Just saw a spider in my room and lost my mind. Just got done dosing everything in lavander. But it made me think. "What would happen to someone with arachnophobia meeting a alien that's arachnid like"
Less natural more mechanical space orcs stuff, I like to imagine goblincore people being adopted by a crew and just. Absolutely confuse the crew of aliens who already has a human on board, then they see this rat brain tiny human person chew on metal and also somehow make the best (and most dangerous) modifications to the crew's gear.
Most everyone in the known Universe agree that a stable and noise-free space ship is preferable to anything not that. You know, due to space being so bad for your health. Stability means safety, noise-free means things are not breaking, which is always great!
Pure silence, however, can be deceptive, so you do want controlled noises in there, such as small beeps at regular intervals indicating that everything is fine. Soft green and blue lights are good.
By that logic, Johann Utsushima then must hate green and blue. His ship, Kitaiyohdzha, is always blaring orange and red lights and barking annoying warnings at him.
Like, make up your mind! One or the other, stop it with the extreme ends. Johann has resorted to do the time-honored tradition of ignoring the check engine light and instead stays in his suit all the time. It's his rickety mess and he knows exactly where everything is and how it should be, don't go telling him how to run HIS ship. Especially you, ship, don't tell me you know better.
An astute observer may notice the fact that Kitaiyohdzha is a giant rail gun with a cockpit, engine, thrusters, and basic life support systems attached. Or what's left of them anyway.
Mr Utsushima loves guns. And I mean LOVES them. This one in particular. He can't get enough of it. Literally. He couldn't, so he kept ordering bigger and bigger ones. Kitaiyohdzha is the biggest one (21 meters long) he can legally get without being part of or associated with the military in some way, or registering as a "redistributer". He would not pass the background check to do either.
This, however, does not stop him from modifying his guns. It's a lot of effort, very expensive, and quite complicated. Well, for him. Because he does not document anything and not even God knows how many iterations and past modifications he has made to Kitaiyohdzha to make it what it is today.
None of the matters though. The only time the world makes sense, when everything is exactly as it should be, is when he pulls the trigger.
Space. Quivers.
You can't hear the discharge, but you can feel it from a great distance.
Johann is not at a great distance. Everyone would say he is dangerously close, and be factually correct. Not even a meter from the power generator that enables the rail gun to fire a piece of tungsten at relativistic speeds in order to completely obliterate a poor and unsuspecting little asteroid just gently floating through space. Or is it a meteor? Comet? Doesn't matter, they all explode more or less the same.
Johann likes to watch the recordings of him firing the gun. It lets him know what happened, because the moment he fires Kitaiyohdzha, every time without fail, he loses consciousness from the sudden g-forces hurtling him and the "ship" backwards for thousands of kilometers before the barely functional automatic stabilizers return him to rest.
But that moment right before his mind goes blank. THAT is something you cannot explain to others. You FEEL it. The power. The force. The raw... just, THAT.
It's the only thing that keeps him going. Where to? He doesn't care. Simply forward through life.
Having to explain to my therapist that I was lying about hearing voices. *Not* because I wanted attention but because it was the least insane way I could explain it. [*Love* that I have to worry about not sounding insane in *therapy*]
Because. What sounds less insane? Option one(1) or Option two(2):
Option one(1):
I hear voices. There’s like seven of them but there could be more.
Option two (2):
There’s like a lot of us. But when I say ‘us’ I mean me. So like. There’s *me* but there’s also like *not* me but they’re also me. And there’s like a lot of us. I’m ignoring a lot because I’m like that’s enough…it’s…it’s enough slices. So I’m ignoring the ones that were there before *and* the ones that are coming up. And-
So yea some shit happened at therapy a few days ago!
If you can't wash it off, paint over it, replace the item, or buff it out, turn a message of hate into one of love!
I would never condone someone to do this discreetly and in mere seconds with a quickly concealed permanent marker, for example on a public bench or bus stop. Certainly not anything like whipping out a tat machine and adding to an unconscious white supremacist's existing tattoo. That would be illegal! :) And, dear followers, I would never encourage you to do something that's illegal.
So, please only use this when someone has defaced your personal property to avoid breaking the law! Because that would be illegal, and following in the law is always in everyone's best interest. :)
.... :) reblogs and even reposts definitely welcome