For those who don't know, I am reading The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish for the first time and sharing my thoughts!
If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.
Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads DTBPF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read or my TGCF read, the rules and vibe are the same.
I had a lovely white tea with this chapter.
AAAAAAAAAAH I can't believe this is the LAST chapter!!! WHAT. I thought I had more time [SobSobSob].
Just the epilogue left for tomorrow then- well, I don't know what I will do with my life.
Jkjk
January 1, I will be starting a new book/series! [To be announced!]
Let's get into chapter 156!
Oo! Good usage of the inventory! p.425
LMAO. I take it all back. Bro brought his phone for pics and a metric shit ton of condoms. I'm crying. At least the fully loaded e-reader and solar charger was a decent choice XD p.425
Oh! Yay! The fish skill continues for Prince Jing! p.427
This whole fish family is too cute! I love this for them! p.427
The e-reader is absolutely sending me. Ancient china with a kobo fire. pls. it's so funny. Archeologists in the distant future are going to be so fucking confused. p.429
Prince of the Sacred Pool (or, that story about the Fish Prince and the parasitic aliens)
(I have no idea if I’ll continue with this or if I’ll get distracted by something else and move on from it like I do most things, but here’s, uh, this.)
-IGT Engine three offline. Double tap YES to engage restart sequence.-
I miss mechanical control boards, I really do. There's something very satisfying about the click of a physical switch, and of course quickly flipping a series of switches and toggles and blinky lights always impressed whatever dwarf-planet yokels I was hauling to their new jobs as lithium miners.
Plus, you could holler and pound an old board with your fist. Abusing equipment always makes me feel better.
But after a particularly good payout several stancycles ago I'd let a dealer at port convince me that my rig needed an upgrade, and I'd blown my whole nest egg on converting my control board to Okuda touch screens. One of the screens was already dark, a hairline crack spiderwebbed across it, the definitive answer to "can you hit a touch screen if you're mad at it?"
-IGT Engine three offline. Double-tap YES to engage restart sequence.-
I'll do it one more time. Just one more time, third time's the charm. If I could just get it going, the other engines could supply energy to keep it running until we got to Pisces and then I promise, I promise I'll stop putting off the repair. C'mon sweetheart, one little spark, one tiny little spark is all I need from you, please, baby, please--
-IGT Engine three offline. Double-tap YES-- -
"God damn fucking piece of shit!" I slap my palm against the screen, wishing I had the balls or the money to smash it to pieces. The display flickers merrily. To my right, another Okuda blinks on.
[MATING EXCREMENT QUERY]
Oh, fuck me.
"Sorry," I say aloud, lifting my head. "Er, I apologize, Your Highness, I was feeling frustrated. One of the engines on my r-- on this space transport vehicle is not working correctly. It will extend the time that it will take to reach your destination."
The liquid in the tank sloshes.
[ARRIVE RITUAL QUERY]
"Yes, we will still arrive in time for your ceremony." God, the translation software on these Okudas really fucking sucks. Wait, sorry, 'it is not optimal compared to my expectations.' Don't want the shitty AI that runs the translations telling the Prince of Vakartic that my touch screen controls are mating and fellating each other.
[TIME/DISTANCE ESTIMATE QUERY]
"Five sols." Probably less, but I always like to underpromise. I glance back at the transparent panel that separates my cockpit from several million gallons of liquid. "Is there anything I can do to make your journey more comfortable, Your Highness?"
His Highness Genfun Va Yenna Vakartic, Champion Prince of Colony Pota of the Vakartic Commonwealth, sixteenth in line for the Sacred Pool of Anadromous, is watching me from behind the panel. I've dimmed the lights in the cabin to keep from blinding him, so it's hard to see much other than his eyes-- large and luminous, yellowish-green like a pond in summer-- and the dozen or so glowing false-eyes surrounding them. The rest of him is a sinuous shadow bracketed by the winglike fins keeping him hovering a few inches from the bottom of the tank.
