#the homeworld is too much with us

[aries-007]

Earth is space Australia: Extremophiles

I love this idea. I can't help but wonder how aliens would react to Extremophile species (a species that thrives in extreme environments).

Like, perhaps earth is already considered an "extreme" planet. And humans are already considered by the rest of the galaxy to be an extremophilic species ("Humans can survive nearly anything. It's quite intriguing/fascinating." - a viewpoint shared by many humanologists) and at some point some human crew members are approached by the rest of the crew...

"Is there anything you humans can't survive? You seem to be quite a hardy species," Quarm states. Xe is simply a curious individual.

"What, us? We're actually kinda weak when it really comes to it. I mean, sure we can adapt to most environments, but there's some places that even we can't handle for very long. Like the vacuum of space. Or in volcanoes." Answers human Josefine.

"Or the ocean vents!" Another of the human crew, Steven, adds.

"Yeah, those too!"

Quarm chuckles just a bit, "ah, but that isn't an expectation of any species. Such extreme heat and pressures are simply inhospitable to any individual."

"I mean, pretty much, yeah..." the human's response is concerning to Quarm.

"Human Josefine... why are you saying it like that..?" Quarm isn't sure they want the answer.

"I mean... extremophilic species are a thing that exist."

"Extrem- Are.... Are humans... not? Extremophiles???"

"Uhhh No??"

Quarm wasn't ready for his next question to be answered, but that's a given for any question about the Humans' Homeworld.

"Then... What is?"

"I mean, tardigrades can survive in a vacuum... I’m not really the person to answer this. Steve?"

Human Steve smiled broadly as he began his rant about iron-shelled Snails that live in Volcanoes, varying deep-ocean species (that all seem alien in and of themselves), and several others.

Quarm is now incredibly fearful for these "Docuseries" human Steve is wanting to share...

[blackkatmagic]

I am fully in support of all of those posts that critique fandom's obsession with making the clones completely Mandalorian in every way curse you Traviss, and I think it's valid to take a second look at the impulse, but I also take umbrage with the idea that the clones have nothing to do with Mandalorian culture at all. Literally the most visible clone in the whole of TCW wears jaig eyes, used the same way the Mandalorians use them, and so do multiple other clones. Multiple clones also picked Mando'a names for themselves, or wear traditional Mandalorian hairstyles, and Boil isn't the only clone who wears some sort of Death Watch insignia (which is fascinating in its own right).

There's just - nuance to all of it, I think. The clones aren't wholly Mandalorian, but they aren't not Mandalorian either. Whatever canon you want to take re: Jango and the trainers he picked, the clones clearly picked up bits of the culture from them, whether because of or despite them. Especially considering Mandalorian culture was largely spread through conquest originally, and adoption, the clones have as much of a right to it as anyone, and writing that off or ignoring the fact that at least some of them clearly do consider themselves part of the culture in some way removes a lot of the grey area from them as their own thing, imo.

The clones are a grey area, as a whole. I think that's part of the tragedy of them. They don't have one people who are their own except other clones. They don't have one specific homeworld or culture. They were created literally to die as cannon fodder, and they made themselves into a people despite that. Taking away one of the major pieces they incorporated into their lives (in strict canon, even if you want to ignore everything Traviss ever touched) is weird and overlooks a lot of what's presented about the clones in TCW.

They don't have to be perfectly Mandalorian in every way. That's just as much of an injustice to them. But removing the Mandalorian bits entirely strips away a lot of how they clearly see themselves, too.

[saphronethaleph]

Fluid, Dynamics

“So, uh…” Anakin said, looking around him. “This is weird.”

“Is there something wrong, Master Jedi?” the Kaminoan asked, concerned. “I was going to welcome you to Tipoca City.”

“Oh, I’m actually not a Master,” Anakin replied. “My Master’s busy, I’m just…”

He shook his head. “Sorry about that, it’s very unprofessional of me. I know I’m supposed to be professional, but being around this much water is very odd for me.”

“Being around water is odd for you?” the Kaminoan repeated. “...is there an alternative? I know Kamino is an unusually wet planet, but I did not think the difference was that stark.”

“I’m from a world where there just… isn’t water,” Anakin explained. “The only way we got water to drink was to pull it out of the air, and there wasn’t enough to go around.”

Then he frowned slightly. “Actually, uh… come to think of it, it isn’t all that far from here to my homeworld… do you think I could ship some water over there?”

“That is an… odd request,” the Kaminoan admitted. “But I must admit, we do have more water than we know what to do with. Perhaps we could discuss something like that after our main business is completed.”

“Sure,” Anakin agreed. “So, where do we get started?”

“I will take you to Lama Su,” the Kaminoan decided. “He will show you the current state of progress.”

Anakin nodded, absently, mostly thinking about showing up at Tatooine with a freighter full of water.

“How often does Anakin go on missions without you?” Padme asked, curious.

“It happens, sometimes,” Obi-Wan replied. “Increasingly often these days, actually. Anakin is approaching the point where he will have the chance to become a Jedi Knight, and… I worry about him a little.”

“Is that something a Jedi does?” Padme said.

“All the time,” Obi-Wan replied. “But right now, Senator, your safety is the highest priority.”

He frowned. “Though I must admit, I was expecting there to have been some kind of assassination attempt by this point.”

“You almost sound disappointed,” Padme suggested.

“No, no, it’s pattern recognition,” Obi-Wan replied, firmly. “You see, my missions with Anakin so rarely go smoothly. And if this mission is going smoothly, where the biggest danger we’ve had to deal with is mosquitos, then I dread to think about what is going on with Anakin.”

There was a beep.

“...like that, for example,” Obi-Wan added, taking his comlink out of his pocket. “What is it, Anakin?”

“So, first I want to say, I didn’t set out to do this, Master,” Anakin said.

“...oh dear,” Obi-Wan sighed. “That’s never a good sign. So, what is it that you didn’t set out to do?”

“So it turns out that Kamino was building an army for the Jedi,” Anakin said. “Also, it’s a really wet, flooded planet, they actually have too much water, I didn’t know that was possible! But I said that Tatooine had too little water, and since they had all those giant ships anyway I thought some of them could be used for transporting lots of water…”

“Sorry, Anakin, Kamino was building an army for the Jedi?” Obi-Wan repeated, a little incredulously. “That seems like the most important part of the situation.”

“No, no, the most important part is that some guy called Darth Tyrannus hired this bounty hunter called Jango Fett to be the clone template,” Anakin said. “And get this, he’s the one who killed that bounty hunter we chased, and things got a bit complicated… anyway, I went over the technical details and the clones have this weird chip in them and I think Chancellor Valorum might have been trying to assassinate the Jedi because the chip would have let the Chancellor tell the clones to kill the Jedi… obviously I told the Kaminoans to take that bit out because we didn’t need it and it’s way too much like slavery if you ask me. Anyway, uh, I’ve got the clones shipping water from Kamino to Tatooine for now, the Kaminoans are actually totally okay with it because they’ve got too much water, and I rescued my mother, too! I told you she was in danger!”

Obi-Wan took several seconds to process that particular bit of Skywalkerness.

Then he processed it a second time.

“…you have the clones… shipping water to Tatooine,” he repeated.

“Yeah, it’s going to break the Hutt control over water production and transportation for anything above the subsistence level,” Anakin said. “And it’s going to make Tatooine a way better place-”

“I have to interrupt you there, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You said you rescued your mother? That’s very impressive, but you didn’t tell me she was in danger.”

“I did!” Anakin objected.

“You said you were dreaming about her,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “That does not mean you were dreaming about her being in danger. That’s quite different, Anakin, you must remember to use the right words if you want me to know something.”

“...oh,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could hear the shrug. “Well, anyway, I think there might be some kind of Sith plot involved too because of the whole Darth thing. Do you think Chancellor Valorum was a Sith?”

“I see what you mean,” Padme admitted.

[itsclydebitches]

Still thinking about "Dot and Bubble."

Specifically, I'm thinking about how the racists of FineTime aren't just written to be cruel and entitled, but downright childish too. Lindy - in a move that dovetails nicely into the episode's commentary on social media - has the attention span of a toddler, going on and on about how boring work is even though, from what we're shown, she doesn't have to do anything other than sit there and socialize, which is presumably what she'd be doing if she didn't have to work, right? But since this is something she has to do per orders of the gross old people, she complains. "You're no fun!" she yells at Gothic Paul, the only one in her group taking a mature stance on this issue (and, notably, the only one with a very small number of subscribers).

