You and Your Human: Part 1
You are small. You have tall ears and a long tail you use for balance and to carry things. You are covered in orange-yellow fur. Standing on two legs, you are about three feet tall, but you do not usually stand on two legs. Your front legs have opposable thumbs. Your language is a series of chirps and squeaks.
You are very, very smart. You were a member of your species first space venture. You were sent as a doctor. In the years since, you have worked on nearly twenty different ships. You discovered you have a natural knack for languages. You know everything you would ever need to know.
But... you do not understand humans.
You have heard the stories, of course. Humans are very new to the galaxy, even newer than you, and they are feared. They are strong, able to take levels of pain that would kill even a Xephala. They choose the things they care about, and will destroy anything else without hesitation. They are unaffected by mental tortures, seeming to suppress memories that would make any other species break. They are deadly, and to be avoided at all costs.
But personally, you don't really see it. Your human is bigger than you, of course, but you know that you are small. It rips fabric easily, but it as gentle with you as a Kaysbury beetle. Terror flashed in its eyes when you tried to give it a medical examination. It shrieked like a nestling when it accidentantly cut itself on a bolt.
For Saint's sake, this thing can't even handle spice! How could this possibly be a threat?
You cannot speak with your human. Though you know many languages, you do not know the one it speaks. You are trying to learn. You have never yet found a language you could not master. Until then, you find other ways to understand him.
Your human is tall, obviously compared to you, but even compared to the pictures of other humans you have seen in books. It is good at projecting a confident aura, but it has tells. Its hands shake, just a little, when it is in an enclosed space. It clenches its paws when a Cervilian comes on screen. And it hates medical equipment. Its breathing speeds up noticeably when it is forced to be near such.
You record all your observations with a keen eye and a yellow notepad, and adjust your behavior accordingly.
Although your human seems uncomfortable around others, you need your crew back. This flight was supposed to be a test drive, trying out some of their duties in the new vehicle. You got distracted by your human, but the deadline is swiftly approaching. They will assume you dead if you do not return soon.
Your human is sleeping. You do not know if it has gone at light-speed before, and you do not have the words to explain. You hope it will not awaken.
You hop up into your captain's chair. It was made for a creature taller than you, but it will serve. You tap the appropriate command and passcode into the panel at your side. It glows and hums in acknowledgement. Your human has never been here. It does not like bright lights. You will have to ask Meritha if she can adjust it once you get back.
To your relief, the light-travel goes off without a hitch. It's always a dangerous procedure, no matter how many pamphlets they pass out, and you know it. You also know you aren't the best pilot in your crew. The only reason you were sent was for your diplomacy. You might not make it back, but at least you won't start a war.
You knock on your human's door and it emits a low beeping frequency until your human wakes up. Its lips are pointed downward and it is slumping. Your human dislikes being woken up.
"Thing? What-is?" your human says in your language. You shake your head (means negative, negate action). You know its language better than it knows yours, and you already have to translate for your crew. You have explained countless times that it is simply easier for you to learn rather than it, but your human is persistent. It is... endearing. In its way.
"New place," you explain. "New people. You okay?"
"Why?" your human answers. It looks uncertain. You jump up onto its shoulder and run dexterous fingers through its hair. Your human likes touch.
"Ship," you hesitate. "More safe with them. Them here, than you safer. Us safer."
"They are good?" your human asks. Its voice is low. It is being vulnerable, showing its emotions. You are so proud.
You nod. Your tail is swaying, your eyes are bright, your ears tall. It's honestly a little embarrassing-- you are glad your human can't read Pyrican body language. "Good. Safe."
You land upon the planet, your human by your side. It is wrapped up in tight clothes and a mask. It did not fight this, although you did not have the words to explain why. Your human never seemed to need the explanation that being a human was a dangerous thing in this galaxy. It knew.
Your crew is not here. This is the meeting spot. You checked, and double checked. It is in an isolated location, but with a mountain to serve as an easy sign if you land in the wrong place. This is the right spot. And you are here and they are not.
They... left you.
You have left ships before, of course. When you would get a new assignment, if you saw a better opportunity, if they did something you could not tolerate, if they asked you to do things you were unable to do. You are not a criminal, but you are a freelancer, which means you have run in the same vein as criminals before. Every time you left, it was professional and communicated clearly. If a fight broke out after that, well, that wasn't really your fault now was it?
You have never been left like this. You did not realize quite how much it would hurt.
You feel a gentle tap on one of your front legs, and turn around to see it is your human. It is bent down, with an expression you do not quite recognize on its face. "You-safe?" it asks. "Body tesned. Mind tensed. Me worried you?"
You are too tired to tell it to speak its native language, to not bother itself for you. You are one of the few species that can safely produce adrenaline, and although it doesn't make you a saints-damned killing machine like it does with humans, the crash is just as bad.
"Expected outcome not," you try to explain. Your small body shakes with heavy breathing. Light-travel is stressful and adrenaline is a void of a drug. "Crew should be here. Crew not here. Alone."
Your human wraps you up in a gentle embrace. You feel certain that if it just squeezed a little tighter, it could pop you like a balloon, but it does not. "I am here."
Whimpering and snuffling, you bury your face into your human and let yourself cry.
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to any americans who feel "paralyzed" and "dont know what to do" to help with gaza:
reading a fucking book. i beg of you.
in a time of knowledge suppression is it your duty to arm yourself with knowledge.
read about americas occupations in the middle east.
read about 9/11 from outside of america and see how they inflicted senseless harm and violence to countless amounts of people and have been suppressing your rights for the past 2 fucking decades.
read about any of the countless wars from the past 30 years. especially from a civilian's. and the victims and survivors' perspective. listen to the horror stories and do not plug your fucking ears as to what your country is doing.
and read about fucking gaza and palestine and keep up with what is happening no matter how "sad" or "uncountable" you might get.
dont look away from this.
you dont have the right to be comfortable during countless active genocides.
if you're knowledgeable, you're powerful, and our current state doesnt fucking want that.
you have the power to change things if you open your eyes and scream to the world.
wake the fuck up.
Edit: please check the reblogs there are readings and ways to help
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Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??
As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue
the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD
He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.
like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...
The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"
and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it
does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING
like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow
For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat
Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation
Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with
Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)
But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time
Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell
Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch
idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room
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