#i had so many issues drawing the past 4 years and i only have one friend and they dont draw and are aq

[pears-trinkets]

.

[episims]

A Peek to My SFS Stats

I know some creators prefer not seeing their download numbers and that's fair! This kind of stuff can easily cause pressure and/or feelings of underachievement.

For me though, it's just statistics. And since it's pretty precisely 5 years from when I first uploaded anything to SFS, I've gathered some data to play with.

So, this very self-indulgent post is solely about my SFS stats. Just because I'm a total nerd I find it interesting, and I like being open about things. It's long and blabbery so the rest is safely under the cut.

For the background: I tend to create whatever I need for my own game. I share my weird stuff because I feel like it's a trade for everything I download from others.

Probably due to the lack of any consistency or branding at all, my CC has a wide range in download numbers. I have some popular pieces, sure, but also some niche mods like no snow accumulation that has only interested 126 persons in nearly two years.

Even though saying "only 126" is an illusion created by the internet. Imagine if those 126 individuals would come to you in person. That's more people than I've probably even had a real talk with during the last year!

The raw data of my SFS main folder is (calculated with a sheets program): it has 227 files and the average download count for each file is 1557, but 74% of the files have been downloaded fewer times than the average.

So even though my CC isn't usually downloaded that much, I've shared a handful of things that have been downloaded so much more than everything else that they pull the average up.

What are those things? Time is an important factor here, as most CC tends to gather downloads over time (not a single post from 2023 on this list).

1) Subtle wrinkles (January 2022)

17313 downloads (674 hearts; ~3,9% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1112

That's several thousand more than the second most downloaded thing I have, and it's such a random thing.

I'm sure most people have downloaded them to get those 4t2(ish) forehead wrinkles. I have no other explanation as the rest of them are hand-drawn by a person who can't draw. Also the preview is frankly hideous, I used about one minute to take it... safe to say I didn't expect this post to gather any attention at all.

2) Cellphone default (January 2021)

13547 downloads (565 hearts; ~4,2% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1133

Noteworthy that it's been updated a couple of times which pushes people to redownload.

This was a quick passion project, since at that time I couldn't find a cellphone default I was completely happy with. If it hadn't been a quickie, I would've used more time to find a good base mesh oof. Many thanks to @pforestsims for later improving it.

3) Tombstone defaults (December 2019)

12477 downloads (582 hearts; ~4,7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1064

I was so proud of these when I made them. Those were my first mesh defaults ever! Today, I'm proud of my past self for doing them. That's crazy many meshes and subsets to handle for a total noob.

I couldn't do anything with BHAVs back then, so those defaults would've never ever happened without @midgethetree. She endured a lot, working with a noob who went through several meltdowns because of subset issues that didn't make any sense.

4) Baby personality mod (February 2020)

9724 downloads (489 hearts; ~5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1193

The first mod on the list! Absolutely essential one for myself and apparently for some others too.

Also the actual first mod of my own ever. I can't really recommend starting with something this complicated, I had zero ability to perceive the scope of the mod when I asked if @midgethetree was willing to help me through it. She deserves all the praise for doing it, I've realized later that I couldn't ever teach anyone the way she taught me. So, if you read this: thank you, Midge.

5) Rabbit pen default (August 2022)

9628 downloads (442 hearts; ~4,6% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1305

This was completely @deedee-sims' idea and project! I just hopped in (hah) to help. I'm only hosting it for practicality, as the BHAVs most often need updating, and those are by me.

6) Turn On/Off replacements (July 2021)

8644 downloads (388 hearts; ~4,5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1470

This post has more notes than any other post of mine, yet it's not even nearly the most downloaded thing I've done. The two don't always go hand in hand.

I've also shared an updated version of these lately in a new post. It's unlikely they'll get the same amount of attention, which on paper doesn't make much sense since it's practically the same thing but done better. But I'm sure everyone knows that the hype and the quality don't always match.

7) Pixelry’s KKB fridge recolors (February 2022)

8147 downloads (329 hearts; ~4% of all downloaders) Post notes: 662

This is such an oddity on this list since it's the only recolor set and the post has fewer notes than the other ones, too. People just (secretly) really like cute fridges, apparently.

8) Crib teeth anim fix (August 2022)

6157 downloads (431 hearts; ~7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1408

This list is already long enough, but I wanted to show how fast the number starts dropping at this point.

This got posted a day before the bunnies, and I find it funny to think that for about 3000 people it's more pressing to have bunnies in their game than fixing their toddlers dropping teeth while crying lol.

No point in continuing the list forever, but among my most note-gaining Tumblr posts are also:

Puppy/kitten want replacements (October 2022, 1114 notes, 3849 downloads)

Improved biotech station (July 2022, 1110 notes, 3893 downloads)

Camera overhaul mod (January 2024, 1059 notes, 1752 downloads)

Newspaper default (March 2022, 970 notes, 5052 downloads)

While I don't have a real conclusion to offer, it's clear that notes don't always get realized to downloads, and likewise many people download without interacting with posts.

One more thing I'd like to point out is that the percentage of people who hit that SFS heart button seems pretty constant. I feel like it shows that some people just have that habit and some don't, and it's not likely directly related to how much they like the thing.

The amount of SFS hearts that crib teeth anim fix has gotten doesn't follow this pattern lol. It's really not common to see the percentage change even that much.

[qcomicsy]

Hi

Can you recommend me Bat-family comics to read? Which ones do you like?

Heyyyy

I would love it!

DISCLAIMER Keep it in mind I'm a casual reader so my recs might not be the most "this is every issue they are together" or the longer ones!

Let's go!

Nightwing Annual (2021)

Dick & Jason focused

This is one of my favorites ones, it focuses both on Dick's and Jason's relationship as Nightwing and Robin and Nightwing and Redhood.

The dialogue is great, it has both it's really funny bits but also it's really wholesome ones too and it's full of heartwarming moments.

I absolutely adore the way they handled Jason's Robin and acknowledges his violent tendencies without judging him for it.

He's not portrayed as overly violent and reckless, but as a normal teenager having normal reactions given the things he had to deal in his past.

My only criticism is Jason still using that damn crowbar and how they kept drawing Jason shorter the Nightwing for some reason. I think it was to accentuate the "younger brother" feelings so I forgive the artist.

But it's pretty funny.

He looks like short king

Robin & Batman

Dick and Bruce focused

Oh this one, this one it's so good, so good that almost got me crying on main. It's really beautiful, I wasn't the happiest about how Bruce behaved in the comic but it sat in a fine line between Batdad and Bruce being a terrible father/person.

He is too hard on Robin, but it does show how he is trying.

The art is goddamn beautiful, it has this watercolor look and Dick looks adorable on it.

It also goes deep in Dick's feelings about being Robin and what the whole jig means to him, it respects Dick's relationship with Bruce but without forgetting the love and the moments he had with his biological parents.

It's just really, really beautiful a goddamn gem between the many mistakes DC made with them two over those years.

For Tim and Dick I really recomend

Batman Prodigal (1997)

Note: The whole Kightfell series is great for a Bruce, Dick and Tim read. But for the Batfam feelings you can just focus on the prodigal parts.

Dick & Tim focused

The only thing you have to know to catch up is:

1. Bane broke Bruce's back and dignity, so he couldn't still be Batman.

2. Bruce found this guy called Jean Paul to fill for him.

3. Jean Paul is really fond of punishment and violence and the good ol' catholic guilt and goes a little bit too rogue as Batman for everyone's liking.

4. Bruce takes the mantle from Jean Paul and Nightwing fills in as the new Batman.

I wouldn't call exactly brotherly, because Tim wasn't adopted yet in the timeline this was published but they have their moments.

New talent show case DC #2017

Duke and Jason focused

This is also a favorite. It's a short story (unfortunately) but every single panel is worth it.

It's basically Jason and Duke bonding moment between fighting some baddies and trying to clown each other on the way. 10/10 will always recommend.

Robin War

Jason & Duke & Tim & Damian

This one I've read recently (thanks for the asks people send to me y'all are fucking great) and it's a fucking gem!

It shows a lot their chemistry on the battlefield and how fucking insufferable they are around each other. It also shows how Duke fits as a glove in this family of misfits even before he was an "official member".

Red Hood and the Outlaws Annual (2016)

Another Dick and Jason focused!

Oh this one is a blast! It's also short but so goddamn worth it.

Basically Jason and the Outlaws take a gig in a circus to track a Russian bad guy (gotta love how comic books have unresolved beef with Russians until this day) and well it's a circus so how can you not call Dick Grayson?

It's so goddamn funny and it has no right to be, it still very close in the timeline where Dick and Jason were definitely not in good terms, so their interaction it's all so awkward it's a joy really.

We also got a flashback from Dick and younger Jason as Robin and even the flashback is goddamn hilarious, I had such a good time reading it that it's a must read!

Now If you're here for the angst and general feeling's™

I would highly recomend.

- Nightwing Year One (Dick & Bruce)

- Death in the Family (Jason & Bruce & Dick)

- Red Robin (Tim & Dick / Tim & Damian / minor Tim & Cass / Minor Bruce & Tim)

Note: They don't interact much in this run but when they do it hurts. It also can help you understand the beef between Tim and Damian better.

- DCeased (Damian & Steph / minor Damian & Jason)

Note: It's one of the many, many DC aus but this one it's 'pretty' good (it's decent). Definitely not Batfam focused but it has one one of my favorite Damian & Steph and Damian & Jason moments. It's also one of my favorites interpretations of Damian, he gets so sweet and mature over the years that passes in the comic and his reencounter with Jason rewrote my entirety brain chemistry.

Also unfortunately it's the only time we get to see Damian and Jon growing up together :')

- DC vs Vampires ( Batfam (except Duke because the author is a coward) specially Tim & Damian / Tim & Bruce / Dick & Almost everybody )

Note: Okay this one is a fucking car ride, a rollercoaster if you will. And it's ANOTHER DC au but with yeah VAMPIRES so buckle-up.

It has major Batfam moments in the beginning and one of my favorites Damian and Tim interactions ( I'm going to reblog this with photos because Tumblr is homophobic and isn't letting me add more photos in this shit >:( ). Then it goes hard on betrayal (trying not to add spoilers) and feelings so get ready for that.

I unfortunately haven't finished (casual reader remember that) but the much I've read was really, really good.

It gets very silly very quickly as anything made with vampires generally get (unfortunately they butchered a lot of characters in the process) but if you go head empty no thoughts you're going to get a lot of fun and maybe cry a little if that gets to you.

So this is it. I'm sure it has more of it, and oh I'm sure I forgot a lot of it but those are the one's I could get from the top of my head, so I hope you and all of the people who want to follow it have fun!

Also if someone has more recommendations feel free to add on the Reblogs, I'm sure I will eat it up anyway.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 6: Fury

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, everyone! I know, I know - yeeting these out, aren’t I? A small change of plans, in that this one is the OG Chapter 4 split in half; I’m THIS close to having Chapter 7 done, too, and after that, it’s minor edits to the existing work. I’ve done the major reworking for this instalment, so yaaaaay! Only gotta rephrase/add slight things to upcoming chapters to make it all round out cohesively. As always, thanks to my slap daddy @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reassuring me that this makes sense! YAY!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap, dubious consent.

Luring you in is easier said than done.

He finds you when and where he can, your seemingly untraceable movements easily resolved through quick conversation with Harrold Westerling, none other than the Lord Commander himself. A stolid, serious man, he’d taken little issue to his Prince’s request, providing Cole’s whereabouts with an ease that speaks to the Kingsguard’s acclimatisation to your routine. He does not particularly enjoy searching you out by means of the Stormlander knight, but needs must.

Daemon does it all, too. He spends what time he is able in your company, taking care not to press his suit too forcefully and scare you off; he regales you with tales of his nobler deeds and escorts you to meals with your family; he unearths his old stockpiles of accrued riches and selects the few among them he thinks you might like; he plies you with adulation and declares you to be the fairest maiden in all the known world, the envy of every creature fortunate enough to lay eyes upon you. He gives this endeavour all the effort he possesses, more so than any past conquest, for you are infinitely more valuable than some cheap fuck, and he is so sure that you will receive his attentions with a sweet smile and a ready spirit, all too willing to take the hand he is silently offering with every look and every word, urging you to accept him and—

And nothing. It drives him mad. So distracted is he that he begins to draw further and further away from his old associates, declining their entreaties wherever he might. The most recent occasion had left a rather sour taste in his mouth.

“Come on, man! Where is your head tonight?” Dargood asks, leaning across one of his many acquaintances to yell at him over the din. “You’ve not said a word all evening!”

Daemon lifts the tankard and takes a lengthy draught. “Ah—perhaps you bore me, then.” A wan smile curves as their gathered companions roar with laughter.

Truthfully, he’s been avoiding the lot of them; they desire little else than to drink and fight and fuck. While his taste for such pastimes hasn’t exactly waned, his enthusiasm has taken a great blow. He can only presume it has something to do with you, blasted tempting girl you are. Each time he resigns himself to one of these outings—each time he must playact at interest in the whores Dargood parades before him in yet another reputed establishment—all he sees in his mind’s eye is your face, wounded disappointment clouding your beauty and transforming it into something haunted and sorrowful.

Kettleblack snorts. “Of course he’s bored, what with his Delight waiting for him in the Keep! Probably wishing he was back in her right now!”

“Or is it his Delight in that shithole that he’s craving?” Hollard asks. The reminder of the whore—of that embarrassingly public affair in which he’d shouted your name in a fucking brothel, of all places—churns in Daemon’s gut.

He looks suspiciously towards Dargood, who shrugs innocently. Dargood had been the only one to pay attention as the whore had led him away and up the stairs; and, when he’d lurched from that shabby chamber after spilling himself like a green boy, he’d come across the other man loitering in the hall outside, expression alight as though he’d just learned some great secret.

He’d have to impress the importance of silence upon his longtime comrade a little more forcefully, it seems.

“Whatever will he do—two silver-haired lasses ready to spread their legs for him?” One of the men whose name he cannot recall grins, revealing his missing front teeth in all their hideous glory. Eyes glittering meanly, he adds, “Who has the time?”

Daemon dislikes the turn in conversation. “Now, now, lads,” he says with a conceited sneer, though his heart isn’t in it. “It’s poor form to tell tales of the royal bedchamber. Or one’s exploits in them.”

“Lucky bastard!”

He levels a look at this unknown. “I assure you; my mother and father were wed.” The manner in which he emphasises it, with a raise of the brow to accentuate, leaves no man unaware of his intent.

“Oi!” he exclaims, indignant even as the others guffaw. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Nothing at all. Only; they say bastards have a certain”—here, Daemon pauses and lets his gaze travel assessingly over his form, settling back with a smirk after completing his observation—“ look about them.”