Lindy lacks the maturity and critical thinking skills we would expect from someone her age. Again, this is definitely a layer of the social media side of the episode's thesis, but she nevertheless demonstrates a kind of emotional dysregulation that's usually only seen in younger, developing children. Lindy does not think for herself and cannot adapt to changes in routine/the way things are "supposed" to be. When told a fact - the police are unavailable - Lindy repeats, "but I really need the police" over and over as if her need is going to magic up a change in reality. She parrots rules and rejects them in equal measure, driven solely by her current desires: "We don't do that [lower the bubble]."/"I can do whatever I want!" She moves from disgusted to infatuated to angry in the blink of an eye, with her anger characterized by childish outbursts and language: "Now shut up I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" When faced with something life-threatening, Lindy's response is to a) distract herself (by watching Ricky) and b) find a hiding place. Even taking her terror into account, she responds to these situations like someone far younger would. If I cover my eyes the bad thing disappears. If I hide under the bed, I'm safe.

And of course, Lindy's body is monitored in the way you would a child's. She's constantly watched by others, both her peers and, presumably, by the Homeworld. She's told when she needs to use the restroom which for me was VERY evocative of a parent speaking to their potty training child, trying to get them to articulate when they need to go by informing them of when it's most likely. Hell, Lindy literally can't walk without the assistance of this AI parent.

Yes, there are plenty of moments that evoke the very stereotypical, entitled teenager - talk of "partying," bragging about clothes, being obsessed with the guy online - but even more, I think, evoke the child. When Lindy plays the recording of "Mummy," smiling shyly at the praise before throwing out the kind of insults you'd expect to hear on an elementary school playground - "You're stupid" - she reads like she's a kid. Which is a hell of a commentary on her racism. The episode doesn't say that Lindy is literally a child (she's not, she even snaps as much). The episode also doesn't try to claim that being childlike equals harmless (quite the opposite). But equating racism with a childish, dangerously inept, can't-even-walk-or-use-the-bathroom-by-herself white woman... damn if that's not a statement.

[thagomizersshow]

I love when sci-fi/fantasy writers throw in a random fact about a fictional species that actually has big repercussions for that species' biology.

Like, there is a species in Star Trek called Saurians who are adorable dinosauroid looking dudes. They've had very little revealed about them despite having been mentioned as early as the original series by way of "Saurian brandy" — a drink that is so strong it can put a Klingon on their ass in one swig.

Other than that, most of what we know about them comes from snippets involving a reoccuring character on Discovery named Linus, who is mostly a comic relief character. Now the reason I bring them up is that in one episode there's a scene where Linus is eating bamboo of all things, and I'm not sure the writers realized how telling this is about Saurian biology.

Bamboo is a damn hard food to eat, and us humans can only eat the shoots of a few species. Even then, raw consumption of shoots can lead to cyanide poisoning if you aren't careful. We still don't know how exactly a lot of animals that eat a lot of bamboo (bamboo lemurs, red pandas, bamboo rats, elephants, gorillas) are able to digest so much of it without getting cyanide poisoning. There is some sort of neutralization process in giant pandas involving the rhodanese enzyme that turns cyanide into the non-toxic thiocyanate that they just pee out, but the process is still poorly understood in other species.

Bamboo is also hard to digest for the same reason all grasses are; their plant wall cellulose is hard as hell to break down. Like, your choices are:

a) you do a poor job of digesting it and just spend all day eating (giant panda, red panda, bamboo lemur)

b) you grow really big and have a big gut (elephants, gorillas)

c) you only eat the parts of the plant that are easier to digest (bamboo rats)

On top of that, bamboo is loaded with silica phytoliths that are like microscopic bits of glass. These evolved to make their tissues even harder to chew and metabolize.

It's hard to make out in the scene, but it looks like Linus is eating raw bamboo leaves. Just picking them up with his fingers and munching on them like it's nothing. That means his teeth and/or jaws would need to be very powerful (maybe hypsodont? or maybe tooth batteries?) AND, because he's eating it raw, he'd have to be immune to the cyanide in some way.

One explanation could be in the Star Trek Adventures TTRPG, where Saurians are said to have an ability called "Enhanced Metabolism" where they recover from toxins faster than other species (my guess is this was meant to reference their brandy being so strong). BUT, that's not the same thing as the immunity real bamboo eating animals seem to have. My head canon is that Saurians have a diet similar to red pandas, where bamboo-like plants are their main diet on their homeworld, but they'll eat other stuff too when it's available, AND they've evolved some way to convert cyanide into a harmless chemical they excrete, like a giant panda.

All of these whacky biology shenanigans stem (hehe) from the casual writing decision to make a supporting alien character seem weird by eating a weird thing.

[beckyninja]

Trust

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: some suggestive content; implied torture

Description: This is a direct sequel to At First Sight. Guilliman and his intended break the news to their entourages and face the first test of their relationship.

His calloused hands move over your body, mapping each curve and divot. You feel the heat of them, the strength of them. They could hurt you, you know. They could tear you apart with so little effort. But they won’t. You know they won’t.

He whispers your name. You’ve never heard it spoken that way before. Like he’s drinking in each syllable and is awed by the taste. You whisper his in return.

“Roboute…”

He takes your mouth again and you melt further into his arms. He encompasses you. Overwhelms you. Drowns you in his presence. 

By the Light and the Void, you sink willingly.

But then he pulls back. 

You feel his massive chest heaving against you, hear his breath coming in great gasps. When he speaks, it sounds as if he is trying to hold back an avalanche with will alone.

“I… I must stop.” 

***

“My Lady?”

The voice ripped you from your reverie. You jerked upright, blinking. Before you, the great view port stretched to the ceiling, what was usually a view of endless starfield now taken up by the bulk of The Macragge’s Honor. The Ultramarine flagship, at least the size of your homeworld’s capital city, flew alongside and dwarfed your own ship.

It should have been an intimidating sight. Instead, you found the brutal and beautiful lines of the behemoth comforting. Your betrothed was there. 

Betrothed.

You bit your lip and tried to hold back a delighted laugh. 

Are you thinking of me right now, Roboute? 

An impatient sigh reminded you of your company. You composed your face into a pleasant mask and turned to face the frowning attendant. She bobbed a half-hearted curtsy.

“Captain Takahashi, her officers, and Her Grace’s diplomats are assembled, my Lady. As you requested.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the cushioned window seat. “Thank you, Nita. I will be along shortly.”

The woman barely tried to hide her scoff, bobbed another perfunctory curtsy, and scurried off without waiting to be dismissed. You sighed. You’d done all you could to endear yourself to the attendants Grandmother provided. And still they treated you like some provincial hick fresh from the high country.

Which I suppose I was not too long ago. 

Oh well. You’d grown used to their slights. They didn’t sting as much as they used to.

Holding your head high, you left the Observation Deck and headed toward the Bridge. Time to deliver the news.

Void only knows how it will be received.

***

“I… I must stop.”

He forces the words through gritted teeth. Every primal instinct he thought himself above roars in protest. They rage against his better judgment, urging him to dominate, to ravish. You’re warm and willing. Your very scent cries out to him. You want this as much as he does.

When he pulls away and you whine in confused protest, his will nearly crumbles. 

“Oh My Hearts,” he groans, “do not tempt me.”

“Roboute?” Your soft hand slides along his jaw. “Why…?”

He closes his eyes and fights to master these foreign desires. “I will not dishonor you like this. You deserve better.” When he finally feels he has mastery again, he looks at you. “You will be Lady of Ultramar, my wife. I will not treat you like a mere mistress.” 

You are silent for a moment, then, “I understand.”

Taking your hand in his, he presses another kiss to your palm. “Forgive me my rashness.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Roboute.” Your smile lights the dim room. “You’re a good man.”

If you had reached into his chest and plucked out both his hearts, Guilliman assumes he would feel much the same as he does now. Throne! His adoration is painful in its intensity.

“Sleep well, my Love. Fear nothing, and know that I am near.”

***

Roboute Guilliman was never more grateful for his skill at multitasking. His stylus flew over the parchments and data-slates before him with unerring focus, part of his mind steadily solving the unending problems of Imperial government one by one. As usual. 

He trusted his face remained set in its usual mask. No one near could possibly guess at the turmoil beneath.

You. You. Youyouyouyou….

Your scent. The floral, herbal fragrance you favored, mixed with something he could only describe as fresh. Like the mountain air of Macragge. 

Your touch. Cool in comparison to his and impossibly soft. 

Your taste… the sounds you made….

Throne damn it all!

The stylus in his hand snapped in two. He growled and leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. For the thousandth time that day, his eyes went to the view port, and the sleek ship that floated beyond. 

He understood your need to address your crew and fellow diplomats. His rational mind did, anyway. Every other part of him chafed at the thought that you were no longer in reach. You were so fragile, and this universe so capricious.

Whatever chance granted him this bit of solace could snatch it away just as easily. His chest constricted at the thought. He needed you close. On his ship. In his arms. In his bed.

No, damn it! 

There were rules, in both your culture and his. Rules that needed to be followed. He would not permit you to begin your life at his side under a cloud of scandal. Throne knew acclimating would be hard enough without that. Besides, he wanted to court you, like the lady you were.

His impromptu proposal would already raise eyebrows. He frowned. You needed a proper ring. He’d have to see to that-

“My Lord.”

