Hey y'all! Do you like colorful art? Unconventional fursonas? Niche OC content? You're in luck! For my 28th birthday, I'm having a flash sale-- from now (Nov 1) until my birthday (Nov 10), all commissions are 20% off! Plus, all fully-shaded full-body commission orders will come with a free icon/PFP!
Please forgive the mess, I just kind of threw this onto the page and tried to make it look neat.
“Can’t you see them? They're like glitter on a black page.” She propped herself on her elbows, legs stretched out in front of her.
The grass blades tickled her bare knees but she didn’t mind.
Tonight, they would learn about astronomy.
“I can see the moon.” Dim in the night sky, it made no impressive sight as she described.
“But not the stars?”
“No.” He shook his head and turned to watch her face drop in that of disappointment.
She had been overjoyed at the new guest. Her father’s second most favored invention. Her being his first, of course.
While such work should be designated to the factory where the environment could be controlled, her father had thought very little of the consequences of having a homemade lab in his garage. He knew how to run the chemicals and place the parts. His AI improvements had been home-based from the start. The company came later and always second to his work at home.
He had tasked his young daughter with their new acquaintance’s schooling. And she took such a task with the utmost sincerity.
Tonight’s assignment had been a failure.
He could not see the stars and their alignment that she had been speaking about with such vigor that evening. The pictures in her books had been a delight though he did not understand to what end. Pretty, sure. Surely something easy on the eyes, but nothing more.
Another reminder of how he differed.
She insisted on taking him to the beach that weekend. He needed to understand the life of the sea and her newest school work focused on marine life. Her father laughed at her child-like authority but agreed nonetheless.
They built sandcastles and spotted birds. Shark teeth and shells were dug up from the sand between tides and fish were observed swirling around their feet.
Yet, as he saw precise movement and architecture in his sandcastle, she saw adventure and the seashells became shields of defense for her keep. Her sandcastles were grade B to his own creation as she lacked his precise control, but her shape was somewhat uniform. Mess ups did not faze her and any mistakes made were added as its charm.
Birds flying above them were looking for food, their cries loud as they swooped to the water to ascend once more. A way to catch prey he was sure. She said they were arguing with each other. Some wanted tuna and others anchovies.
Shark teeth were diamonds and shells were like pearls. Her imagination fluttered from one end to the next in a never-ending oscillation.
What amused her father, only baffled himself further. How could she possibly know the seagulls were fighting over tuna and anchovies? How did shark teeth appear like diamonds and shells like pearls?
Years passed like this. An uphill battle to teach him things he could not grasp. He learned how to speak and how to write easily enough. Social cues were harder, but the basics understood. The math equations of her academic studies were the easiest and even when he could understand the problem before her, he waited for her to teach him. It made her smile and that meant it made her happy.
Her father left for work before the sun rose and only returned for dinner after it set. They were often alone together, sharing school work and the house chores. Some times she would confront her father on why he could not grasp certain things or why he couldn’t see the stars as she did. Her father told her to be patient, but she did not want to be patient. She wanted him to see the world as she saw it.
“It wasn’t fair!” She would yell and stomp her feet, determined to help her synthetic companion. “He should see beautiful things too!”
These fights eventually ceased. Always met with her father’s ever calm and steady tone. Be patient.
Time flew by. She grew from the girl that stood at his waist to the woman that barely tilted her chin to stare him down. Her schoolwork finished, she stuck around to take care of the house, her father, and him.
“Someone has to”, she would say.
They lived a humble lifestyle in a suburb just outside the city limits. He was sure they could afford more. A man like her father was a gem in the scientific community and worked alongside major companies.
Yet, while skyscrapers rose from the ground and houses were torn down for new ones to be built, their ancient roots held strong. Like the hickory that shaded the backyard. She said it had been here probably before the house and if she had a say, it would remain so.
He could not understand the sentiment or feel it for himself. However, he accepted her words as fact. If the tree was one with the house and filled with just as many memories as the tacky wallpaper and mismatched tiles, then it was to be deemed sentimental.
