Dumb fun fact: Like 95% of my ocs have no canon sexuality lol. I'm aroace, I don't feel the need to have a relationship nor do I have... a concept of attraction, and that kinda bleeds in to my ocs. Relationships aren't a major focus in all but 2 or 3 of my oc's, both of which are a couple shock horror. That's my ocs Alan and Lee it's a major part of their story, not the main focus though but it's cute.
But cus of my... non-existant understanding of relationships they're the outlier and me trying to.... figure out what relationships are through my oc's. I lnow it's good to have oc's of different genders, ethnicies, sexualties, cultures ect ect, and most everything else is actually pretty diverse, buuuut almost all of my ocs are unintentionall aro/ace coded lmao.
Hello Atlas! I have some jewelry-related questions for you. What all gemstones do you have access to? Do you facet them yourself or do you get them already done so? And what all metals have you used?
Atlas visibly perks up to the extent that his wings follow along with it. He’s in what must be his own living room, sitting in a comfortable chair with a sketchbook on a lap desk. It seems like he’s sketching designs, including jotting down notes to the sides.
Sprawled on the couch is who must be Quizzy. Day’s earlier mention of him sleeping like the dead suddenly makes sense, because he’s face down in the pillows and doesn’t really look like he’s breathing.
Atlas, naturally, pays him no mind as a slight glint enters his eyes. “So, there are of course a lot of stones or stone-like materials that are native to this world; diamonds, emeralds, prismarine, ender pearls. Then I had to get experimental because I couldn’t not let Tommy and Tubbo Primes have their own ones. We settled on glowstone and redstone, if you’re curious. Ranboo is ender pearls. I source all of the ones for stuff related to him from piglin trades.” He idly fidgets with his pencil as he talks, tapping it against his hand.
“Then, once multiverse travel entered the picture–and especially more advanced worlds with higher populations–more unusual stones, metals, and materials in general started becoming readily available. I can get my hands on…pretty much anything you can imagine. I’ve run into things that are literally fictional or mythical in other worlds several times by now. Do you know how weird it is to name your store after a fictional material and then get to work with it? Mythril is really cool, though a bit hard to source. So, I mean…I’m not sure what the world you all are from is like? But I can fairly confidently say that I have access to more than you do. Especially because I can order things from various versions of the internet and have them just appear over here. Jacobs and Dee are more than a little scary when they decide to work together, but at least they had fun with rigging the system up.”
He pauses, remembering Dee’s unhinged cackling when he got the system functional. It had been more than a little unsettling.
“...As far as faceting…there’s more than just that, but I can guess what you mean. Some things I get finished already, others I do whatever I want to do with it myself. Sometimes I have a specific vision for what I want it to look like and it’s easier to make it rather than hunt for it. Then, most of the stuff for my family and close friends I do as much by hand as I can. It feels more special that way. Actual family jewelry in particular is sort of…sacred isn’t exactly the right word because it’s not literally holy, but–close enough. It’s special in a way that means I’ll do everything I can to make it as perfect as I can. If that means spending hours looking for a piece of lapis or amber that feels right, even before I make a single cut, then so be it. I can spend that much time on them because they’re so rarely done–once any given two of us have an item, that’s the piece we have. The only exceptions, so far, have been tweaks for the full family pieces needed to be changed to include Perce and Lee. A lot of those weren’t huge changes, though.”
His hand raises to his hair, to lightly tap one of the beads that are skillfully woven into one of the family braids. There’s clear pride in his voice when he explains, “I also do these myself. It was just easier at first–kind of hard to get your hands on this sort of thing when the nearest village is half an hour away and pretty tiny–and then it was more meaningful to keep that up.”
There’s a little smile as he remembers first suggesting family stones be made into beads to go into their braids, and how supportive the rest of them had been of that. Even when he kept messing them up because he couldn’t get them quite right, his dad had gently pried the tools from his hands after hours of work. He had told him that they were already perfect; that just by caring enough to make them, whatever the results were was more than worthy of being worn with love and pride by all of them.
He remembers trying to protest that they were messed up, trying to point out the places where it wasn’t right. His dad had just shook his head, and told him that he wasn’t understanding his point.
“Technical perfection isn’t worth it,” he had said, “if it’s driving you insane. I know it’s hard to get over wanting to make it the best it can be…but we’d rather you spend time with us and be happy than have beads that are the best they can possibly be. We care about you more than we care about perfection. Physical objects matter, yes…but you matter so much more. So come on; take a break, if nothing else. Let’s go grab your brothers and play a game, or I can tell a story, or whatever you want.”
At the time it had felt like both a revelation and giving up. Looking back, he can see the marks of his dad trying to make him happier than the first version of Techno he had known. It may not have worked–couldn’t have worked, not with his role–but that wasn’t for lack of trying.
It had ended with his family here, though; safe and happy in a way that they never could have been on the SMPza. Atlas had two little brothers, a lot of friends, and a store that never would have existed without his life having gone the way it did.
He knows that for a fact, because his dad and eldest brother have seen worlds where things went differently.
Yes, it had hurt. Yes, it was traumatic and left scars both physical and mental. But…it felt like there was a purpose to it. He could help cope with having gone through what he did by telling himself that, if nothing else, it had been part of Sanctuary existing at all.
Maybe it wasn’t entirely healthy; maybe it was a way to help him wrap his head around his dad not telling him and his brothers that he knew what would happen. Maybe it was a way to help him ease the anger that his hurt could have been avoided entirely if only they had been told.
Maybe it didn’t matter, at the end of the day. No amount of being angry and hurt could undo it having happened. No amount of guilt and regret on his dad’s part could, either, and…well. He really had made them all self sacrificial idiots, in the end. They were working on that, but it was hard to erase entirely.
Atlas blinks a few times, realizing he’s been stuck in his own thoughts for a few minutes. “...So, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat slightly. “I can get my hands on more stuff than I can really name. If you saw my main workroom, that’s just one of them. I have two others–one for working with molten metal, one for refining raw stones into beads or cabochons or whatever I do with them.”