Sicarius marched into his office, sabatons striking the floor with slightly more force than usual. Guilliman could read the displeasure on the Commander’s face as he stiffly saluted.

“Are they all assembled?”

“Yes, my Lord. The Victrix Guard, the Ultramarine Captains in attendance, all the most senior baseline officers and officials, and the Mechanicus ArchMagi. As you ordered.”

“The Astropaths are prepared to transmit?”

“They are, my Lord.” Sicarius hesitated a moment. “Forgive me, Lord Guilliman, but, may I speak freely?”

Here it comes. Guilliman sighed.

“Speak.”

“I do not understand your reasoning behind this decision, my Lord.”

Not for the first time, Guilliman regretted the Commander’s presence that fateful night. Hiding anything from Astartes’ ears was nigh impossible, and he remembered well the look of utter horror on the Commander’s face when he’d exited your quarters.

Guilliman stood and made his way toward the door. “I shall make my reasoning clear during the official announcement, Sicarius.”

I doubt you would understand even if I explained it to you. I doubt any of your brothers will either.

Somehow, that saddened him.

***

“In conclusion, Lord Guilliman has made me an offer of marriage, and I have accepted.”

As you expected, your announcement is met by stunned silence, followed by a flurry of hysteria from the other diplomats.

“What?!”

“This is not what was planned!”

“What would Her Grace, your grandmother, say?”

“Have you lost what little mind you ever possessed?!”

You winced at the last outburst, coming from Lord O’Rourke. The stout career politician was the senior diplomat in this delegation, though your superior rank placed you in the position of Ambassador. 

A fact he’d never forgiven you for.

You watched his face turn from its usual red to a truly alarming shade of purple. He lurched toward you and you had to fight the urge to shy away.

He can’t hurt me here. Not in front of everyone.

O’Rourke halted just a few feet in front of you. You could see, and smell, the sweat dripping from his face. He jabbed a finger at you.

“Foolish, brainless, naive little girl!” Spittle flew from his lips. “Get back over there and tell that barbarian warlord you’ve come to your senses and refuse his disgusting impertinence!”

Your eyes narrowed at the insult. He’d been singing a different tune when he’d actually met the Primarch, cringing and quivering on his knees.

“I’m afraid it’s far too late for that, O’Rourke. As we speak, Lord Guilliman is delivering the message to his staff, and then on to the wider Imperium. What’s done is done.” Indignation emboldened you. “And I, for one, am glad of it.”

The stinging slap caught you by surprise. A few of those present gasped, more smirked, as you stumbled back.

“Selfish bastard bitch!” O’Rourke snarled. “Have you any idea what you’ve done? You’ve sold your people into slavery because you couldn’t keep your legs close-”

“That will be quite enough, my Lord.” Captain Takahashi’s quiet command cut through the politician’s rant.

He whirled on her. “This is my delegation! You cannot tell me-”

“This is the Lady Heir’s delegation.” The Captain approached from her position by the helm.  “But you stand on the Bridge of my ship.” She stood a good two feet shorter than the politician, but commanded far greater respect. “And I will not tolerate such undisciplined behavior. Will you, my Lady?”

The Captain sent you a meaningful glance. You swallowed tears of pain and shame.

“I-I will not. L-Lord O’Rourke, please remove yourself from my presence until you have r-regained your composure.” 

Void! Why can’t I stop my voice from shaking?

O’Rourke looked as if he was about to argue, when a motion from the Captain brought two men-at-arms to your side, hands on their weapons. The politician seethed and stormed off the bridge, followed by the rest of the diplomats. They did not bother waiting for your dismissal.

You let loose a long, unsteady breath. “Thank you, Captain.”

She nodded. “I know my duty, Lady Heir. Even if some have forgotten theirs.” A brief pause. “Would you do me the honor of joining me in my stateroom?”

You managed a smile and followed her off the bridge. Once inside the rather spartan stateroom, the Captain pulled a chair and motioned for you to sit. She then called a steward, who vanished into a sideroom before re-emerging with an ice pack and a flask.

“For your face.” The Captain handed you the icepack. “And for your spirit.” She handed you the flask.

“Thank you.”

You pressed the pack to your aching cheek, but did not drink from the flask.

“You’ve always been kind to me, Captain.” The stoic woman bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I would know your thoughts on this matter, if I may.”

A long silence. The Captain seemed to stare off into the distance before speaking.

“In my time in your presence, I have come to know you as a conscientious young woman. You care for our people, and would never take a course of action that would harm them.”

You warmed under the rare praise.

“In fact, I believe you would sacrifice both your dignity and your honor if you believed it necessary. You have been taught to do so.”

Your eyes widened. “This isn’t like that, Captain!”

“Is it not?”

You set the ice pack on the table. Your mind spun with a thousand different arguments and rationalizations. Finally, you settled on the simplest.

“I love him.”

Her expression didn’t change. “But do you trust him, Lady Heir?”

A bucket of ice water dashed over your head would have felt much the same. “I….”

By the Light and the Void, do I? Or am I being played for a fool yet again?

You finally chose to take a swig from the silver flask. The liquor burned its way down your throat, but failed to supply the courage you sought.

“Captain, I…I don’t-”

“Captain!”

A naval officer burst into the stateroom, eyes wild. “Someone has armed the nuclear arsenal!”

Captain Takahashi was on her feet in the blink of an eye. “Shut down the firing systems, immediately!”

“We’ve tried, Ma’am. We’ve been locked out of the computer!” He swallowed. “They’re aiming at the Imperial flagship.”

Roboute. 

You felt your heart still. “Light help us.”

***

Guilliman stood in his massive audience chamber. The vaulted ceilings, great pillars, and vast murals of Ultramarine triumphs never failed to awaken mixed feelings of pride and melancholy in him. But today, today he allowed himself to feel just a sliver of joy as well.

He knew few enough in the multitude shared the sentiment.

Shock seemed to be the prevailing emotion, followed closely by confusion, especially among his sons. At least they didn’t all express the same blatant disdain as Sicarius. He hoped some of them would eventually come to appreciate your presence. Part of him wished Calgar were aboard, just to see his reaction.

The baseline officials traded glances and whispers amongst themselves. They all knew of your existence, of course. But relatively few had ever come into contact with you. This news must seem to come out of nowhere to them.

Only the Mechanicum Magi had no response at all. Guilliman could imagine them wondering why he’d interrupted their work for such a trivial announcement.

He found himself oddly disappointed.

Then he noticed the serfs.

They moved among and on the edges of the crowd, unnoticed by nearly all. But his Primarch’s eyes caught the smiles beneath their hooded robes.

It seems some did share his joy after all. The thought lifted his hearts.

He turned to Sicarius. “See that the Astropaths transmit this message not only to Holy Terra, but to the Captains of the Companies as well.”

Sicarius nodded, but did not leave immediately. “My Lord, what if this is all some sort of trap?”

A few eyes glanced their way and Guilliman growled. “Lower your voice, Commander.”

He did, but did not stop speaking. “I do not know how this… female has ensnared you, my Lord. But have you considered that she could be some sort of psyker? How do we even know her people possess any useful technology? Perhaps this is all an elaborate ploy to get you to lower your-”

“Enough!” Guilliman winced as his retort echoed throughout the chamber.

He retreated to his office. Sicarius followed, silent but obviously displeased. Once inside, Guilliman whirled on him.

“Commander, I understand your concerns, but if you ever, ever question my judgment in front of such a multitude again, I will see you demoted and dishonored. Do you understand?” 

Sicarius went rigid. “Yes, my Lord.”

Guilliman closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Do you think I have not considered each and every one of the things you named? I have. And I have discarded them all.”

The Commander’s facial muscles twitched in such a way that Guilliman knew he was struggling to remain silent.

Guilliman turned away.

How can I explain this in a way you could understand, Cato? How can I say that I truly do not care if her world is of value to the Imperium or not? As long as I have her.

He remembered the look in your eyes when you accepted his proposal. The love he saw there. He knew what betrayal looked like. Few knew it better. 

You would never do that to me.

Alarms blared. A mechanical voice screeched through both his and Sicarius’s personal vox-casters: “FOREIGN WEAPONS SYSTEMS’ ACTIVATION DETECTED. ALL HANDS TO STARBOARD BATTLE STATIONS.”

Sicarius leapt into action. “My Lord! We must get you to the armoring room!”

But Guilliman broke away and strode to his view port. Your ship slid into view, small and silvery and somehow more aggressive than it had been just hours before. He saw portals, like mocking mouths, opening  all along the side facing The Macragge’s Honor. Missile ports.

“My Lord!” Sicarius bellowed.

The mechanical voice screeched again. “COUNTERMEASURES READY. AWAITING ORDER TO FIRE.”

Behind him, he heard Sicarius activate his vox. “This is Cato Sicarius, Commander of the Victrix Guard, I hereby give the order to-”

“Wait.”

