Little snippet of a story maybe?
“I’m your friend, Zim. I swear,” Membrane whispered, hands reaching out in case Zim might try to flee or his panic rose to dangerous levels. Zim stuttered with tears, the weight of the situation getting to him in the span of a second. He - he had killed his Tallest. And it - it might have been intentional, he didn’t know. His mind was all sorts of messed up these days, filling his meatbrain with things he didn’t remember.
“Friend,” he scoffed, not out of anger or, Irk forbid, hatred, “friends aren’t - Tallest aren’t friends.” Membrane sighed quietly and moved from his knees to letting his legs bunch up in front of him so he was lower.
“Zim, we talked about this, remember? I’m not a Tallest,” his words brought Zim an odd warmth, which he failed to banish from his chest. Perhaps it was the voice, so welcoming and gentle, in a way he’d never heard it before, “...Do you mind if I carry you?”
Zim made a noise, “What, like a smeet?” He was no smeet, and surely not any weaker than one to warrant being held. Irkens were not meant to be held.
“Yes, like a smeet,” he didn’t seem to understand how weak and helpless a smeet was, especially one that had to be held, “...I think it’ll help. You certainly look like you need it.” Zim looked like he wanted to protest, and he did start trying, but the words got caught in his throat when he looked up at the professor and caught his gaze. He couldn’t see his eyes, or his nose, or anything about him. Professor Membrane was always hidden, even from his own children. Yet, here, in the dim kitchen light, he looked worried. He looked worried for…for Zim. No one had ever been truly worried for Zim, as far as he could remember. That look was for him only. Like he was big enough to have a look all to himself.
“...OK.” He whispered, voice uncharacteristically small. Membrane was careful to go slow, inching closer and opening his arms invitingly. Zim bit his lip and hesitantly uncurled, crawling on all fours to the professor. He set himself down on his lap, just inside range of his arms. The professor told him he would pick him up, then did so. His arms wrapped around Zim carefully, one supporting his bottom and the other resting on his back, careful of his PAK. Zim’s face was smushed against his shoulder as he was forced to wrap the length of his arms around the professor’s neck to keep himself steady. His initial reaction was panic, panic, panic, get out, get out, you’re under attack, he’s choking you, leaving you vulnerable, he said he wasn’t like Dib, how, why did you listen to him-
He was shifted quickly so that Membrane could keep his grip and stiffened, eyes wide. Membrane seemed to sense his discomfort and kneaded his knuckles into Zim’s back gently.
“You’re alright. I’m sorry, I should have warned you,” I’m sorry. Words uncharacteristic of a Tallest. Tallest were never supposed to apologize. Zim scolded himself. Membrane was hardly a Tallest. He wasn’t even close to the genius, the power and respect a Tallest deserved. And yet…
His PAK seemed to think something else.
“No, I -” I was rightfully terrified? I’m messed up? I know you didn’t mean it but my PAK’s saying you did? Zim gave up and forced himself to relax his body. “I - I’m…sorry I got…” he couldn’t finish.
“Oh, none of that, Zim. I should have warned you. It won’t happen again. I’m going to rock you a bit. Is that alright with you?” Tallest never asked if those below them were ‘alright’ with anything. His Tallest flew into his Florpus hole because they didn’t change directions. The comms officers on The Massive were crafty, Zim admitted. It was likely they had tried to…to steer his Tallest…away…
“Zim?”
“...”
“Is my rocking you OK?” Zim nodded absently, eyes staring ahead, unblinking. The professor’s coat was warm in contrast to Zim’s always-freezing skin. His gloved claws gripped his coat and Professor Membrane’s hair tickled Zim’s face. It didn’t bother him.
As he was bounced gently, slowly at first, he repeated, like a mantra, “Tallest don’t hurt you, Tallest don’t hurt you, Tallest don’t hurt you, Tallest don’t-”
A song-like vibration of the throat made an antenna flick. Membrane was humming quietly, the only sound other than the almost-silent clicking and thrumming of Zim’s PAK. It was a childish tune. Still, it was…steady. Something to hang onto. The whirring of Zim’s PAK lowered as he shut his eyes, successfully leaving himself at pure vulnerability. Membrane continued humming and bouncing him, and Zim absently noted, from the sounds of steps, he was pacing the living room in a short line.
