#now i started to miss writing about them :(((((((

[scificrows]

Okay, my brain refuses to think about anything other than Murderbot, so I looked at every use of the word "friend[s]" in TMBD and... created some pie charts. Normal human activities.

Some Thoughts™ I had while putting this together (under the cut):

In All Systems Red, Murderbot notes that the PresAux crew are all close friends (twice! and goes on to explain their internal relationships which I think is very cute). This is pretty much the only use of 'friends' in ASR, except for when Murderbot says that SecUnits can't be friends with each other.

It seems that this may be one of the first times Murderbot has ever really been around a group of friends before? Murderbot notes that this is not the norm for its contracts and admits that the fact that they are all friends and the way they interact with each other make it actually enjoy that contract (before!!!! the hostile attack, so it already enjoys this contract before they start seeing it as a person etc ghghhhh). [Inference: Friendship seems enjoyable.]

The first character that calls Murderbot its friend is ART in Artificial Condition. Murderbot immediately refutes this (and then goes on to call ART its friend to its clients for the rest of the book). [Inference: Maybe ART is Murderbot's friend. And maybe that is... agreeable]

Rogue Protocol has more than twice as many instances of the word 'friend' as any of the other novellas. Why? Miki. Friendship and its implications for non-humans are a central theme because Miki is friends with everyone. Murderbot initially scoffs at the notion that Miki and Miki's humans are friends. At the end of the book, after witnessing how desperately Don Abene tried to stop Miki from trying to save them, and her grief after its death, Murderbot has to admit that she had in fact been Miki's friend. [Inference: Humans can be friends with bots and can sincerely care about them]

In Exit Strategy, Murderbot tentatively uses the word "friends" for its humans for the first time (several times actually). It questions whether it can actually call them its friends or not and later realizes that it had been afraid what admitting that the humans are its friends would do to it. At the end of the book, Mensah tells Murderbot the PresAux crew are its friends, which is the first time a human has directly said that to it (at least on-page). [Inference: Humans can and want to be Murderbot's friends]

In Network Effect, Murderbot seems to be more habituated to the word 'friend', confidently calling ART and Ratthi its friends, like it is no longer just trying the concept on unsure if it fits. There are many instances in which other characters refer to MB as ART's friend or the other way around and Murderbot's humans refer to Murderbot as their friend several times. Generally, there seems to be less hesitancy, because yes, all of them are Murderbot's friends, why wouldn't they be. [Inference: SecUnits can have friends. This SecUnit has friends. They care about it a lot.]

Conclusion: The Murderbot Diaries tell the story of a construct that does not seem to consider the possibility of friendship for itself and is fine with that - until it accidentally starts caring a little too much and suddenly more and more people annex it as a friend (ew) to the point where it can no longer deny that this is happening and has to begrudgingly admit that yes, it has friends now and maybe that is actually not a bad thing.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[agentark]

whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend

[lexithwrites]

Rambling about jegulus in tags but it’s not happy

[buttercup-art]

hey

[wasabikitcat]

community college is so funny because half of the teachers are like "For this class you need to use lockdown browser for all quizzes and tests. You need to buy this 70 dollar textbook, and all papers turned in must be in APA format with a title page even if they're only 500 words long. I will not accept late assignments. Also you have a minimum of 4 assignments a week." and the other half are like "you don't need proctoring for the final exam I trust you. here's a download link to a pirated copy of the textbook. as long as your writing is coherent and demonstrates an understanding of the material I literally could not care less what format you use. I can't figure out how canvas works so I'm not giving you due dates, just make sure it's turned in before the grading period ends. your only weekly assignment is a forum post with a minimum of 100 words."

[candied-cae]

All I have to say about tonight's episodes is that I deserve a new Frenchie song RIGHT GODDAMN NOW

I have been waiting oh so very long, looking forward to my little guy's delightful little jams, and now that The Revenge isn't just the most depressing boat sailing across the Caribbean, he better put that fucking lute in his hands and get to work.

I need a new sprightly little pirate song to play when I need a dopamine hit. Please, Frenchie, have mercy on me.

Please, David Jenkins and Joel Fry, have mercy on me.

[newtness532]

i know that graduating one semester later is not that big of a deal and i haven't made any plans about what comes next so it doesnt even make a difference. so why does it feel just so terrible

[jichanxo]

is it that time already? sunday six ✨

tagging @passthroughtime @four-white-trees @phantasy14 @skysquid22 @overdevelopedglasses

after spending a bunch of time away from senseific, i'm feeling refreshed and ready to start chipping away at it again. here's something old i've touched up and made a little more presentable

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“Not into it?”

“You weren’t sober.”

“That’s all? I was sober enough.”

“You wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been drinking.”

“Maybe not.” Kitakata conceded. “But I’m sober and I’d still kiss you now, so what’s the difference?”

Yagami froze.