Uproarious mirth follows his pronouncement, though it did not nearly warrant the volume with which the varied cackles and chortles now ring in his ears.

Hollard slaps his back, guffawing all the while. “Stop terrorising him, my Prince! He’s wroth enough as it is, what with you getting to tumble two Valyrian whores!”

“One cost me a single silver.” Daemon waves him off drolly. “You’re welcome to her. The other”—he thinks of Rhaenyra’s penchant for glittering jewels with a snide sort of affection—“well, you can’t afford her.”

“Tell you who I’d like to have a go with, eh,” Kettleblack slurs, having been in his cups for far longer than the gathering had taken place. “Our People’s Princess.” Daemon’s chest tightens at the mention of you. “Reckon she’d be a first-rate fuck, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Dargood smacks his lips after slamming his tankard back on the table, an unreadable stare trained upon his Prince. “She’s a shy little thing, isn’t she? Thought the confident ones were your type.”

“If it has a cunt between its legs, it’s my type.” This ignites a wave of jeers and more than one crass comment about whether or not he’s taken up horse-fucking as of late. “Oh, fuck off!” Kettleblack says irritably. “Not what I meant. Besides, she’s a looker. None of you would refuse, surely! Can you imagine it? The sound of her—”

He’s speaking before he even realises. “That’s enough.”

The harshness in his voice spurs them all to an abrupt silence.

Daemon had left not long after, unable to stomach spending longer than he had to their presence. Their ribald banter was by no means the most vulgar it had ever been—in fact, it was positively tame in comparison to some of the sentiments expressed in past encounters—but hearing them discuss you so crudely made him uncomfortably aware of how tasteless many of his own thoughts of you had been.

After this disturbing epiphany, he seeks distraction by throwing himself ever more into the task of winning you over, only to be thwarted at every turn.

His flattery is for naught; your lips curve up shyly when you look at him, but so too does this occur when any other compliments you. You absorb yourself in his stories, probing where you will and exclaiming in pretty ahs of girlish fascination, but so too does this happen when your half-sister natters on about her own day to your keen ear. You accept his gifts with earnest solemnity, clutching them to you as a child with a prized doll, but so too do you hold tight the flowers young Jacaerys presents to you after a morn spent in the sun.

Ever agreeable, ever kind, ever polite you are to his overtures—but you do not warm to him in the way he expected you to. The way he wishes you would. In truth, he isn’t entirely sure you are even aware of his motives, for you do not regard him with the same hesitance you do the Tyrell lord or Lannister or your idiot brother. Is that a terrible thing? he wonders. It is not as though you particularly like any of them. Nonetheless, he remains, frustratingly, your uncle and nothing more.

This is partly his own fault, he knows. The court had once had its pleasure in the scandal wrought by Daemon’s calculated seduction of Rhaenyra, obvious to all but the King himself—and what had resulted? His banishment, her ruination, his years in exile and her marriage free of passion. No such occurrence is to be the conclusion of this attempt; thus, he is resigned to stepping out from the shadows, conducting his business in the safe light of day. Never once does he dare to hint at anything less than what is proper in the presence of others—and never once does he dare meet with you alone. There can be no errors this time.

As such, his suit remains overlooked. He can do nothing else but persist, waiting for you to finally realise his intentions.

How tedious it is to lower himself to such a competition with no real opponent! He is the only one worthy of your pedigree, a man of high enough birth that you would not be ridiculed by wedding below your station. A man who could ensure you kept your familiar life in King’s Landing with your family, who could garb you in the finest velvets and silks and jewels this side of the Narrow Sea, who could give you trueborn Targaryen children worthy of your royal womb.

And yet, strangely, wooing you excites him. For all his many pursuits and passions, he had never once played the role of valiant suitor; and the sight of your pleased face as he offers you presents or walks you around your garden in amiable conversation tugs at a long-buried part of his soul. He wants to be your hero, wants you to worship him. In the bedchamber, yes, but also on his arm for all to see, to know that he has won your affections as assuredly as he has won your hand.

It is this that goads him to seek you out today.

You had welcomed his presence in the dank library, the scent of stale leather and rotting parchment permeating the echoing space. It’s fucking cold, too, in a tower so high up in the Red Keep he can swear the air feels thinner. You’d pulled out your winter furs, draping them over your shoulders to stave off the chill, and he’d noted with amusement that you’d done the same to your guard. Ser Crispin was fetchingly shrouded in flaxen hide, complementing his armour rather stunningly. His attempts to get a rise from the man at this had failed, with the cunt obstinately refusing to acknowledge his existence.

“Finne laz anha ezat sewafikh,” you say, grinning at the dubious twist of his lips. He has come to find that, for all your solemnity, it is easy to amuse you. “Go on, kepus—try.”

“Finne… laz anha—ezat swafeek.” He grimaces at the words as they leave his mouth. The flavour feels distinctly wrong.

“Seh—wa—fikh.” You correct him gently, nodding at him to try again.

Your Ser Lysan Marios is in the corner of the room, chin to chest as he snores in the only comfortable chair in the room. He truly is an old man. With dark skin and white hair, Daemon has never seen a person with so many lines on their face, looking more like the craggy hills of his dead bronze bitch’s prized Runestone than actual human flesh. A man of acuity and hilarity, it is no wonder you enjoy his company. 

“It is best to let him rest,” you had said as the man’s lids had drooped and his head had lowered forward, slumping in his seat. “He has been unwell lately—I worry for him.”

You had since obliged with his entreaties to teach him some phrases in Dothraki. It is a hard-won process. His jaw and tongue are unused to situating themselves for throaty dialogue, being far too used to the lyrical fullness of his ancestral native speech, but it is entirely worth it to watch your sweet face light up.

“Sewafikh,” he says. 

You gasp excitedly, wiggling in your seat. “The whole thing!”

“Finne laz anha ezat sewafikh,” he says, smirking at you when you clap. He can’t help but find you endearing in your joy, eyes shining and smiling bright. “Now, little girl—what have you just made me say?”

“I thought you would find this phrase most useful.” You grin impishly. He narrows his eyes at you.

“And this useful phrase is?” His brow quirks.

You’re already giggling. “You can now ask ‘where can I find the wine?’ should you discover yourself surrounded by a khalasar.”

A startled guffaw bursts from him at your cheek. You are a surprisingly witty little thing, and he has found himself more and more charmed with each hour he spends in your presence. A consummate royal youth, you are exceedingly well-versed in the politics of social niceties, navigating your exchanges so expediently that he has learned he must actively work to keep up.

“Impudent brat.” He chuckles, eyeing you as you catch your breath and making a list of all the parts of you he intends to get his hands on when you are his. 

Curls of silver bundled into a braided coiffure, strands threatening to escape—and he finds this more and more apt a metaphor for your character, a timid little bird just waiting to be set forth from its cage. The damnable temptation of your throat thankfully encircled with the abundance of precious stones forming the Valyrian steel necklace he had gifted you some days prior, a welcome respite from being besieged by the involuntary seduction of pale skin. Voluptuous waist and widened hips in perfect shape for his hands to span. Rounded cheeks and pouty pucker and dewy-eyed gaze…

You are a maiden strumpet waiting for her first lesson in the art of carnality. He is determined to be your instructor in this. Your only instructor.

“Here,” Daemon murmurs, withdrawing the reason for his visit from under his chair. He leans forward and places the item upon the desk before you.

You had paid little attention to the wooden case tucked under his right arm as he sauntered in, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon his as you uttered a courteous greeting, mildly perplexed as you always are when he seeks you out. He watches you as you open the chest now and lift out the carving inside, the same size as the little book before you. Your small hands turn the object curiously as you ogle the fine details of the gift, a soft little gasp of wonder escaping bow-lips.

You glance back at him.

“Is this Caraxes and Athfiezar?” you ask softly. He nods.

It had not taken long to realise your partiality lay less along the lines of ostentation and more meaningful simplicity; he’d only need to recall your lacklustre enthusiasm for Jason Lannister’s lion pendant to form such a notion. (Though, it may very well be that the gift had come from Lannister that had inspired such indifference, he thinks amusedly.) He had solicited the services of a common toymaker entirely by accident, having taken notice of the man’s goods during a nightly stroll through the city. 

Daemon had been absent-mindedly making his way back from that eve of tension with Dargood and his crooked companions, only to find that his feet had taken him entirely past the route to the Keep. Instead, he’d moved north along the Kingsroad to Cobbler’s Square, idly observing the shopkeepers flog their wares along the street. One look at the stall upon which were arranged brightly-coloured carvings—an array of lions and horses and dragons, of knights and ladies and Kings in an assortment of sizes, shapes and poses—and he had known that the skill of the man would be something you’d enjoy, honest and artful. The peasant had been overawed when met with a request from the Prince of the City, eagerly accepting the task of producing a miniature replica of your dragons.

The man really had spared no detail, he muses as he surveys your inspection of the sculpture. It is truly a fine piece, carefully depicting his crimson mount snarling and wound around the central figure of your own reptilian steed. They are posed as though they are about to take flight. From the whittled minutiae to the meticulously applied paints, it is a worthy representation of the pair. He would have to make further commissions of him.

“It is beautiful, Uncle,” you breathe, running the tips of your fingers over the hewn surface in concealed awe. You are careful not to disturb the layers of colour affixed to the wood. “I love it. But you should not have bought me anything”—you look back up at him with a frown as your hand lightly reaches up to touch his previous gift fastened at your nape—“for you have already given me something very valuable.”

(“I will treasure it,” you had said, stunned wonder muted by the veil of decorum. He has yet to see you without it; he likes to view it as almost a brand marking you as his.)

Cole is glaring at him from the entry to the library. Daemon sneers, lip twitching in smug enjoyment as the man looks away.

“Why ever not? I was thinking of you,” he asks gently, reprovingly. If I push too hard, she will withdraw. “I enjoy giving you things. Allow your old uncle to indulge, sweet girl.”

You smile unbidden, a flush blooming on the tip of your nose.

“You are not old, kepus,” you whisper, refusing to look at him, and a thrill tingles at the top of his spine at your receptiveness.

He is about to respond when there is a knock upon the door. It reverberates through the room, the bare stone floors serving to propel the noise around. Cole opens it to reveal the mousy form of a servant girl, the plain red linen of her dress and the cream caul adorning her head denoting her as one of the royal staff members. She colours as she notices his presence, quickly glancing away.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she says, bobbing a curtsey to you and lowering her head, “but the Lord Tyrell is awaiting your presence.”

He seethes internally as you resignedly stow away his gift, giving it a final caress before latching the box closed. Fucking Denys. He’ll be damned if you dare entertain the notion of wedding that flowery cunt, all too eager to bend over for the Hightowers as he is.

“I’ll escort you, niece,” he chooses to say, solicitously stowing the chest under his arm once more as he heads off your weak protestations. He walks around the desk to offer his arm to you.

“I think you’ll find that I will be escorting her, my Prince,” Cole says stiffly, striding forward several paces. The knight stops when you turn to face him.

“Actually, Ser Criston—could you ensure that Ser Lysan makes it safely back to his chambers?” You beseech him quietly, and from the look on the Kingsguard’s face he has no doubt you are gazing up at him with wide, imploring eyes. It is entirely too winsome an expression on you, and he deliberates whether there is a man alive or otherwise who could resist the power of your pleading. “I would hate to awaken him, and my uncle can surely manage to escort me to my sister’s solar to meet with Lord Denys.”

The fastidious man insisted on meeting you for tea, of all things. Fucking ridiculous. Loath to leave you to face the obnoxiousness of his presence alone, Rhaenyra had insisted on playing host to the courting. Needless to say, the food and drink was to be the best part of the event each time he paid a visit to you.

Cole nods yieldingly as you thank him, sighing a defeat as he steps back and allows you to pass with Daemon.

Your hand is firmly wrapped underneath his arm, grip tight. The journey is quiet, and he notes that you have retreated into yourself once more. Though hates to see you unhappy, he cannot deny how well it bodes for him that you are.

“Chin up, sweetling,” he whispers conspiratorially to you as you approach the Princess of Dragonstone’s solar—the room adjoining the chambers of the royal heir to the right—and stop.

You smile weakly at his attempt to cheer you, though it does not reach your eyes, as he knocks on the door for you. Rhaenyra appears in the opening, her countenance morphing into perplexity at the sight of you and Daemon. It is clear she had been expecting Cole instead.

“Uncle,” she says, a wrinkle of confusion on her visage. “I didn’t think—why are you here?”

Her gaze shifts between you and him, noting the grip of your hand upon his arm and the manner in which he is angled toward you.

“Cole’s been tasked with an obligation by our Princess,” he replies, and it is a breath of fresh air to be able to look her in the eye and feel nothing but affection and the throb of old guilt and hurt. The desire has finally worn itself out, though the memory of it still lingers. He supposes you may have had something to do with that. “I felt it best to accompany her to your rooms myself.”

Rhaenyra nods, brow raised and mouth pressed in a thin line as she opens the door wide to let you both in. You whisper a small thank-you to him as you slip away from him, politely moving forward for the visitor to make his introductions to you.

Denys Tyrell is surely the most repulsive man to grace Westeros, Daemon thinks disfavourably.

The man stands aimlessly in the centre of the room, appearing to be idly examining the tapestries depicting the Targaryen Conquest adorning the walls. A stout, rotund lad, he is encased in a garish, ill-fitting doublet of pale sky brocade with gold flowers, straining mightily at the buttons. His features are diminutive among ruddy flesh, save for the huge, meticulously groomed moustache decorating his upper lip. The son of the late Lord Matthos, he is probably one of the few suitors close enough in age to you to bond with over the delight of being young.

And yet, he is still not good enough for you.

“Your Highness.” He bows dramatically, a ridiculous flourish of the hand punctuating the finish.

Daemon has to restrain the urge to scoff at the fawning grandiosity of the gesture. He observes with half-hearted intrigue as the lad’s eyes flick to him and his lip curls in an abortive sneer before quickly returning to you. Another one of his ‘supporters’, he expects.

You politely tip your head and engage in small talk, asking after the quality of his lodgings and the welfare of his family in a manner that suggests you have gotten this routine perfected over the course of these meetings. He wants to roll his eyes as the man brightens, loudly beginning to chatter his poor niece’s ear off.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra hisses from next to him.

Glancing over at her, he sees she has a forbidding look upon her face as she jerks her head towards the open door. Bemused, he follows her out of the room, casting a brief look back at you as you engage in conversation with your suitor. Flowery cunt.

Rhaenyra shuts the door quietly before rounding on him in the middle of the hallway.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing, Daemon?” she asks, looking around quickly for any loiterers. The corridor is silent.

