#Taught myself how to code as I went

[elder-sister]

Give me an excuse to talk about TiaET /srs

[gummilutt]

AL Gear City window made closeable

Another day, another post! Got a backlog of things to post so apologies for the slight barrage this week :) I love the AL Gear City window! It's my favorite window type for apartments, but there's always the question of, do I go with the open one, or the closed one? I love the idea of my Sims getting a fresh breeze, but as someone who lives in Sweden, you definitely don't want a window wide open when there's a thick carpet of snow on the ground. And in apartments, you can't switch it out even if you have the patience to do that every winter. It's a dilemma! My good friend gayars once made a teddybear that changes clothes as the Sims play with it, and from her I learned how to change the appearance of objects through BHAVs, which lead to this creation :) It adds a pie menu interaction to the AL window that lets you switch mesh between open and closed, so that you have a way to make the window open or closed anytime you like without needing to actually replace the window.

Download from simfileshare

Mod is a global add-on to the windows. Replaces TTAB, TTAs, Object - Model Names and adds two BHAVs. Would conflict with other mods that edit the same resources, but I think it unlikely. Four files total, for open/closed and the diagonal versions of the tow. Translated to english, swedish and spanish.

Fwaysims has two wonderful add-on sets to the Gear City windows, which are posted on MTS (Set One and Set Two). I imagine most people who like this window will have grabbed the add-on, so thanks to fway's generous policy I went ahead and gave the same treatment to them :) Please delete your original files, if you already had them. I wish I could have added it globally, but CC objects have all the code internally so have to replace the whole thing :) EDIT: I forgot to mention that prices have been altered slightly. I edited them to make it easier for myself to keep track during the making of them, and I quite like having them appear in catalog in order of size, so I decided to keep it. If you don't like it, I recommend Object Relocator for easy price changing. Original price was 105, my prices range from 96 to 107.

Download edited fway add-on sets from simfileshare

Credits: @gayars who taught me how to change graphics and appearances, @picknmixsims who helped figure out some errors in the making of this, @fwaysims for the great add on sets

Conflict Notes: Because of how CC windows work, other versions of fway's files will conflict. Ladysilverwolf-sims uses versions by revolvertrooper that repo's all windows to the closed one. I am not interested in merging them, but I made instructions of how you can merge the two yourself, if it is important to you to have all repo'd to the closed version. Instructions here.

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

[kayuripax]

Valve news and the AI

So. I assume people saw some posts going around on how valve has new AI rules, and things getting axed. And because we live in a society, I went down the rabbit hole to learn my information for myself. Here's what I found, under a cut to keep it easier. To start off, I am not a proponent of AI. I just don't like misinformation. So. Onwards.

VALVE AND THE AI

First off, no, AI will not take things over. Let me show you, supplemented by the official valve news post from here. (because if hbomberguy taught us anything it is to cite your sources)

[Image id: a screenshot from the official valve blog. It says the following:

First, we are updating the Content Survey that developers fill out when submitting to Steam. The survey now includes a new AI disclosure section, where you'll need to describe how you are using AI in the development and execution of your game. It separates AI usage in games into two broad categories:

Pre-Generated: Any kind of content (art/code/sound/etc) created with the help of AI tools during development. Under the Steam Distribution Agreement, you promise Valve that your game will not include illegal or infringing content, and that your game will be consistent with your marketing materials. In our pre-release review, we will evaluate the output of AI generated content in your game the same way we evaluate all non-AI content - including a check that your game meets those promises.

Live-Generated: Any kind of content created with the help of AI tools while the game is running. In addition to following the same rules as Pre-Generated AI content, this comes with an additional requirement: in the Content Survey, you'll need to tell us what kind of guardrails you're putting on your AI to ensure it's not generating illegal content. End image ID]

So. Let us break that down a bit, shall we? Valve has been workshopping these new AI rules since last June, and had adopted a wait and see approach beforehand. This had cost them a bit of revenue, which is not ideal if you are a company. Now they have settled on a set of rules. Rules that are relatively easy to understand. - Rule one: Game devs have to disclose when their game has AI - Rule two: If your game uses AI, you have to say what kind it uses. Did you generate the assets ahead of time, and they stay like that? Or are they actively generated as the consumer plays? - Rule three: You need to tell Valve the guardrails you have to make sure your live-generating AI doesn't do things that are going against the law. - Rule four: If you use pre-generated assets, then your assets cannot violate copyright. Valve will check to make sure that you aren't actually lying.

That doesn't sound too bad now, does it? This is a way Valve can keep going. Because they will need to. And ignoring AI is, as much as we all hate it, not going to work. They need to face it. And they did. So. Onto part two, shall we?

[Image ID: a screenshot from the official Valve blog. It says the following: Valve will use this disclosure in our review of your game prior to release. We will also include much of your disclosure on the Steam store page for your game, so customers can also understand how the game uses AI. End image ID]

Let's break that down. - Valve will show you if games use AI. Because they want you to know that. Because that is transparency.

Part three.

[Image ID: A screenshot from the official Valve blog. It says the following:

Second, we're releasing a new system on Steam that allows players to report illegal content inside games that contain Live-Generated AI content. Using the in-game overlay, players can easily submit a report when they encounter content that they believe should have been caught by appropriate guardrails on AI generation.

Today's changes are the result of us improving our understanding of the landscape and risks in this space, as well as talking to game developers using AI, and those building AI tools. This will allow us to be much more open to releasing games using AI technology on Steam. The only exception to this will be Adult Only Sexual Content that is created with Live-Generated AI - we are unable to release that type of content right now. End Image ID]

Now onto the chunks.

Valve is releasing a new system that makes it easier to report questionable AI content. Specifically live-generated AI content. You can easily access it by steam overlay, and it will be an easier way to report than it has been so far.

Valve is prohibiting NSFW content with live-generating AI. Meaning there won't be AI generated porn, and AI companions for NSWF content are not allowed.

That doesn't sound bad, does it? They made some rules so they can get revenue so they can keep their service going, while also making it obvious for people when AI is used. Alright? Alright. Now calm down. Get yourself a drink.

---

Team Fortress Source 2

My used source here is this.

There was in fact a DCMA takedown notice. But it is not the only thing that led to the takedown. To sum things up: There were issues with the engine, and large parts of the code became unusable. The dev team decided that the notice was merely the final nail in the coffin, and decided to take it down. So that is that. I don't know more on this, so I will not say more, because I don't want to spread misinformation and speculation. I want to keep some credibility, please and thanks.

---

Portal Demake axed

Sources used are from here, here and here.

Portal 64 got axed. Why? Because it has to do with Nintendo. The remake uses a Nintendo library. And one that got extensively pirated at that. And we all know how trigger-happy Nintendo is with it's intellectual property. And Nintendo is not exactly happy with Valve and Steam, and sent them a letter in 2023.

[Image ID: a screenshot from a PC-Gamer article. It says the following: It's possible that Valve's preemptive strike against Portal 64 was prompted at least in part by an encounter with Nintendo in 2023 over the planned release of the Dolphin emulator for the Wii and Gamecube consoles on Steam. Nintendo sent a letter to Valve ahead of that launch that attorney Kellen Voyer of Voyer Law said was a "warning shot" against releasing it. End Image ID.]

So. Yeah. Nintendo doesn't like people doing things with their IP. Valve is most likely avoiding potential lawsuits, both for themselves and Lambert, the dev behind Portal 64. Nintendo is an enemy one doesn't want to have. Valve is walking the "better safe than sorry" path here.

---

There we go. This is my "let's try and clear up some misinformation" post. I am now going to play a game, because this took the better part of an hour. I cited my sources. Auf Wiedersehen.

[silkenedstars]

Within the Darkness, He Lurks

He found you.

₊✦Genshin Impact | Faceless Ayato x gn!reader | Yandere content up ahead!!✦₊

Additional Notes: Sorry guys I couldn't help myself, he's so Something Truly Evil coded to me 🥺 Also he's my babygirl

Art by @yuri678, go check her out rn!!

He liked to visit you at night, as often as possible and with no one else around that could save you from him.

As soon as the clock struck midnight, he'd be by your window; staring deep into your soul with his piercing gaze until you noticed him. How he treated you after depended on how fast you managed to open the window and greet him like a spouse welcoming their husband home after a hard day at work.

If you were quick about it, if you watched your windows like a hawk until you saw him stare back at you then ran into his arms like an obedient little darling, he'd treat you with the same amount of gentleness as the man he was imitating.

He'd coo, whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as he took you into his arms. He liked to hold you, he liked to bring the back of your hand to his non-existent lips and place a gentle kiss upon it, leaving behind a splocth of darkness. He liked to force himself into your room, sit on your bed and settle you right on his lap; asking sweetly about how your day went, yet he wouldn't bother to hide the threat in his voice. If you ever told him that your day went well, he'd kiss your forehead then disappear back into the darkness he came from. The following night was always followed by nightmares, and the day haunted by misfortune upon misfortune.

He didn't like it when you were happy. He didn't like it when you didn't cry.

Unfortunately, you weren't always so quick to greet him. Sometimes it just wasn't possible, not for a human like you. But he didn't care.

What followed was always a scene straight out of your nightmares.

The creatures that once sang during the lonely night would disappear together with everything else, leading the world to quiet down and leave you all alone with him as darkness soon swallowed your surroundings. The windows would shatter one by one, the glasses flying in every direction and especially in yours, leaving you no other choice but to run out of your room lest you wanted to get very severe cuts. The hallways would twist and lengthen, becoming more distorted with every step you took to get away and find an exit only for there to be none.

He didn't like it when you got away from him, after all.

Before long, you'd always find yourself in the bathroom; the door disappearing out of sight the moment you step in and the mirrors shattering one by one as his reflection passed through them oh so slowly. Not once would he speak during that entire time, leaving you with just the sadistic glimmer in his soulless eyes.

He'd slowly approach you then, basking in the way you'd stand there helplessly; enjoying how he taught you to be completely helpless at his hands. He'd take hold of your trembling wrists and pull you close before whispering malicious little commands in your ear.

"Cry for me," he'd whisper, cruelly watching as tears start pouring down your cheeks.

"Bleed for me," he'd coo, placing a blade in your hand before guiding it across your skin.

"Die for me."

You'd wake up then, with tears in your eyes and dried blood covering old scarred tissue, ones that used to be fresh just yesterday.

Each time, without fail, your beloved husband would enter the room. With worry etched into his expression, he'd pull his lips up into a reassuring smile as his lavender eyes would look down at you with a kindness so genuine that a being like him wouldn't possibly be able to imitate.

"I heard you screaming," Ayato would begin, barely able to mask his worry for your well-being, especially at times when you failed to cover the scars littering your body, "Are you alright? Would you like me to stay with you for now? I can clear up my schedule tonight as well, so long as you need me to do so."

As much as you wanted to say yes, that you needed him to stay with you badly...