[ethereance]

Au where post canon Allura gets sent back in time to s1. Or so she thinks at first. But because she has no body in her own reality, her quintessence latches onto the closest alternative the second she can return to the universe. The differences are subtle. But as time progresses they grow more apparent. Her ‘future’ knowledge isn’t quite so handy after all.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

fav golden girl 👁️👁️

You do realize this is like asking me to choose my favourite hand, right? Or my favourite leg? It's like choosing my favourite eye, my favourite strand of hair, my favourite organ, my favourite --

Blanche. It's-it's Blanche.

[spinnysocks]

TRICK OR TREAT !!!!!!!!

YIPPEE!!! have a wolfquest oc thing :]

Blackwell closed her eyes, contently wrapped around her five little pups. She could feel her mate's fur against hers where their backs touched, the soft rise and fall of his body comforting. Sleep was quick after a long day of reinforcing territory.

In her deepest dreams, Blackwell saw the stars shimmer before her. They were so close, as if they had come down from the sky to greet her, yet so far away. The space around her was painted the darkest of nights; nothing was distinguishable but the stars, until shapes began to appear around them. First, a wolf just like her. And another. Pups appeared. Many of them. Then, as if the moon had cast its light over some shady moor, dozens of shapes were in front of her. Bison, mule deer, moose, pronghorn and, of course, elk. Young, elders and those in the prime of their life. Eagles soared — golden and bald. Figures of coyotes howled into the night. Foxes trotted. Cougars crept. Bears stood on their hind legs. Cubs stayed close behind their mothers. Hares scattered, looking like the stars themselves with their pure-white winter coats. Beavers carried their branch loads between their teeth. Every creature of the land was laid before the black wolf's very eyes. She stared at the first wolf and herself stared back. This different her had stars in her eyes, a youthful look long forgotten by Blackwell's current self. In that moment, she could feel her age; her legs were bony, her muzzle was grey and her vision was beginning to dim. The stars were telling her — your time is up.

Blackwell did not expect to wake up. One of her pups licked her muzzle and she opened her eyes. The pup was prancing in place, whining and begging for food — but the adult wolf had no more to regurgitate for her. Even if her world was going dark, she had a family to look after that couldn't go on without her. Blackwell glanced at her mate. Sentry was up and playing with his pups, playbowing as an invitation to chase and running from them. When they begged him for food, he had no more in his reserves either. Blackwell stood. Her time wasn't up just yet.

Hunting an elk and chasing away a bear had gone faster than she expected. Albeit, they woke up in the night and it was almost dawn now, but the old wolf couldn't feel the time passing anymore. Newly-named Dahlia looked at her mother and Blackwell looked back before grinning at her little pup. It was time to say goodbye. She licked Dahlia's face submissively and cuddled her larger body up next to her, the pup whining in delight. Blackwell did the same for Almond, Jupiter, Sentinel and Glacier. They all wagged their tails at her, innocently unaware of how their lives were going to change. Blackwell chose not to worry as she approached her mate, wagging her tail low. Sentry immediately picked up on her lack of confidence and licked her face, nuzzling against her. They stayed that way for a few moments before Blackwell pulled away; her mate didn't understand either, he was too young to see wolves go from old age. She gave him a final lick before trotting away from her den, her family, her life. Sentry watched her retreating form, blinded by the rising sun — he must've known she'd be okay alone.

The black wolf followed the sunrise until it led her to a field, filled to the brim with spring's colourful flowers. Blackwell found herself sinking easily into the soft grass as she laid down. Instantly, her life came before her in her mind. She remembered Ranger, her first mate, and she remembered their first litter of pups. Grief pooled into her heart again as she thought about how many of them were in the stars before her — none were gone from illness or disease, rather brutally lost their precious lives in a battle or a hunt while raising their own litters. Mouse and Stag weren't even granted pups of their own. The only one to survive to four years was Everest, but even she had so many troubles that she couldn't bare to have more pups than her first litter. At least she was still alive with her mate, somewhere out there. At least her pups weren't left with only one parent. Blackwell prayed that her grandpups were safe, that maybe she'd greet them with wagging tails and licking muzzles if they had already travelled to the stars. She pushed past the thoughts of her first litter — she couldn't grieve over them and them only when she had five more. Many of her later pups didn't even make it to summer. And yet, the seasons kept moving every time she lost. She kept surviving, even when Ranger did not wake up from his sleep. She kept moving, even when grief swallowed any affection she could have for her new mate whole. She kept living, till she learned to love what she had here and now. A sixth litter — something most wolves could only dream of. A blessing. A piece of joy, just like when her litter before that accepted Sentry as their new father. When she could finally open up her heart again and allow the love of her family to flow in. That was life to her.

The sun rose higher but her vision grew darker. Her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. She closed her eyes and she was not afraid. She was peaceful, happy and glad to live such a life.

i just. wrote all of this in one sitting o7

[crushed-oranged-angered]

Teen Wolf Motel California

So many thoughts about Teen Wolf Motel California

[novadorks]

finally finished orv after two years . . . what do i do with my life now