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INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @lux-scriptum

Who You Are:

Luc/Lux || He/him

I mostly write fantasy, from urban to high, and everything in between, though I do lean more urban. World building and franken-genres are my favorite things to work with, outside of a heavy focus on characters and character relationships of all flavors.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Fantasy, horror, and paranormal. New adult and adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Fantasy. I need magic in my words to draw me out of this one for a little while.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Scifi or realism. I don't know why scifi is just not my thing, but realism is just too close to, well, reality.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

My target audience is me, first and foremost, but I know that other people have said that a lot of what I write is relatable, especially on the processing trauma front.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

I focus a lot on trauma, as stated above. In the way it changes someone, and the uglier side of repeated traumas. I also tend to rehash the theme of "where did this bias come from? whose side have we not heard? and where do we draw the line in giving someone the chance to speak?" But lately a lot of my themes have also leaned closer to "Is this person/god/thing on a pedestal deserving of said pedestal? are we ready to take them down and make the changes needed?"

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

"This is the villain because they're mentally ill" is beyond irritating. I also cant stand "and now they have kids" even though I also fall prey to that, a lot, myself.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I've split my time between my projects Personal Demons (7 years), Dragonmarked (5-6 years?) and Give Me Ur Eyes (temp title, 1 year)

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

I write to process things I'm not ready to process face to face. I honestly have been struggling to write as my mental health has gotten better, but lately I've been writing for the joy of creation.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I've been writing for over a decade, and I started writing because I wanted to play in another authors sandbox. I liked the story, but I wanted my own stories.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

My inspiration comes from music a little, but what fuels it is mostly processing things. The ideas start from music, like the spark, but the rest of it is just fun what if games. Growing and pruning of whatever feels most in character. That is how Give Me Ur Eyes started, but Personal Demons was a what if game of wanting better angel/demon books, and Dragonmarked was me enjoying a YA fantasy novel but going "I could do it a little better if I did something like this" and then letting it spiral (out of control tbh)

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Finished work? Lev n Fax Saga. Because I got it done in less than a year, and it was compelling enough I got a lot of interaction, and yet even years later it holds up to my standards for the most part. Unfinished? Dragonmarked. It's an ambitious project, with an incredibly detailed world ready for me to go when I finally work up the courage to finish it.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I have! I do regret it though. It was my first NaNo project, in high school. I don't know how to take it off amazon, and honestly I don't know that I would. It's something high school me achieved and that's no small feat.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Getting my books out to people that would want to read it, to hold it, to binge it, is what appeals the most. I don't like the pressure of traditional publishing, and the idea of rejection has left me a little stressed, so I'm still debating the pros and cons of both ways to publish.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

The first draft is my favorite! Controversial, I've been told, but I adore picking up the thread of a story and following it to it's conclusion. I learn about the characters as I go, and I get to know them better that way. I hate the editing process. It's slower, it makes me feel a little dumb for mistakes I didn't notice, clunky dialogue I missed, and it takes more focus.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

Admittedly, my process is influenced heavily by my ADHD. My process usually requires music in earbuds or headphones to drown out distractions, and I write better at a desk or a table. In college I actually got a lot done in lectures, because it helped me focus to be around other people, and giving my hands and extra thoughts something to do helped me pay attention in class too. Now that I'm not in college, I actually write pretty well in cafe's. Having something to snack on and drink also help me stay focused, usually something that's a finger food so I don;t have to stop my flow too much to keep munching.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

I've been on writeblr for 8 years, and I honestly cant remember why I joined. Probably looking for advice and community, cus I was in high school at the time.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@incandescent-creativity is one of my closer friends, and I cant remember how I found their blog, but I still follow them because of their constant kindness and enthusiasm. @gingerly-writing is someone I dont talk to as much anymore but always good prompts and inspo on her blog!

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

When we rally around supporting each other we RALLY

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

We do have a bad habit of growing distant, but I think that's just the nature of growing up and having lives off the internet. There's going to be an ebb and a flow, and as long as we have people willing to be like "oh hey, we've gotten kind of quiet" to stir us up again, we'll be peachy.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

Right now, not a lot. I could be doing more, but unfortunately, I am someone who is disabled, working as close to full time as I can, and barely squeaking by, so I don't really hold it against myself (or anyone else in similar situations) for less engagement.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Random lore drops, memes, and edits. I reblog advice but rarely add on.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

Random shitposts and rambles about projects. I'd answer writing advice asks, but I dont have many and I dont have direction enough to make posts about it.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

tik tok (luxdeo), twitter (LuxDeorum), insta (luxscriptum), and discord (??)

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Cusp of the Mend - Chapter 1

The end of Zandri Ma’ye and her family, and the beginning of all vampires.

the writer’s favorite lines:

The fear in his eyes, the scent of that fear leaking from him sends me to my knees, not wanting to stop my sister at all as she rips into his neck with her teeth, silencing his screams as she holds down his thrashing body until he stops moving completely. Until she pulls back with a gasping breath, a wild gleam in her eyes as she wipes the wave of red from her mouth with the back of her hand though it still drips down her chin and down her neck, merging with her own blood on her chest.

🩸🩸🩸

go here to read Cusp of the Mend on AO3 (only available to registered users for now)

COTM taglist: @morriguwrites @just-emis-blog @frostedlemonwriter @heartshapedgreen @hopefulandbored @inadequatecowboy

@friendlesscat @tildeathiwillwrite @theverumproject @floweryprosegarden @noturprobiem

@katenewmanwrites @andyswritings @dopeartisanprincess @yourpenpaldee @televisionjester

go here to be added to the COTM taglist. ask to be removed.

🩸🩸🩸

Death and Awakening

Burning. Burning is the only sensation to come to me in the darkness of death. The fire searing through my veins, burning me alive from the inside out. It radiates out from the center of my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes, burning every living nerve in its path. My blood boils and bubbles under my skin.