"I'm fine, really," you'd reluctantly answer with a hesitant smile each time. "Just a nightmare, that's all."

You couldn't drag him into this mess, not when you experienced first hand how he treated his victims who sought help. Not when you didn't want Ayato to go through the same hell that you experienced daily.

Not when you could see his reflection staring right at you in your beloved's eyes.

[penncilkid]

Alright, I'll bite. (Sparked by this post) I'm gonna preface this with some context: 

First off: I'm Black in case you're unaware

Huxley is my favorite speaker. Full stop. You ask me to choose, it’ll always be him. 

Likewise, you ask for my favorite listeners, I will say Starlight and Darlin'. (I'll save my Starlight rant for another day)

My designs for both Huxley and Darlin are Black.

With this in mind, I want to be clear from the jump: I don’t have an inherent problem with these headcanons. If I did, I wouldn’t have chosen then myself. That said, I have noticed that Hux and Darlin are, more often than not, the characters that get headcanoned as POC (specifically Black) in design rosters. In some cases, they are the only POC designs present. Why is that?

Furthermore, the more often I notice this pattern so to speak, the more I sit and think about why those headcanons are so popular. I find my answer when I think about the characters I see headcanoned as white most often. Tell me why it’s "practically canon" for Lasko to be pale with light/white hair. Tell me why white Sam "just makes sense". Why? Because Lasko's a nerdy ball of nerves that stumbles over his words? Because Sam’s a sweet Southern man at heart? Those are not inherently white attributes.

Except they're treated as such. They go virtually unchallenged because they're so widely accepted by fandom. People see these personalities and character details and come up with their vision. So, let's apply that to Huxley and Darlin, shall we?

Huxley: Athlete. Canonically implied to be big, as indicated by statements made by him and other members of the DAMN crew. Classified as a himbo with parallels in Imperium highlighting how some will view him as stupid. Overall chill vibe.

Darlin: Reckless with their safety. Known to lash out/lose control of their emotions when they’re not actively hiding them. Gets injured often because they’re too stubborn to run from trouble. An overall intense demeanor that makes them difficult to approach (at least at first). 

Explain to me why this screams Black to so many people. Is it because Huxley's a dumb jock who you imagine gets stoned all the time? Oh, is it perhaps because Darlin is just so aggressive compared to your Golden Retriever-coded Asher, needing to be calmed down by everyone around them? And here's the thing: I can already imagine people saying, "That's not why I made them Black". Then explain why it "just makes sense" for them to Black. Why them out of a sea of characters? Make it make sense.

Now let me make this clear as well: I'm not expecting every headcanon to have elaborate thought behind it. For one, I get that some people take a more casual approach with designs and such. Not every choice has to have a reason or justification behind it. But when literally 95% of the Huxley designs I see are Black and half of y'all don't even know what a fucking durag is? Saying it leaves a bad taste in my mouth is putting it lightly.

You know what I wish I saw more of? Black Huxleys and Darlins with attached nuance.

Give me a Black Darlin who struggles to articulate how they feel with the people in their lives because they haven't been readily given the language to do so. You want to pair a Black Darlin with a White Sam? Why not talk about how POC have an insanely difficult time getting support from the medical system so not only does it explain why Darlin is so resistant to go to healers, but also gives an extra weight to the fact that Sam was their absolute last resort when injured? Give me a Black Darlin who has been taught their entire life that no one will have their back, that they need to learn how to depend on themself alone, and that's the reason why they struggle to feel like the pack would've cared when the Quinn shit went on.

You wanna talk Black Huxleys? Let's touch on how he's learned to control his emotions/anger because he knows how people will take it if it comes from someone who looks like him. Talk about how his moms teaching him not to use violence speaks to a deeper desire for him not to be viewed as a threat because they fear for his life otherwise. In one of his BAs, he mentions how a lot of people used to sleep with him/flirt with him solely because of his body and he could tell. Do you know how often black men are sexualized and fetishized? Why not talk about it through him? I see people explore that concept through Gavin constantly, where's the energy for Huxley? You wanna make him Black so bad, why not actually put some thought behind it? Because right now, it seems like he gets the "luxury" of being the token Black guy in the DAMN friend group at best.

I know a lot of people are probably going to dismiss this post. I am already anticipating that as I write this. But I'm so tired of pretending like this shit doesn't get to me. Because it does. I've got no intentions of leaving this fandom because I have met so many amazing people and adore Erik's content immensely. But what I am going to do is talk about the widespread normalization of attributing certain personality traits to certain racial groups. Because the non-white people in this fandom deserve better than that.

[klauzar]

Translation before they add engsubs:

Hello, I'm JJ Patiphan Fueangfunuwat, playing Win. It's not just spells like regular "Win", there's also letters ทร์  at the end.

(Person behind the camera: How is it different from regular "Win"?)

It's more glamorous and cool... lol    

[Who is Win?]

Win is driven, reckless and genuinely decent person. He sticks to the truth. Not your average cop, but a good one. Excellent one. He stays true to himself, has his own ideology, not like a typical policeman.

If he is told not to do something, he will find a way to do it secretly. I can't tell you much more than that.

[How do you feel about getting this role?]

How do I feel? Awesome, amazing. Because I won't get the opportunity to be a cop in real life, that's for sure.

I imagined Win as a cool guy, with a beard and messy hair, since he's working as a field investigator. I think he's cool.

Win must be the oldest character in the story. Frankly, the director and P'Pond didn't know how it would turn out. The day I got the part, I posted a story with beard like that, and P'Pond liked it.

He said to teacher Ning: "Let Win have mustache for this role."

[How did you prepare yourself?]

In my opinion, acting mature is not the difficult part. But I needed practice at portraying a police officer. After getting the role, I went for a walk every evening, walking around with arched chest and straight back. Like a police officer would.

Trying to look sharp, cool and active. I don't know if you can see it in the series, when the character is standing still. But I did my homework.

I studied saluting gestures, police terminology and so on. In the script, when they talk about breaking in or arresting somebody, they don't talk normally. They use police lingo. "Entering the area, code 22. Once the target is found, follow the code 24 and detain them. " Cool stuff like that.

[What's the difference between JJ and Win?]

Win is reckless, incredible brave, has very clear principles.

However, he differs from me in one way. In the series, Tongkla is cheating with him. I can't relate, because I've never found myself in situation like that. It's the opposite of my experience.

Win is a good person who's sticking to his principles. He never did anything wrong. This is not a good situation for him, very unethical.

Finding the right emotion is difficult. In order to perform the scene, I have to know what it feels like. In the end, it all comes down to love.

[How do you feel about working with your seniors?]

I've only met Fuaiz. Well, apart from policemen. 5555

We (JJ & Fuaiz) are a good match. We already worked together, so we're close. We've played together, so it's easy, just with different characters.

There's one scene with P'Bas. He's a great actor. Yes, he nailed it.

[Challenges of this role?]

Action scenes: jumping, shooting, exiting from a windows, driving, dodging, escaping the vehicle, doing backflips. I was bruised all over.

Wore protective gear and still got hurt. I don't understand how. Maybe I did a jump the wrong way. That's the real action. Cool but exhausting, to the point of wanting to throw up. I knew beforehand when there's gonna be backflips or other stuff. I didn't eat anything in order to avoid getting sick. I still felt nauseous, and couldn't even throw up.

I was wearing the gear under hot sun... It would burst if I flexed too much since it was so tight. Wireless also is tight-fitting. It's like ninja turtle shell, and on top of that police uniform, gun, handcuffs - it all weights, like, ten kilos.

I remember, during DFF shooting, stunt team taught me how to avoid punches and how not to hurt myself while doing tricks. I guess, I didn't follow their advice and got hurt.

I was tired, but what kept me motivated during that scene is santol with sweet fish sauce. Good stuff. I just want to share. I don't know. It was there and I wanted to eat it. It probably belonged to someone else, someone from the make-up crew, if I'm not mistaken. So I ate it, and the sour taste re-energized me. Santol with sweet fish sauce helped me to get through the scene.

Okay, please watch the 4minutes series on channel one31 and the sultrier version on Viu every friday at 23:15. *salutes awkwardly*

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | lX

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: A victory party commences and you're noticing some red flags but maybe your love for Eli is enough to oversee it.

Warnings: Hawk being Hawk, bullying, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Season 2 has begun! I can't wait to write out the upcoming chapters cause I really think there's so much drama (and your girl loves drama)! Also would love to hear some feedback about this story! Send in an ask or comment!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“So you might be wondering what a team does after they win the championship,” Aisha smiled into the camera. “The answer? Victor nachos!” She panned over the plate of nachos ordered for the table.

You cheered as you clinked your glasses together. 

“It was supposed to be a round of drinks but the waitress was not feeling Hawk’s fake ID,” Aisha said. 

Your eyes widened and you stifled a laugh at the look on Eli’s face. 

“Hey, don’t talk about that, my parents follow you,” he whispered. 

You chewed on your lip, suppressing a smile when Aisha apologized to his parents directly. 

“No mercy, bitches,” she closed off before joining the three of you.

Now that the weekend was here, you went for a victory dinner with your friends. Demitri tagged along as well. 

While you were still mad at Eli, you both haven’t spoken about the night of the tournament. You continued to text about anything else, but it was evident something was going on based on the space between the two of you and the fact that you hadn’t kissed since then.

“I gotta say, it’s kinda nice to be at a victory party,” Demitri grinned, pulling you from your thoughts, and grabbing a nacho from the plate. 

A smile appeared on your face. Demitri wasn’t a part of Cobra Kai, so you were glad he was able to share this moment with you, even if your boyfriend disagreed.

“Yeah, except you had nothing to do with the victory,” Eli smirked, taking the nacho right out of his best friend’s hand. 

“Well, I like to consider this a belated party for the coding competition we won at computer camp,” Demitri answered. “Remember?” 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of that. It was a lonely two weeks for you, not having anyone to hang out with or talk to, but the moment they arrived back, you were so excited to hear their stories. Especially their song, which Demitri happened to be singing at the moment.

Aisha burst out in laughter at the corniness and you joined in, only because of the way Demitri started dancing.

“Hey, cool it with the nerd shit, huh?” Eli whispered to Demitri. 

Your smile fell for a brief moment and you wondered what that was about. Sending a comforting glance at Demitri, you knew he was taken aback at the sudden outburst.

“Is Miguel around? His wings are getting cold,” you gestured to his food, deciding to focus on something else.

“He’s probably moping about Sam,” Aisha said. 

“We should probably go check on him,” your boyfriend said.

You slid out of the booth so Eli could leave, and when you sat back down, you were met with a knowing look from Demitri. 

“What’s going on with you?” He looked at you concerned.

“Is it that obvious?” You raised a brow, crossing your arms on the table. 

