being radioactive?? What if instead of some kind of wound it’s radiation that kills Jazz? Or. Well. To be more precise not radiation but spark energy.
Just imagine. The final battle against Shockwave and/or Quintessons. The stakes are high the music is epic and everyone has to work together to survive. And after the glorious but tough win Jazz can finally stop and take a breath.
Except. He really can’t.
Because he was so focused on piloting. So focused on “being” his mech that he didn’t feel his own body getting weaker and weaker. And now he starts to slip into panic because his human body isn’t just dead it has been dead for a while. Everyone around him is celebrating. All humans and Cybertronians are smiling and laughing in relief and checking if everyone is alive while he stands there completely frozen and on the verge of breaking the fuck up because he’s DEAD and how much time does he have? Why is he still there?? Is it because his brain isn’t completely dead yet?? Human brain can only last five minutes before it dies completely. Does he have only those pathetic minutes?
He would panic so fucking bad
We would also need him to get his mech back at some point for that. Or. Well. He could die while piloting Prowl but I think Prowl would notice instantly.

#maccadam#tf mecha universe#mecha pilot jazz au#mecha th#mecha jp th#okay how th do I tag it…..#tw gore? tw…like…what?#tw decomposing body of your favourite character??#tw body horror
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Hi Derin! Sorry if this has been asked before, but I'm amazed by the vast array of cultures and gender norms in TTO:U. How did you come up with all of it?
I just thought "hey wouldn't it be funny if there was a little guy" and then made them, and thought "hey what norms would exist in a culture under these conditions" and then made those.
In all seriousness, most of my worldbuilding comes down to tearing down assumptions. Brennans exist because I fucking hate gender and I'm sick of seeing the gender binary or "gender binary Plus Nonbinary Extra People (who still live in a world that assumes a gender binary)" as some immutable natural law that all societies will forever cling to, and I wanted to make a society that was harder for readers to inevitably sort into a binary as they always, always fucking do. (Partial success; I have seen some absolutely rancid takes on the TTOU gender ternary that make me want to break my computer.) The array of different cultural family structures exist because those are different ways that societies can be built on smaller units. The Arboreae and the two space elevators and the Khemin exist because that is a potential response to a critical climate crisis.
On top of that, most of my ideas are stolen. I once read a short story about people who lived under the ocean on an alien planet and spent most of their time just cruising around the ocean in big bubble-like biological submersibles and that was their job, because their submersibles cleaned the water by feeding on things in it; they were employed to be part of the ecosystem. The Khemin, wandering about the ocean as both environmental monitors and trash-gatherers, were inspired by this; from there, I just thought on what sort of family structure and traditions such a group would develop for a stable society. When I was a teeny tiny child I saw a guy on Ripley's Believe It Or Not who was trying to build a self-sustaining floating island to sail around the world on. Absolute disaster of a plan, man knew shit about ecology or farming, but a bit later on I got really into swamps for awhile and started thinking of using plant roots as water filtration systems and, with an eventual biotechnology degree, multiple years hyperfixating on ecology and evolution, and touch of Magic Future Genetic Engineering, that eventually became the Arboreae. The social structure of Hylara is somewhat inspired by CJ Cherryh's azi, particularly the way that Florian and Catlan are raised in Cyteen. The Hylarans are very much not azi (the azi being slaves brainwashed from birth via hypnosis) but the way they are raised fed into building a society batch-raised by robots and each other with no natural family unit. You can just steal concepts from the real world or from scifi and build them into your own thing it's fine.
Anthropologically speaking, the golden feature of any social structure or cultural practice is *stability*. This is the one feature upon which everything is judged. Just or unjust, productive or unproductive, authoritarian or free, structured or unstructured, when developing a society your key thing to worry about is "is this stable? Would a society survive for multiple generations on this norm?" and if your Weird Idea isn't stable, either ditch it or -- far more interesting -- adjust it and your parameters until it is. Different norms will be stable in different environments and built on different histories -- Khemin and Hylaran norms are not interchangeable because of the environments, tech, political climate and reproductive methods the two cultures have. But if it's stable, you can throw in whatever weird shit you want.
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Superman '58: The Quest For Pants
This is Action Comics #242, the first appearance of Brainiac. Despite being such a massive nerd that his name became a playground insult, he completely dominates Superman and makes him run for home. Welcome to the Gutters.