In my years on earth, I have never felt such pain, such unbearable agony, than at this moment. The unrelenting fire continues to burn me, to kill me from the inside, stopping my heart, slowing my blood flow, and locking my body into a petrified state.

Please, I beg whatever might be listening.

I do not want to hurt.

I do not want to die.

Please.

A different voice than my own, a voice but not a voice at all, an unrecognizable rumble, answers me. And then the pain fades. Slowly, the fire turns to frigid ice, washing through my veins and cooling the burns left behind, numbing the lingering aches until I don’t feel anything.

I miss the pain the moment it’s gone, the only tether holding me to any semblance of life, leaving me with nothing at all except endless darkness.

The darkness into which they banished me seems to welcome me with open arms, wrapping its layers of shadow and black around me, pulling me deeper and deeper into the void until it was all I could see, all I could hear or feel or taste.

Nothing.

But at the same time, the nothingness seems … full. Suffocating. Drowning. It seeps into every bit of my body, filling the crevices of my mind, my soul, my heart. It replaces the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, until I am one with the darkness, merged into one being, everything and nothing all at once.

And then the darkness calls my name.

Coaxing me to join it. To give in to the nothing, to let the everything take me under.

No.

No, I have to fix this. I have to climb out of this endless pit, find my brothers and my sister, and bring them back with me. Save them from the darkness that surely yearns to take them, too.

The nothingness growls in response as I sink my nails into it, pulling myself away from beckoning death. I am not sure if that is the way I came, but I somehow know that that is the way I need to go. I claw and scratch and dig my way out until I can smell the familiar scent of wet dirt, the scent of my life spilled into it. Until I can feel the soil under my fingernails, digging into the ground rather than the endless darkness, the grass between my fingers instead of those snaking tendrils of nothing.

And then I hear two heartbeats. Two rapid, frantic, fearful heartbeats, pounding in my head as though the two hearts were inside of me, thumping inside my chest, through my veins. It’s all I can hear, both beats like drums inside of my head.

I finally open my eyes after not having control over my body for the last hours, the sun well below the horizon. It was just starting to dip below the treetops when I was plunged into the nothing, while I was watching my own siblings be killed, while I could do nothing to stop it. Hours have passed since then.

The full moon stares down at me, directly above in an eerily starless sky, only a patch of it visible past the ring of trees surrounding the clearing.

More darkness, reaching out for me, in my veins, and in my lungs, and in my mind, and in this forest, searching for me. Looking for me after I dragged myself out of its grasp, angry at my escape.

But I escaped it, and now I can blink. Now I can flex my fingers, my toes, bend my knees, put my hands under me as I haul myself into a sitting position on the forest floor.

My parents stand in front of me, terrified eyes watching me sit up before they flit to the three bodies next to me. Looking at my mother is like looking in a mirror, her brown eyes meeting my own, her fear matching my own. Her sleek black hair trembles around her, her hands shaking as she tucks the strands behind her ears, exposing her dark face to the light of the moon.

The three lifeless bodies lie bled out on the grass to my right. My siblings. I’jam, Ra'jem, and Solweh. My siblings. My family. Dead. Killed by the two people meant to protect us, life taken by the ones that gave it to us.

I turn a cold stare on my parents, the two of them still frozen in place with their fear. Fear I can smell dripping off of them, and it's a sticky sweet scent. They both stumble back a step, tripping over the roots and vines poking out of the forest floor, but manage to stay upright, their eyes locked on me.

My mother blinks, her fear quickly overshadowed by a wall of discontent. Of failure. A sliver of determination shining through. “You are supposed to be –” Our language sounds foreign on her tongue, wrong, like she has no right to speak it.

“Dead?” I snap, rising to my feet. “Like them?” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own, the gentleness of my young age replaced by a predatorial roughness, the growl of a horrid beast.

They both flinch but I don’t move towards them. Instead, I hurry to my siblings’ side. A wooden stake is still in each of their chests, put there by my parents before they turned on me. I yank out I’jam’s stake first, and then Ra’jem’s, and then Solweh’s, discarding all the blood stained stakes on the grass. The grass is reddened and sticky with their blood as it seeps into the soil, all the while I am crying and pleading and begging them to wake back up, to not truly be dead. I can’t lose them.

A pool of blood stains the ground where I just laid, more than what surrounds my siblings as though every last drop was drained out of me. As though a steady stream trickled from them while it flowed relentlessly from me.

But when I look down, where they had stakes shoved into their hearts, I have nothing. Just blank, unblemished, unharmed skin. My dress has been nearly sheared off of my body, the dirty rags hanging in scraps over my torso as if they couldn’t get it out of the way fast enough, tearing at it frantically with their hands and blades.

Yet there is no wound over my heart, no wounds at all under the blood smeared over my skin.

But as I turn back to my siblings, the wounds over their hearts begin to … heal. The grotesque, splintered holes carefully close up, leaving not even a scar in its wake. There is nothing but the holes in their blood stained shirts as evidence of their murders.

My parents, our murderers, do not move as I frantically attempt to wake my siblings, rooted to the spot with the fear of what they’ve created.

Their ritual gone so awry.

They had to have been planning this for some time, but they still happened to miss something, something that made it all go horribly wrong. They spoke to each other about their plans after they had drugged us with a magic spell, paralyzing our bodies, but not our minds, leaving us to hear and see what they were doing to us.

My siblings succumbed first, suddenly falling rigid in the middle of our evening meal, all within seconds of each other. One after the other after the other, they fell face first, wide eyed into their dinner. Fear and panic were alive in their eyes, the only thing they could move, as they tried to look around, tried to figure out what happened to them. I can never forget how they looked at me, as I sat there unharmed, or the look on my parents' faces.