Sicarius’s voice rose into octaves not usually attained by an Astartes. “My Lord?!”

Guilliman ignored him, eyes fixed on your ship. In a mere millisecond to the average human, his mind raced through every possible option. His flagship could atomize your’s without even putting a dent in its munitions stock. Your crew knew they had no chance. That left malfunction as a possibility.

Or suicide. Your ship had been allowed closer to The Macragge’s Honor than any non-Imperial ship in millenia. This could be some desperate, sacrificial attempt at assassination. Sicarius’ words, dismissed moments before, now gnawed at him.

Had that been your plan all along?

“Lord Guilliman!” Sicarius all but screamed.

He did not speak, eyes still fixed on the open missile ports. He should give the order. But something… something held him back. 

“INCOMING MESSAGE FROM FOREIGN VESSEL.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Patch it through to my personal vox.”

Behind him, he sensed Sicarius was nearing an apoplectic fit.

“Roboute?”

Your voice, thin and staticky from a barely compatible communications system. But still your voice.

He activated his vox and spoke your name.

***

You gasped in relief at the sound of your name over the transmitter. “Roboute! Don’t fire. There was a mutiny among several of my delegation. They hijacked one of the firing systems.” You knew you were babbling, but couldn’t stop yourself. “We managed to stop them just in time and things are back under control. Don’t fire!”

Tears filled your eyes. You couldn’t decide if they came from the stress of the last few minutes, or the idea that your love might think you’d betrayed him.

“Please don’t fire. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I-I would never….” Your throat nearly closed. 

Beside you, one of the naval officers reported. “Their weapons’ systems are still active, Captain.”

Captain Takahashi’s face, blackened from weapons’ fire, was grim. She motioned to another officer.

“How quickly can we cloak?”

The officer just shook his head.

You swallowed. It was all up to you.

Do I trust him? Does he trust me?

“Roboute, please.”

You felt a strange sense of calm as the realization you’d done all you could came over you. Now it was up to him.

The officer next to you suddenly laughed. “They’re powering down!”

The transmitter cracked to life. “Are you well?”

Tears fell. You replayed the last few minutes over in your mind. Chasing after the Captain and her men-at-arms as they rushed to the Fire Control Center. You hadn’t known what else to do, and waiting seemed unbearable. 

There you’d found the door held by Lord O’Rourke’s personal guard. Shouts. Screams. Smoke in the air. Someone had shoved you to the floor. You remember wishing you had a rifle.

In seconds that seemed like hours, your group had forced their way past the door, and found O’Rourke poised to fire the missiles.

He’d looked so proud. “I do this for our people, and by the command of the rightful heir-”

 Light and Void, had you really thrown yourself at him? At that moment, you hadn’t thought of the alliance, shattered before it had a chance to begin. You hadn’t thought of the hundreds of innocents who would die. You hadn’t even thought of your own life.

You’d thought of impossibly blue eyes, looking at you like no one had ever looked at you before.

When you awoke moments later, ribs aching from where you’d been thrown against the computer bank, all you could think about was getting to the nearest transmitter.

“Yes, Roboute, I am well.”

The next hours passed in a blur. Roboute insisted you return to his flagship, and Captain Takahashi had agreed. She couldn’t know who else among her crew might be plotting mutiny. But she did have one thing to say when she met the Primarch in the docking bay.

“Nothing will stop me from launching every bit of ordinance I have at your ship, if the Lady Heir comes to harm under your care.”

The Ultramarines had stiffened, but Roboute only nodded. “If I allow harm to befall her, I will lower our shields myself.”

Then he’d swept you into his arms. You snuggled against him as he carried you through the halls of his ship, ignoring the glances from those you passed. 

“Where are you taking me?

“I have had new quarters prepared for you, adjacent to my own.” He smiled wryly down at you. “I am not letting you out of my sight again. Not, at least, until we reach your homeworld.”

You stiffened. “You’re taking me home?”

“Of course. How else will I officially ask for your hand?”

You pressed your face into his chest, not wanting him to see the dismay that flitted across it. Home held fewer happy memories than he thought. Still….

You trusted Roboute Guilliman to keep you safe.

***

Guilliman made sure you were tucked safely in bed, a medica on hand and one of his Victrix Guard stationed by the door, before he made his way back to the docking bay. Commander Sicarius and a rather plain-looking baseline man fell into step behind him. 

The warmth and comfort of your presence faded with each thunderous step, changing into cold rage.

A tiny woman met him outside of a shuttle similar to the one in which you’d first arrived. He nodded to her.

“Captain Takahashi.”

He saw her shiver slightly at the expression on his face, though she quickly regained her composure. “Lord Guilliman.”

He glanced toward the shuttle. “My thanks for bringing me what I asked for. I sincerely hope you will not be reprimanded by your superiors.”

“I would endure any level of reprimand necessary for this. Besides,” her dark eyes glittered coldly, “prisoners are often ‘shot while trying to escape’.”

She snapped an order into her comm-link and the ramp of the shuttle opened. There was a muffled shriek as a bound and gagged figure tumbled down and into the docking bay. He’d been stripped to his underclothes, and his skin already bore numerous mottled bruises.

The Captain eyed him. “The Lady Heir managed to land a few good hits before he threw her off.”

Guilliman felt a surge of pride. “She is stronger than she looks.”

“In more ways than one.” The Captain saluted. “My Lord, I leave you with your baggage. I trust you’ll share whatever information he divulges. I am most interested in whoever gave him his orders.”

“As am I.”

The Captain strode up the ramp without a second glance at the bound man, even when he whimpered something that sounded like her name. A second later the ramp closed, and the shuttle departed.

Guilliman walked slowly toward the man, stretching to his full, armored height and never breaking eye contact. The pathetic figure immediately soiled himself. 

“Interrogator,” Guilliman motioned to the unassuming baseline, “how long before you extract every secret this insect has to give?”

The man cocked his head, the implants where his eyes used to be whirring, “Oh, an hour at most, my Lord. Faster, if you don’t mind more… extensive damage.”

“Proceed.”

“And when I am finished, my Lord? What shall I do with what remains?”

Guilliman stared down, unblinking, at the screaming form of Lord O’Rourke, the man who’d come so close to extinguishing one of the only lights in his life.

“The lower decks are always in need of more servitors.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

so many people emphasize the importance of mental health representation in fiction, & i completely agree. likewise, many feel sympathy for characters showing typical symptoms of mental illness—the ones that are often talked about openly, such as feeling nervous & sad.

but what about the characters showing more stigmatized symptoms? the behaviours that are complicated, the trauma responses that aren’t talked about often?

countless steven universe fans refer to pearl as “insane” for being self-sacrificing. but they say this without acknowledging the fact that she was carrying many distressing secrets at the time & she grew up in a society where all pearls were seen as replaceable, inferior objects.

rose is impulsive & she lies often, which many fans quickly label as “malicious,” ignoring the anxiety, self-hatred, guilt, & trauma that may have influenced her habits & behaviours.

pearl & rose had a mutually codependent relationship with a handful of other ongoing issues, & therefore some people claim that “they never loved each other.” some say rose’s unstable relationships are because she’s “incapable of love,” completely missing the fact that she was a very loving person who didn’t love herself.

pearl is called “petty” for flaunting her relationship with rose in we need to talk. but what if showing off her boldness was easier than admitting her fear of being replaced—just like being extra intimidating on the battlefield forced homeworld gems to take her seriously instead of laughing at her for being “just a pearl”? talking about her insecurities likely made pearl feel as small as she did on homeworld.

unhealed wounds don’t just hurt the person—they can hurt others & strain relationships too.

this doesn’t mean we should excuse everything pearl & rose have done or claim they’ve done nothing wrong

that’s harmful in its own way; we shouldn’t say that those actions are positive & don’t need to be worked on in any way.

at the same time, these issues don’t make them bad people, they’re just… people

that’s why i love them.

they displayed all kinds of trauma responses & symptoms of mental illnesses, not just the ones that are discussed often or stereotypical or considered “acceptable.”

lots of us look back at the times when we were struggling & we regret a lot of the things we did. it’s important to recognize when we were wrong so we can grow & take accountability, but it’s also important to have self-compassion & understand that many of those regrettable actions were reflections of our pain, not our character. this is why we regret them & why growth is possible. this is why we can say that we are filled with love that we’ve always had—it’s just difficult to properly show that love when we’re not only filled with pain, but overwhelmed by it.

i have so much compassion for pearl + rose. they’re both extremely caring & strong and they have so much love for each other—that’s who they are. their pain is also very complex & they have mental health struggles. nothing is glorified, nothing is brushed aside, and their healing is nonlinear & just as complicated as everything they’ve been through. i think that’s amazing. having empathy for characters like pearl and rose can make you learn a lot about yourself.

they’re not meant to be angels or villains—they’re meant to be something much better: complicated & relatable

[ckret2]

Any mention of shape segregation

Nope.

