Gremlin

He was a scientist first. A researcher. Maybe a professor. He, like so many others, dedicated himself to higher academia to the point of self-erasure, chasing the approval of advisors and committees until Grace thought he'd earned the requisite mix of humbling and prestige to stand by his theories. He hadn't. The fallout was apocalyptic and he has to remind himself (not daily, but often) that it was worth it to discover 8th grade science instead. He loves it. He was meant for this and it shouldn't matter that all the non-teachers in his life think he's settling, casting pitying looks when he insists that yes, he prefers working with middle schoolers to cutting-edge members of his field.

The other teachers are nice enough, though judgemental in their own ways. They resent the minuscule pay bump that comes with his PhD, the notoriety of his publications, the habit of wearing a suit, the credentials after his name. They sometimes slip into conversations that this was never a calling for you, was it? You're here now, sure, but only because you have to be. The kids were never your first choice.

Grace doesn't know how to explain wanting something retroactively because he didn't realize it was an option. He eats lunch with the kids instead.

"You have no immediate family."

Yeah, family has all passed. Dating isn't on his radar. Marriage is a pipe dream. Maybe he's aro, or ace, or both, or maybe he's never had the time to figure any of that out. Everyone in his life he'd potentially be interested in is paired off already and who the hell has time for mingling - or worse, apps - when there's grading-meetings-emails-IEPs-curriculum-PDs-data collection-lesson planning to do? Grace has never felt like his life lacked anything though, not until others claimed as much. He used to tell his neighbors about all the cool things "his kids" were up to, until they pointed out that none of those were his kids. You're not their dad. You don't get it, they said, always with a smile while pushing the stroller away.

No? Six hours a day, nine months a year, shouldering everything their real parents weren't giving them... it sure felt like he "got it."

...but they're right, of course.

He's just their teacher.

"You don't even own a dog."

Of course he doesn't own a dog! Do you know how much a dog costs? They aren't paying him enough for gas and that mountain of student loans doesn't give a damn about his fall, so how can he justify another life he might not be able to care for? One vet bill could be the end of them both. No one wants to hear another sob story about how teachers aren't paid enough, but the lack that creates is suddenly evidence of an unfulfilled life? How is that fair?

He gave up that life for his research.

He gave up that life for the kids.

Then he gave up that life for the mission.

Now she wants him give it all up again, and Earth, and his literal life because she claims the nobody middle school teacher is suddenly Somebody after all. He's terrified and all he can think is, Would she spare me if I had a wife? Or kids? The only thing teachers are ever praised for is prioritizing the kids, so maybe...

"Stop pretending this is about your students. It's so insulting."

Grace and Rocky save the world. Two worlds, actually. At the end of it all Grace is allowed to live in a beautiful place where all his needs are met, money not required. His ideas are taken seriously, debated and deconstructed, but always with respect. He has friends and colleagues and a revolving door of acquaintances, none of whom are considered inferior to a mate. And he has the kids. He imparts knowledge to a bouncy, chaotic group who - like all middle school aged sentient beings - quickly get over the fact that he's an alien and want to know when the next break is. But that's okay. Their family units thank him at the end of the day, rather than threatening to report him.

It's all so simple and it's all Grace ever wanted.

Shout out to people who ship characters as friends with benefits or one night stands or another purely sexual relationship

Shout out to people who ship characters queerplaronically.

Shout out to people who ship characters not because they want to be physically intimate (romantically, sexually, or otherwise) but because they cant imagine a life apart.

Shout out to people who ship characters platonically. Who look at two blorbos who've never met and think they'd be bestie.

Shout out to people who dont even ship characters at all but just think they'd have interesting conversations or enjoy hanging out.

The literal cofounder of queer theory as an academic field says that abandoning trans people is fascist logic.

The voices in our community trying to exclude us may be loud, but they are not right, and they do not speak for the community as a whole or our history or anything at all.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” is a trap. It means there’s a good chance the officer doesn’t actually have a good reason to ticket you, and is trying to get you to waive your 5th Amendment rights and incriminate yourself. If you make a guess, that’s a confession of guilt.

So are

colostomy bags

Diapers

insulin pumps

Oxygen systems

rollators

hearing aids

compression garments

prosthetics

FREEDOM AIDS

- service animals

- noise cancelling headphones/ear defenders

- wheelchair attachments

- fidgets

IT’S DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH YALL

sometimes I’m reminded that there are still people who don’t know ao3 was literally created by incest shippers — and the site’s sole purpose is to 1. be completely against censorship and 2. host all kinds of dark, taboo fics that are banned on other platforms — and the first ever fic that was posted on ao3 was a fic about an incest ship from supernatural.

you are in the house that was created by freaks. for freaks (affectionate). every disgusting thing you can think of is rightfully allowed and welcomed on ao3, because they are exactly the reasons why ao3 was created in the first place.

ao3 was created because its creators got tired of censorship, they got tired of dark and taboo fics getting banned on pro-censorship platforms, and they wanted a place that was safe for ALL FICS THAT WERE DARK AND TABOO.

ao3’s main principle is being against censorship and being proship / profic.

there are some things in fiction that make me uncomfortable, but instead of shaming people who are just minding their own business and not harming anyone in real life, I choose to curate my own internet experience by blocking/muting what I don’t want to see. ao3 has excellent tagging system, so instead of being rude, instead of asking why the world doesn’t revolve around your personal comfort, use their tagging system properly and you won’t see the things you don’t want to see.

it’s your job to curate what you see. it’s not other people’s jobs or responsibilities to censor themselves for your personal comfort. the world does not revolve around you.

also you cannot censor “only the things you personally hate” without expecting everything else, that isn’t of conservative beliefs, to be censored too. because censorship is a slippery slope and a fascist tool. I promise you there are people who think “why do tags for queer love even exist on ao3? they’re grooming children”.

if you allow the things that you hate to be censored — because someone with enough power gets to control what other people can and cannot create/consume, it will not stop at the things that you hate.

I’d never shown Rocky the cards and drawings that were sent with me before. “Eridian drawing?” I look at the symbol he’s pointing his texture gun at. “What do you mean?”

“Is simple way to draw Eridian. Like simple human next to it.” The simple human in question is a stick figure. And — rotationally symmetric, five equal limbs — yeah, I can see it. The Eridian stick figure equivalent. “Not possible for humans to know we meet,” Rocky says. 

Eridians' perception of the world relies on something that is completely absent in space — sound. They haven't been looking at the stars their entire existence the way we have. Their concept of aliens might only be as old as their discovery of astrophage. They made a bad ship, because it was their first one ever! Rocky himself says they rushed it, and that multiple (vital) things broke. Their mission was just as much of a Hail Mary pass as ours was — they had no idea what they were doing, if they could even travel in space safely. And, as it turns out, they couldn't.

Humans are the ones who have been doing it over multiple lifetimes. Mary is state of the art. We've been space farers longer than most humans have been alive. We can actually see through space. We are more likely to survive exposure to the void. We can encase our lighter, more flexible, more mobile bodies in a material that lets us walk outside of our ship, and, to a degree, we can get our bearings out there in a way Eridians just can't.

I've been told that you can switch clients to avoid this, there are a few options other than deer.