My parent’s gaze had narrowed on me, surprised not that their children dropped to the table, but surprised that I had not dropped with them. That I was still sitting there, just as wide eyed as my siblings but still in control of my body.

I had tried to escape, to run into the village and gather help for my siblings, but I had not made it very far at all before the effects of whatever magic they performed hit me, dropping me there in the middle of the forest. I was unable to scream for help, unable to move, unable to stop them as they grabbed me and dragged me to this vile clearing in which we sit now.

The clearing in which they performed their damned ritual. A ritual meant to give them immortal life if successful, which clearly it was not. A ritual that included killing all four of their children, sacrificing our short lives for years added on to their own. Sacrificing our blood, our hearts, for a chance at immortality.

They killed me last, letting me lie there helplessly to watch, making sure I watched as they killed my siblings. To punish me for withstanding the effects of their magic for longer than my siblings. For attempting to escape them. For existing.

And it was hell. A mind-shattering, heartbreaking, life ending torture to be stuck there, stuck in my body as each of my three siblings had a stake driven through their chest, watching the fear and pain and life drain out of their eyes one by one until I was the only one left.

Until my parents killed me.

I do not remember my death, only the fire in my veins and the suffocating darkness I felt after they punctured my chest.

I wonder if my siblings remembered theirs. If they felt the same things I did. If they are going to wake up as I did.

If they do not …

I turn back to my parents, something like a snarl ripping between my clenched teeth, a sound I had never made before but feels instinctual now.

Their eyes widen impossibly further, a flicker beyond fear rippling through them, clutching on to each other as if to protect the other. Protect themselves from me.

Shielding my mother, my father raises a palm towards me, fingers splayed to the sky as he mumbles some unrecognizable language. Not our own. Slowly, a bulb of green light builds in his palm, stuttering and flickering as it gets bigger and bigger, his face clenching with what looks like an extreme effort to conjure the light.

Time slows. The wind stills, the birds quiet. My focus sharpens, and on instinct, my body prepares to spring towards the two heartbeats.

His elbow bends as if to shove the light towards me and in the same second, movement comes from behind me. A body flies past me, faster than I can see, faster than my father can track as she barrels right into him. With her arms wrapped around his body, they both plow through the trees behind him, knocking over spruces and oaks until they land on the ground, dirt and leaves flying in their wake.

His scream of pain pierces through the air.

Ra’jem pins my father to the forest floor, the same snarl that came from me ripping from her as he tries but fails to escape her strength.

The fear in his eyes, the scent of that fear leaking from him sends me to my knees, not wanting to stop my sister at all as she rips into his neck with her teeth, silencing his screams as she holds down his thrashing body until he stops moving completely. Until she pulls back with a gasping breath, a wild gleam in her eyes as she wipes the wave of red from her mouth with the back of her hand though it still drips down her chin and down her neck, merging with her own blood on her chest.

My mother whimpers and both of us whip to her where she lay, thrown aside during Ra’jem’s attack. Ra’jem looks at me, her eyes full of hunger and hatred. Something in her gaze softens as I speak her name, her crouched stance relaxing as she takes a tentative step towards me, our traitorous mother momentarily forgotten.

More so when I’jam wakes next, shooting to his feet in a fluid movement. He surveys the area: one sister on her knees just feet away from him, the other sister standing bloodthirsty over their father’s lifeless body, his brother still lying unresponsive next to him, and his mother cowering behind the broad trunk of a tree.

His fingers slowly lift to touch the place the stake had been, curling into the hole of his shirt but finding unbroken skin underneath. And then his eyes drag to our mother. The one that had killed him. The only one in the clearing with a heartbeat still thrumming through her veins, pumping that warm blood around her body.

Blood still dripping off of Ra’jem’s mouth. Blood filling the air between them with its scent. Its delicious, enticing scent. The mouthwatering aroma that draws a primal hunger out of me.

Her heartbeat echoes in my ears and suddenly, Ra’jem and I’jam are eyeing each other, wondering which of them will make her their meal first. Ra’jem, already satiated, relents, letting I’jam shoot across the space and rip into our mother’s throat just as our sister did to our father.

I turn to Solweh, having to look away before I hurl my guts up into the grass. My own hunger disgusts me, the lure to feed on them just as my siblings had, to let my mouth run full of my parents' blood.

What sort of bloodthirsty monsters have they turned us into?

I’jam is still feasting on her when Solweh gasps to life, sitting up and scooting back away from me in a panic. He, too, touches the spot on his chest and takes in the scene laid out in front of him.

I look to Ra’jem, panic and fear and some animalistic edge in her eyes before she turns and bolts, becoming nothing but wind and shadow as she flees in the blink of an eye, just as fast as she was when she ran at our father.

I’jam finally looks up and then looks at me, a single nod the only thing he gives me before he takes off after her. As if to say, I will find her .

So I turn my attention back to Solweh.

But he, too, is gone. Leaves sway in front of me with the air of his retreat, already out of sight. Leaving me alone in this clearing, except of course my parents’ bloodless bodies.

Swallowing my hunger, ignoring the intense burn in my throat, the aching in my stomach, I gather their bodies together, dumping them unceremoniously into the fire pit they had done their ritual over, few flames still flickering in the logs that go out as their bodies land atop it.

Following some new instinct, I place my hand on the logs and within a second, the flames burst to life, sending me steps backwards as they unnaturally engulf the two bodies. As if the flames themselves hunger for the taste of flesh. I look at my hand, but the fire is no longer there and I don’t try to bring it back.

I’m not sure how long I sit there and watch my parents burn, throwing leaves and sticks and dry brush on the flames every time they threaten to go out. Where this new power comes from, I can’t be sure. If my siblings now have the same powers, I can’t be sure. So many questions with no answers.

I stopped counting how many times the sun passed overhead, unmoving from my spot in the grass. The four dark spots still across from me on the other side of the fire as I now sat where they stood as they sacrificed our lives. The four imprints of our lives lost in those very spots. The grass wilted and died in our spots, leaving brown imprints of us in the earth.

