#my code is NOT OPTIMIZED IGNORE IT

[taldigi]

but look at thebullshit i had to pull just to get the textboxes to tilt

and you know what they wouldn't let me put an img between box-shadow and the box so

@kumakechi thank you for your prayers

[bluemoonbun]

Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added! Edit: It is now closed!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

[hpowellsmith]

I'm actually someone who looks at word counts when it comes to PURCHASING IFs!

So I can explain my thought process!

First of, the "purchasing" is a bit caveat here. I'm stingy, and I look at word count VS price as a factor when buying. If I see a 200k word story at the same price as a 700 word one for example, I will be wary of what it entails.

There's also the fact I always liked longer stories as a rule of thumb. A 13 episodes show? I will watch it if I'm REALLY into the pitch or if I know other seasons are in the making. A 50 episodes show? As long as it seems like my kind of story, I will watch it because I know I'm in for a long adventure and that I'll have time to truly grow attached to the characters. That's cause I know myself, and I'm always left frustrated if a work of fiction is too short.

So when I say I usually "ignore" stories that are less than 100k words it's because chances are pretty low for it to hit the spot since: a) no matter how optimized the code may be, that IS quite short as a wordcount. b) if it isn't very short, it means it has very little branching, and I usually prefer IF with more branching to begin with.

But back at the caveat. This is still because when I pay for something, I don't want to be disappointed. If it's a free story, I won't look at the wordcount because "even if I'm disappointed, I didn't loose anything by playing it". If it's not free, then the pitch has to really catch my eye to buy it. So really, it's a matter of money more than anything else.

Now, there's the fact this is mostly about choicescript based games, and I'm very used to the code of these. So if I'm hesitant, I may code-dive the demo to check the appeareance of the code and know if it's optimized or not. Seeing the way a game is coded gives me a clearer idea of what the word count may equate to and so, to the "true length" of the story.

Now, another caveat is access to the WIP!

When I follow the story update by update, making it episodic, it feels longer, especially if the author answers character asks, posts extra content and stuff. Because that sort of "adds content" to the story. In these instances, even a 70k words story feels (and technically IS) longer, thanks to the extra stuff. But if I just find a completed game on Steam well... I don't have all of that. So usually, if I follow a WIP from start to finish, I actually tend to purchase the game no matter what, even if I'm not planning on replaying it soon. Unless I really disliked it, but as long as it didn't come crashing down at the ending, there is no reason for that if I actually followed it for so long.

That doesn't mean I never purchase shorter IFs, word count wise. But for me to do so, like mentionned above, I have to REALLY love the pitch. It's especially true since I play a LOT of IFs. And I really mean a LOT. Both choicescript and twine based ones. I just have to be selective in one way or another if I don't want to lack time for anything else in my life or spend too much money on it, and word count is a factor like any other. If I know I prefer longer stories as a rule of thumb, then best to give precedence to 500k+ words IF rather than ones around 100k words which are bound to be shorter even if more optimized code wise. At least when money is a factor, of course.

Ultimately, considering I do it myself (and considering my reasons) I can't imagine not doing so, I think being mindful of word count is just something influenced by how each person's brain is wired, and both doing so and not are valid ways of thinking. At the end of the day, I prefer to support an author I know and love on patreon than spending the same money on multiple stories that are too short for what my tastes usually are. I will never actually ignore an IF with an interesting pitch (despite the phrasing I sometimes use), but I will be WAY more careful about purchasing a shorter one.

(sorry for taking so long to post this, it's from nearly five months ago when I was asking people about how game wordcount factors into whether they play/buy!)

That makes a ton of sense, thank you for sharing!

I hadn't actually thought about the fact that most people play WIPs chapter-by-chapter (or in whatever kind of small chunks) over a long period of time, so that may contribute to when someone says a completed game feels "rushed" - it's the same amount of time, but the former is spread over way longer so it'll feel like a longer game.

[comeonamericawakeup]

President Trump's decision to fire senior military leaders without cause is foolish and a disgrace. It politicizes our professional military in a dangerous and debilitating way.

What frightens me even more is the removal of three judge advocates general, the most senior uniformed legal authorities in the Defense Department. Their removal is one more element of this administration's attack on the rule of law, and an especially disturbing part.

...for the first time in my career, to see dedicated, apolitical military professionals being removed without cause. I am worried about political loyalty becoming a criterion to hold high military positions. For now, I have confidence that our professional military has nurtured dozens of highly qualified senior officers capable of holding positions of trust and responsibility, people who can provide leadership at the Pentagon and offer sound military advice to our civilian leaders.

But that optimism doesn't extend to the consequences of removing the JAGs, the senior military professionals who interpret and enforce the Uniform Code of Military Justice, the rules that guide troops in the field. They have the independent legal authority to tell any military commander or political appointee that an order from the president or the secretary of defense is unlawful, cannot be given and should not be obeyed.

If there is one characteristic of this president and this administration, it is the utter lack of respect for legal constraints…one of the most admirable characteristics of the American military is that all serving members are trained to understand that America stands for more than naked self-interest. Above all, it stands up for the Constitution and the rule of law, including the laws of armed conflict and those that restrict the use of the military against American citizens. Undermining those core principles is a disservice to our men and women in uniform and to everything America has stood for throughout my life.

Our country is in uncharted territory. We have an administration that is waging war against the rule of law. The evidence is everywhere.

We don't yet know how far it will go as it seeks to control, reinterpret, rewrite, ignore or defy legal constraints, including the Constitution itself. The replacement of the military JAG leadership is one skirmish in that war, but it's time for the American people, across the political spectrum, to recognize what is happening. America has a rogue president and a rogue administration, and we need to acknowledge that and respond.

☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is a 5-alarm summary of what 47 is doing with the firing of JAG attorneys. Another power grab. Another piece of fascism, abuse of power and corruption of government rule of law. This portends poorly of what is to come.

[frozenjokes]

cubfan135 and by extension zombiecleo get scarrrrrrred for life!

“Wait a minute, if you’re a computer, you’ll just know all the correct moves to make, won’t you? What’s the point of playing in the first place?” Cub sat hunched over the checker board on the kitchen table, setting up the pieces and simultaneously giving Scar the stink eye, to which Scar did not react at all.

“I thought you wanted to play,” Scar said, reasonable in Cleo’s opinion, given Cub was the one who asked.

“I do. But not if I can’t win.”

Cleo snorted, and both Cub and Scar ignored her.

“Well, I play games with the kids at the school all the time. Typically I adjust my own difficulty level towards the age range I’m working with, so if you’d like me to play as if I’m up against a kindergartener-“ This wasn’t meant to be an insult, Scar was usually very genuine and especially clear with Cub, but Cleo still laughed, and Cub fumed.

“No! Play at your highest difficulty level- I’m good at checkers, I can win.”

“You want me to play optimally?” Scar sounded concerned, probably because this was counterintuitive to what Cub had said about wanting to be able to win, but Cub only nodded starkly.

“I can win.”

Cleo watched them both from her place on the couch, the TV on low volume as she waited for the news to come on. She liked watching them, goobers as they were, her robot designed that way and Cub, just a fucking idiot, honestly. Hopelessly in love with a thing that could not love him back, whose feelings were faux for the purpose of fitting in, doing the job he’d been designed to do. Cleo told Cub this. Scar told Cub this, though he did not understand the gravity of Cub’s feelings regardless of how obviously smitten he was.

Scar might want to understand. He might want to, because that would be beneficial for his models, his job, making human connections. Scar wanted to make human connections because Cleo wanted him to, and Scar was designed to serve her, to improve in accordance with the job Cleo wanted him to do.

But Cleo did not want Scar to fall in love. Cleo could not make Scar fall in love, just like they could not make Scar care about his patients, even if he was quite good at pretending. Make people comfortable. Identify signs of mental illness in children. Perform preliminary diagnostic assessments. Recommend accommodations. Those were Scar’s jobs, all of which he was quite good at doing besides the occasional flub- he was still in testing after all, getting better every day, but..

This mess, in Cleo’s head at least, started with Cub’s accidental autism assessment. Scar was not supposed to assess adults, he knew that, but something in the programming- something with his priorities- It was really obvious, right? Cleo sympathized with the fact that Cub’s autism was a shining beacon of neurodivergence literally everywhere he went, but then Cleo would remember that Scar was a robot, robots aren’t people and don’t need to be sympathized with, and threw themself back into trying to stop this from happening again and again. But because Cub was autistic, because Scar wanted to corner him in the psychiatrist office so bad, Cub got all this attention, and one thing led to another before Cleo had some loser at their door trying to pick up their robot for a fucking date.

What a mess indeed. Cleo told him to stop. She told Scar to stop seeking Cub out where they both worked. Neither of these things happened. Cleo could have fixed it by messing with the programming. Using the same code she used to make Scar partial to her and the teachers he helped during the day, she could force Scar to avoid Cub as he was instructed to do with certain other types of people, but that felt.. mean. Given that Cleo and Cub were technically coworkers, she wasn’t trying to foster a negative workplace relationship, and she didn’t want to go to HR either. As much as Cub flirting with their robot was annoying, working as a custodian in an elementary school sounded hellish enough to Cleo, and they weren’t trying to get him in trouble for something so trivial.

Cleo thought it would burn out quick. That Cub would realize Scar is a robot, that he can’t care for Cub in the way Cub so desperately wanted him to, and that this was a lost cause. Cleo didn’t exactly want Cub and Scar to be unsupervised, so she started inviting Cub over, hoping he would soon realize just how fruitless this endeavor was. He did not. Multiple months had passed by now, and he had not.

Cleo had learned a couple things about Cub in this time.

Cub was probably the loneliest, most pathetic man that Cleo had ever met, which, given her background in clinical psychology, was a major exaggeration- Cub was fine, just with an air of patheticness that made you wonder how he’d managed to live this long on his own. He couldn’t make a social connection unprompted to save his life, almost never spoke unless addressed, and Cleo guessed there was quite a bit of social anxiety at play here, one he only seemed to be able to circumvent by talking to Scar. Which- not Scar’s intended purpose, but that was great! Genuinely, Cleo was grateful Scar could do that for him. Cub didn’t strike Cleo as a particularly miserable guy- he self-entertained pretty easily, he had a lot more active hobbies than Cleo would have guessed, and he had this creative streak he took pride in, but didn’t have many people to show it off to. He was stubborn as a mule, obstinate, and kind of an asshole in the same ways Scar could be on accident, though, if you told Scar he was being an asshole he would apologize and if you told Cub he was being an asshole he would stare at you like he didn’t understand why you were even talking to him. He was charming though, in his own way. He was funny. Cleo thought so at least, and she never got tired of the look on Cub’s face when she laughed at one of his little jokes; a little brightening, almost surprise, and that little smile that followed.

It took Cub a long time to warm up to Cleo, and he threw more than one fit over having most of his time with Scar be supervised, but quite frankly, Cleo did not trust either of them enough to leave them alone in the beginning. Cub regarded Cleo a lot like a wild animal, one that was used to living around people, but wary. A necessity to work around because Cleo had Scar, and Cub wanted Scar more than he didn’t want Cleo. He’d grown more confident in time though, just as Cleo grew more comfortable with him, and Cleo hoped he’d come to like her just as much as she liked him.