After he doesn’t know how long (his PAK should keep a time log. Why isn’t it?), the professor stopped. Stopped pacing, anyhow. Zim felt a stab of disappointment, then one of slight fear, then one last one of anger, belittling him for being disappointed at something so stupid. Of course it had to end eventually. He couldn’t stay in the professor’s arms forever. Maybe he’d gotten tired of him, finally. Zim wouldn’t blame him.
“Are you asleep?” His whisper came as a surprise. Zim opened his eyes automatically. Irkens had no need for sleep, and the fact the professor was proposing he could even sleep was preposterous.
“Irkens do not need sleep.” He didn’t mean to clip his voice, or to say it so loudly, likely breaking the calm silence they had made. He winced when the professor did not continue his rocking. Zim had made his Tallest upset. He would be punished for raising his voice, surely. Speaking against his leader was a crime.
“...Ah. Noted,” he still didn’t continue, to Zim’s aching fear. He - he had upset him. He had to make it right. He had to - complete the mission given, had to - harm himself - let his squeedlyspooch burst at his direction. He would put his life on the line to serve his Tallest. Tell me what to do, tell me who to hurt, tell me to do anything, command me - “Zim, you’re getting panicked again. Are you alright? Do you feel sick at all?” Sick? At all? Zim’s entire PAK was sick. The Control Brains had told him, said he was Defective. His Tallest said he was Defective. Nothing more than a short, Defective little weakling of a soldier whose first words couldn’t be more broken. He had barely gotten past Invader training with his life and respect. He had called his Tallest once, when his sickly PAK couldn’t heal him. They had laughed with him. But nothing had been funny. Nothing about his PAK failing him was anything to laugh about. They had laughed with him. With him. With him. With him. With him. With. With. At. At. At. At. At him. The Tallest laugh at him.
“Zim-”
His throat clogged with acid and he realized a second too late the vomit and bile spitting from his mouth. He coughed and retched, spasming as his spooch disdainfully emptied itself.
He was whimpering pathetically, hot tears shocking him, "I didn' mean it, 'm sorry, 'm sorry - I'm sorry, I - I - 'm sorry, my T - Tall - Talles' - Tallest, I'll clean it - up, I swear -'' his breathing was too loud. He was breathing too heavily. His throat burned. His face burned. Everything burned. His body spasmed and pulsed with sick. He swallowed breath stupidly, and they laughed with him, laughed at him, at his pathetic excuse of a mission. He wasn't even a real invader, oh Irk -
"Zim, you do not need to clean it up. I am not upset. You just got sick. That's it. It happens." Not for an Irken. Never for an Irken. A superior race taken down by nothing more than a little vomit. How stupid was this? How stupid was he? No one believes Defectives. The Tallest knew he'd done it on purpose. He would be taken to the Control Brains and deactivated for real this time. Not like that fake-out trial that had been all a joke-
"I didn't mean it, my Tallest. I didn't-" he gasped, chest heaving while he tried to suck in breath. He had done it again. It had happened again. They'd found his broken spots, and now he'd gone and ruined everything. There is always something wrong with him. Everything was always wrong with him. He ruined something good again.
“I know you didn’t mean it, Zim. Let’s go clean up now, hm?” A part of his brain told him that language was demeaning. He was not a smeet. He was not. The tears streaming down his face and the lack of control meant nothing. He was not a smeet. He’d stopped being one ages ago.
As his body shook with stupid sobs, he felt smaller. He didn’t want to feel small. Small meant weak. He was set on the bathtub edge. Membrane quietly dug through the bottom cabinet and ripped a few paper towels from a roll. He kneeled in front of Zim and reached out slowly, towel in hand, no doubt to wipe the disgusting vomit from his mouth and chin. Zim’s mind ran to catch up and he snatched the towel.