After watching the flames for some time, something in me has me reaching towards them, my parents almost nothing but bone now. I ease my fingers into the roaring fire as it licks to life around my hand, engulfing it completely in its warmth.

Only warmth, I realize, as I felt nothing of the burning, even as my skin reddens and then blisters and blackens. I remove my hand, watching as the burns heal over only a few seconds, back to as if I had never stuck them in the fire in the first place.

I do it again, just to make sure I hadn’t imagined it.

And then again to contemplate why I do not feel anything other than a slight warmth as the flames burn my skin to a flaky crisp.

And then again to analyze the healing process.

And then again. Just because I could.

Because none of my siblings had returned.

Because I didn’t know where any of them were. If I’jam had found Ra’jem, if either of them found Solweh. If they continued to feed on others as they did to our parents.

Because my parents are dead.

Because I died.

Because my heart does not beat in my chest, yet I can hear my own blood moving easily through my veins, a steady stream without a pulse, like the angry roaring of a river. I am not quite dead, though I did brush death’s icy grip, yet I am no longer alive.

I am no longer human

I do not know what I am.

So once my parents are burned until they’re nothing but bones, sped up but whatever force draws that heat from my palms, I leave the clearing, towards the direction of Ra’jem and I’jam’s departure.

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K! Your place of work should treat you more humanely. (Do you want me to haunt them? I will, if you say so.)

Also...while I'm here...have a writing ask, to be answered at your leisure:

Your characters have hopped the fence and gone missing! D: What info and/or pictures do you put on the "lost" posters you slap up around the neighborhood?

@ceph-the-ghost-writer

Ceph, you are a light in my life, a delightful ghost, and hell yes you can haunt my district manager. My store manager has more than earned my respect and is struggling right along with me. The district manager however, is fully committed to that capitalist corporate "line go up" bullshit and making my life hell (goddammit Craig give me my promotion already!)

anyway....

writing asks! I got weird with this one and took the liberty of having shapeshifter characters to pretend in this situation they're stuck in animal form and lost. I hope you enjoy ^.^

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find the word

tagged by @loopyhoopywrites, thank you! my words are today, tomorrow, and yesterday. These are all from A Question of Trust.

no-pressure tagging @mjjune @little-peril-stories and @halfbit with the words bone, absolute, grow, and reset.

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today

“You would. Next time you’re coming to me at the Yawning Portal. After that troll last night, Durnan owes me a pint or three.” She flapped a hand at her face. “Maiden’s tits, it’s hotter than Asmodeus’ taint today. You sharing that wine?”

tomorrow

Ashenivir was in bed when he got back. Rizeth squeezed in beside him and almost woke him to apologise, then thought better of it. He’d make up for himself tomorrow. Not simply say he was sorry, but show it, the way he was supposed to.

yesterday

Rizeth set his book aside. “Would you come here, please?” Ashenivir did as he was told. Please. What was that about? It certainly did nothing to rid him of the sense that he’d made a mess of things and upset Rizeth. All this…this niceness, it felt unnatural, like someone had replaced his Master with a very kind, very caring stranger. He settled uncertainly onto Rizeth’s lap. Rizeth tucked his temple braid behind his ear. “Do you think I am angry with you about yesterday?” If he wasn’t, why was he acting like this? Overabundance of kindness after an argument, in Ashenivir’s experience, was merely prelude to the next. Matron Zauvym had taught him that lesson repeatedly.

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Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

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Urban Fantasy Sex World-Building

There are a lot of different creatures in my anthologies, each with a unique culture. Since I'm going to be including as many combinations of creatures in my erotic anthology as possible, I thought it would be useful to give a quick run-down of each creature's cultural perspective on sex! You can also find this and more on my Neocities site! Horny Urban Fantasy Anthology Taglist (Check out my Google Form to get added): @foxys-fantasy-tales @auroblaze @noblebs @thelaughingstag @auntdarth

Human

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Humans tend to consider sex pretty equally an activity of intimacy and pleasure as well as a mode of reproduction. Many are concerned about contraception and STD prevention, though not as many are familiar with magic suppressants or of magical ailments contracted through sex. Despite these concerns (known and unknown), humans are known for their “adaptability” in the bedroom—their willingness to be experimental with their partners.

Elf

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Because elven birthrates are so low, sex is considered almost exclusively an avenue of pleasure and intimacy. It tends to be private, a “study” of their partners. It isn’t uncommon for this “studying” to last many hours at a time, to fully know the range of any given partner’s pleasure and their own. Contraception isn’t taken very seriously, but knowledge of STD prevention and magic suppressants is common even for children.

Dwarf

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Similar to other aspects of their culture, dwarves tend to think of sex and giving pleasure as a skill that can be refined, and are therefore very open about sex and sexuality, including boasting about their accomplishments. Public and group sex are also common and accepted, as well as “swapping” partners for a night. Contraception is especially important because of this, with STD preventions and magic suppressants tend to be thought of as “bonus effects” that certain kinds of contraception can provide.

Orc

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

For orcs, sex is as much about a partner’s pleasure as your own. It’s considered shameful if only one feels satisfied at the end of the night, and it’s considered toxically selfish—a poison to the rest of the community. Due to this, orcs rival humans for their adaptability and willingness to try new things, especially if it makes their partners happy. Children are also considered a blessing, and it follows that they should be created in an environment where all partners are having a good time. STDs and magic suppressants are given more cultural weight than contraception, but both are considered important.