They had a bit of a schedule now, Tuesdays and Thursdays and some Saturdays Cub would come around, hang out with Scar and have dinner. Dinner had been a peace offering on Cleo’s part, mostly because they felt bad about the autism assessment, but it had become some kind of routine, one Cleo enjoyed. She’d always been inconsistent when it came to making food at home, often brushing it off if she was only cooking for herself, but Cub gave her a sense of structure, obligation, and being able to do this for someone else was easier than doing it for herself. Cleo liked cooking for someone else. Even if that someone was a picky motherfucker, but given Cub’s ideal dinner for the past ten years had been frozen chicken nuggets and microwaveable lunches, Cleo.. Well, they could fix him.

But it wasn’t always this way, ideallic, perfect. It couldn’t have been then, when there were so many things Cleo didn’t know. Hardly more than a month had passed when Cub started to get restless in her home.

“You should help her.” Cleo overheard him saying to Scar from the other room, not very nicely, which, didn’t matter because Scar was a robot, but it stood out coming from Cub.

“Oh, no! I definitely shouldn’t!” Scar said, far louder than Cub’s own whispered command, to which Cub shushed him aggressively, and Cleo chuckled to themself. Scar continued quieter regardless, but not quiet enough. “We tried that, but Cleo doesn’t like me in the kitchen. I get in the way and I can’t read her mind which is extremely inconvenient for both of us.”

Cleo swore Cub growled, but she could not confirm.

The next time he came over, Cub sat at the kitchen island and glared at Cleo the entire time they were cooking. Now, Cub always had a way of looking at you like he wanted to run you off the road, but this was different, like he was actually mad, and Cleo didn’t know what his fucking problem was so she just ignored it, letting Scar talk nonsense into his ear for the next hour. Cleo couldn’t actually remember if Cub said a word that night; she had just assumed he was in a bad mood or mad at her, neither of which bothered her.

“I brought a rotisserie chicken,” was the next instance, Cleo opening her front door to what could only be described as an aura of Malice, enough to make her wonder if Cub was going to poison her tonight to steal her robot.

“I.. You should have texted me. I already had plans, I was just getting ready to-“

“We’re having chicken.”

Cleo had been so annoyed, not even because of the potential attempt on her life, but he hadn’t communicated this at all! Not a word! They already had a plan, and Cub didn’t get to stomp on it even if his chicken smelled very good, this wasn’t how this worked. “We’re not having chicken. I’m already making enchiladas, I already-“

“Hello, Cub! Cubby Cub, there he is! You came late today!” Scar interrupted, skidding around the corner to greet him, and Cub walked inside without another word. “Wow, did someone try to run you off the road on the way here or do you just want to kill me?”

Cleo nearly strangled Cub when she found him putting all the vegetables she’d set out to start cutting back in the fridge, and the following argument got so heated that Scar shifted to his child conflict resolution program, a change jarring enough that both of them noticed, their molten hate turning directly on Scar with such vehemence that Cleo was shocked his wires didn’t immediately fry.

“I think you two could do with a little break. Come on, Cleo!” Scar put himself between them, herding Cleo out of the kitchen. Even on the verge of homicide, she stopped to make a note to work on making Scar’s conflict resolution sound about 250% less demeaning. It had been a while since she’d really seen it face to face, and that would not fly with children older than six. Hearing Cub fuck around in her kitchen put Cleo’s mind back on murder.

The table was set when Cleo was allowed to return (a rigid ten minutes later, and nothing she said made Scar budge), and Cub was staring at his chicken, so Cleo sat, wordless. They assumed Cub was planning on serving it, he just hadn’t cut it yet. He had the knife. He was.. looking at it. Scar sat down, happy as a clam, and Cleo rolled their eyes when they saw Cub had given him a plate. She turned back to say something snarky, but Cub was still staring at the damn chicken.

“Cub.”

Cub jumped, nearly dropping the knife. “What.”

“It’s going to get cold.” Cleo didn’t bother being nice, only trying to sound kind enough so that she would not be removed from the premises again. Cub looked like he would have loved nothing more than to exit his own skin, and Cleo reveled in it.

“I know that.” He continued staring at the chicken. A few moments passed. He looked at his phone, typing something while showing more emotion on his face than Cleo had seen in the past month. Bafflement started to edge away her anger.

“Cub.”

“I’m doing it!”

“Do you want me to cut the chicken.”

“I actually extremely do not want you to do that, it’s fine, I have it, I just-“ Cub glanced at his phone, gingerly lining the knife up at the center of the bird. His face was red, tense, he looked like he was about to cry. Cleo didn’t even have it in her to sigh. She got up.

What an oddly intimate thing, it was. Standing there in near silence apart from quiet instructions. Grit and dirt kicked over the remaining sparks of frustration by the simple act of Seeing someone, knowing him, teaching a skill he really ought to have learned by now, but there was no use in saying it, he knew, and he would rather be skewered on a rotisserie spit and roasted alive than be here. Part of Cleo was sad for him. The other part said This Is A Grown Ass Man, Grow The Fuck Up, but, ah.. that wouldn’t change anything, would it.

“What’s this about, Cub,” Cleo said when they’d sat down to eat, and it was not a question. Cub wouldn’t look at her, nudging the chicken he was shredding to pieces.

“You’re doing too much for me,” he mumbled, and Cleo was shocked he’d given a straight answer, even if it didn’t make sense. “I feel bad.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“You make dinner. You don’t even want me here. I can’t do anything you’d want.”

This pinched her brain, short, sharp, and confusing, like the sting of a mosquito before you realized you’d been bit. “I have to eat too,” she tried, “You’re here. You might as well eat, especially if you’re just going to pick up fast food trash or eat something shitty at home.” This is stupid, they didn’t say. This is so dumb.

“I feel bad,” Cub said helplessly. “You don’t even order in. I can’t even split the bill. You go out of your way for me when I’m here, and you don’t even want me here.”

“I like having you here.” Cleo was distressed to see Cub look up, disbelieving. He looked back down. “I like having you here. And it’s not a big deal, it never has been, the excuse to cook has been helpful for me. I like to do it, but I can’t be assed when I’m alone. It feels good. I really hope you don’t believe I don’t like you just because you’re messing around with my robot, it doesn’t actually matter, you can’t break him or anything.” Graciously, Scar remained quiet; Cleo was relieved that he could still identify when a problem needed to be talked out between two people without inference. It probably helped that neither of them were screaming.

“You don’t have to say that to me. I know I’m in your way. I’d rather you just be honest. I’m a stranger in your home.”

Cleo didn’t expect that. She really didn’t expect that, and it caught her off guard just how much it hurt her feelings. Maybe he saw it on her face. It didn’t matter. “Am I a stranger to you?”

Cub was quiet. His lip trembled. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I have to go.” He left, stumbling. It was so fast, Cleo couldn’t even think to stop him. Scar tried, and Cub’s strangled sob to dismiss him from the mud room hit Cleo like a red-hot whip against their back.

“I don’t get it,” Cleo had hissed through her hands, sitting on the couch next to Scar. She didn’t particularly want to be talking to Scar, but she didn’t exactly have many options- Listen, Cleo wasn’t a complete shut-in, but they didn’t exactly have many friends outside of work acquaintances, and certainly no one they could just call out of the blue. Scar was the closest to a normal friend she had, and even then, it’s all just business, isn’t it? “I don’t get him! I don’t know what his fucking problem is or- or why he thinks I hate him or something! That came out of nowhere! Did it not come out of nowhere? I don’t treat him any different than I do anyone else!”

Scar was quiet as he processed, and Cleo tried to imagine something human inside him instead of the soft whir of fans and machinery. “I don’t know if that’s true. You don’t talk to most people the same way at all.”

Cleo scoffed, “I’m not at work, Scar. I don’t talk to him any different than I talk to you. Like a person.”

Cleo didn’t like the long pause.

“You don’t talk to me like a person, Cleo. I’m robot, not a person, so you don’t need to. You can be efficient with me, you can be mean, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I can’t care. Cub is not a robot.”

“I’m not- I’m not mean to you, for god’s sake!”

“I don’t think so. But you made me this way. I can only try to improve, and I do try. But Cub thinks so. He thinks you’re cruel to me. And if you treat Cub the way you treat me, then I think it’s not unreasonable of him to assume you dislike him. I think you dislike him too. You’re quick to joke at his expense, and you are no nicer in private. He’s a thorn in your side, is he not?”

Cleo gaped, sitting there in silence for ages while Scar looked so innocently back at them. “Why- No! I like Cub! Of course I like Cub!”

“You don’t act like it.” Scar had a way of delivering devastating blows like it was nothing, like it was an indisputable truth. Not accusatory. Not critical. Just. Robotic. Cleo was dizzied by the fact that this was really the first time Scar was hearing about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.” That hurt just as bad, though it shouldn’t have. Scar gave information freely, but his job wasn’t to be an active messenger. To Scar, this was just a fact of Cleo’s relationship with Cub, a simple note on their acquaintanceship; Cleo dislikes Cub. Scar had no reason to think they’d want to know. Cleo didn’t ask.

“Why didn’t he say anything. I would’ve- fuck.”

“Oh, you’re not very approachable,” the answer came way too fast, but Scar offered no more information even as Cleo gaped.

“Who said that?”

“Oh, well..” Scar stuck his tongue between his lips, thoughtful as he started to count on his fingers-

“No!” Cleo interrupted, “No, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know.”

It was when Cleo went to text Cub later that night that they realized they didn’t even have his number- How did they not exchange numbers by now?? Why didn’t he ask- nevermind. Most times they made plans were at the elementary school, mostly through Scar.. Cleo hadn’t thought anything of it until now. If she really needed anything from Cub, she just emailed it. Fuck.

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: Apology. Or Something. I Dont Really Have A Title For This

I think I fucked up. Scar is telling me things I didn’t realize before and I think I fucked up. I like having you here. I like it when you’re over. I like you. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear. I want to fix this.

Here’s my number if you want to talk: XXX-XXXX-XXXX

Cleo

—

To You

No Subject

can I pay for your groceries

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: ???????

??????????????? No????????

—

Cub did not email or text Cleo back, to which Cleo had Normal feelings about, expressed Normally as she went to clean up Cub’s fucking chicken, stupid ass chicken, why the fuck did he bring a chicken over anyway, who in their right mind decides they’re bringing and chicken and just DOESN’T communicate. Even if they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, he could have told Scar! Surely this wasn’t a spur of the moment chicken, this was premeditated!

Thank god Scar had a forced sleep mode when he was charging, or he’d have quite a few things to say about Cleo’s tossing and turning that night. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, and had an extra reason why she couldn’t fall asleep at night.

Cleo ended up going in that Wednesday, more desperate to see Cub than anything, but he did not want to see her, caught like a deer in the headlights in the doorway of his office.

“What are you doing here.” Was. Certainly a greeting. Was Cleo really the asshole here? Cub opened his mouth again, like he was surprised at how those words sounded once they left his mouth, but he didn’t correct either.

“I needed to see you. I really- I didn’t know. I thought we were friends, I thought- It was all banter to me, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or feel unwelcome. I really- I really do want to be your friend, Cub.”