“Can I not walk with my own niece now, Rhaenyra? You really must apprise me of the new laws. I wasn’t aware that it was now a crime to chaperone my own blood—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” She scoffs, waving her hand toward the closed door. “Finding her all over the Keep? Staring at her constantly? The gifts? The flattery?” She steps forward threateningly, though her womanly disposition and her lack of height serve to diminish the effect. “She’s told me all about it—I know what this is.”

He smirks down at her, arms crossing. “And what do you think this is, then?”

Her hand clenches into a fist. He wonders, entertained, if she would dare to hit him. “Don’t play the fool, Uncle; it doesn’t suit you. I won’t let you spoil my sister the way you did me.”

He scoffs. “As I recall, Princess, I took no part in your spoiling.” He is callously satisfied by the flush spreading across her visage at the imputation of his words.

Oh, yes. I know about Cole.

He continues, timbre colouring with aggravation. “And I have no intention of ruining her.” Well, not yet—not until the wedding night. “Why does everyone in this fucking city always assume the worst of me?”

“Because that’s what you do!”

She has escalated to a near yell now, whipping around in her frustration, the end of her braid lashing across his chest with a thump as she moves away. When she turns around, her eyes are bright with the gradual swell of moisture.

“You pick a target, lay them thick with pretty words and affection, and then cast them away when you’ve grown bored. You do it with father; with your lickspittles and your precious City Watch; with your whores and your women; you did it to me, and now you’re going after my sister—”

It infuriates him to hear her slander his character so thoroughly, for all that it is true. Perhaps it is this fact that upsets him more.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” he asks cruelly, turning the attack upon her. He presses forward, allowing the fury to infuse his step, his words, his countenance. “Such a bitter shrew you’ve become. It’s no wonder I’ve moved on to more enjoyable pastimes. After all, your sweet sister really is exquisite—she’ll make a fine little bride for me.”

He watches with vicious gratification at the unmitigated outrage that overtakes her.

“How dare you—”

Suddenly, the door opens. Lord Tyrell steps into the doorway, lip curled and face red. 

“I believe this meeting is at an end, Princess.”

The man sneers, shoving past him as he exits. Behind him, Daemon can see your distress clearly. You are still in the middle of the solar, wringing your hands and biting your lip, refusing to look at anything other than the floor before you.

Rhaenyra tries to gather herself in affecting a disposition of regal indifference, though the cracks in her façade are clear to see. “You are leaving so soon, my Lord? I am sure my sister would so enjoy—”

“I think I understand what the Princess… enjoys, Your Highness.” He scrutinises you, then turns to Daemon and looks him over disdainfully. The insinuation is obvious. It is clear that he and Rhaenyra had been quarrelling louder than intended. “And who she enjoys it with. I’ll suffer no harlot as my wife, royal or otherwise.”

How dare he. How fucking…

It is a flagrant offence to one so pure as you. Of all the women in the city, you deserve such affront least of all.

At the sight of tears welling in your eyes—brows drawn, lilac blurred by the tear-sheen collecting on your lashes, “will I ever see you again?”—the familiar, burning fire of rage overtakes him completely, the dam bursting and breaking as he swings his fist directly into the foppish lord’s face.

“How dare you insult the Princess’s honour!”

The bestial part of his nature revels in the satisfaction of feeling the man’s flesh tear under the force of his knuckles as he drags him to the floor, of feeling the grinding frisson of pain in his bones as they collide with the insipid cunt’s face. The blood spills hot and wet over that ridiculous outfit, over his fists and clothes, spraying over the floor. The lord can only cry out as Daemon rains down punches upon him, seeking to erase the image of the man who’d dared to malign you so. The Rogue Prince thinks he can hear voices, but the sound is muted, muffled, like listening to a scream underwater.

“You stupid piece of shit, how dare you—”

He aims for Denys’s nose, hoping to smash it in entirely, when he is abruptly dragged off the man and forcefully shoved away. He presses forward wildly, attempting to finish his mission, straining against the hold of Breakbones—and by the gods, the Strong boy really lived up to his name, did he not?—until he takes in the sight before him.

He slows as he views the scene. The Tyrell attendants have run in to kneel next to their lord with rags already mopping at the blood oozing from his face, Ser Willas Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne of the Kingsguard stand with hands on pommels, and several servants are looking on with curiosity and fear at the sight before them.

And you. You are enfolded in the arms of Rhaenyra, a look of abject horror on your sweet face. His heart clenches.

—the horror in your expression feels like the edge of a blade carving to his very soul. “But… you promised”—

This is not what he wanted. He had made you fear him, he can see it; he knows you are afraid. How could he? How could he?

“The Prince attacked me—this is the gravest of abuses, Ser—” cries Lord Denys in response to Ser Rickard’s quiet inquiries, clutching a cloth to his swelling and bloodied eye.

He has to get out of here, he thinks rashly, pulling out of the City Watch Commander’s hold and spinning away, stalking out of the hall—

“Your Highness, you cannot leave while—”

“Daemon, stop—”

“Kepus—”

He runs.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/121060219

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in the comments!

To be on the taglist:

Click here to apply for the general taglist! Click here to apply for the terms of endearment taglist!

[aerodumb]

Wade/Nancy is an artist who's been surrounded by negative opinions. She currently works under the username Grisgrisdoll, but she's widely known as the name that haunts her past, Kastoway.

I've seen many, many accusations being thrown online against this artist, but I noticed that for many people spreading them this knowledge is secondhand. I found her Deviantart account some time after she changed her username to Kastoway in the beginning of 2014 due to my hyperfixation on creepypastas at the time. I never actually followed her, but I visited her account every now and then, so if I missed something important, it was because of that and I will be glad if you tell me. In this post, I'll list the incidents in chronological order *with evidence* and then give my own opinion at the end.

One thing to know about Wade is that she has had many different names and usernames throughout her life. In addition, she is comfortable with people using either "she", "he" or "they" to refer to her. I'll be alternating the pronouns and using both her names.

He was 13 when she created Ticci Toby [1]. He posted her first drawing of him on the 19th of November 2012 on DeviantArt [2] and Toby's origin story one year later on the 23rd of May 2013 [3]. Wade changed the personality of Toby to make him less upbeat, more tragic and more scary. One of the first instances where he showed discomfort with how people portrayed Toby that I remember was in a publication she posted on the last day of 2013 [4]. This situation ended up with a small redesign of Toby on 5th of February 2014 [5].

She took a short break from DeviantArt around July [6]. It was this year when her creepypasta blew up out of proportion. Previously, she had expressed her desire for Toby to only be shipped with another creepypasta character called Clockwork. However, many people didn't like Clockwork and didn't respect this wish, leading her to further getting tired of the creepypasta community. By october of the same year, her Deviantart bio said: "Most people know me as the creator of the creepypasta story "Ticci-Toby"-- which yes I am, but I prefer not to be constantly called out for it nor only recognized or appreciated for it. I do not contribute to the creepypasta fandom anymore so please don't ask me about it. Thank you" [7].

One issue that is frequently overlooked when discussing Wade's actions is her problem with impersonators, as she stated on a status in November [8].

On 14th of December 2014 he made a post trying to solve all the turmoil that had formed because of shipping [9]. He stated that he had asked people not to ship Toby with anyone but Clockwork because that was what he was comfortable with, but he realized that decision was pointless and didn't care at this point. The situation had gone out of control and there were people bashing creators who shipped Toby with others or with their own characters. He apologized to the hurt and asked people to stop the white knighting. In addition, he recognized "I wasn't prepared for my character to become popular on the internet. I really wasn't. I never thought it would happen and I'm still not good at dealing with it. In fact I suck at it, it's true". He was 15 at the moment.

In 2015, they got into Marvel, even having a tumblr blog where she drew Deadpool replying the asks of her followers. At the end of their bio, it could be read: "I will not reply to notes or comments regarding Ticci-Toby or anything Creepypasta related, sorry." [10]. This message was deleted months later, so their profile didn't mention Toby or creepypasta anymore. They kept the folder for her creepypasta drawings in their gallery tagged as "old".

In April 2016, he had to warn the general public that Toby wasn't real and that he was his creator [11]. People had been spreading misinformation, saying that Toby was real or was based on a real person. Wade feared that something like the tragedy of Wisconsin could happen again, it was a serious concern.

In May, Nancy made a post saying that people could still ask her about Toby [12], but later in June that year, she decided to step off the internet with the purpose of trying to improve her life, archiving the majority of her work [13]. Later in 2017, she updated her bio to let people know about her new instagram account where she mostly posts original art. It was at this point when I stopped checking her content completely, as this account, called bonejars at the beginning, was private for a while. She hasn't been very active on DeviantArt apart from the times she announced her podcast.

On the porch: Episode 2, 16 April 2020, started a wave of negativity against them. I didn't watch it at the time and it is now private so I can't say much about it, but they did some clarifications on her instagram stories later. Many users took screenshots of them and they can still be read [14]. In them, Nancy says that they came to terms many years ago with the ships, that they left the fandom because all of the drama made them miserable and that they'd wish Toby to no longer be associated with the creepypasta fandom. Despite this, they don't want people to stop doing what makes them happy, they said they're ok with headcanons and people reinterpreting the character, that they like the fanart as long as people don't profit from it. They said "I know what escapism is like and using fiction to cope with life. I would never wanna take that away from anybody". Later, they had to make further clarifications because people accused them of wanting to take Toby away from the fandom.

On 25 abril 2021, Nancy posted a new redesign of Toby on his Instagram account [15]. This version of him was significantly different from the last one. The character is older, wears different clothes and looks more realistic due to Nancy's art style development. With this design, he looks like a character from a slasher.

Many people weren't pleased with the redesign due to thinking the reason for it was to invalidate the previous one. Consequently, they brought to the surface controversies from the past. Nancy was accused of having supported two controversial figures in the creepypasta community: Laughing Jack's creator Steve Aikins (Snuffbomb) and Sally Williams' creator Shilo (la_mishi_mish).

Steve presumably harassed his ex-girlfriend and talked indecently with several young girls back in 2014 [16]. I haven't found evidence of Wade supporting him and I can't remember exactly what she said. If someone has screenshots of it, I would be grateful.

Shilo used to draw NSFW art of Sally [17]. This character is canonically 8, so she usually aged her up in this kind of content. However, she posted a compilation of sketches depicting Sally and Jeff the Killer having sex in 2015, stating it was ok for them to have intercouse because they were both 13. Shilo was 22 at the time. Several sources indicate that she stopped drawing mature content due to social pressure. Nancy and Shilo follow each other on instagram to this day.

There haven't been more references to Toby on Nancy's part since then.

◇ Ok people, get the pitchforks because now I'm gonna give my opinion!

So, what can we accuse Wade of? Of being an idiot and a hypocrite when he was a teenager, of having bad companies and managing fame poorly. I don't think we can blame them for anything else and feel that a big part of the hate they receive is undeserved.

I think she was a hypocrite because she got angry with an interpretation of Toby that she had at the beginning. What's more, Toby's story uses an interpretation of Slenderman that was invented by the fandom, proxies are not canon. It's like a fanfic of a series inspired by just a couple of photos.

Still following Shilo is yikes. However, we don't really know if they're still close and I'm personally gonna give her the benefit of the doubt. Defending Steve was a bad move, but, as some people have pointed out before, he was a teen when that happened, way younger than Steve and she could have been convinced to think he was innocent. Shilo is older too.

Being that young, she wasn't prepared for facing the bad sides of fame. Ignoring stuff, going radio silent and then saying things in the heat of the moment didn't help her a bit, but it was all that occurred to her at the time. She's tried to explain things in more detail in recent years just to go back to saying as little as possible because at this point, people get angry for whatever she says.

People say they're homophobic. Their instagram account refutes it.

People say he was mean and insulted the fandom. I remember reading a couple of statuses on DA that I thought were insensitive, but that was a long time ago. People grow and he's changed his mind a lot as you can read in his instagram stories. If you say these things referring to the post where he told people Toby wasn't real, I'm sorry, but I think he had all the right to be harsh. People said Slenderman was real, it ended up in a tragedy and now the same things were being said about Toby. Can you imagine how it's to feel you're responsible for someone's death? He was trying to protect people.

People say she went after artists that portrayed Toby in a different way than hers, yet every time she's said something that ended up hurting people, she took responsibility and apologized for it. I don't believe this person could go and directly hurt someone. Remember what I said before about her issues with impersonators and people white knighting? That could be what's happening. Even now she has problems with people pretending they know her, so be careful!

People say they have abandoned the character many times. It's true they've said they didn't want to talk about Toby on four different occasions, but I don't think they did it with that intention. Why did they redesign him then? The design we all know is inevitably tied to the creepypasta community and they want to move on from it, that's why they didn't want to talk about him. Now they made a version of the character that isn't tied to that world, so we have two Tobies, one for them and one for us. I think that's cool!

Many don't like that they can't use the old version to earn money, but I want them to understand that this is a really particular situation. Usually, people making commissions of characters that aren't theirs isn't a problem when the creator is getting money on their own (unless you're Disney, Disney has no chill). This isn't Wade's case, she has never been monetary compensated for creating or drawing Toby and she has the right of choosing not to allow the commercial use of her characters. "Give for free what you were given for free" is a rule that makes sense in this case.

I don't expect anyone to stop disliking Wade, you're free to feel whatever you want, but at least I hope that this post helps people to see that all of this is more dimensional than just "kastoway is evil". At the end of the day, she's just a dude that fucked up many times and I think her experiences can help us to not commit the same errors.