This right here is the good shit. I love this issue so much. Brainiac is one of my favorite villains and it's unfortunate that he's often reduced to a scary computer man or an invading robot army. Brainiac is not only a physical and mental foe to Superman, he also has the greatest quality that any Supervillain have, and that's being a weird little freak.
Brainiac's whole existence is to capture cities with his shrink ray and put them in big glass bottles. He needs these cities because his home planet was devastated by a plague and needs them to repopulate. Sure, he wants to rule the planet but he doesn't seem like that bad of a guy. He's so advanced that he literally sees us as ants, but he doesn't seem malicious. Maybe I'm just biased because I too am a bald man with a weird bulbous head.
He's even got a little space monkey named Koko, and he loves that weird little space freak! So many versions of Brainiac stumble out of the gate because they don't give him a little space monkey. Maybe I'm just weird but I feel like it humanizes him to have a little space monkey. I like saying the words little space monkey. little space monkey space little monkey monkey space little
Superman tries to fight Brainiac and, for what might be the first time ever, he's completely outclassed. Most of Superman's foes are ordinary thugs or mad scientists like Luthor, who can exploit Superman's morality for an edge but go down instantly in a fight. If they can hold Superman off, it's because they have Kryptonite. When he fights other kryptonians, he's always been played as their equal if not their superior to the point where he can take them on three-on-one and come out on top.
Brainiac, he don't play that. He's standing there, arms folded, letting Superman throw his best hits at him as the planet literally disintegrates under his feet and he does not give a fuck. He's doing the exact same thing that Superman does when people try to shoot him with ordinary guns. Superman turning tail and running is part of a ploy, but you really do get a feeling like there's no way he can win this in a straight fight.
Also note that Brainiac is wearing a different costume here than he is on the cover. I'm in favor of giving him pants. This guy should have some pants. However, he's lacking the diodes and wires coming out of his head, which I think are really crucial to his design. It's also interesting that he's got the same basic design as Luthor, and is also a god-tier smart boy, but this similarity is never commented on.
Superman fled back to Metropolis, but it was just a ploy - he counted on Brainiac shrinking the city and taking into his ship, turning it into a Trojan horse. Superman promptly escapes, but he's still a teeny little bug man, and has to escape in a conveniently open bottle. By an amazing stroke of luck, the bottle he hides in contains a lost Kryptonian city, Kandor.
While Brainiac puts himself into suspended animation for his space trip, Superman and the Kandorians devise a plan for Superman to escape and restore the cities. When there's not enough charge to restore both himself and Kandor to their original size, Superman naturally decides to restore Kandor. However, his Kandorian assistant secretly restores Superman back to normal, saving him but dooming their whole city.
This story is probably one of the best superman stories of the silver age. Brainiac is a great villain, and his presence expands the world by showing how there's cosmic foes out there that superman can't just punch out and operate on a totally alien morality. Kandor is a similarly great addition to the lore, letting Superman get close to his lost Kryptonian heritage but always prevented from fully being restored. The bottled city of Kandor would be a fixture of Superman stories, always appearing in pride of place in his Fortress of Solitude, and...
Oh, wai, shit!

The immediate previous issue, Action Comics #241, introduced the Fortress of Solitude, to the silver age comics at least. Golden Age Superman had a fort near Metropolis but this introduced the idea of a fortress in the arctic with a big golden key. This story isn't really a story so much as it is a tour of Superman's man-cave, but it does a nice job of showing how Superman lives his life. We see him tending to an alien zoo, painting things he sees with his telescopic vision, and writing in a diary made of metal using his heat vision. He does super-science, plays super-chess, and makes super-gifts for all his friends.
The tone of this story is decidedly maudlin and serious for what comes down to a super-prank war with Batman. A lot of panels in this story are Superman confronting the reality of his death, and his fortress is a memento mori as well as a super-scale will and testament. He mentions that a lot of his treasures will only go to his friends when he dies, and he takes precautions that his death won't reveal his identity or those of his super-friends.
Again, though, this story is just Batman breaking into the Fortress to play a prank on him. Batman spends several days living in the walls and messing with Superman's stuff. The comic plays all this for horror and doesn't realize the humor inherent in such a premise. I would love to see a modern miniseries of Batman and Superman engaging in an escalating prank war.