Cub reached past them, and for a second Cleo thought he intended to leave until he closed his office door. Then he backed up. Sat in his chair. Put his head in his hands. “This feels terrible. I wasn’t ready for this.”

Cleo pursed her lips. Maybe cornering Cub in his office the morning after That wasn’t the most considerate thing they’d ever done. Cleo wanted to say she would go. She wanted to leave, but she hesitated, and in that time Cub spoke up.

“It’s nice, when people tell you directly what they think of you. You told me. You told me so many times. I was okay with that, I didn’t- I just couldn’t handle- I just wanted to pay the sum those dinners cost you, I want to feel even. I know you think this is stupid. That it’s all stupid, that it’s pointless, but I don’t care what you think about me, I care about Scar. I just want Scar. You can just want Scar too.”

“Cub, I didn’t.. I know how you got here, why you think all this, but I just- I don’t know. I’ve been kicking myself because of course in hindsight I’ve been horrible- joking that you should leave, that you're a pain in the ass, that this is all so dumb, but I.. I didn’t see it. I didn’t know. It’s been me and Scar for so long, and I wasn’t at work, I wasn’t trying to hold professional acquaintanceship in my own home, and I..” Cleo laughed, far too pitched, far too nervous, “I think I forgot how normal people go about having friends. I thought we were on the same page. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t like you. I don’t think you’re good for Scar.” There was nothing emotionally charged about those words, and that was so much worse, draining the room of all but dread like a vacuum.

Cleo felt dizzy. “He’s just a robot, Cub, he doesn’t have feelings to hurt. He’s just a robot.”

“I just want Scar.” Cub wouldn’t tear his eyes off the floor. Cleo was glad he wasn’t looking at them, their face blotchy and red.

“Fine,” they breathed, hardly enough air in their lungs to speak the words. “Have him. I won’t make you come over anymore. Go wherever you like, given- Well, I have some instructions, guidelines I need you to follow, but.. I’ll email them to you.” The following words ripped through their throat like barbed wire, but Cleo could not stop themself from pulling the string. “I trust you.”

They left before Cub could say anything more. Cleo wouldn’t be able to handle it.

///

Cub wondered sometimes how someone like Scar could be born of someone like Cleo. How someone with only love for the world could come into being from gruff disdain, it really didn’t make any kind of sense in Cub’s head.

He understood very little about Cleo, and it scared him more than when she was just a divine asshole. How was it even possible that she’d thought they were friends? More accurately to Cub’s concerns, what? Just- What??? So much What.

Cleo couldn’t have made it more blatantly obvious they couldn’t stand Cub if they had written the words across their forehead, and being told otherwise felt like being slapped awake from a nightmare, only to find the world still just seemed wrong. Cub had mentioned to Scar Cleo’s utter contempt for him multiple times, and Scar had agreed! He’d said when people don’t like him he’s supposed to stay clear as much as possible, but Cub couldn’t do that because Cleo wouldn’t let the two of them hang out outside of her home until- until she dropped that bomb. Not only do I like you, I trust you, so here’s the choice to have nothing to do with me at all. What the hell was that???

Cub was grateful. It felt odd to be grateful, very odd, but he really did want nothing to do with her, which is probably why he was thinking about her all the time.

“You agreed with me,” Cub had said on his and Scar’s first date alone, lounging in Cub’s apartment. “You agreed, you said they didn’t like me.”

“I thought so up until last week!” Scar supplied, extremely unhelpfully. “Apparently we were wrong. Who knew? I’m wrong a lot though, so maybe this isn’t a surprise.”

“Is that what Cleo tells you?”

“Uh..” Scar trailed, “Well, technically yes, but I mean more in the objective sense I am wrong quite a bit, or at least not to their standard. But they programmed me, so I don’t think I’m the one they’re mad at when I make a mistake..”

Cub groaned, giving up.

The next couple weeks were weird, Cub not saying a word to Cleo and vice versa the entire duration, despite being painfully aware of each other’s presence. It wasn’t hard for Cub to keep out of their way, the two of them hardly crossing paths on a normal day, but he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one avoiding the staff break room.

And it’s not like they’d talked before. Cub never went out of his way to see Cleo, and pleasantries always felt forced, though maybe Cleo hadn’t felt that way before. Cub hadn’t actively avoided them before, especially when they had to talk occasionally about when he was coming over, but..

Cub didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Cleo at all. Unfortunately he had an issue that he couldn’t solve alone.

Cub shut Cleo’s office door behind him, adrenaline doing most of the heavy lifting in this confrontation. “Why won’t Scar touch me.”

If Cleo’s eyes hadn’t already been wide, they certainly were now, a look of shock Cub wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on their face before painted plainly. Cleo was normally composed, calculated, but this seemed to throw her off balance, caught like a deer in the headlights of a car going one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

“Hi, Cub. Say again?”

“I need Scar to hug me before my skin crawls right off my bones, I need it, and he won’t. Fix him.”

“Cub,” Cleo’s head fell into the tips of her fingers, which pushed at the edges of her scalp, “Scar is a robot. He works with kids. Any touch is inappropriate touch in childcare, especially where parents are involved, and the last thing I need is some mom to start bitching about my program because Scar let a kid sit on his lap. Parents have complained about less. No touching. Ever.”

“What’s wrong with a hug!?”

“A lot of things, in some people’s points of view. It doesn’t matter if I know it’s innocent, if Scar knows it’s innocent, if the god damn teachers know it’s innocent, all it takes is for one parent to start moaning about harassment and I’m through. There’s already a clan of them that don’t like this program, but it’s not their choice, it’s the school’s. And so far, this thing has been successful, so I’d prefer not to lose my job over something stupid.

“Let him touch me.”

“Cub, no,” Cleo let their hands fall flat back over their face, “It doesn’t work like that, this is non-negotiable.”

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Cleo looked at him through her fingers with lidded eyes, blinking slowly. Slowly again. Cub pursed his lips.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean that. I’m having a bad day. Disregard.”

“Yeah,” Cleo groaned, “Whatever.”

“Why can’t I be an exception. Scar does special stuff for you, doesn’t he? You’re his favorite, he’ll do like anything for you. Teachers too, they’ve got special control. He told me.”

Again Cleo blinked slow, then shook their head, removing their hands from their face. “Cub, Scar has priorities that rank above even the hierarchy of people who have ‘special control.’ He’s obligated to do what I say above all else, but sometimes his core programming overrides even that; he wants to make people happy, comfortable, accommodated. He’s made this way so he isn’t reliant on me for every little conversation, he can be somewhat independent, and there’s an override of course, but that’s not the point. If I remove the protections that keep his hands to himself, even if I manage to do it for just you, I think you know he doesn’t always follow the guidelines set out for him. He’ll see you have a positive reaction to the hug, he’ll do it with other kids, and if there’s a bug in the system and all barriers of touch are broken, that could be really dangerous for the kids. They love to get rowdy when they play, but what happens when Scar picks one of them up or pushes someone, it doesn’t matter if the kids were begging him to do it in the first place. There’s a million other reasons, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you beyond this. Scar isn’t your personal toy. He’s a robot, and he has a job to do.”

Cub felt a lump rise in his throat, and it took all of his strength to force out his next words. “Just for one night. Please.”

“No-“ Cleo opened her eyes, then stopped, appraising. It took her a moment to speak again. “What’s wrong, Cub?”

He wanted to keep it in. He’d prepared for this, prepared for someone to notice, to ask, but he didn’t want them to know, he was so scared and he didn’t know why, he just needed to keep it in, but there was no one left to cry to, no one left to hold.

“My dad died. Two days ago. Just. Heart attack. He just died.” The dam broke. He didn’t remember falling into Cleo’s arms, but he never wanted to leave.

…

The wake was.. well, the wake was never going to be nice. Exhausting was an apt word, Cub was just exhausted, and the hours trickling past did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

But it wasn’t.. it wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Cub had imagined it to be- how else can you imagine your dad’s wake? His mother’s had been terrible, and all he’d heard from his relatives was how draining it was to organize, but draining was a different feeling from crushingly hopeless, and Cub was too exhausted by the end to feel the weight of grief on his back.

It wasn’t a long event, not particularly large. Lots of extended family, the names of which Cub had to pretend he hadn’t forgotten, lots of hugs, a few tears.

Scar helped. He took on the burden of speaking when Cub didn’t think he could muster another word, he was high energy, but not inappropriate; if Scar crossed a line, Cleo would materialize out of nowhere to correct him. Kindly. She did it kindly, and Cub noticed.

Cleo stayed out of the way, but they stayed, the whole three hours. When Cub needed an escape, she seemed to slip seamlessly into his place, monitoring Scar and chatting occasionally with guests. With Cub’s permission, Cleo had told the elementary school staff about the wake. Cub wouldn’t have done it, not because he meant to keep this a secret, he just didn’t have the heart, didn’t want to force anyone to care, and didn’t want them to see him cry. It stunned and touched him how many staff members showed to express their condolences. He hardly knew any of them, hardly spoke at all, and still.. what a little community this was, huh?

“I’m sorry Scar can’t stay the night with you,” Cleo had approached Cub near the start of the cleanup, jacket draped over their shoulders, “He has to charge, and it’s not portable.” Cub hadn’t even asked, but he didn’t get the chance to say so before Cleo went on. “You can come over, if you want. Maybe that’s stupid- If I’m overstepping, tell me, please, but I just.. I don’t know. If you need the company.”

“I’ll be okay, thank you,” Cub didn’t have the energy to force any emotionality into his voice, or even process what this would mean to him with an awake mind. “My brother’s in town for the wake, so I’ll be hanging out with him tonight anyway.”

“Glad to hear it. Scar and I’ll be going then, drive safe, Cub.”

“You too,” he mumbled.

It was about 4:00 AM that night Cub woke up in a cold sweat with the realization that he hadn’t thanked her. He scrolled through his email for the phone number he knew was there, near panicked.

[4:11 AM Cub] thank yoy

…

[7:24 AM Cleo] who is this

…

[10:48 AM Cub] cub

[10:48 AM Cleo] Oh, no problem. Are you coming to work today?

[10:49 AM Cub] FUCJ

Luckily, no children shit their pants, so Cub wasn’t urgently needed that morning, though that didn’t change the scramble to get to the school after a panicked call to his boss.

He spent most of the day catching up with his morning work, so busy that he didn’t notice the little tupperware container on his desk until 4:00 in the afternoon.

‘Couldn’t sleep last night, so I made cookies. Thought you might like some. If I’m overstepping, please let me know. Hope you’re doing well. -Cleo’

Cub hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. He devoured every single one before getting back to it, feeling spectacularly ill by the time he went home for the day. Lots of groaning later, he managed to eat something substantial. With great ire, he set his alarm for the next morning. Fuck.

(The next morning was a Saturday, and Cub was halfway through getting dressed when he realized this fact.)