Dragonfolk

Reproduce sexually, oviparous (1-8 eggs per clutch, with varying survival rates)

Because dragonfolk lay clutches that must be incubated for months, sex is a culturally serious topic. Contraception is vital in dragonfolk communities, as skipping out could leave you with an entire clutch of eggs to care for, with someone you don’t fully trust. Trust, respect, and security are on the high end of priorities, and dragonfolk are some of the most unlikely creatures to engage in flings or hook-ups. On the other hand, the pleasure of sex is not ignored, especially not as dragonfolk love friendly boasting. Flirting tends to involve boasting about sexual prowess, experience, and worthiness as a partner. Swapping stories about previous lovers is common, especially to goad others to boast. STD prevention and magic suppressants are almost as common as contraception, as another exercise in trust and respect.

Gnome

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Gnomish culture doesn’t have a lot to say about sex. It’s simply another thing you can choose to do, like gardening or playing music. Sometimes it makes people happy, sometimes it doesn’t. Some people like lots of sex, some people only like a little. Most gnomes simply go with whatever feels right in the moment, and won’t question anyone else’s decisions. The same goes for contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants. They tend to not be super adventurous, preferring simple pleasures more than elaborate ones, but nothing unknown is completely off the table.

Halfling

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

As sex is simply another form of entertainment, the halfling dedication to extravagance extends to the bedroom. Orgy hosts regularly try to one-up each other’s food offerings, sex games, and level of eroticism in the decor. Not being invited to one, even if you never intended to go, is a gossip-worthy social offense. Even in private, halflings enjoy preparing and planning out each escapade, trying to make each more enjoyable than the last. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants are lined up in order at the host’s front door, or in perfectly organized cabinets in case they ever need to offer something to a guest.

Satyr

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Sexual freedom is a cornerstone of satyr culture, as integral as the parties. In fact, sex at those parties is so common that to attend a social gathering fully clothed is to implicitly excuse oneself from the sex that will definitely happen there. Strictly monogamous satyrs will wear matching clothes (or jewelry, if going nude) with their partners to signal that they’re only having sex with one another tonight. For those without monogamous partners or inhibitions, orgies, group and public sex, and voyeurism are simply part of life. Aphrodisiacs and other sex-enhancing drugs and potions are plated right next to the hors d'oeuvres at many parties, even ones that aren’t sex-focused. Contraception and STD prevention is a no-brainer, but only those who don’t intend on drinking any potions take magic suppressants.

Centaur

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

The importance of the herd influences the sex lives of centaurs in interesting ways. As a matter of community health and learning, all centaurs are educated about contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants from a young age, and any foals with questions about sex are readily answered by any adult who feels like they have a good explanation. However, because the herd members are so close (physically and emotionally) and rarely get privacy, sex is seen as an opportunity to indulge in privacy, and prevent resentment from building up among herd members by giving everyone a bit of a break. During the spring and summer estrous cycles, herds will stop intermittently to allow their members to abscond for sex. Sometimes they have sex in shifts to make sure those who are underage, unwilling, or elderly are still cared for while the other members are “busy.”

Shapeshifter

Can reproduce literally any way, depending on what creature they take the form of during pregnancy

Shapeshifters are, perhaps, the only creature more invested than humans in experimentation and adaptability in the bedroom. Due to their abilities, they can take the form of any body type, any set of genitals, any number of limbs, any combination of traits so long as they have seen it before. Some shapeshifters do find a form they prefer to use during sex, but just as many use a different form each time, or take pleasure in letting their partners choose. Contraception and STD prevention are readily accepted and used, but magic suppressants are contentious among shapeshifters. Many see them as “making sex boring” at best, and oppressive at worst.

Naga

Reproduce sexually, oviparous (3-20 per clutch, with varying survival rates)

After brumation in the winter, nagas awake in the spring with an instinctive mating response. In naga communities, they host “speed-dating” social events where everyone is free to engage in mating behaviors and find suitable partners to satisfy their instincts. Nagas are the creatures most likely to be single parents, as these “speed dating” events rarely develop into long-term romantic relationships—by design. Some will be non-romantic coparents, but most nagas prefer to leave sex and parenting separate from romance entirely. When it comes to sex for pleasure, plenty of nagas use mating season events for pleasure alone. Some nagas will recognize each other from previous events and have seasonal trysts—these are the relationships most likely to develop into long-term romance. Out of season, most nagas are disinterested in sex, though plenty with non-naga partners partake for their sakes. Nagas are also more likely than most other creatures to prefer hook-ups or other casual sexual relationships. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants are regular appearances at mating season events, but are rarely discussed outside of that context.

Minotaur

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

When it comes to sex, minotaurs are seen as either exceptionally forward or exceptionally cold. In truth, minotaurs value only speaking your mind when you truly believe in what you’re saying, so a minotaur approaching someone for sex, romance, or even a compliment is a declaration of deliberate intent. They’re some of the creatures least likely to be parents, but when they are, it’s with unmatched exuberance and joy. Some other creatures find minotaurs frustratingly lacking in communication, but minotaurs find other creatures to be too hasty to say things they don’t mean—and when it comes to sex, they see this as immature at best, and reckless at worst. Minotaurs take consent and sexual boundaries at face value, and speak their own very plainly. If they say they like or dislike something, it’s not frivolous, and minotaurs change their minds very slowly. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants are included in this plain speaking, and all choices made during sex are made after deep consideration.

Vampire

Do not reproduce

Vampires are not “born”—they are created from either a curse placed on a fresh corpse, or from a vampire turning a living creature. After being turned, many find it difficult or impossible to feel sexual arousal or sexual urges, in addition to many other bodily responses. Some find that it’s easier to have a libido after feeding on the blood of an aroused creature, and some after any feeding at all. Some vampires make peace with their lack of bodily response—some are even glad it’s gone—while others have partners that are willing to lend their blood to the cause. Because they’re dead, they have no need for contraception or mundane STD prevention, but they do run the risk of some rare magical ailments. Unfortunately, magic suppressants can be very dangerous to vampires, since the only reason they exist is because of a curse. Many are willing to take the risk, and go without.