Here's what we know about how his dimension handled shapes and how it compares to canon Flatland:

Bill mentions rhombuses and trapezoids when talking about his home and that they're wasting his oxygen. In Flatland, rhombuses & trapezoids would never be allowed to live—only squares are regular quadrilaterals, and any deviation from regularity so great it can't be fixed in childhood (about 1º) is grounds for execution or imprisonment. So the mere existence of rhombuses & trapezoids in great enough numbers that Bill can comment on them means his dimension was MUCH more tolerant of irregularity than Flatland.

A triangle suggesting quadrilaterals are wasting his air could mean that quadrilaterals don't outrank triangles in his dimension—or, that could just be Bill's ego talking. On the other hand, a regular(ish?) triangle suggesting irregular quadrilaterals are beneath him could be prejudice against irregularity... or, again, could just be Bill's ego talking.

When Bill claims to be geometrically perfect, he tells the reader to stop staring at his "hypotenuse." Only right triangles (triangles with a 90º angle) have a "hypotenuse," while equilateral triangles are 60º/60º/60º An irregular that's 30º off of regularity is unheard of in Flatland, and would be MILES beyond grounds for execution, never mind wasting time surgically correcting it. IF Bill really had a hypotenuse, the mere fact that he's alive means his dimension is incredibly different from Flatland. (Or: it could mean that Alex is playing fast & loose with what he remembers from geometry class and he just used "hypotenuse" to mean "the longest side.")

When he claims to be geometrically perfect, he doesn't say that all his angles/sides are the same. Only that they add up to 180º, which is true of every triangle.

Bill seems to be very proud of being a triangle, at odds with how low-ranked they are in Flatland; again, this could mean triangles WEREN'T low ranked in his world, or it could just be Bill's ego.

His fake magazine cover says "FEELING OBTUSE? Get acute for the summer!" This could be only a joke about fad diets in magazines: but IF we decide to take it seriously, obtuse angles are anything over 90º, so that suggests ideal triangles have all acute angles, but that having an obtuse angle is something that can be address through a fad diet rather than through infant surgery or execution. (This would only apply to triangles: a regular quadrilateral would have all right angles, not obtuse or acute; and any higher regular shapes are supposed to have all obtuse angles.)

One of the hidden codes in the book says "IRREGULAR," that's it, no further context. It stands to reason, though, that this means the concept of irregularity exists in Bill's dimension, and it's a sore point. (But we have no context yet for what "irregular" means in the Gravity Falls setting; maybe it has nothing to do with a shape's sides/angles, and just refers to other disorders or mutations like Bill's ability to see the third dimension.)

Another hidden code says "HIS DIMENSION NOW DECEASED SCALENE AND EUCLID REST IN PEACE". We don't know who/what "scalene" and "euclid" are yet. Another couple codes suggest "Euclidia" might be the name of his dimension and/or homeworld, so "Scalene and Euclid" might be the names of worlds; another theory is that Scalene and Euclid are his parent's names. At any rate, "scalene" means a triangle with no matching sides/angles; Flatland allows for isosceles triangles with two matching sides, but not scalene. It seems unlikely that a person or planet would be named Scalene unless being scalene was normal and accepted in society.

The codes mention a fair amount of medical trauma in baby Billy's childhood, but it all seems to revolve around his eye, not his shape. If he was a right triangle and became equilateral, either he got surgery too young to remember; got medical interventions he could remember that were not traumatic; or had no medical interventions at all, and maybe in his dimension a growing triangle can naturally develop from a 90º angle into a 60º angle.

tl;dr:

NO mention of segregating shapes

NO mention of a hierarchy based on how many sides you have

extreme irregularity seems to be tolerated and NOT grounds for execution

there's evidence to suggest that, at minimum, ideal triangles have all acute angles; this implies the possibility that regularity was still preferred to irregularity, even if irregularity is tolerable

evidence suggests they believed you could change your angles via personal decisions (i.e. diet) and therefore your shape isn't permanently set or a reflection of your intrinsic morality

medical interventions for irregular angles were either milder compared to Flatland or non-existent

"irregularity" in their society might refer to mutations unrelated to their geometric shapes

And that's everything we know about how shapes are treated in his dimension.

Let me know if I missed any mention of angles or shapes in his dimension.

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[jpitha]

Mercenaries

In the end, it wasn't about what the humans could do that the other sapient groups could not, it was about what the humans were willing to do.

The Gren war was a war of conquest. They had decided that they needed more room.

All of the races of the Coalition had similar environmental needs - the fact that they could live and work together was why there was a Coalition at all. The humans lived at one end of the habitable scale - higher gravity, more varied and intense weather, seasons - while the Sefigans lived at the other. The Gren occupied a space somewhat in the middle. Their word was less dense than the worlds the Humans preferred, and while they did have seasons, they were much less intense. Dex, their homeworld was older, and lighter than Earth.

The Sefigans on the other hand, evolved to thrive practically on a paradise. They had no seasons, their biomes were laughably similar, their days and nights were always exactly the same length. Outside of a few bands near the equator they didn't even have rain. Most humans that visited their world were put off by the sameness of every day. Human ambassadorial rotation was the shortest of the Coalition sapient groups - it was that maddening for them.

Seeing a ripe opportunity, the Gren launched a lightning attack two (earth) years after the humans joined the Coalition. Their large Warfinders would flash to Sefigan colony worlds, enter low orbit and demand surrender. If no surrender was forthcoming, they would bombard one or two cities and then land and take the rest with an invasion until they local authorities surrendered or were eliminated.

The human governments had decided to remain neutral. They were still the new sapient in the Coalition and didn't want to jeopardize their membership by taking the 'wrong' side. But that didn't mean that no humans fought...

****

Olivia, the leader of the group, sat down in the small Sefigan built chair - it was half again too small for her frame. It reminded her of sitting in the chairs in her niece's school. It was tough to have bravado and swagger when trying to contort into a tiny chair, but Olivia did her best.

"Commander Olivia, I still do not understand your offer." The Sefigan administrator said. The Sefigans were a small, furry species. They reminded the humans of something they called a 'teddy bear', though teddy bears did not tend to have 4 centimeter retractable claws.

"It's simple really, Administrator Wollruf. For a reasonable fee, my mercenaries and I will fight on your side. We will bring our equipment, experience and skill and fight the Gren in your name." Olivia tried to lean back, but the front legs of the chair tipped up and she swung her arms wildly to keep her balance. With a thud, the legs slammed back down and she smiled sheepishly.

Administrator Wollruf leaned forward. His office was well appointed, but small. and the humans that Commander Olivia had brought with her tended to loom. He was fascinated by the offer though. "You'll fight, for pay? Like a job?"

Olivia shrugged. "It is a job. Like any other. Some people build ships, others grow food. Me and my Obliterators?" She gestured to the two men behind her who grinned, showing their teeth "We fight."

"Why?"

"Why not? We're good at it, we like it, and it's an opportunity."

Administrator Wollruf's ears twitched and his fur rippled. "Opportunity? For what?"

Olivia smiled and spread her arms welcomingly. "For money. We - me and my team - would very much like to be rich, Administrator Wollruf. Hire us, and you will be safe, and we will be paid; half up front, half after the Gren leave."

"I will consult with the rest of Colonial Administration. We will give you our answer in one solar cycle." He stood. "Thank you for your offer, it is... interesting."

"We will wait one solar cycle for your answer, but-" she held up a finger. "Only one. We have other colonies to visit. If you do not wish to avail yourself of our services, there are other Sefigan colonies that might." Olivia and her two guards turned and left.

One half solar cycle later, the Obliterators were pinged. Administrator Wollruf's colonial government was willing to hire them to protect their colony. The next half cycle was spent negotiating the pay, and the deposit was given.

Not one twocycle later, a Gren Warfinder flashed into the system. As before, they took up station in low orbit, and demanded the surrender of the colony.

However, this time, before the Sefigan colony was forced to reply, Olivia's Obliterators flashed in. Their main ship was a former Imperial Dreadnought - older but well maintained - and was more than a match for the Warfinder. They engaged in pitched battle, and the Obliterators were able to drive off the Warfinder.

Two more Warfinders came within the next three cycles, and each time, the Obliterators drove them off. The Gren hadn't really anticipated any opposition from the Sefigans, let alone the humans, so they barely came prepared to fight. The Obliterators received their payment from the grateful colonial authorities, left a beacon stating that this system was under their protection, and flashed away to the next Sefigan colony for another payday.

The Gren had submitted a formal complaint to the Coalition stating that the humans were illegally 'interfering' in their war. The humans replied back that the Obliterators and any other mercenary groups were not affiliated with the government, and were purely independent operators. When the Gren asked where they got their equipment, the humans shrugged and pointed out that it was not illegal to sell mothballed and surplus equipment.

To their credit, it only took the Gren half a solar year to reach out and see if any human mercenary groups were willing to work for them.