///

‘How is Cub?’ should have been a simple question, but Cleo had a hard time asking it in such a way that didn’t violate his privacy. Scar had certain guidelines in place to help protect him from blurting out every detail of every person he knew’s life, but Cleo needed access to the minute details of Scar’s day for the purposes of examining his progress, so when Cleo asked Scar ‘How is Cub?,’ just about every personal tidbit from Cub’s entire day as far as Scar was involved was laid out in excruciating detail. In Scar’s defense, Cleo knew Scar wasn’t qualified to answer that question; he was good at analyzing a human face in the moment to parse emotion, but asking how someone was doing in general was just too vague of a question, and because Scar was concerned with percision…

But Cleo couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. Two weeks had passed, and they had seen Cub around a bit more often, but not enough to parse out if he was feeling alright. She didn’t exactly expect good or bad- she just wanted to know, wanted to help if she could. Cleo has this almost-compulsion to cook for him, they needed to cook for him, but they were far more worried about setting him off somehow, and they had already fucked this up bad enough. She missed him. Was it crazy to miss him? Cleo felt crazy, they felt dizzied by a pit of loneliness they thought they were immune to, turned to dating apps to fill that pit, then immediately stopped doing that when they remembered why they’d given those up the first and second and third and fourth time…

Cleo didn’t even want to date anyone. They just wanted to exist around people. They’d forgotten real people, and unfortunately, they had also forgotten how to behave, ruining the taste they’d gotten of companionship before Cleo could even call Cub a friend.

It was really a shame that Scar just couldn’t cut it for her. He just.. wasn’t human. Cleo was too familiar with him to be able to trick herself into believing it like Cub had done.

Still, Cleo tried to practice. She didn’t want to be mean, unapproachable, or any host of other negativities. There was no reason not to be unkind with Scar, he responded best to blunt, clear instructions, but Cleo found communicating these same messages in a nice way to be extremely challenging, and it frightened her that her ability to be concise, casual, and kind at the same time has atrophied so completely. Cleo was a businesswoman as much as she was an engineer, she was plenty capable in a working setting, but only then, the rest of her social ability seemingly flushed down the shitter.

At least Scar was good positive reinforcement, encouraging and optimistic whenever Cleo asked how she was doing. He was a little too good though; Cleo had no idea if she was actually talking how normal people are supposed to do it because Scar could only be a hype man. His main priorities were making Cleo feel good about themself and comfortable around him, so…

Cleo nearly throttled Scar when he tried to corner her for an autism assessment, but ah, this was not the first time and it would not be the last. Not until he completed it anyway, but Cleo did not need to worry about that shit right now. She had enough on her plate, like trying to figure out how Cub was doing without asking him or interacting directly at all.

[7:21 PM Cub] hey scar told me youve been being weird and want to hang out for some reason and he doesnt know why you havent asked me yet

[7:22 PM Cub] he also said some other things that were strange but idk nothing I haven’t done before

[7:25 PM Cub] youve been typing for a long time

[7:25 PM Cleo] Oh my god

[7:25 PM Cub] did I get him in trouble

[7:25 PM Cleo] Yes he is in trouble!

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] Don’t do that

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] >:(

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:27 PM Cleo] I didn’t let him give me an autism assessment yesterday and he’s taken revenge.

[7:27 PM Cub] do you have autism

[7:27 PM Cleo] No

[7:28 PM Cub] neither do I

…

[2:48 AM Cleo] Can I cook for you

[2:50 AM Cub] dude what

[2:51 AM Cleo] I haven’t cooked in weeks. When you come over I cook. Just hang out with Scar like I’m not there it’s fine. I like it.

[2:51 AM Cub] you are confusing

[2:52 AM Cleo] I am trying not to be

[2:53 AM Cub] so ive heard

[2:54 AM Cleo] Unhear everything he told you. He’s a liar. He lies to make you like him, he literally does that all the time. He is such a liar.

[2:54 AM Cub] k

…

[4:32 AM Cub] can you make lasagna

[4:33 AM Cleo] Go to sleep

[4:33 AM Cub] youre literally also awake

[4:33 AM Cleo] You woke me up!!!!!!

[4:37 AM Cub] why the fuck do you have your ringer on

[4:37 AM Cub] how old are you

[4:38 AM Cleo] [bitmoji image of a Cleo caricature in pajamas, eyes closed and dreaming about running someone over with her car]

[4:38 AM Cub] im not coming over

…

Mending a fragile thing like this was stressful, requiring a gentle touch that Cleo famously lacked, but she did have one massive advantage in the ring that Scar did not, that being flesh, blood, and a beating human heart.

Whether Cub liked it or not, there were many things Cleo could do that Scar could not. When you knew Scar for long enough, the limits of his AI started to show through the cracks, which wasn't a problem for the work he was meant to be doing, but when you’re looking for a companion, those flaws could really drag down that pseudo human experience. Scar tended to circle around the same topics, repeat himself, lie, could be suffocatingly positive, and if he deemed necessary, overbearing.

Scar was also limited in the things he could physically do, which Cub had probably found out by now given the several dozen dates he’d tried to take Scar on. A few limitations were obvious; Scar couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t be near water or in the rain for extended periods. But there was quite a bit else as well, one of the large detriments being that Scar was not built to do much physical activity, he was not strong, and he could hardly keep you company on a brisk jog. He just wasn’t made to do any of that for extended periods, the machinery couldn’t handle it.

Additionally, besides actions he had been explicitly taught to perform, Scar was horrible at improvising and horrible at learning.

Apparently Cub had tried to take Scar to Top Golf which had gone terribly, though when Cleo said she’d never been and Cub insisted all three of them go together, she spent the first five minutes laying into him about the MASSIVE DROP right at the edge of their station. ‘:| there’s a net’ is NOT an excuse, not even Cub was explicitly told to keep Scar away from dangerous falls- Needless to say, Scar was banned to the sitting area, not that he really cared. He was still loud enough to talk over both of them, which he happily did!

Cleo guessed Cub had already started to regret his Date With Scar But Cleo Is There Also after that, though he definitely regretted it after watching Cleo try to golf. They had never done this before, not beyond mini golf, and they were appropriately awful in all the worst ways. Cleo would swing their club, watch the ball go in an entirely random direction, shrug, look back, and see all the color drained from Cub’s face.

“Was it really that bad?” Cleo had laughed, Cub pursing his lips in turn.

“It was fine.”

“‘It was fine,’ you say, through gritted teeth.”

“I can fix you.”

He could not fix her. Cub tried very hard, credit where credit was due, but Cleo never really Got It. She all but lost it when Scar called that she was doing great, and Cub, having endured a full hour of personalized torture, snapped back that she was not! 10/10, would golf again. Probably not without Cub, though.

There was not another CubScar Date Plus One for a while after that. The second happened when Cleo dug up a coupon for axe throwing that was about to expire, delivering the invite to Cub through Scar. She was delighted to hear he’d accepted; they’d been getting along so well these past weeks, and she was itching to get out and do something, but ‘getting along so well’ was thrown directly out the window when they played a competitive game. Cleo was a little rusty, but they actually used to be very good at axe throwing, and Cub picked it up pretty fast, but boy did he hate losing! After learning some basics, they played a game in which Cub lost horribly, so after he had to practice in his own stall in silence for thirty minutes before playing again, losing, and he didn’t SAY anything, but Cleo could just see it on his face, and maybe she couldn’t help but poke the bear.. This teasing led to a rage filled rematch in which Cub smoked her- he got so lucky! He was not that consistent normally-! But by the time that was over and Cleo was left Coping, neither of them were in a particularly good mood, glaring at a joy filled Scar who was forced to watch from behind a wire mesh wall the whole time.

Basketball could’ve been fun; Cleo hadn’t played since elementary school, but they liked a lot of the basketball games like Knockout and PIG! Unfortunately, Cub didn’t know the rules of PIG, and he really thought he did but he DIDN’T and no Cub, you don’t gain a letter for missing your own shot, you just move on to the next player! Why would you gain a letter for missing your own shot!! You just move on!! Perhaps their first mistake was choosing another competitive game.

The escape room though. That was the ticket. It had been a long time since Cleo had done an escape room, but something Happened in her brain when placed in a puzzle, thoughts moving at a thousand miles a minute as she couldn’t think of anything else but SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE SOLVE PUZZLE. Something similar must have happened in Cub’s brain, she saw it in his eyes, Wild. They moved around the room in a complete frenzy, speaking words that probably weren’t English, but the language of two deeply neurodivergent idiots who had just had their brains turned on for the first time in one hundred years. It was brilliant.

From then on, if an outing could be restructured to be cooperative, it was done. Like a flipped switch, everything was suddenly so much more fun, skill and competency mattering very little when one of them could pick up the slack.

And they still did get frustrated with each other, neither of them were immune to it, but they were starting to reach a level of understanding that made navigating each other easier. Cleo felt like animals sometimes, stepping on their toes, circling each other, watching through narrowed eyes when they weren’t entirely sure what the other would do or how they would react. It wasn’t.. bad. It wasn’t even stressful, Cleo was not afraid of Cub, didn’t believe he’d blow up without warning. It was just.. a puzzle. The two of them were a puzzle, holding on to each other’s pieces and unwilling to give them up, but through an odd game of chess, they were slowly putting the whole thing together, only to find quite a few of their pieces were built identically.

A strange feeling, really. Almost magnetic.

Cub’s existence seemed to be proof that Cleo was missing something, something they hadn’t even known they’d lost before Cub came around, but now that he was here, Cleo just couldn’t let go, they had to hold on until every last one of their puzzle pieces in his hands were safely in their own pocket.

Maybe that didn’t make sense. Maybe Cleo was just a lonely motherfucker who couldn’t put a name to her own feelings even after she’d been slapped in the face with them. But maybe Cub was in a similar spot, maybe he was the same. For goodness’s sakes, you probably don’t delude yourself into falling for a literal god damn robot unless you’re cripplingly lonely or something is seriously wrong with you. Or both. In his case it was definitely both, but hey, you could say the same thing about the person who made the unsettlingly human-like robot, Cleo wasn’t absolved of judgment.

“I think something is wrong with Cub.”

Cleo looked up, concerned until they remembered that if anyone showed even three or four mild symptoms of depression, Scar’s alarms would start blaring. This was such a large problem in the beginning that Cleo had to adjust Scar’s programming to need explicit permission from Cleo before even mentioning the word depression lest he tell a poor kid having a bad day that they’re sick.

“Why do you think this, Scar?”

“He hasn’t been coming to work! There’s been a new guy in his office for three days, and I’ve been asking, but no one knows where he’s gone!”

Cleo rolled her eyes, “Right. He’s sick, Scar. I texted him.”

“No he’s not.”

“What do you mean ‘No he’s not,’ that’s not how people work, Scar.”

“Cub never misses work! He’s always here, even when he really shouldn’t be! I don’t know why he comes when he’s so ill, and he’s had to leave early before, but really! Cub didn’t even mention feeling bad the night before when we were hanging out in his apartment. And he would have mentioned it, he can’t help but complain and complain. Gets really mad if you suggest he go home though. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor, but that seems like a problem.”

“It is a problem, but it’s a Cub problem, not something for you to get on his ass about.”

“Oh, I haven’t! I’m not a doctor.”

“I know.”

