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Hi does anyone want to think about the geopolitical implications of Astrophage, also famously known as the microscopic harbingers of doom, now being available to the world governments both during and after the Hail Mary mission??
Stratt suggests in the book that the Saharan breeding farms will become the cradle for a global energy revolution, but we see how when mishandled they can just as well become nukes to the power of nukes. Atomic age 2.0, brother. It’s looking bad for Earth even if they managed to keep the petrova lines at bay and remove them entirely.
Even if Taumoeba were used to consume all Astrophage cells, I doubt with good reason that they could successfully be eradicated from Earth. Someone will always keep a batch alive.
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Someone compared Simon to Lapis Lazuli and I crode.
Disclaimer: I have not watched the show in years and haven’t watched SU Future.
This is really bad, I’m very unhappy with it. Sorry for butchering your OC, Markiplier. (hue)
I desperately need the international release of Iron Lung.. I tried to translate Simon into a gem, originally intended as a green jasper since bloodstone contains jasper, but decided for green amber in the end so they can embody the Eden pendant. It’s a perfect container for living matter but also quite unusual for a gem. I had a green amber necklace once…….
I imagine Amber could have been designed to be a scavenger in the raptured expanse of space, so they’re equipped via helmet and all, also symbolically encasing remnants of life. Simons hood that he wears in the film (looks so cozy) strikes me as quite claustrophobic as well, reminiscent of a bear trap (I wanted to add teeth but it became cluttered), so I tried to emulate that to represent his entrapment in the one-way mission.
I sadly didn’t do any tree transformation thing. Sorry. Didn’t give them a beard because it looked off.
The big bubble on their head protects them from any atmosphere or lack thereof, designed as an homage to Ellie’s long teeth and the SM-13.
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“I mean—I mean, no, Ilyukhina brought it up, but. Apparently lots of people think this.”
Stratt sighed. “Is there a problem with your coworkers, Dr. Grace?”
“They think I’m sleeping with you!” It felt irrational to be getting worked up about this—oh no, your coworkers think you’re sexually active and sleeping with the most powerful woman in the world, the horror. But now I was also getting worked up about Stratt not being particularly worked up about it too.
“Have people been saying things to you about this?” she asked, still extremely not worked up about it.
“I mean,” I said. “Uh. Mostly no. I only learned about it today.”
“Was anyone pressuring you, making uninvited or invasive comments, distracting you or themselves from your jobs?”
“Well, Ilyukhina made a joke,” I said. “But that’s just how she is.”
“I can have a talk with her, then,” Stratt said, and returned to the invoices.
“I think she felt a little bad because she did drop it,” I added, feeling like I needed to defend Ilyukhina’s honor. “It’s not—it’s that lots of people think this.”
“You’ve said,” Stratt said, clearly exasperated. “So what’s the problem?”
“What do you want me to say? People think I’m having sex with you!”
“Yes!” she snapped. “People think that. And I’m asking you what part of that is making you so upset. Are they concerned because they think I’m taking advantage of you?”
“What? No! No—or, jeez, I don’t think so. Not that anyone said.”
“Are they accusing you of taking advantage of me?”
“No!”
“Are you interested in another woman on the project and you’re concerned she’ll think you’re already taken?”
“No!” Why was every suggestion Stratt came up with such a nightmare?
“Are you interested in a man on the project, and you’re concerned he’ll think you’re straight?”
“What?”
“I am trying to determine what the problem here is,” Stratt said. “If nobody is bothering you, nobody is making accusations of sexual coercion, and it’s not interfering with any actual sexual interests you have—then why are you being so insistent? What do you want me to say?”
“I…” I didn’t know. I guess I wanted her to commiserate, maybe. Acknowledge that it was stupid and wrong and they were stupid and wrong for thinking it.
She stared at me for a few seconds, then sighed, put down her papers, and rubbed her eyes. “Dr. Grace, are you trying to ask if I want to have sex with you? Is that what this is about?”
“No!” I whined. “That is—that is not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?”
I stared fixedly at the titanium reports. “I don’t know,” I eventually mumbled. “Just, it doesn’t bother you? That people think that?”
“Dr. Grace, if I let it bother me what people think about me, I would not be able to make this project happen.” She paused, and waited for me to look up at her. I was regretting ever raising the topic, but when I met her eyes again, she didn’t look annoyed anymore. Just tired. “People will think what they want. I thought you, of all people, would know how to handle people thinking unfair things about you.”
It’s not like I haven’t given myself this pep talk before, or had conversations like this with students before. It’s not like I didn’t know this. And it’s not like people thinking I was… with… Stratt changed anything about my life. But it still felt like something deeply weird and wrong that I was desperate to correct.
“It doesn’t hurt at least a little, though?” I asked. “When people are just… really convinced they’re right, like they know who you are better than you do and you’re just lying about yourself for no reason?”
“Lots of things hurt,” Stratt said. “And people think unhelpful things all the time. But until it interferes with what they actually do, then they’re just thoughts, and all you can do in response is write it off as their own problem to deal with and refuse to dwell on it.”
“Inspirational.”
“The world is dying. It’s the only way to get through the day.”
I managed a halfhearted grimace. “That does put it in perspective.”
“Mm.” Stratt took a sip of her coffee, which I knew was not decaf and definitely was not healthy this late at night. “If it helps at all,” she added, “I know we’re not…” Her lips twitched into what was almost a smile. “…‘together.’ And I’m entirely happy to keep it the way it is.”
From someone else it could have been an insult. From her, I think it was genuinely meant as a reassurance. And darn it, it really did feel like one. “It does help, a little,” I said. “Thanks.”
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I drew a stranded Simon looking a little heavenly but also kind of lost. I don’t know what his expression means. I wanted him to look half dissociated in the water but instead I just made him vaguely angelic looking. I imagined really sad things about him but I can’t translate them to a canvas. My hand‘s still broken. Life is a fuck.
I need tips on how to get Markipliers likeness down, I get shy when I look at him too long.
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theartofmadeline
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