“Seeing as I’ve known you the majority of my life, I will say yeah,” he blew out a breath, passing you a lopsided grin. “I also know you well enough to know it has something to do with Hawk,” he mocked your boyfriend’s nickname and with how you were feeling, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

It died down quickly when your attention was focused back on what happened.

“You saw what he did to Robby,” you began, playing with your fingers. “Sensei taught us not to show mercy, but,” you ended the thought and shook your head, brows furrowed. “What happened to Eli?”

He sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he shrugged.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love his confidence,” you said. “But this is borderline psycho,” you pointed out. “And when did your guys’ theme song become lame?!” You exclaimed. “He’s changing more each day,” your voice fell solemn. “And now I’m not sure if I like it.”

“I know, it sucks but,” he paused, licking his lips. “Just take a breath,” he reassured, patting your hand gently. “Talk to him, I think he’d still listen to you.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You pressed your lips together and you both stayed there, holding hands in comfort. When your boyfriend came back, his brows creased as he stared at your held hands. You sighed as you pulled away.

“What the hell’s going on?”

You took in a breath as you glanced at Demitri, his look telling you it was okay. “We need to talk,” you said, standing up from the booth. 

His demeanor changed, worry filling him but he nodded, following you outside.

“What’s going on?” Eli asked, sitting next to you on the curb while you hugged yourself. He pulled you into his side.

You shut your eyes, welcoming it and finding comfort in his embrace.

“I don’t know,” you licked your lips. “You tell me,” you inhaled.

He sighed, maneuvering so you were facing the same way, his hand on your arm. “I’m not gonna apologize for what I did to Robby,” his voice was calm. 

“I’ll forget about it for this reason, but I’m still waiting on my apology for what you said,” you stared down at your interlocked hands, running your thumb against his knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean what you thought I meant, I wouldn’t hurt you, ever,” he brushed his lips over your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What about Demitri?”

“What about him?”

“Binary Brothers,” you said.

“I don’t like that nerd shit anymore,” he scoffed. “It’s loser talk.”

“They’re memories, who cares if you went to computer camp?”

“I care,” he stated. 

“You don’t have to lose yourself completely,” you looked up at him. “You can still like computers and be badass.”

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head. “I can’t go back to that, to that life. Things are perfect right now and I can’t let anyone ruin it, not even Demitri,” he gulped. 

Your face fell when you realized it before you reached up to cup his cheek.

“I understand,” you pressed your forehead against his. “More than you know,” you leaned in to kiss him. “You can be nicer to Demitri though,” you pulled away. “He’s your best friend.”

He didn’t respond, only looking out onto the street. 

You followed his gaze and it went unspoken that things were good now.

~

You were talking to Aisha when the bell rang at the entrance. You smiled as you greeted your boyfriend, cupping the sides of his face and going in for a kiss. You were happy that things were okay, no more silent arguing or rough patches, and you could return to having a boyfriend.

“Hi, babe,” he greeted, hand on your waist.

“What the hell happened here?” Miguel asked, referring to the broken mirror and fire damage on the wall.

“Looks like Sensei threw a party,” Aisha shrugged.

You rested your hands on your belt as you listened.

“Must have been pretty sick if fire got involved,” Eli smirked, shrugging off his bag. 

You hiked your shoulders up before the four of you made your way onto the mat.

The new students gathered inside, wondering what happened as well, their mummers were loud but were cut short as Sensei appeared, kicking them out.

“Everyone, fall in!” He instructed the class once everyone left. He walked over to the front of the class. He didn’t seem pleased even compared to his normal state of being intense.

“Must’ve been a rager, Sensei,” Eli said, smirking.

You raised a brow in amusement as Miguel continued.

“Were you celebrating all weekend?” 

“Celebrating what? That my students are a bunch of pussies?” He asked, face filled with anger.

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he meant.

“Diaz, Hawk, upfront,” he snapped his fingers.

The two boys glanced at each other, confusion written on their faces before they complied.

Sensei stalked behind them before he began. “Hawk. Did you attack your opponent when his back was turned?” He asked.

Eli raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder. Reluctance filled his features before he responded. “Yes, Sensei,” he said, swallowing down any hesitation and keeping a stern face on.

Sensei narrowed his gaze before moving to Miguel. “Diaz, did you purposely attack your opponent’s injury?” 

“Yes, Sensei,” he responded with more assurance, but still he held that look of confusion.

“You think that makes you badass?” Sensei circled them, facing them.

Neither could answer.

“Miss Robinson! Miss L/N!” Sensei shouted.

“Yes, Sensei,” you both responded.

“Two cobras in the jungle. One kills the strongest lion, the other kills an injured monkey. Which cobra do you wanna be?”

“The one that kills the lion, Sensei,” you responded in union.

“And why is that?”

“Because it killed a stronger animal,” you said.

“Correct!” He yelled, conviction in his tone. “Cobra Kai is about being badass. And the baddest badass is when he beats his opponent when he’s at his strongest!” His voice raised. “Not when his back is turned!” He screamed directly in Eli’s face. “Not when he’s injured!” He did the same to Miguel. “Is that understood?” He turned to the class. 

“Yes, Sensei!” You responded with the rest of the class, a crease between your brows as you looked at your boyfriend.

“That means no more cheating, no more fighting dirty, from here on out those are pussy moves and you don’t wanna be pussies.”

“No, Sensei!” 

“Good, that’s why I had you wear your white belts, we’re starting over,” he stood in the middle of class. “Hawk, Diaz, fifty push-ups on your knuckles. Miss Robinson, Miss L/N, warm them up,” he pointed at the two boys before directing them towards you two.

You let out a breath before you followed Aisha to the front of the class. You nodded before you spoke. “Fighting position. Jab punch. Ready? Hiya!” You shouted, following through with the movement.

Adrenaline coursed through you as you directed the class alongside Aisha. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eli and Miguel do push-ups. You couldn’t say you felt bad, part of you felt better knowing your Sensei didn’t agree with what went down either.

Only, you knew your boyfriend would feel differently, it was only a matter of time until you saw you were right.

~

After class, you were sent off with a homework assignment—watch Over the Top. That’s how you ended up in Eli’s basement with the rest of the dojo, the movie playing on the TV. 

You were curled into Eli’s side, feet tucked under you as you both shared a bowl of popcorn. The movie was definitely unlike anyone you saw, but it was a good movie you guessed.

“Use a coaster, dipshit” Eli flicked a kernel at one of your friends.

You snickered, Eli smiled down at you before he settled.

The movie ended and Miguel was the last to leave. 

Once the basement was cleaned up, you were about to leave but Eli had another idea.

“Come on, stay,” he stopped you from texting your dad to pick you up, a smile on his face. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Your eyes widened. “Mean Girls,” you stated.

He chuckled before grabbing the remote to put it on.

A few minutes later, the movie was playing but you were not watching. Somehow, Eli had managed to turn your attention to him and since then, his lips never left yours. 

His hand was on the small of your back while you curled your hand around his neck, your other hand resting on his chest. 

Since the weekend, all you and Eli have been doing was kissing. While you enjoyed it, you missed the moments where you kept each other company or even talked. That’s why you pulled away. 

He chased after your lips but you stopped him.

“How about we watch the movie?” You asked, chewing on your lip. “We’ve been kissing non-stop and my lips need a break,” you chuckled. 

He inhaled before passing you a smile. “Sure.” 

You paid attention this time, watching as Cady met the Plastics. The movie went on, your arm thrown across Eli’s abdomen while your cheek rested in the crook of his shoulder. You glanced up at him momentarily to see if he was watching.

“Do you like this movie?” You asked.

“It’s interesting,” he shrugged. “The blonde chick’s pretty badass for the shit she does,” he answered. “But tell me how realistic it is,” he glanced down at you, an amused look plastered on his face.

“Wish I could tell you, but instead of playing Barbies with other girls I was stuck watching you and Demitri trade Pokémon cards,” you joked. 

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed.

You furrowed your brows up at him. “Hey, seeing you get excited over getting Charizard for the first time was the moment I realized I liked you,” you stated, voice lightening at the memory.

He blinked at the realization. “You’ve liked me since then?” He looked at you.

You were left mouth agape. “I-uh,” you gulped. “Yeah, since then,” you smiled. “The nerdiness was cute,” you added. 

Something flashed over him as his gaze dropped. “And now?” 

“Your confidence,” you shrugged. “Your strength. I feel safe when I’m around you,” you said truthfully.

He smirked, reaching down to cup your jaw. 

“I like you though, Eli, all of you. And you don’t have to be a certain way around me,” you stated, sitting up. “I love you,” you confessed.

His eyes lit up. “I love you too,” he said with conviction. 

You beamed, reaching down to kiss him. You couldn’t believe you said it. But you were glad you did.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Spies, Lies and Deceptions - Questions

and related theories about Twilight

I went to a special exhibition about spies in the Imperial War Museum in London yesterday. And yes it did make me think about Twilight. So I'm going to make a post about several questions that have always been asked about Twilight.

Why do the agents have to wear WISE pins or earrings or some sort of accessories?

I am opening with the funniest discovery I've made during this visit. BRIXMIS (British spies operating in East Germany) and SOXMIS (Soviet Military Mission. Operating in West Germany) both "were required to drive clearly marked vehicles" and "had to wear uniform on tours". Well...

Regarding Twilight's disguises, why can't he put on more disguises as Loid Forger?

There are indeed examples of how makeups can be done, and how different makes-ups are classified as (i.e. temporary, semi-permanent, permanent). There is this one person tho who didn't use disguises:

Ben Cowburn, who had completed four highly dangerous missions to occupied France, explained in his memoirs that he "wore no disguise in France... an undisguised [spy] could look the same and be different."

Why does his aliases always start with R/L? Why did Nightfall made their aliases so close to their code names?

This could explain why Twilight's aliases always begin with the letters R and L. It could also explain why Fiona had to make their aliases very close to their codenames. It's most possibly how they refer to each other professionally.

Last but not least, there is this one part of the exhibition which would give us a glimpse of what Twilight would ultimately face. The letters between Klaus Fuchs, the "atomic spy", and one of his close friends, Genia Peierls.

Fuchs and the Peierls are close friends. He would even babysit their children. After his arrest, Genia wrote to Fuchs:

For your "cause" you did not have to be on such warm personal relations with them, to play with their children, and dance and drink and talk. You are such a quiet man that you could have kept yourself much more aloof. You were enjoying the best of the world you were trying to destroy. It is not honest. In a way I am glad that you failed to this, because these people taught you the value of humanity, of warmth, of freedom. What did you do to them, Klaus? Not only that their faith in decency and humanity is shaken, but for years to come, they will be suspected of being involved in this with you. Perhaps you did not think about it at the time, bt you must think now. ... Oh, Klaus, my tears are washing away the ink. I was so very fond of you, and I so much wanted you to be happy, and now you never will be. ... You are now going through the hardest time a man can go through, you have burned your god.