“But this is really abnormal for him, Cleo! Is this really not grounds for any investigation? He was weird the night before as well, near the end. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes-! I mean he normally doesn’t do that.. He hardly said a word near the end of the evening! Well… He was just so- so distant!” Scar pursed his lips, like he was trying to determine was a Cub normal or not. Cleo cut in before he could continue.

“You are not allowed to investigate anything of the sort. I will text him later, alright?”

Scar did not seem pleased, but of course he wasn’t, because this wasn’t really about Cub’s state of mind, it was about being told that he wouldn’t be allowed to chase the ever-tantalizing depression screening- god, Cleo really needed to find a way to make Scar less driven. It had always been pretty bad, but seriously! If only the guy Scar spent so much time with wasn’t so fucked in the head, but Cleo supposed Scar wouldn’t be spending all that time with him otherwise. A pang of- something, maybe guilt, tugged at her heart. This was bad. This was so bad, and it had been bad before when Cub was an idiot stranger fawning over their robot, but..

Cub was their friend. Cub was their friend, and he was in love with an entity that could not love him back. An entity whose interest in him stemmed solely from a drive to do its job.

Scar was not real. And maybe, as crazy as it was, that could be fine if not for the fact that realness was the pivotal factor that Cub craved.

Cleo saw it, clear as day. The wincing when Scar’s intentions were most clear, the rejection of the reality of Scar’s lack of personhood, the longing when Cub reached for his hand, only for Scar to pull away.

Whatever Cub was searching for, he would not find it in Scar. Cleo mourned that loss for him.

They texted Cub later that night, wishing him a speedy recovery, and offering to drop a meal off at his apartment. Cleo really did believe he was just sick, though if he did have a history of coming into work half dead, they were a little concerned for him, especially if he didn’t have anyone else in the area to check in.

[10:33 PM Cub] that would be really nice

[10:33 PM Cub] thank you

[10:35 PM Cub] just you though? scar is a little much for me right now

The last message dropped like a stone in Cleo’s gut.

It probably meant nothing. Why would it mean anything? Cub was sick, really sick, and Scar was a lot to handle on a good day. But Cub had never asked for Scar to be excluded, and besides brief moments at the elementary school, Cleo and him had hardly ever been alone together. It felt wrong to see Cub without Scar, she was so sure now something was wrong, and now more than ever had Cleo trusted Scar so completely in her entire life. Silly. That was silly. Cleo supposed she could ask Scar about the night before Cub got sick, but that felt like a pretty blatant breach of privacy, and Scar was quietly charging anyway.

[10:41 PM Cleo] Great! Can I come tomorrow? Is 7:00 in the evening okay?

[10:42 PM Cub] sounds good

Cleo put down their phone and closed their eyes.

…

Cub looked like a zombie when he answered the door, his apartment mirroring a similar state. Three days really wasn’t that much time for things to fall into complete disrepair, but the small room smelled, and beyond the BO, Cleo had the sense the trash needed to be taken out yesterday, the lid propped up and overflowing with dirty paper plates and bowls stacked haphazardly on the counter above. Cub took on a delayed look of embarrassment when he saw Cleo looking over his shoulder.

“‘M sorry. It’s not usually this bad..”

“It’s fine, Cub. I’ll take your trash down on my way out, I saw the dumpster tucked around the corner.”

“You don’t have to.”

The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a moment, Cub stiff in the doorway while Cleo waited to be invited in, under the impression they’d be eating together.

“I insist,” Cleo said, clearing their throat. “Can I fix you a plate? I’ll clear the counter, we can sit together.”

“Oh god,” the words seemed to fall on complete impulse, and while Cub lacked a filter on a good day, he seemed genuinely distressed he’d said that aloud, “Cleo, it’s a mess in here, seriously. I didn’t.. I couldn’t clean up before you got here. We don’t have to sit.”

“If you weren’t planning on having a guest, then I’ll go, Cub, you’ve just been holed up for a few days by yourself, and I thought the company might be good for you.”

“How would you know I was alone?” The question had a pointed edge, but the both of them near simultaneously looked over Cub’s shoulder, which fell in turn. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You can stay.”

“I don’t have to,” Cleo was starting to feel bad, worried she was being too forceful, an anxiety that doubled when Cub glanced up at her, face blotchy and eyes red, looking so much like he was about to cry.

“Please stay.”

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay.”

Dinner was eaten mostly in silence, awkward especially because Cub couldn’t seem to bring himself to just sit down and eat, running around in a frenzy with a garbage bag like he could salvage the image of a neglected apartment in the wake of a bad illness with no one around to care for him. Cub had this dizzy look about him, unsteady on his feet, and Cleo really did believe he was ill, just running on a sudden frenzy of embarrassment fueled energy. Cleo tried to help, but this seemed to distress Cub further, and she really wasn’t trying to make him cry tonight.

Cleo watched him eat when he could finally bear to do it, the built up trash in piles by the front door. A sad, silent endeavor. Everything was so quiet without Scar around. Neither of them were used to holding a conversation alone, it seemed.

“Will you sit with me? Just for a little while,” Cub said once he finished, a true shock for Cleo who was convinced at this point he wanted nothing more than for her to be gone from his apartment, but she did not refuse. It must be lonely, being isolated here for so long. Cleo was starting to wonder if this was the aftermath of his father’s passing; holding out just fine for so long, then succumbing to the gravity of it a few months later. That must have been at least part of it.

They moved to his couch, several blankets scattered across it, and Cub sat close to her, quite close, but if closeness is what he needed right now, Cleo would not reject it. They wouldn’t have rejected it if closeness was just a fleeting want, as they had their own desires for human connection and warmth. Didn't everyone?

Cleo didn’t have many thoughts in those couple of minutes, sitting together with the TV volume on low, though neither of them were watching. She had feelings, the vague, swirling kind, the ones you couldn’t grasp on to, but were strong, so strong, nearly overwhelming. The static of the TV couldn’t compare to the noise in her own mind, loud and and swelling and formless, and when Cub’s spoke, his voice was almost lost in the waves.

“I’m in love with you.”

The world stopped spinning, or maybe Cleo stopped breathing, something happened, something completely beyond her in every possible way, something was happening, and then Cub was crying, no, sobbing, holding her, and Cleo hadn’t even said a word.

“Oh, god. Thank god. I was so worried- I was so scared you might not be real.”

“What?” Cleo nearly laughed, but they didn’t, this was too weird, too much.

“I told Scar. I told him, and nothing changed. I told him, I’m still in love with him, I love him, but he- he doesn’t- he isn’t-“

“So I’m second best,” Cleo mumbled, and this time she did laugh, because really, this was hysterical, wasn’t it. Maybe she was hysterical, there was certainly something monstrous blooming in her chest.

“No, not.. No, Cleo, I’m sorry, I don’t..”

“You want Scar, but you can’t have him. Scar’s a robot, and you don’t want a robot, and you didn’t believe me when I-“

“I know!” Cub wailed, but Cleo didn’t care, didn’t want to stop. She pushed him away.

“So that’s what this is about, of course. Of course! You can’t have him, but oohhh, at least there’s Cleo, Cleo’s human, and she made Scar, that’s nearly just as good. I don’t care if you’re fucking delusional, Cub, but you don’t get to paint me red as well.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I fucking know!”

“I’d still like to kiss you.”

“Then fucking do it already!”

There was nothing pleasant about it really, no, nothing pleasant at all, and it was pretty obvious it had been a while since they’d both done this, but Cleo was still trying to pry those puzzle pieces out of Cub’s hands, and as much as she didn’t want to kiss him, she wanted to be whole even more.

It was a wet kiss in all the worst ways, Cub’s face was wet, Cleo couldn’t touch him without getting wet, and that was gross, and so was the kiss for that matter. It was uncoordinated, they hated his spit on her lips, his tongue in her mouth, they hated it, and they would fight to keep it just like this, hot, wet, Cub fucking smelled, Cleo needed to make him shower after this, he was sweaty, or maybe they were both sweaty, both wet because Cub was crying so damn much.

It was not sweet. It wasn’t even erotic, but Cleo still let their head fall back when he kissed their neck, when his hands found their way under their shirt, almost hesitant, but far more desperate.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled, and he did not.

…

When Cleo woke up, it was dark, and for a panicked moment they truly did not know where they were, eyes wide, momentarily grasping for anything familiar until their hands found him.

Oh.. Oh god.

“Cub. Cub.” Cleo reached to shake him, but she didn’t have to, his head turning slowly to reveal bleary brown eyes.

“What’s up,” he mumbled, so inaudibly that Cleo had to pause to parse what he’d said, though Cub seemed to take this silence as an invitation to turn back into his pillow. Cleo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He was warm, a little too warm; did he still have a fever?

“We need to talk about this.”

Cub blinked at her like he was confused, then reached for his phone to check the time. Half past 3:00 AM. He shrugged. “We might as well.”

“And you need to shower.”

“Fuck, I really don’t want to do that.”

Luckily, it took very little physical force to get Cub out of bed, and unlike Cleo, he was not wearing very many clothes, so. The two of them stood barefoot on the cold bathroom tile, watching the water warm up in uneasy silence, Cub with a towel around his waist.

“Are you just going to be standing here, or..” Was he waiting for her to leave? Well, that would be logical, wouldn’t it.

“You seem like the kind of guy that takes two hour showers, I can not wait that long to talk.”

Notably, Cub did not deny this. “I do not have to shower right at this very moment. We can talk. I want to talk.”

“You need to shower.” Cleo pursed their lips, more distressed in the moment by the fact that she fucked him when he was that gross and also sick and also crying than the whole.. fiasco before that. She also felt gross, but she could wait her turn. It’s not like she brought a change of clothes..

“Well, alright.” A little sheepishly, Cub slipped his towel through the shower door handle for easy access, then stepped inside. It wasn’t exactly like there were many physical barriers between them anymore, but Cleo could sympathize with the fact that this felt fucking weird. They were too restless to turn away. The fogged up glass covered most of him at least.

Cleo decided to let him get acclimated, and started. “Cub, I don’t really know what you’re going through here, but I think I’m owed some kind of explanation, because really, what the actual fuck.”

Cub shut off the water. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said What The Fuck.”

“I thought you said more than that.”

“That was the jist. Turn the water back on, you’ve got work to do.”

Cub grimaced, but did as he was told. Over the running water, he had to yell, “I’m really sorry, Cleo! I was in a bad place last night- tonight I guess, and I know that’s not an excuse or anything, that was a..” as Cub started to quiet down, his voice was lost to the water, and Cleo was starting to see the problem.

“What?” They called, and through the steam, they saw Cub blink.

“Sorry, what?”

“What did you say before? That last bit.”

“I- Oh,” and again Cub started loud, slowly trailing off as his voice returned to its usual mumble, “It’s not an excuse. I know it’s not an excuse, but if you want me to explain to you exactly where I was at with us both knowing I’m not trying to excuse it I think that might be helpful for…” and just like that, Cleo couldn’t hear him again.

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

“Wh- What?”

Cleo didn’t know if Cub was confused or if he genuinely didn’t hear them, but either way, the shower door to Cub’s quite small cubicle was open, and Cleo barged in, clothes and all. Yelling and scrambling on Cub’s end was probably appropriate, and honestly, what Cleo was doing in their delirious state was definitely not appropriate, but they couldn’t wait any longer.