◇ Here you have all the evidence

[1] Wade's age (look at the replies)

[2] First art of Toby

[3] Toby's Origin on Kastoway's DA

[4] Post where Wade complains about the difference between fanon and canon Toby

[5] Updated Toby design

[6] Wade's DA on hiatus

[7] Wade saying he doesn't want to be known just for creating Toby

[8] Wade complaining about impersonators

[9, 11] Nancy clarifying the issues with shipping and people saying Toby was real (look at section "Kastoway and his creation")

[10] Nancy saying he won't reply asks about Toby

[12] Nancy apologizing and saying ask about Toby are welcomed

[13] Nancy announcing her departure

[14] Nancy's deleted instagram stories

[15] Toby's new design

[16] About Laughing Jack's creator

[17] About Sally's Creator

[seal-berry]

the fionna and cake ending reminds me of this article

sorry but u show golbetty being capable of so much and simon literally was gonna thank her for eating him but nooo we have to get a "emotionally well adjusted grounded" end about taking your lumps and not having a chaos god wife. god forbid women do anything. also the double standard with marshall and gary's romance i was not fond of-- u are telling me in all possible universes marshall and gary are healthy enough to have a happy ending and simon and betty arent? Because thats what youre saying when you frame all of this in a multiverse story.

the plot selectively gives easy outs like golbetty being happy to pop fionna and cakes world out of his head miraculously but we cant have petrigrof because one time simon didnt get on a bus. golbetty shows fionna a dream that sets her straight-- oh yeah, magic WOULD suck! this example world that is much worse than the original f&c world has shown me the light!! dont worry fionna, the threat of losing the world you took for granted and up until now it was implied you were barely making ends meet in will show you that your fantasy and dream were Bad. But cake can stay magic, because thats a metaphor for self identity and not a metaphor for telling a 20-something to grow up! simon stands there and explains what he learned to the audience just in case u didnt Get the Message about Toxic Codependency tm. it was the perfect setup for a dramatic universe breaking love story but instead we get simon being put basically back where we thought he was before the first eps of fionna and cake revealed he wasnt doing well. and that whole show they didnt budget a single scene for simon and our marceline to like. talk. 10 20-plus-minute AT episodes-- what we have been asking for for years-- and in the whole set we get the convo in ep 2 and thats all.

anyways i didnt like the ending because a message that boils down to "suck it up, reality is good enough, dont throw it all away for your god gf again thats the best ending we prommy" is a real swing and a miss in year of our lord 2023. personally throwing it all away for a hot god gf is probably the most self care thing one could do.

thats the line the world of adventure time winds up drawing, that so many things are possible, but this isnt. idk it feels like a slap in the face to have a quick tropey gay romance threaded between a romance that has such a rich setup and history from season 5 get ripped apart from the second there was a "mistake" in their meet cute moment.

anyways sorry i just felt like it was a cheap ending that was very much up on its high horse when the issue that breaks up simon and betty was only really deliberately written in the past 4 episodes. of a romance arc that has lasted since season 5. if u really wanted to go there they couldve made different choices from episode 1 that wouldve left me agreeing that this is a good end, but right now it feels very unsatisfying.

the conclusion is just that betty had infinite power and decided she did not want simon by her side. sad and boring, just like real life!

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog June 21, 2023

Hi! Welcome to my first day of fandom blogging! I'm very excited about doing this and hope you'll join in on the conversation and really hope that you might start one of your own!!! So on that note, lets get going.

What I'm reading:

I'm currently re-reading The Changeling by @annerbhp. It's a canon rewrite of sort, with a big twist. Here's the summary: Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why. It's 182K from Ginny's POV. It does follow canon to a point. I read this about 6 months ago and I still think about it when writing Drarry. I now have to give Ginny a positive break-up with Harry. LOL No dissing her because she's such a badass in this story. While it's listed as Harry/Ginny, it really is mostly a Ginny story for the main story. There's follow on stories after this one that are fab too.

It starts with Year 1 and the house sorting. Ginny is surprisingly sorted into Slytherin. She at first thinks its a joke done by her twin brothers, but then reality sets in. Most of her family is devastated and she feels completely isolated. This is a Ginny you'll recognize from canon and then so much more. If you longed for more Slytherin background and lore than canon gave us, this you will love. And if you think Slytherin is dominated by the males...well this will give you a headcanon that you won't forget.

What I'm writing:

The Azkaban Letters, which I'm so far behind on I want to cry. It's a 2007 WIP I started right before HPDH came out. So it's canon divergent after HBP. I did edit the first 7 to be more in line with canon and post canon. My issue is I have too much in my head and too many ideas to get down on paper...er on the computer. When I stopped writing it in 2007, I had posted the first 7 chapters on The Hex Files. It came over to AO3 during the transfer and has been staring at me in the face since then. I'm now up to 16 chapters, which sounds like a lot, but there's 4 sections to the story and I'm in the middle of section 2. sigh.

Tumblr Posts of Interest:

@xanthippe74 on her blog has reposted her 2020 fic, Follow the Water in honor of summer solstice. If you have not read this fic, you are in for such a treat. Perfect summer fic. Give her post a reblog and fic some love!

@julcheninred posted on her blog yesterday that it was the 5th anniversary of Draw Drarry badly. I so love her block H/D art, and so happy we've had five years of her sharing them with us. Make sure to reblog to share the Drarry fun!

3. HDMpreg2023 has posted the reveals on A03. TWENTY fics in all. I only got to read about 1/3 of them, but whoa there are some serious gems. (If I find the Tumblr post for this, I'll add it.)

4. @lcdrarry has also posted their reveals! My apologies to the fest and authors/artists. I've only read a few this round but plan on diving into the treasure trove of Drarry. This was a new fest for me to watch when I came back to fandom. While I don't watch many movies or watch tv much anymore, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to follow/understand the stories as well as I should. I was wrong. Most I have found I could enjoy without knowing the source.

Tumblr Drarry Fic/Art Resource:

I'm guessing most of you follow @drarryspecificrecsdaily, but in case not, you should definitely follow! They post Drarry completed fics which have been posted on AO3 for the current day. I have found some amazing gems from this resource. Fics I haven't seen discussed or recced anywhere else and authors I haven't been blessed reading before.

Okay, that's it for Day 1! Hope you found something interesting. I'll be switching around the categories on a daily basis. Tomorrow, I'll be adding in Fic Rec from the way past. Feel free to comment. :)

[retrowaving1]

I noticed people creating such descriptions on Tumblr, I assumed that I could do the same so that the people who visit my blog would be less confused about what they're seeing here. After all, I'm really open to communication, but it's probably better if you know what to expect from me:)

So, who the h am I?

> Obviously, Ohiko Amok is not my real name. Not only do I have Eastern/Central European origins, nobody can have a surname which stands for an aggressive dissociative behavioral syndrome (i guess).

I don't want to go by my real name on the internet unless it comes up in conversation with my mutuals.

> I'm a person of many professions: (1) personal tutor teaching adults with dyslexia, adhd, Asperger's etc.; to speak English (2) Marketing professional; (3) Graphic designer; (4) Apparently, I become an HR manager as well???

Sometimes I post some funny observations connected with my professional background, and even though some of them might seem tiny bit salty, I love my occupations wholeheartedly (except for some episodes of working with people, people are truly annoying sometimes).

> I have lots of hobbies; I like cooking (I'll gladly exchange recipes with anyone interested in mine), I like painting and drawing (both digitally and traditionally), I do yoga, I like reading (and sometimes even writing) and I like learning about skin issues (lol, I even have a certificate that I finished a course teaching about acne and how to properly deal with it xd). I also play a number of very simple computer games and enjoy board games, but I wouldn't call myself an enthusiast of neither. What I do adore is music - I'm the only person in my family who haven't had any musical trainings in the past, but being a daughter of a choir singer and a guy whose friends call him "Orchestra" for playing multiple instruments, together with being a sister of a sound designer and a former rock band frontman, I do have a strong appreciation for music. My taste in music is very vast and it'll be difficult to limit it to one genre or a group of artists, but I can easily name some of the most influential performers for me: Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Leonard Cohen, Dusty Springfield, Judy Garland, Fleetwood Mac, Czesław Niemen, Marek Grechuta, Volodymyr Ivasyuk, Okean Elzy, Skryabin..

I would love to bond over music with anyone with similar tastes <3

I also absolutely ADORE cats, they are my "spirit animals", so they are going to appear in my blog sometimes.

> I do not identify myself through pronouns, sexuality, belonging to a certain movement. I think all of those labels are secondary and often limit person to a certain degree. Biologically, I'm a woman. I'm bisexual, but I do not consider myself to be a part of LGBTQ community. I'm not religious. I'm not a feminist of any kind. I have my own strong ideas developed through the years living in a certain context, my own preferences and worldview, but I don't want to label them in any way, as it seems redundant.

> I come from Poland<3 If at some point you might get confused by my posts' being inspired by both Polish and Ukrainian popular culture and historical background, it's because I was born in Ukraine (albeit in a Polish family) and feel a strong connection and love to both countries.

> Since I've started to post on Tumblr regularly, I very often get some horny messages (i'm talking about real people, not porn bots), so here's one bit of information which I feel obliged to add to my account description: I'm currently engaged and I'm not looking for any relationships aside from friendly ones

> I don't reply to messages in russian

Cheers, if you've managed to read this whole post, I hope you'll enjoy the content I post on this account<3 Feel free to ask any questions that might come to your mind, I really like talking xd

[thedawningofthehour]

didn't you say you were making Draxum's house in the sims? Did you ever finish? :(

So I whined about this on my main blog, but I'm having issues with my computer. The power port, and I've noticed this for a while, gets extremely hot whenever I try to run anything more intensive than Powerwash Simulator, and the past few months it's become harder and harder to get it to charge. (I'm not overclocking or anything-I bought this computer for gaming and made sure it had the specs to run shit like my heavily modded Skyrim and Fallout, it should be able to run Sims) I contacted Acer about a repair and they quoted me over eight hundred dollars. The actual computer was about 1200-1300, for comparison. There's other issues with it as well-there's a chip on the screen that's really obvious on a white background, and they advertised that it would support a second hard drive, but it's never recognized the one I bought. The power port is the most grievous though, and power ports on laptops are notoriously hard to repair.

And this computer isn't old. I bought it last spring. Less than a year and a half-and I've barely been gaming on it because I've been writing this, so I spent over a thousand dollars on a turtles fanfiction machine essentially. (there's been other reasons, depression funk caused a complete disinterest in gaming and after so many mass shootings I've started feeling guilty whenever playing games with guns, but writing is mostly what I've been using this expensive gaming PC for) I only had the one-year warranty that came with the computer, but honestly I can't find it in myself to regret that too much because I have never once had a company actually honor a warranty. It's like safety deposits on apartments or insurance claims-they'll do everything they can to weasel out of doing what they're supposed to.

So back to your question-I currently don't trust my computer to run the Sims. Or anything else. And I can afford to buy another gaming PC right now, but it would be financially pretty irresponsible. I returned the tablet I bought to draw with, and I think I'm going to get one of those two-in-one laptop/tablets so I can use it for drawing and writing. Maybe I'll be able to run the Sims 4 on that-it doesn't have to run great, I use it mostly as a building simulator. Kind of sucks though, Crusader Kings 3 came out with another expansion pack and the new Cities Skylines is coming out this fall, plus I've been getting a hankering to play Skyrim again.

But enough about my computer woes, I do think I have some screenshots I could show...

First floor, I apparently took these during the first round of building because I made a lot of changes. The lab is way bigger now, and I have the rest of the house shell done. The blank space in the back right is where I was going to put in the multi-story room where the turtles find the weapons-which is probably the least completed part of the entire house because holy hell the building controls do not want to work with me.

But in the back left you can see Cass and Gale's rooms! :)

I do like how the main hallway turned out. I know it was mostly destroyed on Creation Day, but let's just say Draxum redid it in the same style. The middle picture, that's the little storage room that hides the door to the part of the house where Gale's room is. If you know the Sims you can tell where the secret door is.

And yes, I know the half-walls under the stairs look ridiculous, I've fixed it since then. I couldn't just extend the half-wall all the way back because it would delete the upper staircase, for some reason.

I'm pretty proud of how the living room is turning out. Could be a little bigger, but the symmetry of the bookshelves are just too perfect. (also the curved walls get fussy, FUCK CURVED WALLS) Needs some clutter on the mantle though.

The kitchen no longer looks like this, I moved around a lot of the pictures and added another layer of cabinets, because Draxum probably has like six sets of fine china he's received as gifts throughout the years and refuses to part with. I added more retro-looking décor, because the last time he remodeled this room was in the sixties and I wanted it to look a little old-fashioned. I also imagine he refuses to get an electric stove, saying his mystic wood-burning stove works just fine. I tried to work a pantry in, but it didn't really pan out. (lol) And the more I think about it, he probably has a legit larder somewhere in the basement, since Draxum is from a time before refrigeration and would have grown up storing food in underground cellars. (and he deffo has like several years worth of food stored away, he's pretty much a doomsday prepper)

This is also incidentally the layout of the kitchen at my old house, hence the weird octagon dining area. Except we had windows. With no curtains. In the woods. It was unsettling to cook at night.

Draxum's study is bigger now, and I think I added a fireplace? He absolutely has eight bazillion degrees and awards and he puts them ALL on his wall. He earned that shit, dammit.

His bedroom's nothing to write home about. It's comfortable, not luxurious. There's no electric lights because he prefers candlelight.

Just imagine that white bathroom counter stained with pink splotches from Draxum's hair dye.

I had BARELY done anything with the pool, but as you can see it is indeed a tank. Draxum was planning to keep a mutant or something in there.

I was actually in the process of redoing the entire greenery lol, but I think I did an okay job on 1.0. Not the mason jar lamps though, I'm not sure what I was thinking there.

Some pictures of Lab 1.0. The ooze-vine-thing looks terrible; I straight up haven't even started to recreate it in 2.0. I pushed back Draxum's alchemy area and gave him an actual medical bay in the back, which is where The Table would have been located.

That's mostly Gale's area on the left, I think it still broadly looks this way? I didn't put in stuff like the robotics table because it just looked silly-and besides, we're not actually playing this build. We know Galois only needs two hands and a welder to make a robot.

I will leave you off with a slightly more clutterfied Gale's room! Oh, but also, I GOT PURPLE CC CURTAINS FOR HIM. :D After I took this picture, but just know he has them now. He has no reason to have them because he does not have a window, but I'm happy for him.

[flowery-manipulations]

My self-pitying post

I do not know how to better name this post, but this seems most accurate. Because I understand that I made a wrong turn somewhere, and it led me here. My life isn't in shambles, but I feel like it is. So here's my sob story: I am not the victim, but someone who could've done better and can do better and just needs to let this out into the world somewhere. It may make someone feel better about themselves. Someone may relate. Someone may make fun of me. It is what it is. To summarise, I'm giving myself an ultimatum before I give up living: only go through with it if I cannot improve my life until my 21st birthday in August.

Just a heads up, thia is rambly and some parts dont relate to the main issue. I just let the words flow.

I was a bright child. I loved math and computers. I still do, in theory. My family immigrated to the UK when I was 9/10. I didn't speak any of the language. So, as it was expected, I didn't learn anything in my first year of school. The tutor the school gave me to learn English didn't help me at all and would get angry and yell at me when I didn't understand a word she was telling me- she showed no pictures and did not speak my native language, so I had no idea what word she wanted me to understand. The kids were no better. I did not understand it then, but they only spoke to me to bully or make fun of me. I don't know whether it was a blessing or a curse that I did not realise then. But I did understand when, on separate occasions, different boys tried to assault me when I went to the classroom to get something during breaks or at the park outside of school. And how the girls who bullied me would block my exit.

I had to fight past them to leave. Only one or two students at the school were genuinely kind- ironic for a Christian school. As such, in my perpetual loneliness, I spent the lessons drawing and my breaks reading in my native tongue. The only lessons that brought me joy were maths. I was ahead of the class due to my interest and my mother's tutoring at home. By the time they reached fractions, I had been memorising the Pythagoras theorem. Since math was going well, no one cared that I was failing Spanish (and in secondary, I was made to learn French, so that was a slight loss).