Multiple groups replied back that they were happy to engage in negotiations... for the right price.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry. 

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls. 

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?“

“No, it’s just—” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just… 

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know? 

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror. 

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows. 

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!” 

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks. 

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time. 

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

~~

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while. 

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now. 

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.) 

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.  

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then… 

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

~~

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]

[love-takes-work]

WHAT WAS THIS SHOW ABOUT?

One thing I really love about Steven Universe is that each of the four major characters kind of got a chance to be What The Show Was About. I would have LOVED spending more time with all of them and delving into who they were and who they became beyond what we got, but what we got was . . . actually pretty special.

STEVEN

As the ACTUAL main character and the show's literal namesake, it's obvious he's the protagonist. Our man has been through a lot and I don't suppose anyone would say he never got his moment considering he was there for the whole show. But except for some pretty important identity stuff that depended on his choices in the last episode of the OG show, a LOT of Steven Universe is stuff that happened to and around Steven. There was so much history and so much baggage that a lot of the story was about how he fended it off, dealt with it, fought it, reasoned with it, and managed everyone's emotions in the process.

Steven is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: being half human, being extremely young, being Rose Quartz's son, and having Diamond-level powers and a claim to the Pink Diamond throne.

We had to wait for Steven Universe Future before the show was entirely focused on him, his development, his trauma, and his healing.

Some episodes from the original show focused on Steven's mental health and growth as a person--most notably "Mindful Education"--but we just didn't get to linger very long with his development until the epilogue show because plot stuff was always happening, other people's feelings were taking center stage, and worlds needed saving. I'm really glad we got Steven Universe Future for that reason. Some people disagreed, but I felt like it was a long overdue look into the soul of who he is--how his central defining character trait was his selflessness, and how desperately he needed to address that without having it manifest in a toxic way in the tradition of Jasper, White Diamond, or Pink Diamond.

AMETHYST

It could be argued that Amethyst had the most careful, nuanced, significant character growth of the three supporting Gems in the show. And it started immediately in the first season, when she constantly squabbled with Pearl and revealed that she felt judged and stifled and treated like a misbehaving child as early as "Tiger Millionaire."

Amethyst is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: She's the clear outsider as the one who didn't fight in the war, the only full Gem from Earth in the group, the only Gem who grew up with no Homeworld dogma but also no roots, the only Gem who'd never met another one of her own and longed on some level for that connection.

The show continues to check in with Amethyst's self-worth issues throughout, giving us "An Indirect Kiss," "On the Run," "Maximum Capacity," "Reformed," and even "Cry For Help" (which seemed like an Amethyst episode until Pearl did her thing). We get "Onion Friend" when Amethyst shows us she thinks she's boring and that nobody values her. And we get "Too Far" when Amethyst really starts to internalize her inferiority based on Peridot's assessment of her and revelations of her origin.

With her cooking on that, we end up spending a string of episodes with Amethyst as the focus character. She's still shaking off dust about not doing what she's supposedly made for when a fight with Jasper twists the knife. She's beaten and insulted and almost physically destroyed, having to be rescued by Stevonnie. Steven misguidedly tries to cheer her up by letting her win at video games and she reveals that she thinks she's "the worst Crystal Gem." She finds an ally in him but still wrestles with her inferiority to Jasper. And when she still can't beat her in a rematch, she breaks down and realizes her strength is in togetherness. From there, she begins the process of healing, helped along by additional support from her family and finding some connection with meeting the Famethyst. When "Tiger Philanthropist" comes along and reveals that Amethyst doesn't need the outlet of wrestling anymore because she DOES feel she's good enough, we can reflect on what she's been through and how far she's come, and how that leads to her being the one who doesn't fall apart on Steven in the face of huge revelations about his mother.

GARNET

Garnet kind of peaked early, which is not to say it wasn't great. The final episode of Season 1 revealed her identity as a Fusion and further that she was "made of love," and then everyone was on the "Garnet is awesome" train.

Garnet is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: being a Fusion all the time, leading the team and generally holding the others at an emotional distance, never asking questions, offering resources to the others for stability and balance, being the only Gem with Future Vision and a massive responsibility to use it well.

"Jailbreak" was a huge defining moment for Garnet, and as the "stable" character whose worst problems were mostly other people's problems, she did not seem to need a character arc. She was the culmination of a love story, always awesome and strong and dependable and everyone leaned on her, and in "Jailbreak" we found out why she has such an amazing foundation. But the show was not done with Garnet. Not by a long shot.

Pearl hurt her badly in "Cry For Help." Garnet's breakdown and subsequent focus on building Pearl back up was a significant look into how Ruby and Sapphire operate as a couple. Garnet is amazing partly because she is the result of all that work, but who is she as a person? As an individual who isn't an individual?

We see some of her struggle with leadership as the show moves on--most notably "Pool Hopping," and some of the last episodes when she can't make decisions in the Diamonds' shadow because everything's become about Steven's choices. But Garnet gets a spotlight again when Ruby and Sapphire feel differently about the Pink Diamond revelations and they worry Garnet only exists because of a lie. Digging into the real answers of who they are together through finally asking "The Question," and defining their fusion in their own image, was a move toward more authentic stability for Garnet. Her wedding made headlines, and watching her spearhead the immediate fight against the Diamonds on the beach was awe-inspiring.

PEARL

Pearl is initially presented as "the perfect one"--she's persnickety, she's organized, she's hyper-competent, and she's all about rules. But something else is going on with her not far beneath the surface. The first Gem to die onscreen--because of overconfidence and a silly mistake. The first (full) Gem to cry onscreen (and then over and over and over), the first to have a breakdown (and then over and over and over), the only one of the four to have faced an impossible choice, a relationship that nearly destroyed her, and a secret that ate her up from the inside. She was the only one who had (nearly) the whole story. All along.

Pearl is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: the oldest Gem of the group by far, the one who served a Diamond and kept Rose Quartz's secret against her own will, the one who doesn't eat, sleep, or shapeshift. The one who both sat at royalty's right hand and existed as the lowest form of Gem life--created to be a servant, with programming no other type of Gem must live with. Her anxiety, grief, and desperate loneliness makes her one of the most multifaceted and interesting characters in animation history.

We see some minor wigging out from Pearl in "An Indirect Kiss" and a more intense version of it in "Space Race," but we get a much clearer picture that Pearl is Not Okay in "Rose's Scabbard." At that point we assume she thought she was closer to Rose than she really was--that she thought herself special and partial to secrets no one else knew, but that it wasn't true. "Rose's Scabbard" is a different episode on rewatch. Pearl is right that she alone was the one Rose "told everything." She did have a special relationship with her that the others did not.

Pearl's insecurity continues to bite us in the face as the show goes on. She tries to mold Connie into a self-sacrificial super-soldier after her own image in "Sworn to the Sword." Her deep need for someone strong to tell her what to do leads her to betray Garnet in "Cry For Help." Her inability to appropriately make it up to Garnet further complicates our understanding of how she can be so lost. Her jealousy, inertia, and angst frustrate her relationships, with some nice resolution in "Mr. Greg." Peridot's lore drop about Pearls' slave status sheds light on this, and seeing her get underestimated and bossed around by other Homeworld Gems is disheartening as we move on, but when we finally find out that she was Rose's secret accomplice in a false murder that poisoned thousands of their own citizens and led to massive waves of death, and that Pearl's free will to speak about it was also ripped away from her, we finally know, we know why she's been so brittle she could snap all along. She's been trapped inside herself all this time--in an almost literal way--and it's a wonder she's managed to carry on. Pearl's arcs have often been deemed the most emotionally fraught and tinged with gray morality.

These characters all got some very important story arcs focused on them in the midst of moving the plot along. I think the show did a phenomenal job with not only emotional development but with fallout for the other characters. We got to see the Gems' (and other loved ones') reactions when Steven's mental health took a nosedive, and watched them learn more about how to be there for him. We got to see Steven's initially misguided attempts to hype Amethyst up when she was spiraling, leading to him offering her what she actually did need, along with Garnet and Pearl (as Sardonyx) misfiring a bit when they wanted to celebrate Smoky Quartz. We got to see Steven's curiosities and misgivings about Garnet's life as a Fusion, and how Garnet affects others when she does crack under the strain, and how Steven must step up to leadership when Ruby and Sapphire are separated and how Amethyst tries to take care of him while Pearl has a guilt spiral. And we see how Pearl's choices led to Garnet's silent treatment, Amethyst's sulky helplessness, and Steven's attempt to hold the family together; we see how Pearl's confession reformats everyone's understanding of who the Crystal Gems are and why they're even here.