Vakartians are not generally well liked in this part of the galaxy, owing to their previous habit of waging biological warfare on every planet within splashing distance of their homeworld and then claiming it in the name of the Sacred Pool. They'd poison all the natives, flood the place, then chuck a bunch of bivalves in to filter the water to their liking before settling in and carrying on with their true passion, which was having billions and billions of offspring. Once things started to get too crowded, someone would be sent offworld to find another poor, backwards dirtwalking culture that desperately needed to be shown the ways of being wet all the time.
(I'm human, on my mother's side. I'm aware of the hypocrisy.)
I'm not sure how old Prince Fishlips is, but he definitely wasn't born yet when the survivors of the Vakartians' millenia of colonization finally banded together and turned the ti-- tables, using the same bioweapons to poison the vast oceans of the commonwealth. The Vakartians who didn't go belly-up had been chased out to the far reaches of the local cluster, a handful of little outposts and holdouts where the only thing more popular than 'remembering the good old days' was inbreeding.
That's what I remember from AP Galactic History and Channel Two documentaries, anyway. The point is I'd never have taken this job if I hadn't just bought a whole bunch of Okuda screens and then immediately broken one of them. It was clear that the Pota Vakartians were desperate, too: they were paying a ridiculous amount of money for a relatively short and easy trip, ten sols from one tiny port to another, and they'd even covered the cost of modifying my rig to accommodate the Prince's temporary living quarters. I was basically flying him from one neighborhood to the next so he could get impregnated by someone who wasn't his first cousin and bring back some fresh genetic material to his home colony.
Oh, didn't I mention that? Yeah, I'm escorting a genocidal fish prince to get knocked up by-- from my high-school understanding of Vakartian royal titles-- a genocidal fish duke.
Obligatory ‘help I’ve fallen in love with the shark prince’ post. He’s an enormous dork, and I would die for him.
Also, all I can think of when I see his adorably stocky thicc legs is the sound of his bare feet slapping on wet stone as he charges around cheering various people on, Link first and foremost.
Why can’t we have more chat with these characters, Nintendo? Why can’t Link have friends? Because he’s got the world to save, I know, but that’s no excuse! Let Link have chill time with fish prince.
She stood over you. She wwas alwways so much taller than you. You alwways thought she wwas beautiful, a towwering daymare made manifest. But noww she’s not beautiful.
Her blank, dead eyes bore into you and you cry out in fear and shame. You did this. You caused this.
You wwake up screaming her name. Swweat drips from your skin as you sit up in bed, staring dowwn at your hands. They look so pale in the dark.
“Eri?” It’s Cronus, standing in your doorwway, silhouetted by the hallwway light. “You ok?”
You nod, wwiping the swweat from your face and reaching for your glasses.
“‘Nother nightmare?” He sounds so damn concerned, wwhy should he care?
You nod again before getting up and putting on your night shirt. He stands back from the door, letting you slip past him wwithout touching him. The twwo of you wwalk into the kitchen together.
“Wvant some tea?” he asks and it’s so genuine that you blink in surprise.
“Didn’t knoww you kneww howw to make it,” you grumble, resting your cheek in your palm as you wwatch him rummage in the cabinets.
“Dad taught me,” he says simply and you knoww exactly wwhat he means. “I don’t usually drink it, but it’s nice wvhen you can’t sleep.” He turns to you. “Honey and camomile or sleepy time?” You hum for a moment before deciding.
“Honey and camomile.” He nods, pulling out twwo mugs and putting a tea bag in each. He puts the kettle on the stovve and turns on the burner. Cronus turns, leaning back against the counter to talk to you.
“Still nocturnal, huh?” It’s mostly a joke and he knowws it, but he still manages to frowwn.
“I guess,” he says. “Or maybe I just havwe insomnia or something.” He shrugs. You yawwn, running your tongue ovver your teeth. They’re just fuzzy enough to bother you.
“Wwhy don’t you try looking for a night shift job?” you say, mostly just to fill the silence as the kettle starts to hum. His eyes are wwide wwhen he looks at you.
“I dunno wvhy I nevwer thought of that.” The kettle starts to hiss so he takes it off the burner and pours the wwater into the twwo mugs. He hands the one wwith fish scales to you and keeps the ‘Happy 13th Wwiggling Day!’ mug for himself.
