I’m autistic. By now, I would hope that most everyone reading this would take this statement as more or less automatic. “I hear you, bird,” I can already imagine some of you saying. “You’ve told us this.” I have, yes. What I haven’t told you is what that really means, at least for me. Which […]


Please, call me Orrery. I’m a peafowl. Not a hen; I have a train. Not a cock; I got rid of it. There’ll be art this time. You’ll see what I mean then. Changing fursonas after fifteen or so years is an awkward and surreal experience, especially with how wedded my old name was to […]