And even when the show is taking careful turns with each character to paint their nuanced feelings and troubles on the screen, it still managed to give us such a worthwhile overall story, with action and backstory and worldbuilding and everything. What's different about it is that the center was always its people--their relationships, their psyches, their evolution and education. I truly love the balance these creators chose, and I remain grateful that we got to experience this story.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

It's so interesting seeing someone take a different tactic when dealing with Jasper. In the original series, I always found that Jasper's point of view and situation butted heads with Steven's usual playbook constantly, and he was too young to really understand that not everyone is going to take to his way of helping. White!Steven's attitude seems to cut to the core of Jasper much quicker and also manages to meet her on her level in a more productive way I think.

Oh yes, absolutely. I think that's WHY C!Steven and Jasper had their own arc in Future. He completely disregarded his previous attempts to convert her using his standard methods and instead tried to meet her on her level. (Which ended in psychological trauma for one of them, and it wasn't Jasper, despite having been the one who was shattered.)

WhiteDiamond!Steven is definitely not going to take the Let's Be Friends approach. He knows what bullies are, and he knows form years of experience what actually drives them. That isn't to say his way is 'better'. His general lack of relentless optimism towards The Power of Friendship and Trust is what made Lapis and Peridot the main antagonists in Season 4. (Not necessarily through any fault, but simply through consequence.)

Meanwhile, Jasper is much less of a mystery to him. He says he wants to find out more about her and how she works, but realistically, he already knows. It's moreso about the details of her life on Homeworld.

Is it a Good way to deal with her? Only time will tell. But it certainly has been a bit more effective.... for the time being.

[wilted3sunflowers]

Pink Pearl: SOLD

Always thought of as a simple minded pearl who honestly to many outsiders never thought she was that great at being a quiet and follow you from behind type. Yet never seemed to be reprimanded much from Zebra Agate whom she was entrusted to. Currently she's thriving in this new Era 3 and on earth in Empire City. She was the one among this group to actually start the whole animal pattern print...kind of. Though technically it could be argued the pattern started with Zebra Agate but Pink Pearl conciously chose leopard print from seeing them on models in store window advertismenet and could not be more interested. On Homeworld theres very little patterns, only really lattice work or stripes of any kind or diamond checkerboard. No one really thought out- no one thought to look to organic beasts for fashion. Humans are so fascinating. Maybe thats what that Rose Quartz truly saw in them. How creative and vibrant they are. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

Design Notes on Grey and Pink Pearl: Inspired first by Pink pearl's interest in 'animal pattern' which Grey is a pearl who excelled at being 'a pearl' sure she was never the most emotive, sing song-y type of pearl for entertainment yet what Zebra Agate needed was a pearl more of a secretary of keeping things on schedule and taking calls and what not. I also decided for this story a conscious effort that Pearls don't wear patterns. They're not of importance they are here to be simple, more softer colors typically and just to show they're a pearl. not some combination of gem type wearing another gems pattern. Also decided the same of course for Pink pearl for them being simple, run of the mill pearls even if Grey has a bit more to her past design it was only for the more authoritative feel that a pearl might have being under an *Agate* that terrifies Design notes on Pink lace: Due to corruption she is a lot more faded- not just from corruption but because her gem was more like that of the sand gem. Embedded in an object and only ever facing the sun. bleaching her gem of colors with too much exposure. She's a lot more polished in her currently look- i had a design ready for her just out of corruption look but then that would leave Zebra agate without a past form and decided to let the two non pearls without past forms. She of course used to be much more vibrant.

Design Notes on Zebra Agate: purposefully the inverse of typical zebra pattern on her clothes. with white stripes on black you can see that her hair itself is a regular part of black stripes on white like a typical zebra. also her design on her bodysuit is specifically to mimic a ribcage with zebra stripes

Zebra Agate: [Sold] "An Agate Terrifies" That's what Agates do. That's who Agates are. Subjugate those out of line and whip them into shape. They're here to make everyone stay in their proper places and follow rules. However I took her to completely go into the other direction of dealing with rules. The Punk movement appealing to her- if this is Era 3 and there is no need for her job role. Why should she keep trying to force a terrifying agate lifestyle? She may not be the kindest or most sweet Zebra Agate is however sentimental and more thoughtful than many- even pink lace considered her much more cold and rigid to expectations of what used to be common of gem society. While shes not an anarchist she has been delving into punk fashion but also the subculture to help her adjust to her new world and its views. She had always needed to follow rules blind and enforce them but due to the new order change. How else was she to find something that even acknlowedges no structure is perfect and many are flawed- even so her diamonds were flawed. Nothings perfect and nothing is without work to adjust.

Grey Pearl: SOLD A muted personality. What do you do when you used to know everything you were supposed to do? Living not in just a new era but an entire new world where you're allowed a lot more freedom that you never actually craved before. She's known Pink Pearl for thousands upon thousands of years and while there are some feelings of envy she would consider Pink Pearl to be her only friend. It's a complex mix of emotions like anyone would have especially towards Zebra Agate and the peculiar softness she seems to have for Pink Pearl that she has with no one else. Whilst never treated harshless it always was more of a cold wall from Zebra Agate that Grey Pearl felt. That this was strictly business relationship. Agate never even asked her to sing or dance- two components that make a pearl a pearl in many's eyes. Yet she's asked Pink Pearl to sing for her, and never stopped her from dancing without being asked. Grey Pearl may not have much of a relationship with Faded Pink Lace however she almost projects a sense of kinship of feelings left behind with her. In fact it was after Pink Lace Agate came back with those curated corruption spots that she decided to have some own markings herself. Humans have tattoos and while she can't get a traditional tattoo from humans she herself worked to get those marks on herself. She was the last one in the group to reform to this new Human lifestyle. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

(Faded) Pink Lace: SOLD During the gem war she of course fought for homeworld and even was was part of the last charge. Of course, while she is more of the carefree type even she could see the dangers. Zebra was part of the task to pull out more of the aristocrats and Pink Lace part of the ground troops. Anything could happen so just as a precaution she sent her pearl away to Zebra Agate. Honestly, she expected that terrifying Agate to reset Pink Pearl for herself. It was a peculiar feeling for Pink Lace recognizing her pearl- even if it took only a moment before her Pearl recognized her. All so unevenly spotted and with sharp spiked growths coming out of her. She was a mess...Just how Zebra Agate used to scold her about. Her pearl still so lively and a bit oblivious to others feelings but even now so creative- such unique spots on her dress...theyre not even diamond shaped. Pink Lace at least knows to go with the flow of things but a good deal perceptive.

[graceofagodswrath]

Humans are Feral: Part 3

This is actually a continuation of the first part, but in a different scenario. I wanted to write a story with the idea of a human pack-bonding to an alien and going feral after seeing the alien hurt. It would a be a moment where aliens realize that while humans are dangerous, this kind of loyalty they can have for anyone or thing is a rarity and should be respected.

I also wanted to play around with the ideas of aliens reacting to human courtship. I’ve seen lots of headcannons and ideas as to how aliens may react to our openness when it comes to romantic relationships. Aka alien/monster fuckers. I hate you all because I am one of you.

So I decided to mix both and go with the scenario: what if a human’s alien S/O was threatened and hurt? I love the cliche of people going rabid after a loved one is hurt, it’s so nice to see humans actually caring for each other in this day and age.

WARNINGS - Implications of sexual trafficking, death, and violence.

Inter-species relationships were not an uncommon thing. However, they were met with equal skepticism and hate as they were welcome.

When humans joined the mix of races in the outer systems, it threw off those with prejudices against such relationships. While the young race was not without it it’s own trivial prejudices, the openness at which they had to forming lifepairs with non-human beings was unexpected. As humans branched out and their strange reputation became more than simple youngling stories, another reputation began to rise. That was of humans as life-mates.

While many still spurned others for finding partners outside their races, among the community it was seen as a huge honor to have a human as a life-mate. They were deemed high-maintenance and challenging to match, yet their loyalty held no bounds.

It wasn’t long before this became a small joke among the humans. They knew their species, and the idea the outer races had of them as lovers was too good not to joke about.

While they could not quell the rising rumors and fantastical stories surrounding their species, as much as it annoyed some, others took it in stride.

Quil’ian was a xicali of the dexi-10 planetary system, from the jungle planet Huvarrh. Stunningly large beasts, xicalis resembled bipedal humanoids with two pairs of arms and four fingered hands. Smooth, iridescent skin emblazoned with unique patterns covered their bodies. In dark spaces they often glowed with their own soft bioluminescence. Two large eyes of various dappled shades sat on either side of their flat noses. Scientists theorized that humans and xicalis must have had a similar evolutionary path from an ancestor of ape-like characteristics. But where humans remained in the ground, xicalis remained in the trees, their strong arms capable of immense strength for swinging from branch to branch.

Quil’ian was such a xicali. His skin shimmered a cerulean blue so deep it rivaled the gemstones of Farcauv. His eyes were pools of amber, one his partner said reminded them of a sweet syrup called honey from their home.

Quil’ian’s life partner was a human named Amira. She was a well-respected starship engineer from the eastern reaches of the Terran homeworld. Black hair, sun-darkened skin and eyes the color of rich garden soil. She had a laugh like the singing bird calls of his homeworld, and soft words of whispered sweetness that made his legs weak. She was the light of Quil’ian’s life.