Finally, I would be absolutely remiss in my duties if I didn't mention one of the more bizarre superman stories from this year. From Superman #125, 'Superman's New Power' is one of the comic books of all time. For reasons that defy explanation, Superman loses all his conventional powers, but gains the ability to project a tiny Superman with all his old powers from his hands. Superman becomes mad with jealousy when his new mini-me starts stealing the spotlight from him. It gets even worse when his power starts acting on its own before Superman even tells it what to do!
It's an absolutely absurd premise and I love it. They threw away all contemporary conventions of the genre and decided to put Superman in the most absurd situation anyone could ever imagine, and it brought out a whole new dimension to his character. Superman isn't just a hero, he wants to be the hero, the last thing he wants is to sit around while his [Stand] does all the work. He gets really fucked up when his mini-me sacrifices itself to save him all on its own, and he ends the comic wondering if it had a soul.
The fact that he gets jealous of his own powers is also strangely relatable. So, I'm autistic, if you can't tell by the fact that I blog about old Superman comics on tumbloo dot cum. The way that everyone is giving credit to Superman's new power feels like the same way people would treat me as if I was some kind of savant with Rainman powers. Like, you're giving credit to a part of me, but not me as a person. In the same way, Superman's new power is also a disability, because he can't do any of this stuff himself any more.
Am I reaching? Yes. But art is there to reach out to people, and even if you take something from it that the creators didn't intend, that's absolutely still valid. If art makes you think and feel, it's doing its job.
When next we meet, Superboy takes a look into the future - all the way to the year three thousand! Until next time!
#dc comics#comics#comics history#comics lit#action comics#superman#clark kent#kal el#brainiac#vril dox#koko the space monkey#kandor#fortress of solitude#autism#harley quinn#brought back koko the space monkey#peak tv
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potential for jack getting a cat and naming it coco, catching side eye from luke because he’s down bad ridiculously and not as subtle as he thinks, meanwhile nico is letting the kitten crawl all over him innocently asking where jack came up with the name
I am so very sorry it took so long to answer this but I saw it and it was so cute I had to find time to sit down and properly put together a Jack and Nico and Coco the Kitten drabble ❤️
If were ever an image that could melt even the freezing cold hearts of Devils haters, it would be Nico Hischier playing with a kitten.
Jack would bet money on it.
Because what isn't there to coo and aww over? Nico in his favourite black beanie and cozy hoodie - check. A teeny tiny squeaky kitten with enormous brown eyes - check. Nico cuddling said teeny tiny squeaky kitten with his enormous hands against the soft fabric of his hoodie, while giving the little meow-er adoring head scratches - check, check, check.
It's so cute Jack would melt.
It's just too bad Luke would give him shit forever - not that his younger brother isn't already casting incredible side-eye on him while all the guys hang out in their apartment (read: heard through the grapevine that Jack adopted the stray kitten he found around the block and wanted to spoil the little rascal all afternoon.)
"You are so fucking unsubtle."
"Shut up," Jack huffs, glancing over to the den quickly. Nobody is paying him or Luke any attention at all, but the kitchen isn't that far removed from the sitting area, and Luke is very decidedly not keeping his voice down.
Luke rolls his eyes, helping himself to some of the nachos cooling on the counter instead of giving Jack a hand like he said he'd would.
"The aliens could see your crush from outer space. If your cheeks could get any redder, they'd use the colour for brand new Devils jerseys."
"Are you just going to criticize me, or are you going to help host? It's your fault we have a bunch of hungry hockey players taking over our place after practice."
"Listen, I just told Brett. And Brett mentioned it to Merc. And it was Merc who told many, many people. Can't blame me for that one." Luke crunches another chip, and grins at Jack. "Besides, you were a gonner the second Nico said he wanted to come see the kitten. 'Cause you're down baaad."
He says the last part all sing-songy, like Jack isn't above putting tape on his skate blades tomorrow to get him back.
"Go away or make yourself useful and grab the bowls from the cabinet. Not the nice ones from Mom. The Costco ones are fine."
He turns away to check on the air fryer, but a second later he hears shuffling and the sound of doors opening and closing, so at least Luke's helping. For a moment there's only the sounds of Luke stacking the dishes on the counter, the whir of the hot air over the basket, and the soft sounds of the guys playing with the kitten.
Then -
"You could just tell him, you know."
Jack looks up. "What?"
Luke puts down another stack of dishes, then turns to look at Jack. His teasing demeanour is gone, and there's something quietly serious about his expression that makes Jack suddenly want to squirm.
"Tell Nico. That you like him. 'Cause for real, Rowdy, I think it's hurting you more than it is 'protecting' you to keep the truth from him."
