Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.
Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.
He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.
Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.
Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?
It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.
I read two hours worth of aliens interacting with humans and all the humans can explain the situation somehow. Why we do things, why we don’t do things. Why we react in a certain way,etc.
I have no idea if this already exists but here’s my idea: What if the human has no idea what is going on with the other human? Or how to explain, repair things because it’s not related to their workspace.
“HumanSusan, why does HumanThomas stab himself with this thin obect?” (Needle)
“He probably suffers from diabetes.”
“What is diabetes?”
“It’s the lack of a certain protein in the human body which we need to function properly. He needs to inject insulin otherwise he will die. But it’s a common porblam so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Could you explain this further?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a mechanic not a doctor. If you want to know how the human body works go an talk to a human doctor. They’ve studied that shit for years.”
or
“HumanJack. Am I correct that you are a scientist?”
“Given the fact that I work in the labor I would say yes. Why?”
“Could you spare some time and explain how it’s possible that two human with blue eyes have a child with brown eyes?”
“Look….. I am a physics scientist. I can build you a laser in no time. I can use the formula for mass time acceleration if I have to but don’t waste your time with asking me about the human body. I hated biology my entire life and will hate it untill I die…………….. Also I’m pretty sure that this is not how genetics work.”
well, probably not, because that kind of halo is formed by ice fog in extremely cold air, and the ‘wheels within wheels’ description of angels comes from areas with a climate warm enough that it just doesn’t happen there.
then again, the sheer rarity of it might mean that the one time it did happen at high altitude or something, the witnesses’ description memed its way to glory.
How come you have to freeze your ass off to see most of the cool shit, on Earth?
Sorry, I’m not up to date on the details of Star Wars outside the movies, but was R2-D2, like, Leia’s droid between the Prequels and the Original Trilogy? Whatever the case, I think I might need it to happen in a crack fic.
Because I’ve suddenly imagined R2-D2 accompanying Leia to her Senate meetings. In reality, it would probably be very dangerous for R2 and Leia. But I think it would be perfect for a crack fic.
Like, just imagine if Leia and R2 are just strolling around the halls of the Senate, with Leia ranting to R2 about something or other. And then bump into an older Senator by accident. And at first it’s all pleasantries and apologies, but then the older Senator takes one look at R2, turns a color that is not a good color for their people to turn, and then says in utter horror, “IT’S YOU!”
Because surely there must be older Senators out there from before the Empire, who remember that horrible little nightmare droid who tailed those awful Jedi around and occasionally Senator Amidala. (Like, there must be people out there who witnessed R2 blow up a building or even straight-up kill someone.)
And Leia’s like, “What? You know my droid?”
And the Senator’s got a hand over their heart, both to soothe themselves and a little protectively, and says, “My dear, I couldn’t forget that thing if I was dead. That’s the little bastard who set me on fire! Granted, it was an accident and it saved Senator Amidala’s life again, but still. She was far too fond of it! That and that debonair Jedi it belonged to!”
And Leia lights up immediately because oho, this is interesting. Meanwhile R2 is basically swearing up a storm trying to push her away. And the Senator has an expression on their face like, “Oh, damn, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Anyway, Leia accidentally figures out who her parents were because R2 is a memorable asshole that old politicians still see in their nightmares.
I want either that crack fic or an even crackier fic that goes like this:
Darth Vader: *walking down a hall in the Senate building, annoyed af that the Emperor is making him be here to intimidate people for some vote or another, scrolling clickbait quizzes or ship commercials on his datapad*
The sound of something clattering comes from ahead. Darth Vader looks up and sees a droid getting kicked out of a conference room, beeping explicitly and indignantly over just being lost, at the far end of the hall. The droid looks down the hall at Darth Vader. It’s unmistakably R2-D2.
Darth Vader: “…”
R2-D2: “…”
R2: *backs up one inch*
Vader: *takes one step forward*
R2: *SCREAMS*
R2-D2 whirls around immediately and flees around the corner. Vader is too surprised to immediately stop his old droid, but drops the datapad and books it after him (as much as DV can book it). What proceeds is probably a Star Wars version of the Benny Hill chase between R2-D2 and Darth Vader.
It ends in R2, covered in soot and scratches, barely managing to get away after causing enormous amounts of mayhem and property damage.
Leia: “There you are! Artoo, where have you been?”
R2: *beeps* (translation: “Out.”)
So uh
Excellent. This is exactly what I wanted.
“
probably a Star Wars version of the Benny Hill chase between R2-D2 and Darth Vader”
Oh my God.
Vader just awkwardly powerwalking after a screaming Astromech.
there is no higher form of literature than olde-ass europeans trying to explain the skunk
“The other is a low animal, about the size
of a little dog or cat. I mention it here, not on account of its
excellence, but to make of it a symbol of sin. I have seen three or
four of them. It has black fur, quite beautiful and shining; and has
upon its back two perfectly white stripes, which join near the neck and
tail, making an oval which adds greatly to their grace. The tail is
bushy and [163] well furnished with hair, like the tail of a Fox; it
carries it curled back like that of a Squirrel. It is more white than
black; and, at the first glance, you would say, especially when it
walks, that it ought to be called Jupiter’s little dog. But it is so
stinking, and casts so foul an odor, that it is unworthy of being called
the dog of Pluto. No sewer ever smelled so bad. I would not have
believed it if I had not smelled it myself. Your heart almost fails you
when you approach the animal; two have been killed in our court, and
several days afterward there was such a dreadful odor throughout our
house that we could not endure it. I believe the sin smelled by sainte
Catherine de Sienne must have had the same vile odor.”
europeans had so little frame of reference for the very concept of a skunk that when they first met the skunk’s closest relative they named it the stink badger because that was the best they could come up with on their own
rip tumblr 