“I can do it myself,” it wasn’t said with much pride. Membrane noticed it was practically a whine. Zim took the towel shakily and roughly rubbed it across his face. He got very little of the throw up. The professor fixed him with a look Zim couldn’t place. He held out his hand expectantly. Zim stared at him, not really seeing him.
“...Please?” Membrane asked. Zim stared down at the towel, then handed it over. “Thank you, Zim.” Zim said nothing as the vomit was wiped off gently and the towel was thrown in the trash. When the professor stood, his knees cracked, though he either hid his discomfort well, or it didn’t hurt at all. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for the night, don’t you think?” He asked rhetorically.
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ok wait i realized i can just use my gallery's text & draw thing this is great
this is what i mean by 'the clan au doesnt have a set story'. theres all these places that it can branch off of and the possibilities r endless and i have *counting* ..14 scenarios/storylines so far and every time i think of a new scenerio another gets added<3
[slight bit more info for all the branches so far]
i havent done much with the kny-canon leaning ones they're more just like if i did follow canon thats how it'd be done ykno? im thinking they get raided by the shinazugawas for control of the trade routes and either they both survive like that one post or only giyu survives, either way Sakonji takes in the living tomioka(s)
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most of the stories arent tied down to canon theyre more whatever worldbuilding i have and stories pop up from them- one of the first ones was the shina-tomi failed peacetalks bc i wanted to draw sanemi & giyuu fighting (i just realized i placed the branches perfectly bc thats closer to canon than the others lol)
if the peacetalks worked(wouldve been later/after sanemi took over) then it kinda snowballed into a few nearby/allied clans forming a village, then from that theres the Tomi-Daki diplomat/trade envoy w the fox trio(giyu makomo & sabito)
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the rescues are like. little to no formal interactions between any of the three clans(shina-kumeno is always allied), in the first one its winter and giyu's on his way home when he catches the trail of bloodline hunters and saves Genya & Masachika.
in the other one giyu's pinned by a rogue shinobi and sanemi & sabito both find him at the same time and they make a lil truce bc giyu has severe chakra exhastion and cant make it home
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undercover mission has one thats purely sanegiyu; sanemi is disguised as Kazura & giyu as Gikuro and actually i looked back at my notes and this ones like. in the past before the village branch. so it connects to that one but it can also be a standalone. the other undercover mission is sabisanegiyu where sabito & giyuu went undercover as a master/servant thing and sanemi was disgusted by it and didnt know that it wasnt Real so he tried to 'save' giyuu and got invited to the polycule<3
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the lil unnamed branches inbetween is that one where giyu got chased out the clan by tsutako for killing their mom, there was a spy who had taken her place and giyu noticed and killed the spy but tsutako only saw him killing their mom and she lost her shit in dispair & heartbreak. theres a branch for Giyu staying alone, Sabito ditching the urokodakis for his packmate while makomo stays behind to fix things with tsutako, and both Sabito & Makomo ditching the urokodakis for their packmate
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the arranged marriages are sanegiyu with the first branch being after sanemi takes over and giyu asking for it ot of goodwill & he likes him(his pack gets to stay w him). other two Kyogo requested(demanded) it for trade routes, he doesnt allow the urokodakis to go with bc theyre Not Tomiokas and these routes more heavily portray the different biology of the southerners/mountain-pass(a/b/o)
ones angsty bc sanemi is like. CRUSHED that he cant find love on his own. his father takes literally everything away from him. while sanemi is kind & respects giyu he doesnt really care for him. and for giyu to go from a very close-knit family-oriented culture to the stone cold-cutthroat/conservative/severely traumatized/individualist culture of the shinazigawas with literally No One there for him he gets pretty fucked up w the emotional neglect
the other ones less angsty bc sanemi actually Tries in their relationship and finds that he actually enjoys giyu's company- and cuddles. the cuddles r fuckin great. but kyogo's still a cunt and a massive hindrance to emotional and mental healing of everyone around him. but sanemi's not alone now so its Better
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tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:
plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."
contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."
on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."
rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."
"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."
"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."
rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."
"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."
"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."
plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."
before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.
on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."
"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."
a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.
she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.
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