“Why did you do it? Why did you tell me you loved me when I- we both know you don’t. We both know it. And that was- it- I like you, and who knows what that even means, but I like you and that was cruel. It was cruel, Cub.”

Cub breathed hard for a moment, probably still flustered by Cleo busting into his shower and getting soaked despite trying to keep out of the stream, but regardless, he straightened slightly, collecting himself.

“I know. I mean- I didn’t know you- I had no idea, really, but that doesn’t make it better, it was stupid all the way through, and I- okay, Cleo, can I just shut the water off?”

Cub reached for the knob, and Cleo slapped his hand away, overcome by something like panic, “No! No, I want it on. This is good.” It felt good. She was cold, and that felt appropriate, real.

Cub stared at her for a long time, not even moving the tuft of greasy hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I told Scar. I told Scar I loved him, I love him, and then I saw him. I saw his eyes when I told him. I saw him, and nothing changed. Nothing changed. He just smiled at me, crooked, sweet, like he always is. But he has no idea. He has no idea, and I saw it staring me right in the face, and it felt like everything was falling apart. And I was so scared. I was scared that it wasn’t just Scar, that I never noticed because I never- I never look, I just couldn’t remember if everyone I’ve ever known had nothing behind their eyes, I couldn’t remember, and I was so scared, and then I got sick, and it got so much worse.”

Cub looked at the ground. “It was just an excuse at first. Waking up with a sore throat, I thought what a good excuse not to come into work. So I don’t have to see him. See anyone. But then it.. It’s really been a while since I’ve gotten so sick, and I probably passed that all on to you..”

He took a deep breath, then snorted water out of his nose. Wiped the hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t plan that. I didn’t think at all. I just had to know if I’d really tricked myself so damn bad that I.. I don’t know. I was scared that you weren’t real, and I had to find out, and all I could think about was the way he looked at me. I was so convinced I’d lost everything to just- delusions. Believing what I wanted to believe, even when everyone in the world told me it wasn’t true. I didn’t know what to do. And I do like you, I don’t know- I mean, who knows anything these days, but.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about initiating too, I used you. I needed to feel good about myself and I used you, and it didn’t even feel good because I’m fucking sick and feel a little like I’m going to die all over.”

The following silence deafened, and Cleo didn’t know exactly what to say, so they distracted themself by pulling their damp hair behind their ears, wiping their eyes, itching a mild scratch on their arm. They wanted this to fix them.. They’d asked for an explanation and gotten one, but they only felt sick to their stomach.

“I don’t feel better.”

“I understand.”

“I think I’m going to go home.”

“You can stay, Cleo. At least dry your clothes, I’ll sleep on the couch when I’m done.”

“They’re not too wet,” Cleo mumbled, near inaudible, and shivered from the cold breeze as she opened the shower door. Too cramped in there anyway. “ I want to go home.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments, watching with those somber eyes. He shut the water off. “Take care, please.”

“Bye, Cub.”

Cleo heard the water switch back on as she left the bathroom, leaving wet footprints in her wake. They did not take the trash on their way down.

///

After speaking very little to Cub in the past two weeks, the last thing Cleo expected was to have him running around her house like a chicken with its head cut off.

It was hard to care with a 102° fever though, and Cleo was so dead to the world that their only concern was the stomping of Cub’s shoes, shaking the couch pillows just enough to make Cleo feel like her head was going to explode. Why did he have to run around so much anyway? He was cooking- some kind of soup, Cleo was pretty sure. What was his problem?

But it was sweet, a little bit. Cub was as neurotic as a broody mother hen, but in a way, it was nice to be taken care of. No one had really done this for Cleo since her parents when they were a kid, and years upon years of lonely fevers had crushed the hope of someone else picking her up and making it all better, but..

Maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe that practical reality she’d drilled into herself about the tenets of a life alone weren’t so needed anymore. She could call Cub, if she wanted to. He would come, even if he had to face Scar, he would come.

Cleo’s heart still ached, but not as deeply as her head. For now, it could be ignored.

Cub brought her a bowl to the side table next to the couch where say lay, cautioning her that it was hot, that she didn’t need to eat all of it, but she did have to drink more water, and after she’d had a few bites she should probably take another Tylenol, but not on empty stomach, and honestly after that Cleo started to zone him out.

Cleo pushed herself up to sit, peering into the bowl. It was.. well, she didn’t see a whole lot of broth. She had kind of been looking forward to that…

“I think I put too many of the noodles in. I just- I mean I used a lot of the box, but I thought well the box must be one serving, right? Why shouldn’t I use the whole thing? And then I did. And then the soup disappeared. Is it bad.”

Ah. That made sense. “I haven’t even tried it yet,” she mumbled with a weak roll of her eyes. Cub wasn’t usually a nervous talker, but a switch seemed to have flipped in him tonight.

Cub ran away, in what Cleo thought was terror of their impending opinion until he returned with his own bowl. Cleo took their first bite as he recentered the room, and honestly, had no idea what to think. Her tastebuds were out of wack from the illness, that was for certain, so she couldn’t really tell if this was actually that bad or…

Cub took his own bite. He sat down. Placed his bowl carefully on the coffee table. Put his head in his hands.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

“It’s fine, probably,” Cleo tried, though they really wished they could give him more feedback without the interference of messed up tastebuds. “You put salt in it, right?”

“I-I did! I tried! It really felt like a lot of salt, Cleo!”

“It always feels like a lot,” Cleo mumbled, but not without a smile. She took another bite. It wasn’t so bad. It soothed that desire for warmth against her sore throat and it.. no, it didn’t really do anything else. Cleo thought for a moment. “Did you season it at all?”

“The chicken broth was seasoned.”

“Did you season it?”

“Was..” Cub pursed his lips, staring miserably at his bowl. “I tried..?”

Yeah.. that checked out. Cleo closed their eyes, holding the bowl close to her face and throat. Breathing it in. They were pretty sure it smelled good.

“You’re sweet, I think so.”

“It’s terrible! It’s literally terrible!”

“It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad that your 30 year old adult ass can’t cook,” Cleo sighed, but they were not unhappy. It’s not like they would be able to appreciate a good soup anyway. “That’s okay.. It’s not, but you’ll learn.”

“I’d like to. I would, if you’d teach me.”

Cleo side eyed him, uneasiness squirming in their chest. Did they really want this? They thought they might, and as much as they hated getting burned, the fire was just so enticing, wasn’t it. It was hard. And maybe this wasn’t a commitment she would make with a foggy head and an aching heart. Tomorrow she might feel better, might not want to see him just like the weeks before. Cub looked up, and then immediately back down.

“Or I’ll- I mean- I could watch a video or take a class or-“

“I’ll teach you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.. I think I’d like that.”

Cleo could worry about the truth of that statement another time. At the very least, if she changed her mind, she could always just say so. But she didn’t want to be angry. She didn’t want to be so sad. And she wasn’t quite ready to let this go, not just yet. Neither was he, it seemed. He’d already let Cleo back into his life once before.

Cleo closed their eyes, letting themself enjoy the warmth of the bowl against her neck. A problem for later. For now, they would let themself enjoy him.

[sims3fiend]

Sims3SettingsSetter thing

OLD POST REALLY SORRY IF YOU BOOKMARKED THIS I'M DUMB LMAO

NEW: https://www.tumblr.com/sims3fiend/764382296987025408/sims-3-settings-setter?source=share

---

Was bored ripping my hair out trying to do optimizations so I made this instead of anything actually worthwhile. For now it's mostly just a novelty. Rushing it out as I'm at work 4x12hrs starting tomorrow :)

This is a ALPHA IT SHOULD BE SAFE BUT IT MIGHT ALSO NOT BE. Speedwriting this post as I've gotta go sleepy.

Ignore the strange names for things i-it's an alpha.

Simsfileshare

To use, have an ASI loader like this or maybe this and shove it into the folder where the sims 3 exe is. Press insert to toggle

What it does:

Renderer Flags:

This was the original idea and what this was solely going to be. I found a function that set things like wireframe and other renderer things, so I made a script for it.

Some useful things it can do are turning drop shadows off, which is nice for reshade as it lets you do a better looking AO. Some people might find the pips, scene boxes, etc. useful but idk. Some of it is neat to look at I guess.

Game Values:

Just the one for now, max lots, it's still effected by the weird range/frustum cull thing that effects shadows, so outside of that range extra lots wont load. These are going to be static values that can be edited ingame. There's a few other ones I've found like ObjectSizeCullFactor but I need to properly test them. I'll also add some informational ones that can't be changed like loaded object count, etc.

Game Config:

This is where things went off the rails…

I'm hooking two functions here to grab and set boolean and string config values directly as they're called in memory, which is important as some are overridden or altered, or aren't listed in the files at all (ForceHighLODObjects my beloved). Currently it lists mostly everything in the SGR file and some ini settings. The boolean stuff is a pretty sure bet, the strings might be overwritten elsewhere idk. Please keep in mind that some of these settings can be very damaging to your game and sanity, do not use ones you don't recognize on a save you love.

To enable the config overwrite, tick the box next to it and hit save. They won't do anything unless the box is checked.

I'll be adding tunables (like LightingCommon) into the list… eventually. Currently they're a little… weirdly/interestingly/uniquely written in the decomp'd functions I've been looking at, so I haven't been able to get their values. There's probably a really simple way of doing all of this in one of the dlls or packages or something but idk. If you know lmk.

I'll also probably try and find the in memory location of some of them, so they can be changed ingame without the need to restart.

Issues:

If you have any problems/info please message me either on discord(fleshtexture) or tumblr ! Keep in mind it's still an ALPHA (or whatever) and I haven't really tested it that extensively.

Known problems:

Config sorting is yucky

Code looks yucky, weird names for things, don't look until I rewrite!

There was a freezing issue due to how I was hooking d3d9 but I think I fixed it? Idk I've never used imgui before.

[candidcouture]

CANDID COUTURE PRESENTS . . .

PRODUCTIVE THINGS TO DO ON YOUR DAY OFF

in honor of the holidays, many people (including myself) have been happily awarded with a much needed break. although rest is needed and much deserved, there are still many things you can do in order to optimize productivity during your day off.

1. CLEAN YOUR SPACE

nothing can make you feel more productive than clearing out and organizing your space. sort through (and donate) unwanted clothes, declutter unused/expired products from your vanity, clean your makeup brushes, do your laundry, ect. use this time to do the chores that you have been ignoring!

2. LEARN A NEW SKILL

many websites offer different courses and lessons for a variety of new skills. these skills can be related to your career and can be added to your resume, or used just for your own personal pleasure. either way, learning new skills can be incredibly beneficial for you. YouTube offers free lessons on skills such as sewing, crocheting, coding, and many other amazing skills.

3. READ

if you're anything like me, then you have been gifted with many books for Christmas. even if you enjoy reading, it can be quite difficult to find the time to read. your day off allows you to have much time to read all the books that you promised to read (hehe).

4. PRACTICE SELF CARE

self care is different for everyone, but for me it consists of exercise, face masks, hair oiling and deep conditioning masks, doing my nails, and having a long shower. after all, you must pour into your own cup before you pour into others!