Werewolf

Reproduction depends on what creature they are

Werewolves are not “born”—they are created from either a bite from another werewolf, or from being cursed. Any given werewolf’s sexual proclivities depend heavily on culture, but some find that after being turned their sexual preferences or urges change near the full moon. For some, they may feel an instinct to procreate, similar to a mating season instinct, either shortly before or during the fateful night. For others, the transformation itself is enough to influence an increase in libido. In werewolf dedicated spaces, some agree to meet for “full moon hook-ups,” to fulfill their urges with no strings attached. Others have non-werewolf partners that are willing to help them out. Magic suppressants can make transforming a less painful process, in addition to preventing magical ailments, so many werewolves use them for both.

Catfolk

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

As their culture values indulgence, it’s no surprise that catfolk are quite open about sex. They talk openly about their desires and ask for sex very matter-of-factly. Ironically, they also tend to be picky lovers. It can seem superficial, but catfolk search for partners who flaunt their true colors, are unabashedly confident, and are open about their desires. They don’t respond to coy hints or shy suggestions, and have no shame in walking away from any creature that doesn’t meet their standards. Because of this, flirting in catfolk culture is almost a sport—each competing to be the flashiest, a stand-out example of an ideal lover. Heavy PDA and public sex are very common, though group sex tends not to be. Not everyone in a group can meet everyone else’s standards, after all, so if a catfolk joins an orgy, they’ll most likely stay with the first two or three creatures that catch their interest. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppression are merely standards that other potential partners should meet, whatever those standards may be.

Dryad

Reproduce through pollination and fruiting

Dryads have something similar to a “breeding season.” During the spring, dryads root en masse in community meadows and forests, and flower to attract pollinators. Any pollinated dryads will bear fruit over the coming seasons, and any ripe fruit that they wish to grow into progeny is planted and tended to until it reaches proper age. Though it isn’t strictly “sexual,” many dryads consider a dryad in bloom out-of-season and/or outside of a community pollinator spot to be extremely impolite at best, and perverse at worst. Despite this stigma, dryads have developed pollinator-replicating “sex toys” to allow them to participate in “sex” with their non-dryad partners. It’s impossible for dryads to contract mundane STDs or magical ones, because they don’t actually have sex in the way necessary for them to be contracted.

Naiad

Reproduce through magic rituals

Inherently magical, naiads can only reproduce through intense magic rituals. It takes the power of at least four naiads to give the spell enough power to produce another naiad, and the ritual itself can take days to complete. When finished, the new naiad will spring fully-formed from the water—there are no “children” or “adults” or any other stage of life for a creature born wholly from magical essence. Because of this, sex is wholly decoupled from the concept of conception, and since naiads are made purely of water and magic, there is no risk of disease or infection. Public sex, orgies, voyeurism, and sex parties are so common as to not be worth mentioning. Very often, they invite other creatures to partake—but only after teasing them first with magic illusions or puzzles.

Fairy

Reproduce sexually, oviparous (3-10 per raft, with varying survival rates), plus additional magic to encourage demi-fairy development

Fairies have a very unique reproduction cycle. The eggs they lay hatch into larvae called “demi-fairies” that must be “incubated” with various magics to encourage healthy development. Eventually, the demi-fairies grow old enough to spin cocoons, metamorphosize over several months, and hatch into fully-grown fairies. The magic incubation is a community affair, where each fairy (or non-fairy magic user) will lend a spell to the demi-fairy, which absorbs it as nutrients. Because of the communal nature of raising children, sex is also viewed as a community activity. Public sex is common, and sex parties are regular social events. Contraception is warily accepted—it can be viewed as “not trusting the community” to care for the resulting demi-fairies—but STD prevention, including magic suppressants, are common and used frequently.

Harpy

Reproduce sexually, oviparous (1-4 eggs per clutch)

Harpies have elaborate courting rituals for everything from hook-ups to marriage proposals. Because they value independence, harpies simultaneously encourage doing whatever makes you happy, and protecting your autonomy from those who disrespect it. Having a dozen partners in a month or one for life are both perfectly fine—but make sure you aren’t wasting that choice with someone who doesn’t care about your individuality. A perfectly performed courtship ritual, whether it’s for a date or a quickie in the back, is a sign of respect, and shows how dedicated the dancer is to the creature they’re propositioning. Some non-harpies think these elaborate dances are strange or embarrassing, and some harpies think that other creatures are pushy and rude for not dancing. A quick conversation can clear these miscommunications up, but the confusion can be stark in the beginning. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants all fall under the umbrella of “independence” so whichever choice a harpy makes will likely be accepted.

Merfolk

Reproduce through ovuliparity (dozens per spawn, with varying survival rates) or sexually, depending on the species

Depending on the species, merfolk reproduce like many other kinds of fish. One will lay their eggs on the ocean floor, and another will come along and fertilize it. Merfolk that share traits with sea creatures like sharks reproduce sexually and give live birth instead of laying eggs. Because of this, contraception is often unnecessary, and both magical and mundane STDs are vanishingly rare—though, again, it varies based on species. Funnily enough, merfolk of all stripes prefer to have sex with other creatures when it comes to exclusively pleasure. This isn’t a social stigma, and is even seen as beneficial to the school—no one is “using” their schoolmates, and it lowers the risk of emotional rifts in a vital social group—with one exception. Though their vocal hypnosis is for hunting, there are plenty of non-merfolk who find it sexually thrilling, and there are merfolk who are happy to oblige them. Some other merfolk find this predatory or sinister, and some non-merfolk warn that it’s a great way to get drowned when you least expect. Regardless of the negative opinions, it doesn’t stop those who enjoy it from participating.