In secondary, I was in the top set for maths and the bottom set for everything else- but only for a short time. I had begun consuming English books, and my mum made me read them aloud to memorise the words. I remember one instance clearly when I had two copies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in front of me- one in Polish and one in English- and I was going through them page by page to grasp the context. It's not the best learning method, but it's a core memory for me. In year eight, I moved up to second set; by year 9, I was top set in everything. I also made some real friends. I had 4 I could call my closest and many others that weren't as close, but I still enjoyed their company. Little did I know that only one would stick by my side all these years. Two dropped me in year 9 with no explanation, and one just stopped texting back after sixth form. I joined clubs, became a prefect, and had two job experiences by year 11. It was going great. For my GCSEs, I convinced my head of year to let me take computer science instead of French since the school wanted everyone to take a language. I also wanted to do Drama, but the choice was between Art and Drama, and my mum decided art would be more beneficial. Considering that the subject made me hate drawing for years, while my love for the performing arts persisted, I would disagree, and my mum eventually conceded that she should've let me study it after I kept buying tickets out of my allowance to watch plays on the West End.

I passed my GCSEs with flying colours. And my first A-level that year- Polish, having done the GCSE for it a year prior.

At A-levels, it all went downhill. I barely passed maths. I would blame COVID, but I would game through the online classes, so I am more to blame than a virus. I did alright in Physics and well in computer science and psychology. But that's when my tearful phone calls started after my exams. My mum would stress out after each call as I began going frantic and anxious over every exam answer. My best friend stuck with me through countless nervous breakdowns and anxiety attacks. I love her more than anything and hope I can pay her back for all she did and endured because of my frail emotional state. She was the only one who knew I was having thoughts of ending it all, the first to know I was bisexual and that I wanted to leave the church. I think she was the only thing keeping me alive, my closest confidant, my sister from another womb.

University started on a high note. We were still in quarantine, so there were only a few opportunities to make friends. I paid little attention to all the content of the lectures as I had covered it in A-Level. I did really well in the first year. It's too bad that it doesn't contribute to my grade. In my personal life, I was working out and building soft skills to help me develop myself.

Year two rolled in with languish or undiagnosed depression. I do not know; I can't afford a diagnosis and would have to wait years to get one through the NHS. I did some volunteering but stopped after an older man stalked me and kept harassing me while I was helping out at a science fair for children. Another volunteer noticed and helped me out, but after reporting the man to the venue, we found out he had done this before to other women and to forgive him because he is autistic. Which was no excuse, but I was too shaken to fight. That year, I failed one module and only passed another by a percentage, still calling my mum in tears after each exam. I stopped showering regularly. And barely brushed my teeth.

Now, here we are. Semester 1 of my third year came and went. I attended a few meetings for the societies I'm in. One module failed utterly, and waiting for the results of the other two (but I'm not hopeful). I am behind on my dissertation work (which is meant to include a technical aspect), barely taking care of myself, six hours away from my only friend, with no romance in sight and wanting to just disappear from the world. I still love computer science and math in theory but can't bring myself to study them. I can't drop out as I won't be able to afford to return to my studies. I hoping to scrape a 2:1 for my final grade, but that will require near-perfect grades this semester.

I do not know how to proceed. I won't drop out, but it all seems impossible. I don't know if I will end it all. I might, I might not. I will wait 6 months, though, until my 21st birthday. Maybe I'll figure something out. Perhaps I will be able to do the integrated masters my course includes. Maybe I will barely pass and have to get experience to do the master's and the PhD I so desire. I will let you know what will happen when the 19th of August rolls around. I will try to exist to the best of my ability.

After all, the last time I gave myself six months was when I was 15. And I'm still here.

[tenspontaneite]

Assembly (Chapter 4/?)

Through his communications systems, each line of text marches in, and he files it all silently into a new data pearl. A whole lexicon, he realises. Not much of one, barely enough vocabulary for basic conversations, but…a language. One that he truly, sincerely cannot bring himself to believe is any kind of joke. Suns would never joke about something like this.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the chamber floor, and closes his eyes.

 (Chapter length: 6.8k. Link to ao3 with workskin)

Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death (Hunter). In depth discussion of past cruel experimentation on sapient beings, and moral and emotional fallout of such.

---

Deep within the superstructure of Seven Red Suns, a new selfling begins to weave together. Its system-in-waiting, SRS-02, sits on the internal network and absorbs their updates gladly.

They’d been nonplussed, originally, to witness No Significant Harassment’s immediate enthusiasm to start making more platforms. Surely one was enough, to begin with? It needed to be tested extensively, or you might well be wasting resources on retrofitting something flawed. But then…

We cannot lose this, Suns thinks, half-connected to their two selflings, and calls to mind the painted hallway. Agreement flickers out across all three minds of their self, silent and steadfast. When SRS-01 leaves the superstructure to go questing, I must have a selfling here. I do not think I could bear to lose art when I have only just begun to find it.

There are the practical concerns as well, of course. Now that they’re decently well-conditioned, SRS-01 has been starting to look into the myriad maintenance issues compiling around the structure. Only for a few hours a day, but already, long-borne annoyances are being extinguished. A wire replacement here, anti-rust treatment there, a reculturing colony delivered to the fraying neural tissue in what seems like every other corner…it is palpably adding up. Suns cannot recall the last time their systems ran so well. And that’s only the start, isn’t it?

If Nish has his way, this will be the start of a grand renewal. There’s only so much they can do with their limited resources and limited hands, but…there is real promise, even so. Suns has been feeling uncommonly optimistic these past days; it’s a nice change.

One day they draw a lizard on their exterior wall with chalk, and they and Spearmaster take turns throwing spears at it. The extruded spines are a little small for Suns’ proportions, but they serve well enough; with the advantage of a machine’s rapid learning, they have grown adept with them very quickly. Spearmaster claps approvingly at a throw that reaches the false lizard’s eye, and they smile.

“…I will be ready to leave soon, I think,” they say to it, and watch it perk up. “Any more learning, I can do in the wild. Now I think I must start preparing for travel.”

“It is far to your friend’s body-home,” says Spearmaster, in the informed position of a small creature who has made that journey multiple times. “Not as far as to your angry friend. But, far. Many dangers.”

“Yes,” they agree, thinking already of how best to prepare. “I had best provision carefully.”

  [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: I didn’t tell you about what my selfling experienced, that first outing.

NSH: What, the one that made you fry half your chamber when you synced again? No, you haven’t. I’ve been deathly curious too~

SRS: And yet you didn’t ask. How unlike you.

NSH: I can, sometimes, have tact and sensitivity!

SRS: Hah. I suppose we really have changed over the years, haven’t we?

SRS: …I suppose the most important thing to say is that I confirmed my suspicions. My messenger is a person, and always has been.

NSH: Well now.

NSH: That’s truly something. Fully sapient? You’re sure?

SRS: It makes art. It named itself. ‘Spearmaster’. It never told me – I had to ask.

SRS: It kept these thoughts quiet because it was worried I would disapprove of its sapience. That I only wanted it to be a pet, and not a person.

NSH: …Ouch. I can only imagine how that felt for you.

SRS: It was hard to come to terms with, yes. And given what we’d been speaking about that day already…when my selfling came home with those new memories, it hit very hard.

NSH: Hence your damages. And the new integration protocols.

NSH: …Are you alright, Seven Red Suns? You’ve not mentioned any of this for days.

SRS: My damages are repaired, and my tissues healing.

NSH: You know that’s not what I meant.

SRS: I can’t say I’ve come to terms with it yet, no. Not with how much harm I caused an innocent person, with how I shaped it and treated it like an animal. Perhaps I never will come to terms with it.

NSH: Well that’s depressing.

SRS: Can you blame me?

NSH: No, I suppose not.

NSH: …

NSH: Do you know, yet? If it’s just your messenger that’s like that. Or…

SRS: Or all of them?

NSH: Yes.

SRS: I very strongly suspect that the species as a whole is sapient.

NSH: …I see.

SRS: I can’t say I have overwhelming evidence for it. But based on things I’ve heard from Spearmaster…it seems very, very likely.

NSH: I

NSH: Let me know, if you get that evidence. Before that, I

NSH: I don’t know if I can

NSH: …

SRS: It’s alright. I understand. This is…not easy.

SRS: I’ll keep you appraised.

 Within the thoracic compartment of SRS-01, alongside the thinking system within, they pile in as many neurons as will fit. While they are there, the things provide a processing boost to the selfling body; a convenient side effect, if not the actual objective.

Within the spires of Septkai, they source a large traveller’s backpack, of the sorts that the pilgrims once used, making arduous treks through the surface world to visit the holy sites by foot. The effort, they said, made the pilgrimage more profound. In learning the limits of the body, in cultivating their karma against it, they would learn a great deal. Suns cannot speak to the accuracy of that, but the travel packs are a good design, though the material has degraded to uselessness over time. They scan it thoroughly, then return home to their can.

Within the stretches of their bioengineering suite, they do something a little different. It is strange, to take mechanisms made for producing living things, and instead use them to produce various lifeless biological structures. Thick skin as from the hardiest lizards, delicately dappled with the pattern of scales; sturdy hide as what protects the rain deer; chitinous armour plating alike that which the centipedes wear; delicate silks as woven by the Citadel’s ineradicable spiders. They print out samples and test them, tweaking each to their liking.

It is surprisingly easy, to create clothing this way. They have no need of seams as the material is shaped with intent from the molecular level up, the colour is easily customised, and the second they dislike the way a pattern turned out, they can simply throw it in the vats for recycling and try again. Under Spearmaster’s curious gaze, they try out design after design, playing with colour and shape in ways that are unexpectedly delightful. Any fastenings, buttons, and other such details have to be printed out in keratin or bone, then added by hand.

That last detail, the addition of those parts, is the only thing that they could not have done before the advent of their first selfling.

I should have tried this a long time ago, they think, watching a delicate cloak spool together within its bay, each filament carefully coated with biologically-derived dyes. It is a kind of art, itself. Hadn’t the making of clothing and jewellery been among the chiefest of the People’s arts? And Suns could have been doing it for centuries, had they only tried.

They doubt it even as they think it, though. To create such things, with no hands to feel it, no body to wear it…it would’ve felt pointless. And besides, with no hands to move any of it out into the superstructure, it would only have accumulated in piles to clog the bioengineering chambers.

I could have produced tapestries, though, they think sourly to themself. Banners, wall hangings. The patterns and colours are interesting enough that it would have occupied me, especially if I slowed my processing down. I could have been doing something I loved, all this time. I’m sure Spearmaster would have been happy to move them for me.

With the slightest of degrees of mental separation from their greater self, their AMP prods their thoughts along a new track:

Maybe so. Maybe they could have had this a long time ago, if only they’d thought of it. But it is pointless to ruminate upon now. Better to simply move forward, however much they can.

Yes. I suppose so, they think together, and settle in to work.

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: Vulture AMP simulations are going well! Not much left to do before the first testing phase.

SRS: Good for you. I think.

NSH: I did end up having to plan for further iterator genome modifications, though, or it just won’t integrate with the AOS. Might need to get you to tweak my cells again.

SRS: In that case, I think it’ll have to wait for your selfling to visit me and oversee the process. It sounds complex enough I’m wary of making those modifications without guidance.

NSH: That’s for the best anyway~

NSH: Gives me another excuse to come and visit you!

 They make a little poncho for Spearmaster, patterned and coloured just how it asks: a light lavender grey, with detailing in pale yellow like Suns’ chassis. It puts the garment on and then prances around in it for hours with glee.

They make a carrying pouch, long and narrow and sturdy, modelled after the quivers ancient People had once used for arrows or crossbow bolts. Suns considers it narrowly, wondering if it would be worthwhile to try to manufacture actual ranged weaponry, but eventually gives it up. Replenishing ammunition during long journeys would be difficult, with the world in its current state. Better to go on with what they intended: they speak to Spearmaster, and in short order fill the quiver with extruded spines. A ready supply, if they need to fight.

They produce dozens of different designs of travel clothing, trying each in turn to see how it works. Cloaks, scarves, ponchos, even chitinous plates of armour, just to try it all. It is difficult to settle on any one design.

“Superfluous, I think,” they say of the armour, inspecting how it sits over their chassis. “At least the full set. It’s cumbersome, and not quite worth it when I am already made of metal.”

“Looks impressive, though,” Spearmaster points out, and they laugh.

“Yes, I suppose so. Still, I won’t travel in it. Now, what next…?”

The final choice, in the end, is not as elaborate as some of the designs Suns has favoured. While they enjoy all of their new outfits, most are simply impractical for travel. This one is simple: a basic shirt and pair of half-trousers, both chassis-tight, and then a nice loose poncho over the top in a gradient of red and orange. It’s still a little plain for their tastes, but they can probably add some jewellery later to satisfy their aesthetics. Most importantly, though: it’s decently practical for travel.

It is also sort of alive.

“Smells strange,” Spearmaster says, a little suspicious, sniffing at one trailing fabric edge as if concerned that it might suddenly pounce. “Like a creature? But not. Simple.” It slaps its tail on the floor, dissatisfied with the words. “Like the simple creatures inside you. Same-like. Like the skin on your selfling?”

“It is very similar,” they allow, and stroke the new material with pleasure. “A simple purposed organism. In theory, when it’s dirty, I should be able to activate a mode where it slowly dissolves and consumes particles that are touching it. In theory. We will see if that holds up to testing. And, also…” Concentrating, they reach out to the passive, mindless organism that is the clothing. It’s nothing as effortless as controlling their own skin, but… “Ah, there we go,” they say, pleased, as the fabric slowly and sluggishly changes colour. Not much, though. It darkens but not all the way to black, and only tints slightly red, instead of going fully the colours they intended.

“Supposed to go darker?” The slugcat inquires, and they shrug.

“It would’ve been nice. Better for aposematic display, hm? But it seems I don’t have the trick of making purposed organism clothing that can change colours fully, yet. Something to work on.” They pat their own side, content. “This will do just fine. Now, to more practical concerns…”

They fit the strap for their spear quiver. They construct the bag they intend to carry with them, and test the fit of that too. Then there is only to consider what to bring along.

Neurons, yes. Pearls, full of data…yes, but what to prioritise? Gifts aside, there have to be practical datasets to bring too.

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: I’m starting to pack in preparation to leave.

NSH: Oho, that’s exciting. You think you’re ready?

SRS: As much as I can be. The journey will take a while, anyway, and I’ll have Spearmaster with me. Better to set off sooner rather than later.