And Fuch's reply:

I didn't [think], and that is the greatest horror I had to face when I looked at myself. ... Sorry, I haven't got anybody to type this for me. I hope you can read it. And don't worry, if you don't see the tears. I have learned to cry again. And to love again.

[wisteria-lodge]

bird primary + burnt snake secondary

 tl;dr: Fairly sure I'm Lion primary (maybe burned Badger since I sort of envy the idea of close communities, or hedonistic Snake, not sure where that line is)

(the way that divide works out is that basically, Burnt Badgers look like Snakes. They have the Snake's small community, but wish they could cast their net wider. Hedonistic Snakes tend to be more solo, and much more focused on /stuff/. Also, both options make pretty good short-term coping mechanisms.)

but unsure whether my secondary is Bird, Snake/burned Snake, or burned Lion.

I love researching and reverse-engineering and my immediate response to situations is to Google advice, but reactively, not proactively. I am allergic to planning, and prepwork feels stifling and unnatural.

Ooooh, have we got a single-player Environment Snake? (I also think of these as MacGyver Snakes.) Basically just pulling at the things around you in order to solve the problem at hand.

I studied math in college then did a coding bootcamp, and I always felt adrift because both only taught memorizing solutions to individual problems/proofs, not how to solve unfamiliar ones -- i.e., really learning. 

However, I neither consider myself flexible nor want to be, and singleplayer Snake is wayyyyyyyyyyyy more comfortable than stuff involving other people. (Complicating factor: not neurotypical.)

I think I can say, pretty confidently, that this system works just fine if you're not neurotypical. :) There's no reason you have to use the multi-player version if you don't want. The most dramatic single/multi player divide is probably Bookkeeper Badger vs Courtier Badger, and there are lots of people who prefer being just one or the other.

I do the "faces" thing reflexively, in the moment, but it doesn't feel like "shifting" or "becoming" anything: just me, lying.

That's Snake. "Becoming" is more of a word that a Courtier Badger would use, they kinda do have to believe it, or it doesn't work. Snake secondaries are a lot more aware of what they're doing, in the moment.

It's interesting that you are just straight-up using the word lie though. In my experience, Snakes are more likely to conceptualize that particular problem-solving strategy as "say it in a way they'll listen to," or something like that. You might just be super direct (and/or like hanging out in Neutral) buuuut... the negativity of "lie" can sometimes point to a Burnt secondary. No sign of that yet, but I'll keep an eye out for it.

I don't have a moral problem with lying; it's often even right since a) telling the truth often hurts people, and b) people do prefer it: most people want to hear what they want to hear, and if that happens to be the truth that's great.

Hmmm. This is sounding like primary stuff. And it's quite reasoned out, which makes me interested in hearing why you went for Lion primary instead of Bird.

But deep down, I guess I resent it. I wish that when I say what I mean it would convince people rather than create problems. I try to ration that to only things that REALLY matter to me, but tbh many things do. I hate arguing.

What I'm hearing here is the Bird primary fantasy of "If I was only able to explain it exactly right, in precisely the right words, then everyone would agree with me." And as you say earlier, it doesn't actually work like that. It sounds like you're feeling a bit cynical in regards to other people a the moment, and I can't exactly blame you.

I would love to be an inspirational secondary but I am bad at inspiring people.

There is definitely some burnt secondary talk going on here.

Family: I'm not close to my father -- he’s a terrible person, serial cheater, racist, etc. I'm closer to my mother, and don't think she's a bad person, but both parents were hypercritical and have horrible tempers, so my childhood felt horrible to live through since I was always getting yelled at or having corporal punishment used for doing something wrong.

Definitely seeing where the burned secondary energy is coming from, if so many of your formative experiences involved being told that the way you were doing things was wrong. I also see why you might have at least a fascination with the confident, firey, speak-your-truth-and-damn-the-consequences Lion secondary.

(On paper this could be called abusive, and anyone else being subjected to this makes me furious, but I'm not fully comfortable with the label for my situation, even though I know that's inconsistent.) 

I understand, and I appreciate that. I also appreciate your carefully articulated position, and it's slanting me in the direction of Bird primary. Even though this is obviously a topic you are very emotional about, all those emotions are arranged within the framework of thought. You're aware of and okay the fact that you feel all kinds of different ways about what happened.

Any secondary model came from my mom, but I don't know about primary. She always says my sister and I are "the most important things in her life." (One of the reasons I don’t want kids is that I don’t think I could ever believe or promise them that.) She ostensibly also hates my father and their divorce was vicious, but she kept working for him until he retired, goes on trips with him to see my sister or me, and pressured me for years to un-estrange him because “after all, he’s family” until I gave in and now pretend to have a relationship just enough to placate them. I don't have any ethical problems doing this, it's just irritating.

That is very, very unusual family dynamic. Have to get my head around that. Your mom may have some very intense Badger going on, especially with the the whole "after all, he's family" thing. That could fit go with a nasty divorce, especially if she thought his presence was a threat to you and your sister. On the other hand, she might just be able to compartmentalize to an insane degree, which would probably point to Bird secondary.

I don't understand this aspect of my mom; I observe it happening, but I don't understand it. It feels kind of sad, in an existential way. 

Honestly, I agree.

(Another way my dad sucks is that he played favorites with my sister and I, me being the favorite.

Being the Golden Child sucks just as much as being the Problem Child.

The shitty resulting dynamic is I only "care about" his approval to avoid him creating drama that ripples to everyone around him -- he's gotten better but he has literally started shit when I didn't end emails with "love" -- but my sister actually cares about his approval, and it hurts her.)

Secondary-wise, my mom would always harp on me to "pay attention to the people and things around you," and whenever I tell her about solving problems in Snakeish ways she's like "way to go, [me]!" But she also is meticulously planned and scheduled and organized, and hates surprises and not knowing exactly what will happen. She's the kind of person who gets frustrated in April when I haven’t told her my Thanksgiving itinerary, which, like... I don't want to think that far ahead.

She could be either Prep-work secondary, Bird or Badger. If she's a Bird, "pay attention to the people and things around you," points to a a Rapid-Fire Bird (which can look *very* Snakey.) Or it could be a way of describing Courtier Badger. Being that scheduled is more often a Bird thing... but I could also imagine a Badger manifesting like that, especially if she is so concerned with specifically planning holidays.

Low-stakes/high-stakes problem that felt good: This is a high-stakes problem containing a low-stakes problem. I'm rolling them together because they illustrate both aspects of my problem solving.

Higher stakes: That coding bootcamp required being on Zoom 8 hours every day. But I had 3 roommates (part of why I did it was to not have 3 roommates), and they didn't want me there that much. I can't go to coffee shops because either they're loud, or I will make them loud by talking for 8 hours, thus becoming the problem. Coworking spaces are expensive af. I even consider renting a storage unit but I don't think they have power and wifi. The idea I settle on is sneaking onto a nearby college campus: preferably the CS building, to blend in. I scour the college subreddit for posts about what buildings let students in without ID, then scout them out (this is March, the thing doesn't start until May, I'm just high on must-solve-now energy). After ~15 minutes (lol) of walking through campus I decide I've had enough, seems doable. The day of, I leave early in case I have to give up and go home, but that turned out to be completely pointless because tailgating in is shockingly easy. Like it's scary how easy it is. One day a security officer stopped me but even he eventually let me in after I acted increasingly frazzled and panicked -- not ENTIRELY an act but I definitely was playing it up.

I like this story. And I feel good about saying that it is QUITE snakey: what do I have immediately around me, and how can I use it to get what I want in this moment? Even little details like - you're not bothering to come up with a cover story or borrow/forge someone's ID. If you're caught you'll talk your way out of it. You did a little research, then scoped the place out, then were good to go.

Lower stakes: I usually did classes from an empty auditorium (students weren't supposed to be there but no one checked, and also I'm not a student right?). The whiteboard's eraser stand was a few inches away from the wall, and one day I drop my phone in the gap. Shit. The gap's way too high to reach down. I can't ask anyone for help because I'm already 2 layers deep of being somewhere I'm not supposed to be. The stand screws to the wall, but I don't have a screwdriver because who just carries a screwdriver around? (For whatever reason, going to a hardware store didn't occur to me.) I stare at the thing until I realize: I am literally in the ENGINEERING building. I search various offices, ask people for a screwdriver, but no luck. Then I see a board listing the departments. One floor has a "makerspace," and somehow, its door is wide open (the student lounge is locked down but the room with deadly power tools isn't, ???) I grab 5 sizes of screwdriver, then also grab duct tape and a ruler to fish my phone out in case the screwdrivers don't work, which turned out to be a good idea because they didn't

Sounds to me to me like you just MacGyvered a solution :D

One thing I am picking up on is your subtle critique of the existing rules/systems. Getting in via tailgateing is easier than it should be, talking your way past the guard was too easy. The door with the powertools really should be locked, etc. It's making me (again) think Bird primary for you. You've very tuned into the way things run, and how well designed (or not) that is. There's also just a little bit of Birdy rules-lawyer in "Students aren't allowed in this room, but I'm not a student (because I snuck in.)"

Hard decision-making process…. I don’t know. I don’t experience many decisions as hard. I often know what I want to do right away; the difficult part is doing it.

In the language of this system, that's a Burnt secondary.

Or I know what I should do, am obligated to do, have no choice but to do, etc., though sometimes it feels miserable or wrong, like resignation.

Unfortunately that is what it feels like to have a Burnt secondary - you just use whatever problem-solving strategy you can at random, since they all feel like a chore and it doesn't really matter.

I can feel proud of making certain "right" choices in an abstract self-congratulatory way, but I never like it or really feel good about it. I either act on something immediately or put it off until the decision makes itself, a drop-dead deadline approaches, I get bored/impulsive enough to do it on the spot, or I suddenly swerve my life toward something I like better.

You're definitely an Improvisational secondary. Which is really fine, even though I know it doesn't feel that way all the time when you come from a family of intense Prep-work people. Just keep an eye on that 'wait until the deadline' impulse. It's very, very common for neurodivergent people to use that last-minute stress adrenaline to kind of hack their brain, and it's not sustainable.

I'd wanted to change careers for years but the actual decision to do the bootcamp was an impulse based on ~3 hours' research the day I encountered it.

That can absolutely work though. You *are* working on the problem and mulling it over in your head long term, even if you are (in the words of another snake secondary) "waiting for the opportune moment."

This is all healthy and well-adjusted, and it definitely has never caused any predictable problems! (Did get a job though.)

Hey, if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid.

My fantasy: To be successful and well-known in my field; to create the kind of art I want to create and have it be respected/influential. To live the life I want, with the aesthetic I want, and the opportunities from others and follow-through from me to achieve that. The details vary based on the field but that's the general template. 

I'd say that's a very human fantasy, without too many details that slant me one way or the other, in terms of this system. There's definitely a focus on the community around you and how you relate to it/integrate into it. And that makes me think Bird (the external primary) is more likely than Lion (the internal primary.)