Aetheridum (pl) / Aetherid (s)

Reproduction depends on what creature they are

The sexuality of Aetheridum is complicated. Some errantly assume that having children with an Aetherid will guarantee a blessed child, which is inaccurate. A vast majority of Aetheridum children are simply the standard of their species. Still, this unfounded belief can cause other creatures to specifically seek them out for children, with advances that make Aetheridum uncomfortable to say the least. Contraception is a touchy conversation—many Aetheridum who do want children feel obligated to use birth control to avoid exploitation. Aside from reproduction, Aetheridum can have sex in any of the ways their birth species can, though their vast magical ability causes them to be higher risk of contracting and infecting their partners with magical ailments. For this reason, magic suppressants are a large talking point in Aetheridum circles. On the bright side, their metallic skin makes it much harder for them to contract or pass on mundane STDs, so those aren’t as much of a priority. Overall, Aetheridum-only spaces value comfort, communication, and protection from absuse in all sexual situations.

D’infernyssh (pl) / D’infern (s)

Reproduction depends on what creature they are

Sexuality in D’infernyssh is a sensitive subject. If a D’infern is cursed to feed off the pleasure of others, it can be difficult to have a sexual relationship with them at all—any sexual desire will be drained out when the D’infern is hungry. Even for those cursed to eat other feelings, many creatures are uncomfortable with the idea of having their emotions siphoned from them at random. For this reason, many creatures assume they will never be able to have an equal partnership with a D’infern, which can hurt any D’infernyssh in their communities deeply. In reality, D’infernyssh are perfectly capable of partnerships. They aren’t hungry all the time, and going out in public and spending time with others regularly ensures they get their meals from multiple sources instead of one, which is uncomfortable for everyone involved. For pleasure-eating D’infernyssh, going to sex clubs or orgies is a useful way to eat—they’re full in an instant, and can participate without taking away from the ambiance. D’infernyssh can have sex in any of the ways their birth species can, and can have children—which are standard of their species, not inherently cursed like many believe. Contraception can be complicated—some D’infernyssh feel obligated to take it in order to not “curse” their partners with children, or would be uncomfortable involuntarily siphoning feelings from their own child. They’re as much at risk of magical ailments as any other creature, so suppressants are important, but their metallic skin makes it much harder for them to contract or pass on mundane STDs, so those aren’t as much of a priority. Overall, D’infernyssh-only spaces value trust, communication, and compromise in all sexual situations.

Goblin

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

In goblin society, there’s an unspoken rule that almost everything is community property—everything is “up for grabs” if you need it, no questions asked. Similarly, monogamy is almost unheard of among goblins. Children are raised communally, with little regard given to who the biological parents are. Everyone is free to ask for sex from anyone else, even if both goblins are what other creatures might consider “taken.” You might call it “partner swapping,” but the idea of having a “partner” to “swap” is inaccurate. Everyone is free to move from bed to bed, no matter what their romantic status is. Romance and sex are so divorced from each other that sometimes goblins get in sticky situations with other creatures who do recognize monogamous relationships. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants are all considered community resources, and are freely available for anyone who needs them.

Sphinx

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

The way sphinxes flirt is more of a strategy than a social behavior. A sphinx will try to find the cleverest way to give someone a compliment, or drop hints in the form of riddles. They’re never challenging—at least, not to the sphinx—merely used to test the waters of whether a potential partner is receptive. Once the riddles are solved, the sphinx knows the object of affection is worth their time, and may even increase the complexity of the riddle with increasingly flirtatious “rewards.” Sex with a sphinx is earned, though if you can bypass the first few steps, you can be sure the path ahead will be sweet. These standards do have a downside—sphinxes are the least likely creatures to be parents, though any sphinx children are raised with pride. Contraception isn’t given much thought, because of their preventative standards, though STD prevention and magic suppressants are taken more seriously.

Selkie

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Sex is no exception to the value given to slow-moving relationships in selkie culture. They’re the creatures least likely to engage in hook-ups or flings, preferring to slowly get to know any prospective partner before jumping into bed with them. Being too forward with a selkie can bar you from a sexual relationship, or even casual friendship, with them entirely. But once a selkie trusts someone they might entertain having sex with, they make the first move in almost all cases. Sometimes a selkie will lay their seal skins on a partner’s bed to signal their desires, or even drape it around their shoulders if they’re particularly forward. Once a selkie becomes comfortable, they’re as willing and excited as they were cautious. Contraception, STD prevention, and magic suppressants are all very important to selkies, as all can make or break their feelings of security.

Gorgon

Reproduce sexually, give live birth

Because of their dangerous powers, some gorgons are nervous to explore their sexuality. A blindfold can come loose, glasses can be knocked aside, a single accident can lead to tragedy. Still, a majority of gorgons brave these possibilities and seek sexual partners anyway. Like many aspects of their culture, sex is considered a private activity, something for the partners who agree to sleep together and nobody else. Gorgons don’t have many qualms about who their partners are, so long as they’re willing to offer the appropriate respect and caution, and are okay with the snakes wrapping around anything they can reach. Magic suppressants are vital—in an emergency, even a slight delay in petrification can be the difference between a curable and incurable case. Contraception and STD prevention are also carefully considered, part of the “caution” taken during sex.

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a boy and his crow

let's talk about Robbie and Sir Cornfield!!

read Dust to Dust here

Robert "Robbie" Lyall is a medium in service of the royal family and the best friend of the princess. His familiar, Sir Cornfield, is a demon that often takes the shape of a crow.

When Robbie was nine years old, he stumbled into a deal gone wrong. A demon was trapped in a summoning circle after the other party fled for reasons unknown. Since Robbie is a medium, he could see the demon's true form, and it was horrifying (he was a child!). He smudged the runes with his shoe, earning the demon's favor... and evidently, his undying loyalty. The demon was unwilling to share his real name, so Robbie dubbed him Sir Cornfield (did I mention he was a child?) and the two became inseparable.