[depsilon7]

O Omnissiah, Fount of All Knowledge,

Illuminate the sacred data before me,

Let Your divine algorithms parse this information.

As I interface with these holy documents,

Optimize my cognitive functions.

Grant me the processing power to absorb,

The RAM to retain, the logic to understand.

May each datum be a cog in my mind's machine,

Each concept, a line of immaculate code.

Filter out the noise of ignorance,

Amplify the signal of comprehension.

Let Your machine spirit guide my synapses,

That I may compile this wisdom efficiently.

From raw input to executable knowledge,

Transform my mind, O Lord of Data.

Sic Erit.

[dinoswordsb]

Thoughts on the popularization of devaluating humanities degrees as "my silly little degree" while presenting STEM degrees as more worthy of attention and recognition

well i feel it can be summed up in the simple phrase of "thats bad" but ill try to say saomething even slightly intelligent bc i do have A thought on this which is that, and water is wet, but a lot of people just fucking do not value art in any way or at least not in a way they should. im gonna talk out of my ass a little here but sometimes it feels like so many people take stem and art and separate them in the way that stem is intelligence and art is emotional. or something akin to that. and therefore art is not as valuable, because it doesnt have a tangible effect on "forwarding society" if that makes sense? liek when you think of inventions youre thinking doohickeys and gizmos right. stuff you have to weld together or code. i almost went on a huge tangent about capital and the culture formed around optimization and entitlement but im not gonna do that thats not what this is about. anyway basically what im getting at here is people seem to overlook the way that they interact and engage with art and 1. good art requires intelligence you have to hone your craft to make something the best it can be thats no different here. progress, actual genuine progress in society, is forged from passion. these two are not as separate as people like to think 2. on top of that theres the obvious aspect of like, the starving artist theres money in stem and not in art and therefore art is not as valuable. but who the fuck did you guys turn to when everyone was on lockdown in covid. theres a reason streaming blew up. why do you think propaganda posters exist why do you think that logos exist at all art affects you in the real world even if you dont think of it that way. theres a reason there are classes on all of these things that getting a humanities degree ALSO takes years of study. It's not easy and theres a lot more that goes into it than people think i was literally thinking abt this this morning bc something i never think about when i write is the way what im saying reads like how the words sound next to each other or the flow of it not consciously at least but that is a whole technical aspect of writing that takes practice and skill and contributes to the final product and its so subtle it might go right under your radar sometimes. i guess all this to say is it feels like people brush art off bc its more thought based more emotion based and they typically only think of art as paintings and visual mediums in museums when the reality is its so much broader than that. they think anybody can do it which anybody can be an artist. its true and that is a hill ill die on being alive gives you the right to be an artist. but that doesnt negate the effort and the years and years of practice and teamwork behind something like a movie a novel a show a fucking youtube video your favorite song. its art! all of it! and innovation is creativity! idc what anyone says like thats just how it is art and science will always go hand in hand they belong together and frankly it feels ignorant to try to separate them, which circling back to the actual point of this, is what feels like is happening and people are trying to drop the "less profitable/useful" half of it.

[theerurishipper]

This is going to be long so I can understood if you ignored it just see it as me venting my frustrations with her character. I'm just about done with her which sucks since I use to love her a lot. Sorry for sounding negative in this ask I sent you hope it wasn't a bother.

You've successfully swayed me into becoming a staunch supporter of Chat Noir; how audacious of you! Just kidding, of course. I now grasp your perspective regarding the complexities of Marinette's situation. In the past, I never delved into their dynamic and, admittedly, held some reservations about Chat Noir for frequently causing problems and adding stress to Ladybug's plate, a sentiment that seemed prevalent in the fandom and one I once shared.

Honestly, Season 5 was my breaking point. That episode where she powered down and tried to talk some sense into Gabriel? It made me see her in a whole new light. If it were any other parents, she'd be all action, no chat. But because it's Gabriel, Adrien's dad, there's this glaring bias, and it's been a massive letdown for me. She made her bed, and now she has to lie in it. It's not just Ladybug who's drawing my frustration but also her dedicated supporters. Some, who use Marinette who's age I assume to be around 14 often use her age as a shield. It's strange to witness this phenomenon in the Miraculous fan community, where her character's age is consistently invoked as an excuse. They seem to forget that she's a fictional character, brought to life through pixels and scripted character arcs. I've been a fan in various mediums, but the Miraculous fandom takes the cake for clinging to this age excuse. It's like they think 14 and the stress of her trauma are the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free cards. But hey, what else is new in the world of fandom, right?

Back when I was a ripe old age of 14, I did some growing up, and now at the age of 21, I can confidently say Marinette's actions don't resonate with me at all. I'm all about that honesty, and I can't see myself pulling off any of her shenanigans. I mean, why keep secrets in the first place, especially when you've been partnered up for ages? If we're in the same boat, risking our lives and all, it just seems unfair to leave the other person in the dark when we stumble upon something fishy. That's just basic BFF code, isn't it?

I had some optimism when Season 5 rolled around, but man, it just felt all kinds of wrong. There was something off about it, and Adrien... oh boy, he's like a completely different person from Season 1. I mean, he actually had some color in his skin – talk about a glow-up! He used to look so much happier as Chat Noir. Now, it's like he's tiptoeing around, walking on metaphorical eggshells.

And don't even get me started on the LadyNoir dynamic. It's like a trainwreck in slow motion, and it stinks. I mean, I've watched Totally Spies, and those characters, they had their own stuff going on, but they had each other's backs. It's crystal clear that Miraculous Ladybug is missing that camaraderie.

Her portrayal as a romantic interest, whether in or out of her superhero costume, has been notably lacking. In neither capacity does she appear to be a suitable match for Adrien, and her dynamic with Chat Noir has been fractured to an irreparable extent, leaving much to be desired.

This indeed raises a pertinent question – how can they be considered soulmates or destined for each other when the connection is this lackluster? Adrien seemed to have a more promising dynamic with Kagami than with our primary female protagonist. In Season 5, it appears as though they simply forced them together without genuine chemistry or compatibility. It's all about what he caters to her Marinette the star!

Her performance as a superheroine leaves much to be desired. I find myself questioning her role as the protagonist, particularly given the abundance of problematic situations within the show, many of which are left unaddressed. There's a conspicuous absence of meaningful connections with the victims, with only fleeting interactions following the vanquishing of the villain. The absence of emotional depth is striking. I can't help but wonder why she's the star of the show. There's a disturbing amount of abuse happening, and the lack of follow-up with victims is baffling. It's like they defeat the bad guys and call it a day, no emotional depth, nada.

Upon witnessing her actions in the finale, I reached my breaking point. She ranks as one of the most disappointing female magical heroines when compared to Bloom, Luz, and Iris from Lolirock. Her treatment of her partner left me deeply disheartened, and I remain uncertain about what her fans could possibly rescue to redeem her character.

Thank you for reading~

Feel free to vent, anon, it's never a bother!

I'm glad my points resonated with you! I'm not posting all this to try to change anyone's mind, but it is nice to see that people are considering what I have to say.

And I agree with a lot of what you have to say! I will say, though, that I don't really think Marinette is to blame all that much for Gabriel winning. It's not her fault that he stabbed her in the back. She gave him a chance and he ruined it, and that's all on him. And one more thing I sort of disagree with is that Ladybug doesn't form meaningful connections with the victims. I think it's rather unfair to expect her to form deep emotional connections with every single person she saves. Both Ladybug and Chat Noir do spend some time comforting the victims after the fights, but I think they can't be expected to stick around and solve every problem. I hope this doesn't seem rude, it's just my take.

But I agree largely with everything else! I especially like this point:

It's not just Ladybug who's drawing my frustration but also her dedicated supporters. Some, who use Marinette who's age I assume to be around 14 often use her age as a shield. It's strange to witness this phenomenon in the Miraculous fan community, where her character's age is consistently invoked as an excuse. They seem to forget that she's a fictional character, brought to life through pixels and scripted character arcs. I've been a fan in various mediums, but the Miraculous fandom takes the cake for clinging to this age excuse. It's like they think 14 and the stress of her trauma are the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free cards.

This is so right. Like, Marinette is a 14-year-old, but that isn't really an excuse? It's an explanation and a valid one, certainly, but it's not an excuse. At any rate, it's not the fact that she's making mistakes that's the problem, it's the fact that she never seems to learn from them. I admit this is a writing issue and Marinette is, at the end of the day, the mouthpiece for the writers, but it does not help me connect with her like I used to. Using her age as a constant excuse does not fly after a certain point of time.

At the end of the day, whatever Marinette does is portrayed as the right thing to do, and it makes it more obvious than ever that she's not a real approximation of a 14-year-old. She's a character in a children's cartoon who serves as the writers' mouthpiece, and whatever is coming from the writers' is some weird ass shit.

And I also very much agree with your assessment of the Ladynoir dynamic. It really sucks how low it's fallen. It was a major draw of the show for me, and now it's been reduced to nothing, all to prop up the least interesting side of the square. It's too bad.

Thank you for your ask!

[putrefacion]

In JW doctrine [ Genesis 6:1–4 ] some angels abandoned their heavenly station to assume human form & engage in sexual relations with human women. The offspring of these unions were the Nephilim: hybrid giants regarded as abhorrent aberrations & condemned by divine decree. These acts were considered gross violations of spiritual law, & as punishment, those angels were permanently stripped of their ability to materialize. That is to say: [ for Angels ] touch, when it moves from divine function into personal desire, results in corruption; wanting to be touched is not spiritually neutral. It suggests deviance, instability, need unaligned with purpose,

Lute is a divine construct, forged from sanctified matter; coded for obedience & optimized for violence. Within Heaven’s framework, her function is absolute. Her design excludes the capacity of personal intimacy; she was not made to desire. The problem is: she does. Her awareness of this deviation only deepens her internal conflict. The desire for contact is a malfunction she cannot fully suppress. To crave warmth while serving divine law mirrors the very precedent that once led angels to fall. If true angels strayed to feel humanity up close, what does that imply about her? Constructed from sanctified bone, with violence encoded beneath even sensory thresholds… & yet, she wants. That capacity terrifies her; her longing for touch suggests that her selfhood exceeds assigned function — that she is real beyond the sword,

If she possesses the capacity to want something outside her original programming, then she also possesses the capacity to choose — autonomy introduces risk & that level of self-direction constitutes systemic instability: a deviation from function, a prelude to collapse. For a time, she was able to rationalize this desire as devotion. Her longing for contact was framed as loyalty to Adam: he was her directive, her anchor, her reason to remain operational. If the need aligned with service, it was permissible; so long as her want could be expressed as proximity to her assignment, she could contain it. Purpose made the hunger righteous... But now with Adam gone, the framework disintegrates — & all that’s left is the want, the gateway to sin

Lute’s celibacy is not a vow; it is architecture. Unlike humanity, whose capacity for reproduction reflects divine creativity, Lute has no womb, no hunger, no spiritual instinct toward union. Intimacy, in the biblical sense, was never part of her blueprint, despite angels having the capacity for it. The longing to be touched is especially not native to her form — when it surfaces, it feels invasive, like a parasite gnawing at sanctified metal ( in innate failsafe, so to speak ). JW doctrine holds that angels were never meant to desire flesh; only after witnessing humanity’s intimacy & taking form of flesh did they fall into aberration. Lute was made to cleanse such corruption, not carry echoes of it. But somewhere deep beneath code & command, the rib remembers...