SRS: I’ve prepared my clothing, bag and so on, and packed a few obvious things, like the neurons.

NSH: And gifts?

SRS: …Yes. And gifts.

SRS: I’m still uncertain which datasets to prioritise though. Do you have any suggestions?

NSH: Hmm. Things that would be practical while travelling, I suppose? Blueprints on various flora and fauna, old maps and the like. Waypoint and navigation data from your overseers.

NSH: I’d recommend taking iterator schematics and such, but honestly I’ve already got that covered, so no need.

NSH: …Ask your Spearmaster, perhaps. It might know if there’s something you need.

SRS: Now that’s an idea.

NSH: Glad to help~

In fact, what Suns had thought of was this: Spearmaster could communicate with other slugcats, and they clearly had a language. If they are to embark on a journey across the surface, then knowing how to speak to – or at least understand – members of a sapient species along the way…that’s valuable information, for certain.

And, too, it would be unquestionable evidence for No Significant Harassment. That, they think, needs to happen sooner rather than later.

They call Spearmaster over to their puppet chamber, ready and keen to learn whatever it has to offer. “We will be leaving very soon now,” they say, and its ears prick up with alert.

“We will?” It signs, interested, then narrows its eyes. “Not you, though. This you. You cannot leave the room.”

Suns blinks their puppet’s eyes, and agrees “Yes, I meant my selfling. The one that is already finished, at any rate. I think we should leave after the second one is finished and confirmed operational, which will not be long.”

“You are not waiting for the selfling of your friend to arrive, first?”

“No, it would take too long. He’ll visit me afterwards.”

In response to that, their creation draws itself up and – does that thing where it seems it wants to hiss, but can only produce a displeased puff of air through its nose. “How long until he comes?”

“I’m not sure. Weeks, perhaps.”

“You will be alone.” Spearmaster’s signs cut through the air. “Only you, and you. Alone in here.” Its ears flatten back.

“…I will still be able to speak with No Significant Harassment, as usual? Even before his selfling comes?” They say, cautious.

“But you will be lonely,” it says, now visibly agitated. “You always are, when I leave for some days. This time I will be with you, but only one part. The you here, in the body-home – you will be alone again. I said before, ‘I will stay with you’!”

“You will stay with me,” they attempt, bewildered. “Only it will be my selfling – my mobile platform. I will be fine here, I assure you. I lived for a very long time before I created you, you know. A few weeks is nothing to the long life I’ve led.”

Displeased, Spearmaster huffs through its nose. “I do not like it.”

“…Are you worried about me, Spearmaster?” They ask, slowly, and it stares at them.

“Obvious, yes.”

That’s…quite touching, honestly. It makes Suns want to scoop the creature up and hug it, but that would impede its ability to communicate. Most unfortunate. “That’s…very sweet of you, but I promise I will be fine,” they reassure it, reaching out to stroke it between its ears. “Having you along with my selfling will be more important, I think. I still have a great deal to learn from you, and you’re the one who has been out there before.”

Grumpily, it seems to concede that point, and settles just a little. “Have to protect you,” it agrees. “Never been out in living wilds. Dangerous.”

“Yes, I was actually meaning to talk to you about that.” They wait for Spearmaster to tilt its head expectantly before they continue. “I…was hoping you could tell me about the others of your kind. What they’re like – how they live.” They hesitate. “The language they use. You seem to know some of it, yes?”

Spearmaster stares, then inclines its head in a very Person-like nod – only one of many behaviours it has picked up, growing up here. Do those gestures alienate it among its kind? How accepting are they of a slugcat as strange as Spearmaster was made to be? “Yes, I know some,” it confirms. “Not very much. It is…hard to learn, for me. I think I did not start to learn soon enough. Other wanderers, who do not meet others before they are grown – they find it hard to learn, too.”

“It was like that for the People, I recall,” Suns muses, interested. “They did not learn new languages very well, once they were no longer children.”

“Like this, yes,” Spearmaster agrees, then hesitates. “You cannot speak the language, I think. You do not have a tail. But I will show to you, the words I know.”

And so it does.

The name of the language roughly translates to ‘Movespeak’. It is a body-based language, like the sign language that Suns taught Spearmaster, but utilising the entire body, head to tail. Slugcats in the surface wilds apparently vocalise primarily for emotional expression and signalling, so even without a mouth or voice, Spearmaster can speak the language perfectly well.

It demonstrates every word it can think of. When it runs out, Suns asks it to demonstrate the language in use, and they have several conversations to help draw out the particulars: grammar, expressiveness, more vocabulary. In the end, Spearmaster really doesn’t have that much. With its help, Suns compiles a lexicon of 842 Movespeak words, with accompanying knowledge of how to use and understand it.

As language always is, it is…revealing.

…It’s evidence, unquestionably, for the sapience of the species. Even if they’d been pretending that Spearmaster was an exception, there’s no ignoring this. Not unless you were desperate enough to believe that one iterator’s purposed organism had come up with a decent chunk of a conlang in its spare time, with all the alien cultural concepts to go with it.

I must send this to Sig now, they think, with a sinking feeling. And I don’t think it will go well.

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: If you have any breathing room around your simulations…

SRS: There’s something I need to share with you.

NSH: Oh well. That sounds ominous.

SRS: It’s fascinating, actually. There’s just…

SRS: …

SRS: I had better just send it. Please brace for a long message.

[850 lines of text; title “Sample of words that exist in Slugcat language, otherwise known as ‘Movespeak’”]

 In the heart of a superstructure quite a way southwest, No Significant Harassment’s puppet pauses in the air.

Through his communications systems, each line of text marches in, and he files it all silently into a new data pearl, compiling it as it comes. A whole lexicon, he realises. Not much of one, barely enough vocabulary for basic conversations, but…a language. One that he truly, sincerely cannot bring himself to believe is any kind of joke. Suns would never joke about something like this.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the chamber floor, and closes his eyes.

Far below, at one of the exterior walls of his structure, his massive bioengineering bays hum quietly along. By his standards, they are astonishingly empty. All that lies active: one accelerated growth vat, with the foetal form of a light pink slugcat growing within.

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: This…

SRS: I’d send you the proper lexicon, but given it’s a body-based language, I’d need to create text-based images to demonstrate every single word like this. I’ll copy the file across when we can meet in person, though.

NSH: ….

NSH: So even the wild ones are this advanced, then.

SRS: It certainly seems so.

SRS: Even knowing that Spearmaster described their naming conventions to me, and things they’d said to it…it was hard to fully believe until I got it to act out all the vocabulary it knew.

SRS: It says it isn’t very fluent in the language. Enough for mutual understanding, but not much complexity. So there’s certainly a lot more to the language than what I sent to you.

NSH: That’s…horrifying, thank you.

NSH: …

SRS: Are you alright?

NSH: Please, for a second, consider how many of these creatures I’ve engineered.

SRS: …Yes. I know.

SRS: I’m sorry.

NSH: For what? Are you apologising for my own atrocities now?

NSH: Look at this list. They have a word for diplomacy. They have a word for a place where they teach each other and tell stories.

NSH: They have a word for karma, and echoes. They even have a word for the void sea! Based on this list, I half think that some of them might have figured out how to ascend!

SRS: …I know.

NSH: They have art, language, culture – maybe even ascension. And I’ve been experimenting on them for decades.

NSH: …What am I supposed to do with this?

SRS: I don’t know.

 In the facility below, the three mis-made offshoots of Sig’s personality are sharing their own selfling body. For lack of biological resources to spare, they are co-piloting for now, a manoeuvre that took some speedy coding and clever new drivers to manage. Two of them quite like living this way; the third is anxious for their own body.

All three of them notice the disturbance shivering through the superstructure.

That felt important, thinks Trivial Botheration, broadcast in the in-between mind-space that the three of them share. What’s going on?

Very Significant Divergence reaches out the body’s hand to the wall, feeling it thrum beneath their artificial skin. The mindwall security system their parent-self had developed is very important here – without that, they all three might have been swept away already, too much a part of the network to keep their senses of self intact. Something’s wrong, I think.

Like damage? Has something broken? Botheration prods at their sense of wireless connectivity anxiously, wanting to check in. The other two hesitate for a moment, then agree. They open connection, just barely enough to transmit and receive data through the heavy mindwalls.

The emotion that is shuddering through every cell and process of No Significant Harassment is…beyond describing.

What happened? Healthy Attachment Behaviour thinks, utterly shocked. Did someone die? Did something happen to Suns?

The thought isn’t comfortable for any of them. No matter what actions they’ve taken to diverge from their parent, it’s hard not to inherit some of the attachment.

I don’t like this. Should we go to his chamber? Find out what’s going on?

Negation, from two sources, one more hesitant than the other. Divergence is firm: No, this is acute. Whatever’s happening, the input is still ongoing. Wait for the news or data or whatever to finish first.

Trivial Botheration wavers about it, then deliberately connects to the superstructure maintenance logs, just to make sure there’s not some ongoing physical crisis, like a fatal dysfunction in a sector somewhere. There’s nothing, though. It’s all clear except for the symptoms of major emotional disturbance. Yes, alright. We’ll wait.

He might want us for moral support, or something, once this finishes, Hab agrees, and as a triad they collectively force themselves to relax. They won’t do Sig any favours by tangling themselves up.

Still. It’s very hard to sit and do nothing.

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

NSH: I treated them like animals. I thought they were interesting subjects. They’re social, intelligent enough for tool use, take well to training…

NSH: …

NSH: Of course they do. They took well to training because they were people. Little freshly-grown people, who never even had the chance to learn language besides what I shoved into their skulls with the mark of communication.

NSH: I have one growing right now! It’s in me, right this second! Developing in a small organisms cloning vat, completely according to model.

NSH: Just a copy of a creature I’ve used and discarded over and over again.

NSH: A perfect little purpose-grown hunter.

SRS: I’m sorry.

NSH: I might as well have cloned Person neonates and raised them as slaves.

SRS: …Your hunters could have chosen to never come back to your can, if they were unhappy with you.

NSH: Perhaps in theory.

NSH: I was their parent, Suns. I created them and told them what their purpose was, and I was the only familiar being they knew. Their choice was between me, and living out on the surface for good.

NSH: What would you have chosen, in that situation?

SRS: …

NSH: And that’s to say nothing of the last hunter. The one I sent to Moon.

NSH: That poor creature hardly even had any time with me at all. Hardly any time alive at all.

NSH: I put the rot in it. One of the cruellest deaths imaginable, and I put it into a person because I thought it would be a good motivator.

NSH: I put it out into the Cycle like that. Can you even imagine?

SRS: Sig.

NSH: What, are you going to tell me it’s not that bad? That it’s okay because I didn’t know they were people?

NSH: You know that’s not an excuse.

SRS: It’s not, you’re right. It is that bad and it’s not okay at all. I’m not going to tell you otherwise for the sake of your feelings.

NSH: …

NSH: Hah. There’s the old Suns. You never were afraid to tell people when they were being stupid, were you?

SRS: I could’ve stood to be more afraid, to be honest.

SRS: Sig. Listen. I knew this would hit you hard. I also knew that you needed to know.

SRS: The ones you’ve wronged are past forgiving you for what you did to them. But, as one failure of a parent to another…

SRS: I do understand a little of how it feels.

NSH: And what does your Spearmaster think of all of this?

SRS: …Give me a moment.

SRS: …

SRS: Do you want to speak to it? I can translate.

NSH: I

NSH: I don’t know if I can.

SRS: That’s alright. I’ll pass along a few things instead. I think it’s been thinking about this sort of thing for a while.

SRS: This may take some time, so please bear with me.

 “I’d like your opinion on something serious, Spearmaster,” Seven Red Suns says, opening their eyes for the first time in many minutes. The slugcat’s eyes turn towards them, blinking with concern, and it slides out of their lap in preparation to speak. “Something…very sad. It will likely upset you.”

“Something happened?” It settles on the floor of the chamber, waiting anxiously.

“No Significant Harassment, like me, has created slugcats before. Were you aware?”

Spearmaster nods. “I never met one. But, I know.”

“Well…like me, he didn’t know that they were people. He never knew that your kind have minds. And he made a lot more of them than I ever have. One of them, grown shortly before Moon collapsed…he made it sick, on purpose.” They avert their eyes, not quite wanting to see how it reacts. “A terrible rot inside, that would eventually kill it. He didn’t do it for malicious reasons, but he did it anyway.”

When at last they look back, Spearmaster’s ears are flattened to its skull, and its tail stiff. “That is horrible,” it says, the motions jerky and strained. “Cruel.”

Seven Red Suns flinches, but what can they say? It’s the truth. “Yes. It was very cruel. And now I have told him that you are all people…and he understands what a terrible thing he has done, long past a time when he can do anything to fix it. That poor sick creature must be long dead by now.”

Their own creation seems like it can barely stand to think of it. It gets up and paces around, full of agitation with nowhere to go. Its throat vibrates like it’s trying to cry out, a keen that it has no voice to utter. “Horrible,” it says, in a brief pause before it starts circling again. “Horrible. Horrible.”

Social, Suns thinks, bitterly. They are such social creatures. Such empathy, for a slugcat it has never met. And we do this to them. “Yes. It is.”

Suddenly, with shocking and violent speed, Spearmaster whirls towards them. Its back is bristling with bumps and spines, tail extruding barbs of white just by virtue of sheer agitation. “What does he say?” It demands, more fierce than Suns has ever seen. “Is he sorry? Does he care that he did a horrible thing?”

“…He cares very much, yes,” Suns says, and sees those spines flatten slightly. It watches them, tense and waiting, clearly not satisfied with that paltry assurance. “He is…very, very upset. More upset than I’ve seen him since our friend Moon collapsed and broke. He knows he has done something terrible, and doesn’t know how he can ever make up for it.”

“He cannot,” Spearmaster says, its signs sharp and brutal. “The creature he wronged is dead. It can never forgive him as I forgave you for what you did wrong to me.”

For a moment, the senseless deeply-held reflexes from their genetic source make them feel – breathless. Shocked, like they’re unable to draw air. But of course they are an iterator, and all the air they need to function is inside them. “…Why in the world would you forgive me at all?”

It stares at him, the usual affection of its gaze washed clear by the horror of what it has learned. “You have been good to me, as much as you could be,” it says. “When you learned that I had a mind, you said you were sorry. That is all I needed, for me. For my peace.” It shakes its head violently and slaps its tail on the floor. “Your friend’s creature – he was not good to it. He can never tell it he is sorry.” It stops at that, considering its own words, eyes narrowed. “…He is sorry? Ashamed, hurting?”

“Very much so,” they agree, still shaken by their own absolution.

“Good,” it says, without a hint of sympathy or remorse. “It will teach him to be careful, next time he is cruel to a creature that does not deserve it. Your kind need more teaching, to be careful.” It rubs the scar on its breast, as though it still aches.