He makes air quotes around protecting, and Jack is suddenly very irritated and unsettled at Luke calling him out so soundly.
"I don't really appreciate my drunken bro-to-bro confessions being thrown back at me," he replies coolly, and in the corner of his eye, he sees Luke heave a sigh.
"Not tryin' to razz you, man. I'm just saying, as your little brother, it bugs me seeing you so sad over Nico. Especially when you're dead set on killing the relationship before you could even give it a chance."
"I'm not trying to fuck with team dynamics, Luke. Or ruin the very good thing the two of us already have. Can you believe me on that, at the very least?"
Luke is quiet, but a moment later he nods. "We don't have to talk about it. But - just give it some more thought, yeah?"
Jack opens his mouth, a mostly-honest sure on the tip of his tongue, but he's interrupted by Nico calling his name over on the couch.
"Jack - you didn't tell us - what's this little friend's name?" Nico asks, and Jack flounders for a second before answering. And when he does, he prays his face isn't as red as he thinks it is.
"Coco," he says, with only a slight wobble in his voice. " 'Cause she's, you know, tiny and patchy and brown like a coconut."
"Aww," Nico sighs adoringly, lifting Coco up to face level. Coco meows, a soft, needy thing, and wriggles in Nico's gentle hands. When Nico leans in to give her a kiss on her nose, she purrs and bats her little paws in his direction.
"Oh, Jack, she's so cute. And she was a stray, you said?"
"Yeah." Jack gulps. "Found her in the alley behind the park, all banged up and frozen. She's a tough girl though."
"I can tell," Nico grins back at him. "She's even got a little scar on her cheek, poor thing -" He turns back to Coco, and strokes the fur over her ears gently. "You've been through some shit, huh? I can relate."
Jack flushes, feeling the tips of his ears burn.
Behind him, he hear's Luke's long, and very judgemental sigh.
He whips around, and blindly grabs the air fryer basket when the jingle goes off.
"Not. A. Word."
+
"Dude."
Nico looks up, and he winces at Jonas, Jesper, and Timo's pointed expressions.
"What?"
"Are you kidding?" Jonas hisses, leaning in. "Tell me you aren't losing your hearing, Hisch, because there's no way you missed all that."
"I heard him explain how he got his cat," Nico retorts lowly. "You're the ones reading into things."
Jonas throws his hands up while Jesper coughs into his fist.
"Right. So Jack adopts little fluffy brown kitty -"
"With enormous brown eyes -"
"Names her Coco - and no, his reasoning was absolute bullshit - "
"And she's got a scar on her cheek. On the same side as you. Get real, Nico."
"Have you ever heard of a coincidence?" Nico snaps, then immediately softens when Coco meows at him and taps his cheek with her tiny paw. God, she's so small and wiggly. Cuddling her under his chin is a lot like the times he's spent with a certain someone conked out on his chest after a long day of practice, long brown hair tickling his cheek, but -
Nico immediately dashes that train of thought.
He can tell by the way his friends fall silent that they're apologetic, but he has to admit they've always been good at calling him out on his shit. Still - Nico feels like there should be boundaries.
Because no matter what his nosy friends and teammates like to think and project, there's no possible way Jack is into him like that.
Coco is just a kitten, for crying out loud. Nico loves that Jack went out of his way to care for her, to keep her healthy, and welcome them all into his and Luke's apartment so they can spend time with the cutest addition to their home.
It would kill Nico if he ever fucked up such wonderful moments together by revealing his feelings.
And why would he ever risk all of the excitement, the happy, and the very good thing the two of them already have?
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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.
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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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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:
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Teeny space alien!
#art#artists on tumblr#illustration#artwork#my art#fantasy#fantasy art#digital art#sci-fi#scifi#scifiart#sci fi and fantasy#alien#alien species#little alien#teeny space alien#chibi#chibi art#chibi character#chibi style#cute chibi
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Got a new favourite way to remedy the Ahsoka show!
(I’m putting this under a cut so if you enjoyed the show, you can just scroll on in peace)
I’ve tried a bunch of different methods (like pretending that’s not Sabine, just someone who happens to look sorta like her and has her name to it’s all an alternate dimension to World Between Worlds shenanigans to just outright ignoring the show’s existence altogether and holding onto the animated show as the only lore that matters).