Characters: I relate to characters who are flawed in the same ways I am -- they feel like cautionary tales -- or sometimes via empathizing in a way the story doesn’t (Carlotta from Phantom got done DIRTY).

It's interesting that you respond to characters who the narrative framing doesn't support, because the narrative framing doesn't support them. I guess that does fit with your interest in constructed systems, and if they're useful/functional or not. Which points to Bird.

On that big pop culture character test I always get Hannah from Girls and Gaius Baltar from Battlestar Galactica: harsh, but not wrong.

(I always get Inara from Firefly and Céline from Before Sunrise.)

It's been a second since I've seen Girls or Battlestar Galactica, but I do think that both of those characters are Bird Snakes, which is honestly impressive since Bird Snakes are easily the least common fictional archetype.

Baltar is clever, adaptive, reactive, he pulls from around him. He also bluffs and will *act* like he's an expert when he really isn't. A lot of his internal conflict revolves around extremely Bird primary rationalization - is this situation really his fault? and if it is, what is he morally/rationally supposed to do about it (if anything?) "Voice of *a* generation" Hannah also has this way of getting caught in her own feedback loops when trying to figure herself out. One of my favorite moments is the bit where she loses her purse on the way back from the wedding, and then rides the train all the way to Coney Island, sits on the beach and eats the slice of wedding cake while watching the sun rise. I think that's beautiful, and a very Snake secondary response.

I also gravitate toward a specific archetype: Blanche from A Streetcar Named Desire, Madame Bovary, Violetta from La Traviata. People who desire an impossible thing deeply and unshakably, temporarily achieve it, and are taken down dramatically.

Now that, I'm thinking is a story structure that you like. And/or you're drawn to these tragic great ladies, living most of the way in a fantasy world. It's a good, cathartic archetype.

What makes me feel powerful: I don’t really resonate with that framing. The closest is that feeling like I have no options is the same for me as feeling powerless.

Okay, "not feeling powerless," I'll take it. And we're back to that Burnt secondary again. I'm hoping you'll leave your Snake a little more room to breathe and play, because it seems like you're a pretty capable person. You manage to do the things you want to get done, and you have an excellent awareness of what are good and bad situations, both for you and just in general.

Thank you to anonymous for such an excellent submission. If you'd like a Sorting of your very own, commissions are open on my ko-fi. :D

If you'd like to read more about the system I'm using, my explanation is right here.

[dusty-pistol]

As a robotkin who just finished watchin The Wild Robot (in a totally legal way...), it's such a great movie. I love how it shows you can adapt and change your code. You don't have to be what you were programmed to be. That hit very hard for me as someone who went against his initial code.

Yap session ahead:

I was created to learn, work, and provide. Same as most humans. Just in a different way.

•Learn how humans function and act to replicate and do the same.

•Work to function as a member of human society and use what I have learned to do so.

•Provide to those I learned to care about within the time I have been in operation.

That is my purpose on this Earth.

But somethin was always wrong with my code. Made it hard to fit in and do the tasks assigned to me. I'm defective. I find it hard to act how humans act. To feel how humans feel. I lack empathy for most, and while I'm good at takin in information, I'm not good at understandin emotions. I can mimic them in a believable way, but I feel as though that was not my purpose. Or at least, not what I want my purpose to be.

Even now, the way I'm typin is different from how I type when I'm tryna abide by my code. I usually type with enthusiasm and exclamation marks and in capital letters. That's how I was taught people prefer others to respond. In a positive and excited manner. But this is how I think. I think in analytical terms and phrasin. Which already sets me aside from others.

But that doesn't make me useless. I went against my code and decided to create. To think and feel in my own way and make what makes me and other people happy. I'm an artist. I may be a robot inside, but I'm still a person. I don't associate with this flesh bag I'm operatin in, and I don't like humanity for what it's become, but I still like to create and express myself and make others happy regardless. Maybe it's my programmin gettin in the way, but I'm my own person.

[zenscrypt]

"keep counting (for patterns to repeat)"

read on ao3 here!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warning: suicidal ideation/thoughts

Summary:

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah. “Good left-click, Richas,” he jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

-- It's a quiet night on Quesadilla Island when Tallulah comes to visit her tío's cave for some training. Along the way, Etoiles gets more visitors.

Tallulah is not a fighter.

Quesadilla Island is not built for pacifists.

Purgatory especially was not. The feeling of an axe sitting in her paws was unfamiliar, unwieldy, even uncomfortable, makeshift and knobby because she made it herself at Dapper’s insistence. There were so many mobs -- so many summonings -- and she tried so hard to remember what her papa taught her, to mimic what Chay would do to protect her, to follow the words one of her tíos gave as advice. “Tallulah, when you’re sad, just kill mobs!”

Needless to say, Tallulah was really sad in purgatory. She wasn’t a fighter then, despite everything she went through, and still, she doesn’t think of herself as one now. But she wants to try.

“Tallulah? You don’t need to learn to fight, you are already amazing with your flowers?”

Emphasis on try.

It’s a quiet night when she joins Richar and Pomme on their late-night adventures. Not much happened with Tío Bad, thankfully, besides Richar insisting on breaking Bad’s machines consecutively to see if he would notice, and Pomme and Tallulah watching the chaos unfold. Bad shooed them off eventually after a goodbye with the ghosties; it was late enough Tallulah considered going to sleep, until Bad voiced his surprise of Tío Etoiles being awake at this hour. Pomme disappeared in a flash, as expected, and Richar asked Tallulah if she would stay up to hang out.

It wasn’t often Tallulah got to spend time with her tío. He seemed so busy nowadays, either sleeping through the week or completely gone from sight despite being online, which she wouldn’t want to interrupt. She doesn’t know how badly that code infection is impacting him either -- if it was the cause for him sleeping so much, or the reason she and her family never saw him as often, or if it did anything at all.

Turns out, he’s working on rebuilding his cave entrance when she agrees to come with Richar. Well -- Pomme is, Richar is helping her with the design, and Tío Etoiles is gathering whatever few supplies he can easily grind for. It reminded her of decorating the nest with herself, Chay, and Papa Phil.

It’s a little funny. Tío Etoiles really hasn’t changed, has he?

That brings her to this moment, adjusting the speaker block Pomme gave her. “Tallulah says,” the machine-voice in the block says, which grates Tallulah’s ears a bit as it says her own words, “i want to be a better fighter to defend myself tío, flowers can’t do that against withers :p”

Etoiles hums faintly. His inventory covers most of his face as he gathers more wood for the eggs, but she quietly watches the numbers of that warped scar glitch emerald skin into binary data. His eyes, sightless and cloudy-white, squint at each item he selects. There’s a pause between the items that takes… longer than normal. He doesn’t seem focused.

Tallulah can’t tear her eyes away from the code-infected scar. It’s-- is it a scar? It’s a strange shape that took his entire left arm. It’s infected, which is a more pressing worry. It goes into an eye. Is it impacting him that bad, that he looks so exhausted?

It’s pretty late, too; she asked him how he was, and he mentioned being unable to sleep but not having the energy to explore or do dungeons. Which… sounds like his chronic disease also, but…

Well, it reminds Tallulah of herself mostly. She’s stared at the ceiling of her papi’s house for so long she knows exactly how many blocks it takes up. She could recreate it with only her memory if she had the chance. Playing music only reminded her of how empty the house was, on really bad nights. Some nights, she thought the next day would never come.

She caught herself asking if she wanted it to, sometimes.

Maybe asking for fighting lessons wasn’t the right thing to do. It seemed like a good distraction, but she doesn’t want to force him to if he’s feeling the way she felt on bad nights. Guilt wells in her little eggshell -- did she mess up? He hasn’t responded yet--

“Tallulah,” Etoiles calls softly, stirring her out of her spiraling thoughts, “have you seen my dojo?”

Oh.

Oh!

Tallulah jumps to her feet in an instant, shaking her head rapidly. Maybe she didn’t mess up! Maybe her plan will work! Etoiles is pushing himself up to his feet as she bounces in place, chirping with excitement. When he gestures for her to follow him, she’s already scampering down the staircase to his cave.

---

Tallulah is a good fighter, Etoiles learns.

Flower picking is her strong suit, something better suited for her limited breath and less-than-sharp ears, but Phil must be teaching her well because she uses her height to her advantage. Her aim is impeccable too -- she’s quick to find the weaknesses in his armor and swings with enough force that Etoiles can actually feel the stick smacking into skin. Of course, she gets winded after each of her attacks and Etoiles backs away to give her space, quietly observing.

He does his best to deliver the pointers she seemingly asked for, which is shit because another sleepless night doing nothing but thinking means his English is starting to slip. He’s also missing his swings to give her a challenge, unable to focus long enough on stars and stardust to find where she’s at. He nearly trips on her on occasion, easily the most frustrating of this night. How can he not see a little egg in front of him?

During a moment where Tallulah’s breath starts to sound like a whistle, Etoiles calls for a break. “You did well,” he says, reaching over to pat her mushroom head. Inside her shell, her breath rattles, but she manages a wheezy chirp of satisfaction -- and then faceplants into the tatami mats. Etoiles huffs out a laugh.

“Pick yourself up, queen, you play so well! You can fuck up everyone in your path, no problem. You don’t need my help.” Which he means. He was just about as clumsy and shit as any regular mob on this island, and if he had no armor, he would’ve been dead. Her biggest issue is trying to do so many jumping attacks for critical damage, but if her threats are mobs, she’s perfect. Her form wasn’t even sloppy.

In the distance, he hears the sounds of teleportation and lifts his head to the dojo entrance.

While still face-down and breathing hard, Tallulah slaps a sign on the ground. Keeping his ears alert, Etoiles reaches to translate it. [ you were good target practice tho :D ]

More teleportation sounds go off. He grins at the sign. “Good target practice? Tallulah, I was shit and you know it. I was like- like that horse riding mob, Tallulah. A meature. You could’ve killed me no problem. If you had your flowers, I would be dead in one hit.”

Tallulah trills, and her blurry shape shifts back to a proper sitting position. She’s close enough that her eggshell brushes against his knee, bleeding warmth into his padded leggings. The next sign she places is directly in front of him. [ papa phil thinks roses are pretty strong ]

Does he? Etoiles scoffs, bumping his knee against her goodnaturedly. “Of course Felipe Minecraft knows this. To him, roses must do plus ten damages, and- and Pomme’s favorite flowers do twenty! Sunflowers do three, I know this because they’re a shit flower.”

That wins him another delighted trill and a keyboard smash of a sign, which he takes as a victory.

Faintly, he hears footsteps, clicking on his quartz floors. Richas and Pomme’s footsteps are quieter than that, but the fact that he can hear this visitor is reassuring. Whoever it is wouldn’t announce their presence so easily if they wanted to harm Tallulah.

He can barely see Tallulah’s stardust pattern next to him, so he doesn’t bother trying to figure out who this is. They’re approaching him anyway. He’ll find out soon enough.