…Yes. Suns will need to have words with Pebbles about that, one of these days. “I agree with you, entirely,” they say softly, and the admission seems to soothe it a little. “We have grown complacent, assured of our position as the most intelligent beings left in the world. It makes us short-sighted.” They hesitate. “Would you be willing to tell your thoughts on this to him?”

It startles. “To your friend? Who harmed his creature?”

“Yes. He asked after you, actually. Wanted to know what you think about what he has done.” They hesitate, then go on. “The raising of many of your kind, treating them like animals all their lives. He made them to hunt for him, and they did, going out and coming back all their lives in his service. And then there was the last one, who he put the rot into.” They sigh, and divert a scrap of attention to the pending chat, where Sig is still waiting. What must he be thinking, over there in his can?

The beginnings of a snarl draw tight lines along the creature’s narrow face. “Why does he want me to speak to him?”

Seven Red Suns considers their words very carefully. “You are the best person in this situation to say something, I think. You are a creature created by an iterator who thought you an animal, and did not treat you well. You are possibly the only one left who can judge him properly now.”

It does not speak for a long, long moment. Eyes narrow, face wrinkled with anger, it ruminates. Finally it says, “I could tell him he is cruel. I could say, what you have done is horrible, and it will stain you forever. ‘You will never make this wrong right. You can never be forgiven.’ I could tell him this, and it would cause him pain. Yes?”

Suns feels the fans in their puppet hum into agitated overdrive, letting loose a rare whir of noise into the air. They don’t want to see what those words would do to their friend. They want, in a brief desperate rush, to retract the offer, and not pass anything along at all.

Instead, they close their eyes, just for a moment. They say, “Yes. It would hurt him a great deal.”

Their creation thinks, and thinks, and thinks. Finally, unhappy but resolute, it comes to a decision. “He does not need to be hurt,” it signs. “What he needs, is to change.”

 [LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, No Significant Harassment

SRS: …

SRS: Apologies for the wait. I had to explain the context.

SRS: It has something to say to you. It’s quite long.

NSH: Go on.

SRS: It says, “If you are like my maker, you have very big thoughts. A very big mind. You have spent a long time like this, and so you forget how to see small things properly. I think this is how Sun did not see that I had a mind, even when I was speaking to them. They were too big, and not looking closely. Your kind are all too used to being big, and looking at smaller creatures like they are nothing. It makes you cruel.”

SRS: “I don’t know how your children felt about you. I did not meet them. Sun tells me they went out for you and came back, like me. Lots of times. Except for the last one. This is because they loved you. Sun did not know I had a mind, but I loved them anyway. Maybe it was the same for yours.”

SRS: “It is sad that they lived as your creatures, you never knowing they had minds. But it is not a cruelty. We are strong creatures, and clever. We can find friends in the wild and live well. If your hunters did not love you enough to return, they would have left. Be sad, and have regrets, but this is not a thing for guilt. They are people. They made their choices.”

SRS: “What you did to the last one, that is a thing for guilt. You should be guilty. It was not a good thing to do. It was cruel and you did not need to do it. But do not sit in your body-home and feel useless shame. It is good for nothing. You cannot change what you did to your creature. What you can do is change you. Sun says you have another child growing. I say, you must do better now.”

SRS: “Let it be a child first, if it is not too late. I was never a child, and I think it was bad for my mind. Be a good maker to it. Teach it to speak, and see what it says to you. Be good to it. I think that is the only thing you can do to make better your mistake.”

SRS: …That’s everything.

NSH: That’s everything, is it?

NSH: …

NSH: Tell it thank you, from me.

SRS: It says it is satisfied to give you its thoughts.

NSH: You know, I never thought I’d be getting ethical advice from the heavily bioengineered descendant of a pipe cleaner.

SRS: …

NSH: I know, I know, not really the time for a joke.

NSH: …What did it mean, about never being a child?

SRS: We decant them half grown or more, as standard procedure.

SRS: I’ve been speaking with Spearmaster these past days, and it says it has difficulty communicating with others of its kind. It did not learn their language young enough, and now struggles with it. It has issues understanding and reading their social cues, too.

NSH: Oh, saints drowning. Like a Person who grew up isolated from other People. Stunted social development? Neurological?

SRS: Something like that, yes.

SRS: Just another thing to regret.

NSH: …The current hunter is still prenatal. I’ve never decanted one as a pup before, but I’m fairly certain when I should, if I want it to emerge a neonate. But I’m not sure what their needs are, that young.

SRS: One moment.

SRS: Spearmaster hasn’t encountered newborn pups before, but has found slightly older pups orphaned once, years ago. Apparently they can eat whatever the adults do, but nothing too large. They like to be carried and tossed around. They watch you very closely to learn from you.

NSH: Right. Right, okay. I’ll…keep that in mind.

NSH: …What happened to the pups it found?

SRS: It gave them to a colony.

SRS: …It was afraid I wouldn’t take it well, if it brought them home.

NSH: Oh, Suns.

SRS: I will admit, it’s more than a little heartbreaking.

SRS: It won’t tell me if it got attached to them. That says enough on its own. I…

SRS: I don’t know what to do about this.

NSH: …Take its advice to me, I suppose. Just do better from now on.

NSH: Have you told it it’s allowed to bring children back, if it wants?

SRS: Of course.

NSH: There you go, then.

NSH: …Void take us, Suns. I don’t know how to do this. I wouldn’t know how to raise a Person hatchling, let alone a pup of a species I didn’t truly think was sapient until today. But I’m going to have to figure it out, aren’t I?

SRS: At the risk of sounding insensitive…I think there’s quite a lot of literature archived from the People on the topic of unanticipated parenthood.

NSH: Ha! If there’s anything in your memory banks about raising slugcat pups, let me know, will you?

SRS: No luck there, I’m afraid.

SRS: …We could try to find some, though.

NSH: What? Slugpup parenting literature?

SRS: No, parent slugcats.

NSH: …

SRS: Spearmaster knows enough of their language to get useful information. When we travel to your can, we can keep an eye out, and then when the three of us head off to Moon and Pebbles’ complex, we can search there too. Pass information back with an overseer and you’re done.

SRS: Unless the pup has to come out soon?

NSH: No, no, it will be a while yet. And I can slow down the accelerated ageing, even so. I probably should. Who knows what that does to the neurological development of a sapient creature, even a foetal one?

SRS: Yes, probably for the best. So you have some time to figure out how to be a parent, at least.

NSH: An iterator as a parent to an organic being. What has the world come to, Suns? This is all so…ugh.

SRS: It makes me wonder if any others out there, isolated off in their own little pockets, have found out about any of this.

NSH: Maybe there’s thriving local groups of iterator slugcat parents out in the world somewhere. Maybe they have little slug colonies and teach them about science.

SRS: …

SRS: …You know, Moon would probably love that idea.

NSH:

NSH: She really did like those little things, didn’t she.

NSH: I wonder if she still does. I wonder what she’d think of me now.

SRS: She’ll be happy to see you. I’m certain of it.

NSH: I hope so. I really hope so.

 A small creature steps outside.

In the humid mist of early morning, with Suns’ rain still drizzling, Spearmaster slips down the side of their creator’s body-self and goes questing across the surface. It has a task, though self-appointed, and it fully intends to carry it out.

Below, the land is well known to it. For all that it can feed perfectly well from the meat tanks at home, this does not quite satisfy; it descends to hunt better prey fairly often, then feeds the bodies to Suns’ legs. In this manner, it has grown familiar with the regions within the retaining walls. Not quite its territory, but familiar nonetheless.

The rains stop, and the skies clear. In the wet aftermath, all the vegetation comes alive again, unfurling from the earth and spreading stalk and flower and leaf back into the air. Spearmaster smells it all with pleasure. One grows weary of the scent of dust and metal, after long enough.

The scent they are here to search for, though, will be harder to find.

It checks each of the likely places: by the popcorn plants, along the mudfish river, and all the other best places for a normal creature to find food. They kill and drain a lizard along the way, and for all that they are much older than they once were, it is still easy. They carry on.

The day is half gone before they catch the scent; another slugcat has passed by, and recently.

Their ears perk up, and they press forwards. Perhaps, if they are lucky, they can find her before the rains come.

It wouldn’t do, to make Suns worry.

  x

---

 Yeah so that’s a more depressing chapter. Had to be done, though.

Please note: Hunter is dead as in canon. She ascended. There will be no miracle curing her of the rot, simply because I find the emotional fallout of this option more interesting to explore. The closest thing remaining to Hunter in this story is the prenatal pup currently growing in a tube, who is an exact genetic match but without the bonus cancer.

Sig’s three pseudo-children are as follows: Very Significant Divergence (Divergence), Healthy Attachment Behaviour (Hab), and Trivial Botheration (Triv/Botheration). Their gender identities are still very much in flux and their pronouns changing constantly. Each of them are taking different measures to diverge from NSH, because otherwise their lives would be very uncomfortable. At present they’re sharing a body, which TB and HAB are having a great time with. VSD not so much.

Meanwhile, Suns is probably angling to become the fashion guru of the local group. Good for them!!

 Art of the outfit Suns decides on this chapter, with bonus jewellery:

 https://tenspontaneite.tumblr.com/post/719412808752807936/two-different-colours-of-my-first-srs-outfit-im

Fun note: as of yesterday I have now written 50k of Assembly since 20th of May, which means I’m like a week+ ahead of a nanowrimo basically. Quite pleased with that ngl.

Rating on ao3 is going up. Check the ao3 version’s end notes for details on that.

Please tell me what you liked! Keeping the hyperfocus going is hard work, and every comment is massively helpful, in tags or otherwise <3 also I love stats on my stories. likes or kudos or bookmarks. number go up make brain go brr

[familyromantic]

[1]Ok, regarding the topic of consangs; once having adressed the main ethical concern of "Whatever consenting adults do is their business" has been already adressed without problems, the rest of the concerns are pretty easier to adress. So, beginning with the issue of "should this be an accepted practice?"; the answer is simple. Consanguinamory is an orientation, not a practice. I know I know, it sounds counterintuitive and many would argue it may be offensive to the LGBTI, but how better[]

[2]evidence than ourselves? I wouldn't date a relative, you wouldn't date a relative; most of us wouldn't date a relative because well, the main premise of we being unable to feel romantical/sexual interest in one of them. Consangs can; it's precise mechanism behind is still unknown, but for what can be told by couples, there is some kind of "merging" between the familial affections and the romantic ones, for short it is called "Double-Love" so the basic premise of an ubiquous emotional stage[]

[3]qualifies it as an orientation. Now, why was so widespread in the past? Simple, it wasn't. Consang couples were an allowance in social life as any other freedom guarantee has been across History and only in punctual cases. Many will citize the egyptian royal houses and the hamsburgs or secluded societies or such to point the "countereffects" and keeping the idea it is a practice, and there is where the bootstrap is. Those overstructured portions of society (notably the royal houses) engaged[] [4]in familial marriages because of ideological schemes or political agendas (mentioning the topic of "blood purity" so often mentioned in royal houses and many highly hierarchized societies from the past. What's to be fought in those cases isn't familial marriage, it's Forced Marriage. The main problematic has largely been fought and adressed in these recent times, but sadly the stigma remains against the demographics affected by it (incestuous partners and many ethnicities). For what [] [5]concerns to what would be the average statistics of consang couples, the subsequent problem of why there is a larguely wider amount of reports of incest-thru-abuse than consang couples falls upon the weight of this stigma. Depending of the society affected, they have to hide from the public eye, in the best of cases being supported by their inmediate peers and in the worst cases, outed and ostraziced of society. So, if they are in the hiding, the chances of them being able to discuss or[] [6]simply saying "Hey! we're here" are absurdly low because the chances of their lives to be ruined for that are too high for the risk. So the statistical bias (and the lack of serious research about them) falls in the pithole of statistical bias. The bubbling communities of couples and non-couple consangs that have sprouted in internet in these recent years are their firsts and best attempts to try to gain visibility, so we must be aware they're barely stepping out the hiding. [] [7]Now, what about the children? First it must be understood that the inbreed depression cases caused by the cases of malpractice from secluded societies and royal causes are the result of multigenerational inbreeding that's only possible within those schemes. It is like drawing a line and then overdrawing on it without a rule; eventually it will become crooked; so those cases are because of the indiscriminate enhancement of traits of the bloodline, not something that happens magically;[] [8]for what comes to punctual cases (actual consangs), even when the risk of a congenital disease relies highly in other risk factors as the health status, age and exposure of contamination the partners had just like in any other couple. for the general consang population is quite low, not dissimilar from the dimmest of risk factors. And even if it were the case, having a child is not a compulsion of a couple, it's a very personal choice that's not taken lightly (especially when your[] [9]demographics is as stigmatized as with consangs). Besides, even assuming they want to, can they? lots of consang couples are same-sex couples, and there is always the possibility of one of them being sterile; having so much focus in what turns out to be a personal choice contradicts the premise of "whatever consenting adults do is their business", and the chance of having a disabled child is not exclusive to them. Nature is unpredictable, hence why having a kid is such a heavy choice[] [10]regardless the parents. Ok, now for the last topic of how healthy an incestuous relationship may be? I can only reccomend you to seek for those couples in those communities and ask them directly. Because I can say whatever of what I've learned about "Most of time there is a positive pre-existing family relationship or in the case of adopted families there was never a familial bond to begin with" and such, but ultimately is them the ones who know best, so their insight is not to be ignored.

Okay, now that's a long ask XD Anyway, thank you for sharing your opinion. I won't answer all the things, if I have nothing to say or I'm not sure about something, I'd rather keep silent and just let the followers evaluate what you said themselves. But I will still say a few things.

About consanguinamory being an orientation: I disagree. That's like calling pedophilia a sexual orientation just because this is innate. But this is not, this is a paraphilia. So, if being sexually attracted to your relatives is innate, then it would be a paraphilia too. By the way, do you know of research on this topic? If there are any. I didn't explore this theme, so I wouldn't really know. Also, when you were talking about "you wouldn't date your relative", I actually believe that's the case only with close relatives, and that any person can (potentially!) feel an attraction to their cousins. No, I'm not talking from personal experience ahaha (just in case), but that the kind of conclusion I came to, as cousins are genetically distant enough.

I agree about forced marriages being evil rather than familial marriages. Cousin marriages wouldn't be so common if not for this reason.

Okay, I heard you about statistics. I thought about it myself, actually. I still believe most cases of incest are abuse/trauma/manipulation, but with innacurate statistics it's hard to prove something, so I'll leave it at that.