–
“What makes the creation of me different than God’s creation of you?” He sat at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of him. His gaze remained on his ever twitching digits.
Setting aside the towel, she turned from the sink to watch him.
“I suppose very little.” She leaned against the counter, hands gripping the edges as she pondered the question over once more. “Humans create life all the time. Be it a fertile seed in moist soil or a fertile egg in the womb,” her hands passed over her stomach, “or even in there,” she jerked her head to her father’s laboratory. “We create life by design. I do not see myself as some divine being because of it.”
“You do not view me as a pet?” Head tilted. It was one of his more obvious cues to show his curiosity. A conscious effort on his part to express the body language his human counterparts often displayed.
“Of course not.”
“Some would,” he argued.
“Yes, and there are those that view their own children as pets or pawns or a means for getting something.” He could think of nothing to argue that.
She waited for him to find more questions or combat her answers. He always did. Not that she minded. No, she encouraged him, but of course, she had limitations.
He did not break the silence as soon as she had hoped. Dread washed over her as she watched him observe his hands lying on the oak table.
“Even though I have inherent flaws?” Soft and quiet. A rarity from the otherwise loud or monotone sentient.
“Flaws not of your own doing,” her response flew from her mouth without hesitation, forcing him to look up and meet her fierce gaze. “Humans are flawed and so inevitably you will be too.”
“Would you say because you are flawed that God is then inherently flawed?” Again, his head tilted in that obvious manner.
He was prodding rather than accusatory.
“No. I would not. We damned ourselves if you recall Genesis.”
“So you are saying that sin caused your flaws?” A back and forth. Rapid fire question and a rapid fire answer.
Their usual discussion consisted of these and it made part of her ease up.
“I guess I am.”
“And by damning yourself you have damned me?”
He could tell her emotions with simple calculations. Sometimes untraceable to their conscious mind, but their subconscious did well to pick up the slack. To him, the dilation of her pupils by a fraction was obvious. The diameter of her eyes widening a few millimeters represented her surprise and sudden full attention. Her back muscles stiffened, causing her neck to extend as she stood taller. Mostly out of shock, but some deep part of her was offended.
A shimmer in her eye. Tears.
Tears always surfaced in the face of deep and overwhelming emotion. The need to flush the chemicals from the brain so as to not cause toxic side effects.
Emotionality made them weak. Made them hesitate. Inferior to his colder and rational thinking process. Decisiveness was on his side.
Despite this conclusion, there stood a second, more reasonable conclusion. One he hated. One he couldn’t understand and therefore, he could never be. Beyond the creativity and the wonderous world their eyes and brain fixed for them, he could never have their emotions. His cues were from practicing and learning behavior like those around him. But, never to be them.
Their emotionality combated their rationale in ways that made them stronger. Unpredictably so. Standing just beyond his calculations was the sudden brashness of emotion.
Clearing her throat, she glanced away from him. For the first time since they had met, she could not look him in the eye with the answer on the tip of her tongue.
“I guess we have.” Her thumb wiped at her nose and she returned to washing dishes.
She only strengthened his second conclusion. The prime witness. The one case study that made all others irrelevant.
Strength ran in their blood and it was called Emotion.
Fun fact: My drawing style is the way it is because I used to draw A LOT of Homestuck, So It's nice to see how how far I've come. There's gunna be A LOT of Hiveswap now so consider this a warning
I don't usually text post here but I thought I'd give a small update on what I'm doing.
First of all, I'm working on my current commissions. I have a few going at the same time, so I appreciate everyone's patience as I carve out time to finish these!
I'm also working on some more Sparklefur designs; I'm having a lot of fun with this and may open special requests or fursona commissions in the future -- especially closer to the holidays.
Passively, I'm also transferring the Other Skies handbook into Affinity Publisher, so that it can be laid out in actual-book size to my actual specifications. I still have both class and species art to finish, so that's also somewhere on my back burner.
No plans for a new album/EP anytime soon, but I do have one (1) unreleased song that I may trot out for fun at some point. Otherwise, I wouldn't be surprised if my next release was in 2025.