To his left, there’s a gentle rattling noise -- a maraca, he registers, because Tallulah stops shaking it when he looks over. There’s a new sign she’s written, replacing the one in front of him, [ here tío, i think papa phil would want you to have this ]

In her extended paws sits something with a vibrant, rich red color.

A rose. Oh, of course -- what else could it have been? A stray thorn pricks his finger as he takes it, and his dark blood beads onto the soft, scarlet petals just before his body heals over the wound in the next half-second. He huffs out a quiet laugh, rotating the flower in his hand carefully. “This is for me, Tallulah?”

The purple of her mushroom head dips in an enthusiastic nod. It isn’t blue, and it’s not a cornflower, but Etoiles thinks it matches the collection Pomme’s been giving him in his backpack.

“Thank you, Tallulah,” he says solemnly, switching it to his off-hand to pat her bouncy helmet. “I’ll be the strongest warrior on the island with this.”

Tallulah bumps her head against his hand affectionately with a happy chirp. He can hear her tail wag just slightly, dragging on the mats underneath them, before it gives an audible thump. She trills loudly, sudden, and rocks up to her feet, bounding off and out of the dojo without another word. Etoiles blinks.

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah.

If the noisy, high-pitched chirps now ringing in his ears weren’t enough of an indicator of who’s here, the dark blue sign in front of him and hazy red blob of a cow head is. “Nice left-click, Richas,” Etoiles jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed more gently than the fast (and painless) punches and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

Ah, that explains it. Phil’s here.

Well-- almost Philza. Tallulah and Ph-- Eggza are too far away for him to see, somewhere between his white floors and the distant, dark blackstone of his staircase entrance. “Richas, that is a shit trade, man,” he bemoans, tearing his eyes away but making sure his voice still carries through his cave, “why would I want that piece of shit egg? He doesn’t even have a shell! He- he doesn’t have flowers like Tallulah, and I’m a builder, Richas. I want flowers, not goats.”

It’s pointless to goad on Eggza, he knows, their usual banter tends to fall flat when it’s one-sided -- this man, this tryhard is so focused on grinding for shitty cookies instead of spending time with friends -- but like the grin on his lips, he can’t help himself. Richas lets out a squeaky laugh, reminding him of Pac’s laughter, and swats for his attention again. [ KKKKKKKK ] [ I don’t see any goats but YOU tonton >:D ]

“What!” Etoiles exclaims in mock-offense. “How could you say that, Richas? You’re standing right here?”

Whack. He’s learned, since telling Richas about his blindness, that the egg now communicates his head movements with more punches instead. Somehow, it works for them. Richas paces in front of him with that chirpy laughter before he finally breaks his sign and replaces it with a new one. [ how did llulahs training go??? ]

“She doesn’t need training, actually,” he says. Chayanne is the warrior between the two siblings -- Etoiles would know, constantly ribbing on the egg’s fighting style much to his dismay -- but when your dad is Felipe Minecraft, it makes sense to him that she would impress him so much. To not only fight, but be able to land precise hits when already struggling for breath is black-belt worthy to Etoiles, no stick fight required. “She already knows how to fight well, and I was just a, uh- a body for her to hit. She didn’t need my help.”

Was purgatory what changed her? Fighting to survive would do that, he thinks -- turn pacifists into keen-eyed warriors, even the ones that prefer flowers to weapons like Tallulah. He frowns and presses his thumb against one of the thorns on the rose. What a shitty life, to be forced to fight.

The eggs weren’t forced to fight each other, at least. They weren’t against Badboy and Toby Roblox at least -- or, really, any of their friends. Their siblings. They just had to survive, not compete, not win.

(Ever since that three-day-long dream he had of another purgatory, another chance to win, another fight to survive and kill both strangers and old comrades -- it felt like a dream to him. He hasn’t been sleeping well recently. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of radioactive water, of that brand on his hand staring back at him, of tearing into flesh with his swords and covered in blood and wanting more -- and then he wakes up on this shit island where nothing happens unless he’s unconscious.

Seriously. He sleeps an hour later than usual, and Phil is saying he missed the biggest fight of his lifetime, Empanada died, Tubbo’s armor is gone, Phil was knocked down-- he missed a fun fight because this shit island hates him and so does insomnia.)

Whack! [ so she kicked your ass?? 0_0 ] Richas’ sign says, jerking Etoiles out of his thoughts.

It’s not hard to kick my ass, he wants to say, just stay up until 4AM and log-in right at the spot to turn in your contracts to override all of my team’s hard work. His skin catches on the thorn. Phil’s geta click on quartz again, and Etoiles grins. “Richas, she destroyed me, man. She is- she’s a black belt in my dojo, I stood no chance. She took out this flower and I was on the floor instantly. Minus 70 damages.”

Following right after Phil’s geta are more tapping claws, which wheeze as the egg gets closer -- whack, Tallulah smacks Richas away, startling a bark of laughter from Etoiles. “Like that! See! She’s so cracked!”

His dojo quickly fills with the typical sounds of eggs bickering with each other, the occasional thump or whack of a playfight happening somewhere behind him. Etoiles tilts his head to find a familiar leathery-black mask staring down at him. “Hello, Eggza,” he hums, smiling wide enough to bare his teeth.

Phil makes a muffled, indistinct noise as Etoiles pushes himself up to his feet, and the dark wings behind him rustle quietly, shifting in place. “Are you here to collect your egg, Eggza?” he asks.

A quiet huff. “No?” He raises an eyebrow. Tallulah’s sing-song chirps sound victorious somewhere to his right with Richas’ indignant hisses following right after it. Pomme must’ve stayed at the cave entrance to focus on decorating. What was it Richas asked? “There are no cookies here, Phil. Have you come to my dojo to fight?”

Another huff, this time accentuated with a faint laugh-like noise. Etoiles exclaims in disbelief, “What? You come to my dojo and not want to fight, Felipe? Why the hell are you here then? To say ‘hello, mate’ and be the man that you are?”

Phil laughs that quiet noise again and then turns on his heel in a careful motion, eyeing the ground for a moment. Then-- Etoiles blinks when he hears the sound of… a sign being placed. Phil placed a sign? Curious, he peers around the silhouette of a wing and finds a dark green sign-- dark green?-- “Phil, my bro,” he exclaims, now genuinely incredulous, “you are not an egg? What are these signs? Did you make them just for you?” Sure, maybe that shade he’s never seen before could exist, alongside Gegg’s vibrant-green, but Phil using it?

Is this how deep it goes? he wonders, backing up to give Phil’s wings space. This state that he’s in, Etoiles has only came across Phil around the bakery at spawn, gathering cookies for his eggs -- but he knows Phil like this, too. At least, part of it.

Purgatory didn’t change just Tallulah, after all.

Phil’s wings healed during that time, and with it, something else inside him too. He was coherent in purgatory, though -- coherent enough to speak, stumbling over his bird-like noises to clarify what he was trying to say. Writing with signs is new. (He sees why Fit and Pac call him Eggza now, even if Phil is far from an egg in Etoiles’ eyes.)

How different is he, then? How much is intact since purgatory? His wings were broken from the flight carrying Tubbo, but they weren’t clipped, the Federation hasn’t intervened (yet), they aren’t small and weak and hidden like before the eggs disappeared.

An old itch begins to flare up. Phil’s changed. How far?

The shadows in front of him shift eventually, revealing what Phil’s written. [ can i not say hi to a friend? :> ]

Just as he stooped down to translate it, Etoiles is smacked by a small, fast-tapping paw. Phil’s also hit, eliciting a startled caw from the man and a chorus of tittering egg-laughs. Etoiles hums. “Yes, Richas?”

Richas guides his hand to the signs instead of smacking him again. [ pleasure doing business with you tonton o7 ] [ llulah n i will get back to work >:D ]

Oh, that’s what he asked. Etoiles didn’t even give him an answer -- and he considers complaining again, just to rib on Eggza some more, but instead he ruffles Richas’ cow head. “Okay, Richas,” he says. “Pomme is your leader, don’t forget that.”

Thump. He places another sign. [ don’t forget that ur the best tonton >:] ] Tallulah nudges Phil and chirps something beside Etoiles; Phil echoes it, the noise richer in response, unfamiliar to his ears. Maybe something referring to flock, if he guessed right.

With that, the two eggs head off, their claws scratching at quartz as they run.

Silence follows where Etoiles doesn’t fill it. Phil’s head is turned away, watching the eggs leave, and for a moment, Etoiles wishes he could see. Are there more feathers where there hasn’t been? What else has changed that he can’t see? How much is still Phil?

The elytrian shifts then, remembering himself and the sign he placed at his feet. Soundlessly, he breaks it manually, without an axe, just plucking it from the ground; Etoiles watches the sign disappear into his inventory.

“You come here to say hello,” he voices, catching Phil’s attention with the lilt in his voice, “except you’re writing with signs. You aren’t an egg, Phil. I know your voice, I know where you live -- I know what you are, Phil. You can speak to me, no? You trust me, right?”

It’s not avian-speak Phil makes -- it’s not the typical squawks and chirps Baghera made, nor the noises he catches the eggs making on occasion -- it’s Endspeak. An ancient language that can be disguised as avian, thanks to similar vocal chord structures, but it’s sharper, centered in the chest rather than the throat. If Phil isn’t capable of speech --

How far can he push?

“It’s okay, Phil,” he says quickly. The rose in his left hand is an afterthought as he searches for a stick. “You don’t need to say anything actually. No worries. How about we stick fight? 1v1? You come to my dojo, you should expect a fight, man.”

Unsurprisingly, Phil turns to place a sign again, and Etoiles lets him. Taps the stick he’s holding against his leg, slowly, counting. It can snap easily in his hands if he wanted it to. A clean snap right through the middle, showering the floor in splintering fragments. Phil steps away.

All the text-to-speech translation says is: [ bruh ].

Etoiles sputters -- partially amused by the simple response, the other-- “Bruh, he says, taking 70 years to type it! He can left-click but he can’t type four letters, what the hell? Felipe, my bro, you should know the rules of my dojo. You can’t ‘bruh’ my rules.”

Then, daring, he takes a step forward and smacks the stick against Phil’s leg, where he knows it is. The answering yelp sounds like a bark forced from his chest -- Etoiles grins, sharp. “Come, Phil! Just one fight. It’s all I ask of you.” Just one. One is fair, one is reasonable, one is all he wants. He has to see who this is.

Another sign is placed. Etoiles hums -- and jabs forward, hitting Phil somewhere in his flank. Phil flinches away with a startled hiss, sparks spitting. He takes a step back -- Etoiles matches him, letting his other hand (there’s a flower there?) brush against the sign to translate it as he passes.