About children: I do agree that there are other risk factors BUT this does not reduce the responsibility. It's one thing with cousin couples (from Wikipedia: Put differently, a single first-cousin marriage entails a similar increased risk of birth defects and mortality as a woman faces when she gives birth at age 41 rather than at 30), when the risk is not that high, but I think having a child with a relative closer than a cousin is absolutely irresponsible. I've seen people argue "But there are people that are not related but still carry the same gene, and no one says anything!" Well, I do. I do say it. It doesn't matter what causes the risk, incest or not, that's still irresponsible. I understand that's a controversial opinion, but I believe that. And no, "what consenting adults do is their business" does NOT apply to having children. You're involving a child in your morally dubious act. They'll have to live with this their whole live even if they come out healthy. That is not okay.

I understand what you're trying to say, but at the same time, by just ASKING people "Is your relationship healthy?" you won't know it. I am not a therapist, and even if I was, it takes a personal meeting and getting to know a couple. I don't count adopted family as incest by the way. I'm saying this not because I'm so horrible that I don't believe people, but because I'm familiar with a few incest stories, where a daughter was groomed by a father and understood that situation was abusive only after quitting the relationship. I can't eliminate such a possibility.

I hope I managed to answer this. Again, followers or anyone really can send me asks with your opinion.

[chaoticrobotics]

Please don't rush your comics take it slow and steady I know many people are eager to see more from your comics but please don't forget your human you need to take breaks from time to time art burnout isn't a joke I myself was once a artist and i quit that because it didn't bring me much joy anymore because of excessive burnout so please from one artist to another Take a breather maybe plan what your gonna do for the story going forward maybe take some inspiration from the game or something though whatever the outcome I will honor it.

Oh don't worry about the story itself. I have it all planned out and am absolutely not changing it (other than possible dialogue changes, I have the major plot points all set though). So that's not the issue.

It was the actual art itself. You are right, art burnout isn't a joke, and honestly I'm pretty sure I've never been closer to quitting art than when I was making Security Alert. The only difference with me is, art is one of the very few things that bring me any sense of joy. It's literally either a select few video games, or making art/stories, and at the time of making Security Alert I was in a video game burnout too and struggling through college.

All of that built up to make me miserable to draw and probably super depressed looking back at it (though I wouldn't hit a true low until my last semester, if I was still trying to do the comic then I don't think I would have made it).

Anyway, thank you for your words. I do appreciate them! I am going to take my time with this comic. Maybe even try out a different format or something. Smaller parts or less detail in the art. I just want to get the story out, and since I am not a writer, I have to draw it. But I'll definitely be taking my time when drawing it.

I'll be honest, I don't know how many people might have realized it, but I am a serial procrastinator that needs deadlines to get shit done, and I get stuff done all in one go or not at all. So all those big parts I posted? Those were all done in basically one sitting. Some of them were done in 3 days with me getting a total of like 3-4 hours of sleep on the weekend, not even counting the editing I did for videos. So you can probably see why I started to resent the comic and start to burn out from it.

I'm literally just rambling now, but I wanted people to know a little bit about what I went through since I know not everyone will be as understanding as you or other people who have sent in kind words to me in the past. I've learned my lesson then, and since I am not in college anymore, I won't feel rushed to get things out before the weekend is done or be rushing myself to make people happy.

It honestly all really sucks because I was always so happy to post the comic/tiktok and pass out finally, then to wake up to a flood of nice messages. But it would all too soon go away because only a day (sometimes not even) after posting people would be demanding the next part. It just sucks since I did have fun a lot, but also had that fun drained away just as quickly.

I don't even know what I am trying to say anymore. Thank you for the nice words. I will keep to my word about not rushing myself or pushing myself too much. I do feel like I am, at some point, going to try doing what I did before and pull all nighters and fuck up my sleep schedule drastically, but I'm hoping I will recognize the signs this time and take a step back once I possibly start doing that.

So don't be upset (saying this to the general audience/whoever reading this, not specifically you) if at some point in the future, if the comic does continue, that there might be another hiatus. Will definitely try not to go on a basically year long hiatus like I did last time, but depending on how my mental state is, it might be a pretty long one.

[chichiricatsan]

For the Writer Asks Game: 4, 5, 21, and 23?

Oh! Thank you so much for the ask! ^_^

4. How many times have you been thrown off plot for a particular WIP?

Only the first question and I already feel attacked (lmao jk but at the same time...hngghghghg). The bottom line answer is TOO MANY. It's to a fault, unfortunately... It's why I'm so slow to update and write at all really... :(

5. How would you describe your writing style? Does your writing style change for different WIPs? If yes, describe all or maybe just a few.

Hm...I honestly don't think it changes much. I have a hard enough time sticking with whatever style I have tbh. It's a mix between descriptive and narrative, I think, but sometimes I bog down my work too much with repetition and other things that have been pointed out over the years. It stems from my problems with needing to explain everything and overexplaining from being misunderstood or purposefully ignored (mostly in the past). I enjoy describing things, though, but I find I really enjoy writing dialogue/banter and feel like I have a strong foothold with that. I'm not even sure this answered the question...gah.

21. Have you thrown any writing rules that everybody follows out of the window?

I end sentences with prepositions, I start sentences with Ands and Buts and Because-es, I adverb things the F*CK up because idc how "unecessary" they are they can really add to the emotion/situation imo, I still use the Oxford comma with lists and will die on this hill, I keep run-on sentences for fun sometimes (especially if it suits the emotion/situation), semicolons and en/em dashes are friends of mine in this house, as are ellipses (my true love affair).

23. Tell me about your newest WIP idea. Even if you haven't written it down. Even if it will die in a matter of days.

Oh, dear. There are many that live in my head rent free the freeloading bastards that they are, but aside from my long fic I'm trying to focus on at present, there's an outline I'm working on with a friend to co-write a Dragon Age fic that involves one of her OC Inquisitors (Flyn Lavellan) and one of my OC Wardens (Cerys Surana). I've drawn a few (conceptual) things for them on my art blog as well. Like this || and this || and this! ^_^ ~I'm also trying to refresh an outline for a Detroit Become Human fic with a Connor/Fem!OC I had from a while ago that I just kinda gave up on until recently that takes place post-"Best End". Action/Mystery/Romance kind of thing with that one. ~Then I have one that's a shorter piece in my head (not on paper/typed atm like the others) for a Ryan Lucan/Fem!OC for the Life is Strange: True Colors universe that's pure romance with an underlying focus on mental health issues and struggles. ~THEEEN I have been pecking away at a re-telling of the Dragon Age Origins world state I've made with my OC, Selph Surana, and her romance with Alistair in the game. Been typing that a bit as well as drawing things for them, too. Like this || and this || and this comic page!

There are others, but those are the big ones. Goodness gracious me.

-> If anyone wants to reblog the original post or ask me questions, here's the link to the OG

[squares-the-cosmosrectangle]

Time for a Fanfic Game.

I’mma make a poll for which one of my Fanfics is your favorite! Whichever one wins I’ll draw fan-art for! This is a week long poll, have fun! Under the poll will be the summaries of each fanfiction!

Not required at all by any means, but you can also tell me what all you liked about them!

(These also have links to the fanfic if you’d like to read any of them! Just click the “Keep reading”!)

Catalyst of Disorder

Uncompleted, still being updated. 23 chapters & 54k words. Long ago, the goddess who watches fun created a being to watch order. The duo were siblings, they bonded over their duties and issues the Watcher of Order had to deal with. Over the course of a nine hundred ninety nine years, they watched together — until the Watcher of Fun started obsessing over bonds between two worlds. The Watcher of Order wasn’t happy, he sought to correct it and make his sister happy around him again. He succeeded, but it wasn’t how he intended. Due to this the Watcher of Fun decided it was better if he got babysat by the Tetris King, it’ll teach her little brother to be less clingy to her. A year before the present time is when our story starts, the Watcher of Order and his new babysitter — the Tetris King — now have to bond together and learn about the others past. They’ll meet a dangerous foe and all they know will be changed forever.

Lost to the Rift

Completed. 4 chapters & 12k words In the land of Tetrimina, a rift to a dimension of blobs caused mysteries to come fourth for five years. However, a couple — who met when the rift formed — decided to start a family. However when the rift closed suddenly, the couple finds themselves in a situation that ultimately breaks their family apart. Their child, Tee, will find a way to be a person again, he’ll learn to cope with his differences and his missing parents he doesn’t know. And maybe, he’ll see them again one day.

Time Rifted Twins

Uncompleted, still being updated. 1 chapter & 3k words The telepathically bonded Jay and Elle, who truly are they? And where did they originate from? Questions many don’t know the answers too, but, One person knows more than others do A person by the title as Keeper of Order The telepathic twins, and the Keeper of what’s Right They met within a tragic accident and bond The only friend the Keeper had, and certainly, the first the twins had too What is their ending? How do they join the Starship Tetra?

Baking Together

Completed. 1 chapter & 832 words Marle, Māru, and Squares decide to bake together after Squares wakes up to the smell of them baking. They make cookies for themselves and some for Squares to give to someone he knows from Tetrimina. They love doing things together as a family, a gentle hug for Squares hard work is deserved.

Beaches of Tetrimina

Completed. 1 chapter & 972 words The Tetra Crew visit the beach, and they bring Squares along too. It’s the Keeper of Order’s first day at the beach, so he’s nervous to say the least. Tee & Squares’ play together

[alternative-future-au]

Memories of the past: "A New Life" (2/3)

[Inkopolis, 2:30 PM]

"It's been 4 years since that day..."

Meanwhile, in Inkopolis, Atarime was moving some boxes, She had moved to her new house near to Inkopolis plaza 2 days ago, but she was still busy with some things

She still had to take some things out of the moving boxes, she was moving 2 boxes when a photo album fell out of one of them, upon seeing it, Atarime saw a photo from 4 years ago, it was the only photo of the Squidbeak Splatoon during the war

This made her remember many things about the war... but also that day... the day she fled from the castle and left Octavia... that night they had had a horrible fight over the issue of the war... after that fight, she decided to leave the castle that same night when she saw that the war was inevitable... leaving her wife and betraying her people... and without saying anything to Octavia about...

"Mom mom! Look at the drawing I made!"

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a voice calling her, it was her little daughter, Aurora, she was 4 years old, she wanted to show Atarime the drawing she had made

"Wow! it's amazing! Good job Aurora! oooh? did you draw your aunts?"

"Yeah!!! I want Aunt Pearl and Aunt Xena to see it!!! When will they be here mom?" Aurora asked excitedly

"Hmm... They'll be here in a few minutes! Meanwhile... Go play with your toys, okay?" Atarime said

"Okay!!!" Aurora went to the living room to play, while Atarime continued taking things out of the boxes

Atarime picked up the photo album and put it on the kitchen table, that album only made her remember everything that happened while she was still living in the castle and in the war, so she decided that she was going to hide it later, She didn't want to see it again, she didn't want to think about the past and... Octavia anymore, and she didn't want Aurora to find it, she didn't want Aurora to know anything about her past or Octavia, she wanted to keep it a secret

She wanted to continue with her new life and forget about the past and Octavia

*Knock knock!*

"HELLOOO? WE ARE HEREEEE!"

"Oh! Looks like they're already here!" Atarime opened the door, it was Xena and Pearl, they brought some things and some gifts for Aurora

"Heeeey! Atarime! we're here to celebrate!!!" Pearl entered the house with several bags

"AUNT PEARL!!! AUNT XENA!!!" Aurora said happy

"Aaah! here's my niece!" Pearl said hugging Aurora "Oooh? what's this? Did you make this drawing?"

"Yeah! it's for you and Aunt Xena!" Aurora said

"Heheh! Look at that! it's awesome!" Pearl exclaimed as she looked at the drawing

"Aww thanks Aurora!" Xena said entering the house also with some things "Hi Atarime! How is the moving going?" Xena asked as she put the bags on the table and helped Atarime with the moving boxes

"Pretty good! I'm almost done unpacking some things! How are you doing in the lab?" Atarime said

"It's been good! I've been helping Pearl a lot at Grizzco industries! I have to help her organize the schedules heh... although it's not easy at all..." Xena said

"Hey! Speaking of Grizzco industries, we should take Aurora there so she can learn how to kill salmonids!" Pearl said

"Are you crazy Pearl!? She's only 4 years old! And that's also very dangerous! She's not ready for that!" Xena said as she put some things on the table

"Awww! Okay okay! Maybe when she is 14 years old?" Pearl said

"*Sigh....* Pearl.... if she wants to work at grizzco, I guess it's-.... Huh?" Xena saw the photo album on the kitchen table "Hey Atarime? Is that a... Album?"

"Well... yeah... um... but it only contains old photos... of... you know... the war and of... her" Atarime said

"I see..." Xena said "Hey... have you... heard anything from... her...?"

"Who? Oh... are you talking about Octavia!? She's a damn traitor! I hope she's dead! She was the cause of the war! We lost so many people because of her! She just betrayed us all and tried to kill you Atarime! Don't you remember!?" Pearl said very angry while she entered to the kitchen

"Pearl! Calm down! CALM DOWN!" Xena said "I know you're upset about what happened in the war and with Octavia but you have to calm down! the war ended a long time ago!"

After Xena said that, Pearl, not very convinced, calmed down and spoke again

"Tch. Fine." Pearl said, she, like Atarime, had been through a lot in the war, and Xena knew it

"I'm so sorry Atarime. I know you don't like to talk about the war and Octavia... not after what happened in the war and in the castle..." Xena said very sadly

"It's... It's okay" Atarime said "It was hard to accept it at first but... over time I got over it, now I have a new life, I don't care anymore if she's not here, I want start over and live a peaceful life"

"I'm glad to hear that, Atarime" Xena exclaimed

"But hey! Enough of the memories of the past! This is a welcome party! Let's have fun!" Pearl said "We already brought everything so let's celebrate!"

"Alright! Hey speaking of the party, Pearl, did you bring the food I told you about?" Xena asked

"Uh... Food?" Pearl said confused

"Yeah! the food I left in the kitchen! the cake and the food I prepared!" Xena said

"Oooooh... that food... i uuuh... I forgot it..." Pearl said

"*Sigh*.... I figured so.... we'll have to go back for the food then.... Sorry Atarime...." Xena said as she headed to the door with Pearl "We'll be back in a few minutes!"

"*Sigh...*" Atarime was left thinking, had she really completely forgotten Octavia...? No, she shouldn't be thinking about that anymore, that was already in the past, now she had a new life with her friends and her daughter, away from Octo Valley and Octavia, she didn't need Octavia

*Knock knock!*

"Huh?" Atarime's thoughts were interrupted when she heard someone knock on the door, she was confused, who could it be? "I'm coming!"

"Who is it?" Atarime thought "Xena and Pearl came back so quickly? No... that would be impossible, they just left, and how-?"

"Atarime! It's been a long time, hasn't it?