When they were about in public and chose to display their affections, it more than often drew side glances. Scathing looks. Jealousy. Yearning. Disgust. They paid no mind.

They found work together, traveling to distant worlds and exploring the nether reaches of the universe. Amira would be hired on as an engineer for a ship, while Quil’ian would work as a docker, using his natural xicali strength to move shipments and ship parts. They made quite the pair for any employer.

It was on such a job, on the freelancer starship Queen Diogovay, they found themselves in a dangerous situation. Alien Marauders had attacked, demanding all shipment and valuable items. And the captain was going to let them have it. They weren't going to risk violence and an injured crew. Until the marauders realized there were humans aboard.

Ever since humans had entered the galactum, the trafficking industry boomed. The want for humans for servitude, experimentation, and especially sexual uses made humans beyond valuable. One pretty Terran could make over several billion kronor.

Upon the Queen Diogovay there were five human crew members, including Amira. And the marauders wanted every one of them. When the pirates first grabbed hold of the ship, three of the humans disappeared while Amira and Sam stayed with the crew to try to keep the trespassers at bay.

This proved to be of no use, as the bastards pushed their way past the barriers and blood was spilled without hesitation. Quil’ian made a split second decision and grabbed both Amira and Sam, throwing the pilot over his shoulders and his mate safely in his secondary arms. Then they were booking it down the hallway.

Quil’ian had it in his head to reach one of the evac pods before the pirates caught up to them. The Captain had been against using them to try to keep the ship and goods from the marauders, but they were most likely dead now, the orders void. And Quil’ian had decided from the start his mate was his first priority.

He was several turns from the pods when a kalik hound rounded the corner and slammed into them full force. A creature commonly used for violence, it opened its massive jaws and jumped at the xicali. Pain tore its way up Quil’ian’s leg, and he couldn’t think past the feeling of the hound’s fangs tearing his calf apart and Amira screeching like a jakvy bird. Then the feeling of the hound’s fangs disappeared as soon as they sunk in.

Quil’ian opened his eyes to see Amira atop the hound, arms wrapped around its throat as she attempted to choke it into submission. Sam had a metal pipe in their hands and was slamming into the hound’s face. The two were snarling and screaming right back at the alien dog, enough fury in their eyes to rival the violent creature. And Quil’ian watched as his mate tipped her head back and sunk her own teeth into the soft flesh of the beast’s neck.

It screamed, and Sam shoved the metal pipe down its throat, flesh tearing as the pole exited through the underside of its jugular. It fell to the ground thrashing, but the two humans doubled down in their efforts until the beast stilled. Quil’ian had never witnessed a hound fall so easily, the beasts known for their dexterity.

Then Amira was by his side, her mouth covered in the hound’s orange blood. Her hands made quick work of the sweatshirt she was wearing, tearing it into a single strip to wrap around the massacre that was the xicali’s leg. Her hands were gentle, a drastic change from the viciousness he just witnessed. The xicali stared at her for a moment, then concluded he would have been just as violent had the beast wrapped its jaws around her. If anything, a shiver went up his spine, one that was not unpleasant, at the realization that his human mate was willing to go to such drastic measures to protect him.

When the binding was done, Amira and Sam did their best to haul Quil’ian to his feet, the xicali towering above them. They made their way to the evac pods, spurred on by the distant yells and screeches from the marauders. It was both surprising and not when they got there and found the three other humans preparing the pods. One of them, Kaeveon, immediately went to their aid, muttering about the captain being a “fucking fool” and how they should have jumped as soon as the pirates boarded.

But all went calm as they entered the pod. The pirates were apparently too busy searching the entire Queen Diogovay for the missing humans to consider that they were already gone. In moments they were out in deep space, heading to the nearest station they could take refuge at. Amira was tucked into Quil’ian’s side for the whole duration, the couple refusing to let the other go. They treated the xicali’s injury with the med kit in the pod. It was enough the keep the woman from fussing over him too much, though her mate admitted to himself that he was rather basking in her concerned care.

Perhaps, after this incident, Quil’ian would try to convince her to settle somewhere. Maybe back on his home planet, in a small home in the trees, with a view she would love.

I’m sorry this took forever to put out. Not my best work since I started it months ago and lost the motivation until now. My mental health hasn’t been the best these pst few months, but we’re on the up, and writing this has definitely put some inspiration back on the table. Hope y’all enjoy this smaller snippet. And I really like the possibilities with Quil’ian and Amira, so maybe I’ll have some more stories starring them.

[carionto]

Too tough for paradise

One peculiar side effect of Humans hailing from a Deathworld is that their biological well-being is partly dependent on some degree of microscopic hostility from the environment and what they consume.

It is normal among most species that, should their surroundings change to more hospitable conditions, their minds and bodies would feel relief and be under less stress. However, as with any changes, if they deviate too far too quickly from their normal, you risk damage from a sudden shock to the system.

___________________________

Abigail "Abby" Hostaz had been legally grounded by the Gyin-Trov due to her, ahem, "expansion of business" without the right permits. Not that she bothered to learn that nobody outside Human controlled space in the Galactic Coalition would allow the creation of a deadly asteroid race track AND let sentient beings directly pilot ships through it.

Hell, finding an Alien crazy enough to partake in an activity even most Humans consider insane is one in a trillion. She still did find seven non-Humans, so that math actually is within a reasonable margin. Everything else is not reasonable.

The local Gyin-Trov government learned of the true nature of her activities when a rogue asteroid suddenly appeared on their threat detection systems. The unnatural change of course quickly pointed to where she had set up her latest "thrill track", which the authorities rapidly dismantled, impounded her vessel, named "Victor", and put her under house arrest in the Human embassy awaiting the conclusion of the investigation and subsequent trial.

While station based embassies are effectively fully contained perfect habitats for the respective species, planet based ones tend to adopt a lot of the local elements and integrate what they can simply due to proximity and availability.

Humans, the resourceful buggers that they are, used everything the planet had to offer (that wasn't outright lethal to Humans, which in the case of the Gyin-Trov homeworld were only a few pollen producing crops found in the poles of the planet).

A combination of a almost perfect temperature range (near constant lows of 14C at night, highs of 21C mid-day), slightly higher moisture levels, and bio-engineered local flora that made the water into this somewhat thicker soup containing virtually every nutrient, vitamin and mineral a carbon-based lifeform could ever want, leaving little for the digestive system to tackle. Heck, just being within a field of such plants lets the body absorb everything for healthy survival.

In short, the Gyin-Trov homeworld, also named Gyin-Trov, is as close to Utopia as you can get.

Aaaaaaand Abby is not having a fun time there.

It's not like she was imprisoned - she was allowed to wander around the city and surrounding area under light supervision, she even had her cat, Hector, with her. But there just wasn't enough excitement to be found anywhere.

They had arcades and various physical activities, but she never felt her body grow tired after hours of competitive gaming and contests. No feeling of hunger or exhaustion ever disturbed her focus. The only thing that kept Abby from becoming, essentially, a zombie perpetually engaged in whatever activity was most fun at the moment was the inherent nature of the Human brain - it gets... wobbly after a while and needs sleep.

Not even a week had passed and people noticed Abby had become... different. No strong reactions to anything, no outbursts of some crazy ideas, just a general positive but not quite cheerful apathy. The Human ambassadors had experienced a much milder version of this, and it is theorized that they did not deem it as concerning due to the simple fact the ambassadors always had something to do, and more importantly - something that put their minds, if not bodies, to the test. Regular challenges, worries, and stress from work in general kept them on edge in some ways.

Abby was just waiting around, "put on vacation" as one of the ambassadors had put it. After a couple of more days of this peace, she seemed more like a automaton than anything else. Mindlessly going from place to place, trying out whatever activities were available, but clearly none offered anything close to the level of excitement and danger she had grown so used to. Not even the flawed thirty year old Human body she was in offered any surprises or discomforts.

Everything was just perfectly fine.

When the paperwork finally cleared and she was issued a fine and formally banned from engaging in any construction efforts in Gyin-Trov controlled space, she was reunited with Victor, and the personality changes she had undergone during her short time were seemingly instantly reversed.

Once she was in her ship and the self-diagnostics showed a few blinking lights, Abby immediately became energized and took action. Breathing in the recycled air with a hint of dry rust made that old bruise on her right side make itself known again. She pulled an all-nighter making repairs and "adjustments" to Victor and collapsed from exhaustion on the hard floor.

The next day, she was already near the border to neutral space when she noticed a dwarf planet with a rock formation in the shape of a trebuchet (very vaguely, if you squint really, really hard, and imagine half of the parts), and that gave her an idea.

All the while, Hector the cat did not exhibit any noticeable changes during his stay with Abby on Gyin-Trov. Maybe just a few more hours of sleep per day than normal.