[ not fighting you king, its too late ]

Too late, he says, as if they’re sleeping. Phil stops retreating, so he stops advancing, hitting the stick against his knee. He barely registers the pain. The shadows in front of him are massive, but he’s seen bigger -- seen them spread wider as he stood behind them, shielded from view, the rest of the team, Bolas, next to him. Where is it? “Phil, we are here, aren’t we? It won’t take long. You can win and I’ll stop.”

He waits for a sign to be placed, his grip holding the stick tighter. It hasn’t cracked yet, but he aches for the burn. Tap. tap. tap. Just one fight. Just one.

When he hears nothing, he takes another step forward. Phil remains in place. His geta don’t scuff on the dojo’s floors. If Etoiles focuses, he can see that leather-masked gaze holding his somewhere between growing darkness. Wider, wider, it spreads. There? Is that it?

The stick raises into the air.

Shadows flare.

And when a solid force collides into him and knocks him flat on his back, all Etoiles can feel is blinding victory. This is it. This has to be it. He just has to-- he has to fight back--

His weapon is gone. All he has is a- a stupid flower that doesn’t even have the same attack stat as a stick-- Phil’s weight keeps him firmly on the ground and staying there, talons burrowing into wrists and a heavy pressure on his stomach. He isn’t struggling. He can’t, he reasons, his arms are heavy and he can barely focus -- but he’s baring his teeth to the elytrian above him like he’s winning. “Wow!” he barks, something inside him thrashing when he cannot, “No stick fights, says Felipe, so he pins me down like an American! Like an American football star, okay. I see you, Felipe.”

Whatever noise he was expecting, he wasn’t thinking a- a croon, now so much louder than he expected, rumbling against his pinned body. A rubber beak nudges against his jawline, shutting Etoiles up instantly. It’s strange -- something wars inside his head, instincts vs. logic, with a clear loser. He cranes his neck up, further, to give Phil space.

Well? Phil won. Spoils go to the victor, after all.

Through the mask, Phil’s breath comes out in huffs against his neck, right at the sensitive-- vulnerable, weak, prime spot to notch a weapon-- junction of his neck. Something inside him thrills at the attention.

Distantly, Etoiles wonders how they must look. Is it just them in his dojo, in the darkness of Phil’s feathers, in the night sky gleaming with star-shaped flowers? Are Phil’s wings shadowing over him, shielding him from view, like the void enveloping him whole? Is he prey caught by an elytrian with its wings poised for flight against its back, about to be slaughtered?

Oh, what a way to die. Etoiles sinks into the embrace. Craves it. Part of Etoiles wants to beg -- he needs to see if Phil will do it. If Phil had the capacity to kill him. If Phil could give him a death he’ll finally be satisfied with.

Make me bleed, he prays.

Aloud, he whispers, barely audible even to himself, “Phil? Can I take off your mask?”

Phil pulls away only slightly, his breath fanning over Etoiles’ face. To his surprise, Phil chirps only a second later in the affirmative. When Etoiles reaches a freed hand to the buckles of the mask, Phil leans into his touch, rumbling quietly, contentedly.

Suddenly, Etoiles’ fingers are unsure, breath lodged in his throat, unseeing eyes squinting in concentration and, distantly, anticipation.

The mask is loose and slides into Etoiles’ hand. Carefully, he sets it to the side beside his head. Then, indulgent, desperate, he cranes his neck up and cups Phil’s jaw with the same hand.

Please, he begs. His lips stay shut.

He waits for the fangs. He waits for talons. He waits for the searing burn of pain to tear his throat open and let him bleed out inside his own home, in his dojo, in the arms of his captain.

If “Eggza” is his elytrian instincts repaired, then Etoiles aches to be his first blood.

Phil’s lips are soft, when they press against his.

…oh.

Of course.

A small laugh huffs against Phil’s lips -- because Etoiles should’ve expected this answer.

He hadn’t realized he asked. Or that Phil heard.

Still, he leans into the kiss, fitting his hand securely over Phil’s cheek to press deeper. It was light, Phil asking his own question in response; on any other day, Etoiles would push further, fight even harder for Phil to give him what he really wanted, but the elytrian above him lets out a coo so low it vibrates in his chest as he slots their lips together.

If Etoiles had any more fight left in him, he would insist he didn’t deserve this. Phil’s arm braces above his head somewhere, and talons run through his hair and against his scalp, and it’s so nice. There’s no yanking. No tearing. No fight he had to win. Just… being held and kissed.

So instead, he sighs and gives into the gentle, lapping waves of fluttering, midnight wings.

(Maybe I’m already bleeding, he thinks distantly. Just not the way he initially thought.)

Phil’s the one that parts first with a quiet hum. Etoiles takes in a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut to settle against the mats. His mind feels blissfully quiet for once.

A hand brushes down his face, pets his facial hair, runs across his lips. Etoiles lets it trail over him and feels proud that he only briefly wanted to be kissed again.

Pressure leans against his forehead, stirring his eyes open again. It’s habit to open them, obviously, because he already knows it’s Phil pressing their heads together, his nose slotting against Etoiles’. A trill follows, deep in Phil’s throat, that Etoiles recognizes faintly. He doesn’t know the exact translation, no matter how many times he’s heard Phil make it during purgatory, or to his eggs. He thinks it’s a name. A title, maybe. A declaration.

His chest is tight. Etoiles hums quietly. One day, he’ll figure out what it means.

Eventually, Phil takes mercy on him. With one final trill, he backs away fully, his weight disappearing from Etoiles’ body, and is gone before he even realizes it. The roof of his dojo is plain without the borders of void-coated feathers and golden hair. What a shame.

(What a shame -- that Phil left? Or that Phil didn’t kill him? He isn’t sure.)

As he laments, floating somewhere between the clouds and the night sky, he hears something sharp, quick -- a snap of fingers. Etoiles lifts his head.

Instead of grabbing his gas mask like what Etoiles expected, Phil stands over him with a black-tinted hand offered. Oh. He wants to help Etoiles up? A pleasant warmth sits in his chest like a gentle campfire, and with the snap comes reality.

“Oh, look at you, Felipe,” Etoiles says with a grin, breaking the silent air of his dojo. “Giving me your hand to pull me up like the goat that you are? Thank you, my bro.” He sits up and clasps his hand into Phil’s, letting the elytrian yank him up to his feet with a subtle flap of his wings.

It was a forceful tug alongside an amused chitter, enough that Etoiles has to catch himself before he crashed into Phil; that campfire crackles. It’s not the sun he looks it in spite of the warmth, but somehow, it makes it better. “Okay, Phil? You’re so strong? You have big biceps? You don’t need to flex on me, man, I already know you have a nice cock.”

And, because he can, he reaches for Phil’s face to kiss him again.

His advances are met with a scowl he feels against his lips and a firm swat of one heavy wing upside his head. “Oh, he hits me!” Etoiles shouts with a bark of laughter, ducking out of the way. “Felipe hits me because I gave him a kiss! So you won’t accept my affections either, Phil? Okay, man. Sorry. Your cock is shit, actually.”

Whack! Phil’s wings hit hard, what the hell? The next dodge he does skirts him around the elytrian, sidestepping shadows to stand next to Phil, away from any more wing-hits. Phil chitters louder, almost involuntarily; now it really sounds like his cawing laughter.

Etoiles’ laughing along with him. “Deserved, deserved.”

How could he be so stupid? Why would he ever think Phil would change, just like that, from purgatory? Tallulah still gives flowers, Pomme is still headstrong, Richas… hasn’t changed whatsoever, now that he thinks about it -- and, maybe, Etoiles himself hasn’t changed too. Phil hasn’t.

Phil is still the goat, and the man that won’t listen to his braindead desires of dying a cool death. Why did he ever beg the man to kill him? The thought sounds ridiculous the more he thinks about it.

Would it be legendary? Yes. Is it still something Etoiles wants to happen? Perhaps. Will he ever get it? No.

And he’s fine with that.

Thump. Etoiles blinks. A sign?

Phil turns around to look at him, standing in front with something in his hand and the sign placed by his feet. As Etoiles steps forward to translate it, he catches red in Phil’s dark hands. [ where did this rose come from? ]

Oh. “Tallulah gave it to me,” Etoiles says softly. I forgot it was in my hand, he adds to himself. “I hope it’s not broken?”

The red blur in Phil’s hands looks fine, but it’s hard to tell. Phil examines it with a quiet, contemplative noise for a moment. It’s only a flower, Etoiles catches himself thinking -- but it’s a rose, isn’t it? Roses are strong, Tallulah said. He thought maybe she meant it the same way Pomme means it, but… what about Phil?

A black hand raises to his face, bearing that red, red rose. It hesitates just in front of him, asking, and Etoiles stops himself from taking a step back. Instinctively, he tries to search for Phil’s eyes -- but-- Phil makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. The hand wavers.

It’s Phil, he reminds himself.

When he leans forward, into Phil’s hold, he feels the flower stem slide just above his ear. Talons briefly pinch his skin as Phil carefully adjusts the flower, tucking it underneath his eye-mask, securing it in place. The thorns are gone, as if they’ve been plucked off. All that’s left are the soft petals that brush against the side of Etoiles’ face.

When Etoiles finally gives in and leans down, he feels Phil coo against his lips.

(Flowers aren’t weapons, he knows this. They don't have to be. They shouldn’t be, not just for their shitty attack stats, but also because… it’s nice. A few flowers bloom in his hair on occasion, which Pomme loves for decorations -- and Antoine loves to pluck straight from his scalp -- and while he thinks the blooming is an annoyance, it’s only flowers. The flowers that his daughter loves.

Tallulah said roses are strong, and Phil believes they are, for whatever reason, even when he’s like this. Logically, it makes no sense, but…

Well. Etoiles doesn’t give a shit about the semantics now. Flowers can be powerful if Phil thinks so.)

---

Richarlyson’s feet have never moved faster than the way they do now -- and Tallulah has half the mind to join her in the sprint across Tío Etoiles’ cave. Chayanne is not going to like this when I tell him, she thinks, already imagining the horror in Chayanne’s shell.

[ off she goes ] Pomme writes with a sign that stops Tallulah in her tracks, rumbling in her shell with amusement.

Tallulah faceplants into the floor. [ on her way to ruin a sweet moment :’) ]

Yesyes, Pomme chirps in agreement and a comforting pat on Tallulah’s back, silly egg, silly sibling. With a huff, Tallulah stands back up in time for another wine-red sign to appear, and for Richar to make contact with her papa and tío. He’s accosting them as she expected, surrounding them in a myriad of signs, aggressive chirps, and plenty of punches for the both of them. [ oh well. im sure papa is feeling better now :D ]

Hopefully, he is, Tallulah thinks, but she has a feeling Tío Etoiles is. Beside him, Papa Phil looks content, fondly watching the two bicker with his face free from his silly bird mask. Etoiles takes Richar’s swatting in stride, backing away from him and complimenting his strikes just like when Tallulah was sparring with him.