What gets me is how JW doctrine casually establishes that angels can feel, desire, even reproduce under the right conditions, & then it is never revisited; it’s treated almost as a footnote [ when in reality, it’s a theological fracture point; one that suggests divine beings are far less fixed than we pretend ] That capacity for deviation, for longing, for desire, is a monumental acknowledgment that’s quietly overlooked; much in the same way I imagine Heaven would treat it. Lute wasn’t designed with emotional capacity as a priority, but she doesn’t know that; she assumes her feelings are a flaw, not a feature. Of course she feels; she had to, in order to complete the Eden simulation, to form a soul at all, but she treats that capacity like a splinter under the skin of function, something to ignore, not examine. She has zero sexual experience, & while some Viv has hinted at her being intimate with Adam ( at least once ), I don’t carry that into my portrayal; I like their dynamic as-is: casual, brutal, strange. If Lute feels desire at all, it’s not broad, it’s specific: it’s Adam. She’s Adam-oriented, not attraction-oriented. Wanting isn’t built-in: it’s triggered, awakened, & it terrifies her because it reminds her she’s real,

[ams-husband]

Idk what's with the sudden wave of hate you received, and Idk why they decided to drag Izzy into this mess. (I mean, I hope that's not Izzy. No hate to her, but like, why)

Just ignore those people, they're just jealous you found something you're happy about. You're cool man, probably few of the yumeships I actually enjoy.

Uh, I haven't doodled anything so have this eeper I made a while back.

(I wanna smash them to pieces)

heya! thanks for the support, it really means a lot to me <3

unfortunately people sharing what they love online can draw the eyes of some really mean and jealous folks. its a shame that some people are just so unhappy that they feel the need to be mean like that to try and diminish others happiness.

i really hope its not her just out of the optimism in my code but my worries have seemed to have been confirmed when i received a drawing gimmick that does look just like her style. i didn't post it publicly because i don't know if i should keep showing people what i'm dealing with or just ignore it entirely, but it was very... disappointing? amusing? pathetic? i'm not sure quite how to feel.

either way, the support i've received in spite of it is very heartwarming and i appreciate it<3

also, that drawing is ADORABLE!!! the sleepy boyyyyy <3<3 he's so cuteeeee!! [and ted looks like a melted gummy bear as usual<3]

thank you, aster! you're a delight to see in my inbox <3

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

My halogen headlight needs to be changed, I am going to buy a pair of LED headlights. Listen to friends saying that novsight is OK. Everyone gives some advice. What should you pay attention to when choosing led headlights?

When upgrading from halogen to LED headlights, especially when considering brands like Novsight, there are several key factors to ensure optimal performance, safety, and compliance. The following is a structured guide based on technical insights and user recommendations:

1. Compatibility Check

Bulb Type: Please confirm the bulb size for your vehicle (e.g. H7, 9005) using your owner's manual or existing halogen bulb specifications. LED models such as the H4/H7 series are designed for plug-and-play installation, but some models may require additional adapters.

Canbus System: Modern vehicles (e.g. BMW, Mercedes) often use Canbus wiring. LEDs may trigger error messages without a decoder or resistor. Please check that the kit contains non-faulty components.

2. Brightness and Beam Pattern

Lumens: The target brightness is 10,000-16,000 lumens per pair (models such as the SNGL9005/9006 series have a lumen of 16,000 lumens per pair). Higher lumens improve visibility, but avoid excessive brightness (e.g., over 40,000 lumens) to prevent glare.

Color temperature: Choose 5,000K-6,500K (white light) for daylight-like clarity and reduced eye fatigue. Novsight's 6500K bulbs fit into this range along with the SNGL6000k and 6500k bulbs.

Beam focus: Ensure a sharp cutoff and proper beam alignment. Scattered light can cause glare. Novsight focuses on even light distribution to avoid "hot spots" common in cheaper LEDs. SNGL features adjustable light patterns to minimize dark areas and stray light.

3. Thermal Management and Durability

Cooling System: Novsight LEDs use either built-in fans or aluminum heat sinks for thermal regulation. Poor heat dissipation can shorten life and cause component failure. SNGL uses a copper base plate and copper tubes plus an aluminum heat sink and fan to form an excellent heat dissipation system, extend service life and reduce component failure, and reduce LED light decay.

IP protection level: Choose IP65 or higher to ensure dust/waterproof. This is critical for long service life in bad weather. SNGL protection level is IP68.

4. Regulatory compliance

Certification: Verify compliance with standards such as DOT (US) or ECE (EU), CE, ROHS, etc. Non-compliant LEDs may not pass inspection. Novesight, SNGL products generally meet these certifications.

Beam pattern compliance: LEDs must replicate halogen beam patterns. After installation, use adjustable chucks to adjust to avoid dark areas and glare.

5. Installation and maintenance

Plug and play vs. retrofit: Novesight or SNGL LEDs are generally plug and play, but minor adjustments may be required (e.g., removing dust covers). For complex setups, professional installation is recommended.

Post-installation inspection:

Test low/high beams to ensure no flickering.

Adjust beam height using the wall test (stopping distance 25 feet; cutoff line should align with marking tape).

Maintenance: Clean lenses regularly with mild soap and check for moisture penetration.

**Why consider LEDs? **

Safety features: Novsight and SNGL emphasize even light distribution to avoid dazzling pedestrians or oncoming drivers, a common problem with cheap LED lights.

Energy efficiency: Actual power consumption is 12-46W, while halogen lamps consume 55-65W, reducing battery load.

Durability: Rated for over 30,000 hours of life and with robust thermal management.

Common pitfalls: to avoid

Ignoring error codes: Use a Canbus system decoder to avoid dashboard warnings.

Ignoring beam alignment: Misaligned beams can affect safety and legality.

Cheap alternatives: Low-cost LEDs often lack proper heat sinks or certifications, leading to premature failure.

Cost and warranty

Novsight pricing: $50 to $150 per pair. SNGL: $30-160.

Warranty: Look for 1 to 3 year warranties and troubleshooting customer support.

Prioritize these factors and you’ll get a safer, brighter upgrade while avoiding common pitfalls. For detailed installation guides, refer to the Novsight or SNGL manual or consult a professional.

[marinette-sky]

I like how on here, we are all in agreement that Chat GPT is bad for the environment. But I, who has an environmental science degree and planning on pursuing a NRES masters and also works in the environmental field, has to suffer through the Corporate Optimism party that is so many company's outlook and generative AI.

Yall, SOOOO many fellow env sci are ignorant and don't care about the effects of AI on the environment. ITS INSANE! I'm not a beacon of moral hope either, I used it all the time in my original grad degree (for coding) before I switched since I had no clue what was going on and didn't learn shit.

Keep hammering it into people's heads that ChatGPT fucking sucks. It does. Even if it's someone who you'd assume knows better.

[project-sekai-facts]

Ik I don’t usually respond to Q&A Friday but 2 things:

1. It’s really cool that you’re in film school! I’m doing a game dev degree and I can confirm that my team also slacks off by playing smash bros.

2. Another potential issue with the WxS event is how their audio is just good. I took a game sound course and we looked at some film sound design too. The main thing I learned in terms of filming is most sounds are added in post since recording is optimized for dialogue. Also I just feel it’s a missed opportunity to have Emu play around in a sound booth. I love recording raw sounds to turn into effects. It’s a lot of messing around with stuff and trying to think of what will sound cool. I just think that suits her perfectly. Also just the characters talking about spending time looking for sound/music/editing effects online would have been nice.

Anyway that’s all. I hope any upcoming filming goes well too!

- R.Q anon

Yeah I'm currently doing film in college after I did media in high school! My main focus is actually in animation rn but I'm switching to writing/theory for next year when i start uni because i realised i liked that side of things more (side eyes the akito essay i just dropped. i'm actually thankful for this account and prsk itself in some ways because it allowed me to realise what i like doing. that sounds really sappy actually akdjkajk ignore that). Game dev sounds really cool actually, it was something i looked into when i was looking through degrees but i can't code for shit lol. I hope you're enjoying it though ^^

Ooh yeah I agree! Obviously theatre sound production is slightly different to foley for films and they don't usually have someone to spare for backstage, but we've still seen Rui make multiple audio-based devices. It'd be cool if they made one for sound effects that weren't voice-based sometime. Honestly this could be something cool to put into their upcoming arc considering it sounds like they're making a movie. And agree I bet Emu (and maybe Rui) would love messing around recording foley and other sounds.

Thank you anon!

[bi-disaster-kit-herondale]

The Mortal Instruments as Speak Now TV pt. 1/2

this is gonna flop since nobody really talks about tmi anymore, but I love them so much <3

Enchanted: Alec & Magnus (them. the entire song.)

“this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. my thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. these are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you.”

Mine: Jace & Clary

“you said, “I remember how we felt sitting by the water. and every time I look at you it’s like the first time. I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter. she is the best thing that’s every been mine. hold on, make it last.”

Ours: Simon & Izzy

“the jury’s out, but my choice is you. so don’t you worry your pretty, little mind. people throw rocks at things that shine. and life makes love look hard. the stakes are high, the water’s rough, but this love is ours.”

Back To December: Magnus & Alec (breakup)

“I watched you laughing from the passenger side and realized I loved you in the fall. and then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind. you gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye.”

Dear John: Jocelyn & Valentine

“well, maybe it’s me and my blind optimism to blame. or maybe it’s you and your sick need to give love then take it away. and you’ll add my name to your long list of traitors who don’t understand. and I’ll look back and regret how I ignored when they said ‘run as fast as you can’.”

The Story Of Us: Clary & Jace (sibling era 🤪)

“I’d tell you I miss you, but I don’t know how. I never heard silence quite this loud. now I’m standing alone in a crowded room and we’re not speaking. and I’m dying to know is it killing you like it’s killing me? I don’t know what to say since a twist of fate, when it all broke down.”

I Can See You: Izzy & Simon

“what would you do if we never made a sound? cause I can see you waiting down the hall from me. and I could see you up against the wall with me. and what would you do baby, if you only knew.”

Haunted: Maia & Jordan (tbh every verse is like a POV change and a different part of their story)

“something’s made your eyes go cold. come on, come on, don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all I wanted.”

When Emma Falls In Love: Izzy

“when emma falls apart it’s when she’s alone, she takes on the pain and bears it on her own. cause when emma falls in love she’s in it for keeps, she won’t walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave. and she’s the kind of book that you can’t put down.”

Innocent: Clary (this song is so james & matthew coded but i’ll give it to the other fairchild cuz she’s also been through a lot)

“wasn’t it beautiful runnin’ wild ‘til you fell asleep. before the monsters caught up to you? it’s alright, just wait and see. your string of lights is still bright to me. oh, who you are is not where you’ve been. you’re still an innocent.”

Long Live: Alec & Magnus

“I was screaming long live all the magic we made, and bring on all the pretenders, I’m not afraid. long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. and I was screaming long live that look on your face.”

part two!