And yes, okay, none of this terribly matters in real life, it is just a show, I have touched much grass recently, but there’s so much I like in the Star Wars Universe, enough that it keeps me wanting to make art and write fics and explore the characters and the worlds and the stories, but sometimes, in order to enjoy the parts I like, I find I have to come with ways to deal with the parts that aren’t so great. Ignoring them works to a degree, but when it’s constantly popping up, affecting the rest of the story, and you can’t read a single Wookiepedia article without being brutally reminded that, yup, this is canon now and there’s nothing you can do about it, I find I have to get creative. So I’m just having a bit of fun here, don’t mind me.
Okay, disclaimer all aside, my new favourite method is to accept it as canon, but! It’s a show in-universe.
It’s an “inspired by true events” type of series produced by some company in Corellia or Coruscant (somewhere very, very far away from Lothal). They decided, after the war, to make a film about the suddenly popular rebels and latched onto the Ghost Crew, because, hey! They had two Jedi on their team!
But there are some details you obviously couldn’t get from whispers on the street, like Ahsoka being alive or Jacen’s very existence. So where, oh where did they get all those bits of insider information?
From our loveable sell-out, Hondo Ohnaka, of course.
(He just contributed a few details and skipped away some credits richer, he didn’t see the final script because Hondo Ohnaka may be a pirate but he would never approve of such character assasination of his friends!)
It explains why Sabine is so wildly out of character, why her Mandalorian skills and heritage are for the most part erased (because they couldn’t be bothered to hire a Mandalorian consultant), why she’s suddenly wanting/training to become a Jedi (because Jedi are becoming quite popular thanks to all the stories of Luke Skywalker), why all the Force stuff is just downright weird and she can use the Force at all, why she doesn’t seem to know how to wield a lightsaber despite her training with THE Kanan Jarrus (because the writers didn’t know she had any training with him, didn’t even know about the Darksaber stuff), why she spent a decade doing pretty much nothing when Rebels Sabine would’ve continued in the fight against the Empire AND protected Lothal, why she doesn’t have a jetpack (wasn’t in the budget) and why Clan Wren is just written off as dying in the Purge but it’s never touched further on (they didn’t want to go too far with the Purge stuff because, again, they didn’t have a Mandalorian consultant).
It’s why Zeb never shows up (the Lasats are all out in Wild Space; they couldn’t find any locally to portray him and their proposal of shaving a Wookie and dyeing him purple was deemed insensitive by the studio execs).
It’s why Hera doesn’t act like the Hera we saw in Rebels. It’s why Ahsoka is nothing like the more hopeful, more helpful Rebels Ahsoka (and why her lekku and montrals are so teeny-tiny). It’s why Thrawn is such a pale reflection of any other version of Thrawn.
And a little further with this, it’s fun to think of how the more true-to-Rebels versions of the characters would react to the show.
Sabine couldn’t watch anything after the Ezra reunion because it’s a nice lie, imagining him safe somewhere in another galaxy, living amongst cute turtle aliens, but she’s still searching for him in her reality and she doesn’t even know if he’s still alive. (And she can’t stomach the second-hand guilt she’s feeling at the whole endangering the entire galaxy for a mere chance to see him again thing—she would never do that; she knows he would not want her to do that for him).
Hera is the only one who has watched it entirely (partly so she can tell the others what to expect because of course people are gonna talk about it).
Ahsoka refuses to watch it (mostly for the Clone Wars flashback scenes—she does not need to relive that, and she’s made her peace with Anakin’s betrayal; she doesn’t want to see the weirdly forgiven version the show purportedly portrays).
Chopper is impressed they got a droid that looks so much like him (he’s a very old model), but he insists that had he been there in those situations, people would be getting shocked left, right and centre.
TL;DR: The Ahsoka show is a show in the Star Wars universe (and just that).
#now I’ve just gotta figure out how to apply this to Mando s3…#star wars rebels#sabine wren#ahsoka critical#(not terribly but I’m just covering my bases)
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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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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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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"
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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.
#tw caps#bnha#best jeanist#edgeshot#eclair’s art#hakamada tsunagu#kamihara shinya#power loader#ectoplasm#higari maijima#ectoloader#edgejeanist#rusty the space travelling dino#space rangers au#eclair's aus#well.#this au is. very beloved but there is a lot#and imma need another post for lore and stuff and worldbuilding#and the relationship dynamics oh god the relationship dynamics /lh#this is as summarised as i can get it#hope you enjoy <3#will post some more doodles for it soon
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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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