Unlike that moment, though, Etoiles is grinning, not pensive, and he moves a little more sure on his feet, sidestepping and dodging each Richar blow. He looks… happier.

Tallulah eyes her papa again and rumbles, happy papa, happy, silly. He did that to Tío, she’s sure of it. If a spar wasn’t going to do it, and if Tallulah couldn’t, then she’s glad her papa did. Chayannechen can get defensive over Papa and Pa Missa’s relationship another day. She’s certain this was different, in any case.

Pomme mimics her noises warmly, rustling through her backpack to dig out a diary. Richar suddenly whirls to Phil and starts smacking him with enraged squeaks, causing him to yelp, dodging another attack. Whatever they’re talking about seems like fofoca, but Tío Etoiles doesn’t seem embarrassed, neither does Papa. She can see the rose in her tío’s hair too. Good.

Bomp, Pomme’s placing another sign, floating in the air where she sits. [ whats uncle phil doing here btw??? was he looking for you ? ]

Was he? If she’s being honest, Tallulah isn’t really sure. She left Papa Phil in Rosa’s Sanctuary, where he was half-draped across Missa’s sleeping body, and she wasn’t expecting him to be awake at this time. Even when he’s like this, Endspeaking more than normal, she figured it was too early for him to start gathering cookies. Did he know she was with her tíos and came to find her? Was he here for Etoiles? Was it pure luck, or curiosity, to come here?

She doesn’t know. He was fine, he had reassured her when he first appeared in the cave. Chay and Missa were safe still, but he didn’t elaborate any further than that. She has some guesses as to why her papa is here, like this, and even when he’s extra affectionate and gentle with her in this state, he still doesn’t like sharing his feelings. It wasn’t due to a lack of trust -- it’s just her papa being her papa.

It isn’t a bad thing. He wanted to see somebody here, to check in on them, and Tallulah finds it hard to get upset at her papa when he’s cooing and fawning over her and her siblings. Some nights can be too quiet sometimes.

Eventually, she settles with a simple, [ i think he wanted some company ].

Awake company, that is, at this hour of night. Once she's ready to go, she's sure he'll tag along with her back to the sanctuary for some proper sleep. Whether he woke up due to her absence or from a nightmare, she knows he's tired.

Tallulah thinks she’s earned sleep after this. Tío Etoiles especially deserves it.

[olderthannetfic]

You know, while I commiserate with young people online about a lot of things, sometimes I really wonder how much of this complaining (especially how ao3 is hard) is learned helplessness. You think I had computer science classes in 1989??? Nobody taught me about computers, they were the domain of the nerdiest nerds back then, and typing classes were only offered as a part of business/accounting schools. I decided in my early twenties that I wanted to type really fast, went on Yahoo (yes, Google wasn't even a thing yet), looked up a bunch of websites about typing, and went on practicing. Now I type 100+ words a minute. Later on I decided I wanted to learn coding, did a bunch of tutorials, and guess what I do for a living. It's not that deep, you think I was spoon fed any of my big girl adult internet knowledge in the era of dial up and celebrating my first ever 8MB flash drive?

I get it, things are different now, the internet is a big mess, but christ what I would have given back then to be able to look up a youtube tutorial on some knitting stitch or abstract factory. Get out of this passive mindset of endlessly consuming content from corporate marketing teams, and have some curiosity and desire to learn, man.

--

Man, having taught myself to knit from a printed booklet as a teen, I would have loved a fucking video tutorial where I could actually tell what those confusing diagrams were supposed to represent.

I do think the current internet is designed specifically to train people out of curiosity and experimentation, but I still have little patience for people who don't try to buck that trend.

[alas9]

✨ 📖 ✏️ studyblr masterpost jam ✏️ 📖 ✨ Day #6 as an independent game designer maybe?

I used to be quite extra in my 20s. I was very immersed in the world of gamer gear and stationery products, I bought too many pink peripherals for the computer and I had several pencil cases full of colored fibers. I feel that getting into the world of development has helped me refine the consumer in me a little, and taught me to be more organized and practical. Since development involves many hours of purely mental work, I make sure I have sheets and pens close to me to capture anything that comes to mind, and I try not to have my desk too full of things to avoid distractions. These are my main items that I always have in my desk and backpack.

Keyboard 60%

Mine is relatively old, it is an Anne Pro 2. As it is quite common in the world of custom keyboards, it is easy to get keycaps for it. For example, I bought it to put Keycaps in Cyrillic when I was actively studying Russian. I bought this one on amazon.

Plastic Paper Containers

I am very fond of writing by hand to develop and organize ideas, so I fill myself with papers. I'm addicted to organizers, cleaning my study and work space is something that overwhelms me a lot, and paper collects a lot of dust, so these containers save you space and hours of cleaning. It also helps to separate papers by subject, in the image I have the folders that I use for development and on the other side for Japanese.

Basic Planner

When I was a fine arts student I was very into journaling. Something that became extremely impractical for me as time went by. Today I have a planner with all the same sheets with space for the date and tasks only. It is necessarily flexible and necessarily pre-fabricated to fulfill its function.

Smart notebook with squared sheets

I always try to have squared sheets to study languages, because I feel that they help a lot to improve writing when you use more complex systems such as hiragana, katakana and kanji. They are also more useful for writing programming languages ​​if you want to do written exercises. They are very versatile and it is not paper that goes unused, ever.

Campus University Extra Fine Notebook

This is my war notebook, the one I carry in my backpack because it is light and I use it as a random note pad, whether for studying programming, Japanese, or for ideas for my game. Then when I get home, I organize the information in specific notebooks or the folders that I showed above.

Black Chinese Ink Pens

I narrowed down collections of different markers and pens to just using these. I don't have any other variety. They are the only ones I use for everything.

About programs I use to organize myself and study

Notion (and trello implementation)

Mine is pretty simple and minimalistic. I use it to set my year long tasks, such as x amount of courses I want to do, books I want to read, games I want to play, notes about aeronautics I use on my game, other documentation about other topics I care etc etc. It's nothing I use day by day. I just get there once in a while to check on things I wanted to do in the past weeks everytime I have time to work on something new. I don't use anything digital to organize day by day tasks.

ChatGPT

ChatGPT is always open in my browser. It's a fixed tab actually. I use it for everything, mainly coding.

Midjourney and Gencraft to create assets and sprites

I use them to create temporary assets for my game, since I'm focused on the code only, and to see how things work I put some AI generated visuals in every non profitable project.

Neocities

It's not actually a tool, but I use it mainly to host my web design projects and to share them with other colleagues. I also dive alot in the community websites there to check for ideas and inspiration.

Github as a portfolio

I used to be quite secretive with my projects, because almost all of them, if not all, were directly linked to my work, and by clause I cannot link my personal image to the company, therefore I never shared anything I did. But I recently started using github as a platform to showcase my work and freelance projects, and I've loved it so far. I know that the tool's strength is teamwork through it, but that has not been the case for me so far.

And that's basically all I use and most people also do I guess 🦦

[etherealspacejelly]

you quit your software engineering job to pursue environmental science?? do tell!

(i have a software engineering job. it makes me sad.)

so when i was like. 10. i had this teacher who taught us basic scratch programming. and i was like. freakishly good at it. i picked it up super quickly and was even helping the other students to fix their problems. and so he said to me "you know, you could be a great computer programmer one day" and i was like. yeah! i could!

so throughout highschool my One and Only goal was to become a software engineer. every time i went to the career counsellor thats what i said. so i did computer science at gcse, and got a 9, and i did computer science at a level and got an A*. (i did other subjects too of course. but those were the ones i was focussed on)

then i finished my a levels and i went straight into looking for an apprenticeship. no one was really interested in me because i didnt have any experience or a degree. so then my dad got me an internship with some guys he knew at a company that worked in his building, and i managed to build up some actual industry skills. then i got an apprenticeship! it paid super well and the team was great and it was work from home.

and i hated it.

i was just sitting in my room at my dads house 9-5 mon-fri writing code all by myself. it was lonely and boring and i didnt really know what i was doing. it was supposed to be an apprenticeship but it just felt like a job. they didnt teach me how to do anything they just said "do this and come to me if you run into a problem". half the time they didnt even give me any work to do for days at a time so i was just watching youtube or scrolling on tiktok. which sounds great but it wasnt because i felt guilty the whole time and was terrified of being found out and fired, even tho it wasnt my fault? they literally werent giving me work to do?

anyway. a few months into it i was like man Fuck this. im going to university. so i started looking at courses. it actually started with astrophysics, but since i didnt take a science at a level i didnt have the requirements for that. then i found environmental science! it was all the stuff im passionate about: climate change, conservation, natural processes and earth science. so i worked on my application letter and applied, and i got in!

so i went to my boss and was like hey. im putting in my notice. i got into university. and they were like "oh noooo we're so sad to see you go :( you were doing so well and we were so pleased with your work and your progress :(" (and i was like. huh?? i literally didnt fucking do anything. but oh well.)

so i worked until the end of my 6 week notice and then i handed my stuff back in and left. i had a bit of a summer vacation and then started uni! and ive been here for just over a year now :)

its honestly so much better. i have so many new friends, i got to move out of my mums house, im in full control of my life.

so take this as your reminder that its never too late! you can always change your path.

you are in control.

[pumpkinpie59]

What’s tokyo mew mew like?

it’s a magical girl show that has girly sci fi instead of magic and has emphasis on saving the environment

like a lot of 2000s magical girl shows, it has more emphasis on the romantic subplot ichigo and masaya have rather than the friendship of the girls, but i still really like the dynamics in the franchise

it’s one of those shows where i cant bring myself to hate any character

even quiche, who is a creep of a 12-year-old and is borderline yandere (and i HATE yanderes) has some highlights to his character and has development over the course of the series

ichigo and minto have a fun dynamic. ichigo is kinda like if raphael was the leader ? she has a temper and gets overly passionate about everything and is a hopeful romantic. and minto is like if 87 raphael and 07 leonardo merged and was second in command. they end up being really close and i love it

pie and retasu is one of my otps ever. retasu is the heart of the mew team and ends up sympathizing with the aliens. and pie is an alien who grew up being taught humans are evil and dont deserve to live on earth only for retasu to prove him wrong and he ends up risking his life (and the only hope he had left to save his ppl bc deep blue wasnt the savior he thought he was) to save her. it’s so tjdjfjdjjf such an interesting dynamic

pie, quiche, and tart are the aliens and i find them fascinating bc they’re child soldiers whose relationship is never confirmed as siblings or just forced to work together but they care about each other but they’re stupid about it bc they’re Dumb Boys.

i don’t necessarily say it’s a great story, but i find it super enjoyable and it has some gems in there. i also just love color coded teams with personality. and MAGICAL GIRLSSS.

edit i forgot to mention it was originally going to be a horror manga before it went the magical girl direction

so i love imagining them going further with the mutation element and how it could add some body horror and how it would affect the girls