Robbie's parents didn't know about his gift, assuming that Sir Cornfield was an imaginary friend. When they found out about his abilities to speak to the dead, they sold him to the crown. For the remainder of his childhood, he was trained in spiritual necromancy, quickly becoming one of the most skilled mediums of his generation.

Sir Cornfield is snarky, blunt, secretive, and very, very protective of Robbie. He has issues with confined spaces, preferring to stay outdoors, and he only ever speaks to Robbie and Missy, the princess.

But what can he do as a demon? Well, we don't really know. He has a near-perfect memory, can linger in places to eavesdrop, and mainly acts as an advisor to Robbie. We know he has some abilities (he drops hints and threats often), but we haven't seen anything... yet.

We also don't know what his true form looks like. Only mediums can see him when he's not parading around as a crow, and Robbie doesn't offer any description. It's scary, though. Like piss your pants and start praying to a god you don't believe in scary.

Are Sir Cornfield's jokes about desiring human sacrifices actually jokes? How did he end up in that summoning circle, and who trapped him?

taglist (ask to be +/-)

@fortunatetragedy

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OC interview tag

Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet <3

I'm gonna do this one for Miyamoto from That's not Davy anymore

Were you named after anyone?

My parent named me Miyamoto after my elite father. I think they had a hunch that he would come back for me. This made it easier to find me. My father then gave me the name Toshiro because he couldn't have a child with just one name, not in the city. Can't say I like either of those names very much.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't remember.

Do you have any kids?

No. And I don't want any. Not on this shithole of a planet.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I dialed it down since my teenage years. The older I get the less patience I seem to have so usually I just get straight to the point now.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyecolor and how they carry themselves. I should probably stop that, shouldn't judge a book by its cover and all that but...if the shoe fits, you know?

What is your eye color?

Black.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies. Much more fun. Jason hates them and it's hilarious.

Any special talents?

I'm pretty good at making entitled idiots squirm in their shoes just by looking at them, does that count?

Where were you born?

The slums north from the city

Do you have any pets?

No. I don't have the time.

What sort of sports do you play?

I work out. That's it. Though Jason tried to have me join his sports club several times. Said I had to "work on my people skills." My people skills are fine, thank you very much.

How tall are you?

6'8"

What was your favorite subject in school?

Wouldn't exactly say I liked going to school. It was okay in the slums but my father made me go to one of those fancy private schools in the city where you learn a lot of useless crap. And I sucked at most of that. The practical stuff like math and basic engineering was fine though.

What is your dream job?

I think I'd working with the people in the slums to improve safety measures and general living conditions. But there's no way my father would ever let me go there again.

No pressure tags for: @dyrewrites @aziz-reads @ceph-the-ghost-writer

Taglist for TNDA (Let me know if you want on or off)

@dyrewrites @goodluckclove @fortunatetragedy

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21 and 15 for the pride ask game!

Okay! I already answered 15 here, but here’s 21!

(From this ask game)

So 21 is a free ramble card so I’m going to tell you about the single most baller queer OC I’ve ever created (she’s honestly probably the most baller OC I’ve created period, but this is a pride ask game so I felt like I should specify).

Meet Marchioness Jacqueline Marie Solange Adelaide Rembrandt:

Jacqueline is a noblewoman from a country called Victoire. Opinions on whether she’s a perfectly lively noblewoman or a scheming manipulator vary wildly.

Jacqueline is the third daughter of the second son of the Rembrandt family, who went overseas for several years to study. She returned to Victoire to comfort her grieving uncle when his only son, the late Jean-Pierre Valere Leon Rembrandt, died in a tragic airship accident. She and her uncle became very close during this time, and he chose to will his fortune and title to her. Some say she killed her cousin to take his fortune, but most people believe her incapable of this.

Okay, you got me. None of that is true. That’s just what the other nobles think of her.

Jacqueline, in actuality, was born Jean-Pierre Valere Leon Rembrandt and realized as a teenager that she was actually a woman. Her solution to this was to fake her own death, travel overseas, learn alchemy, DIY her own transition, and convince her cousins to help her gaslight the entirety of Victoire into thinking she’d been one of their siblings all along. Her father, who was also in on this, proceeded to will his fortune and title to her, because it was supposed to be hers anyway.

She also picked up a ton of alchemy knowledge and carries around a bunch of rings with magical substances like truth serum in case she needs to defend herself. She can also swordfight, although she doesn’t do it often because that’s not considered proper for noblewomen.

Believe it or not, Jacqueline is actually an antagonist, although I must stress that she’s not a villain and is in fact completely justified. The only reason she ends up being an antagonist is that the protagonists meet her when one protagonist impersonates Jean-Pierre Rembrandt and she logically assumes he’s trying to steal her fortune. He isn’t - he just doesn’t want to admit he’s been lying to his polycule about his origins for the past ten years - but Jacqueline is understandably a little concerned and very pissed off.

Also, again believe it or not, this character is from a fanfiction. I will be genuinely stunned if any of you can guess what fandom she’s supposed to be linked to :)

Anyway I hope you like her, she’s one of my favourite creations. Thanks for the ask, and happy pride!

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OC Interview

Thank you for the tag @phoenixradiant!

I'm gonna do two of my antagonists and two of the most fundamentally opposite people in my WIP : Wadikir and Zatar

Were you named after anyone?

Wadikir: "Was I named after anyone? I'm not sure I fully understand the question? Most everyone is, aren't they? Hmmm? There was some first Wadakir, right?" He twirls his hair between his fingers, head tilted, his lips curled into an obnoxious smile. "What's your name? Eh, nevermind that doesn't matter. No, I do not know of any relations of mine that share my name."

Zatar: "My sister says I was named after our grandfather. Never met him. He might be dead. If he's not he might as well be."

When was the last time you cried?

Wadikir: "Cried...oh dear, a politician doesn't just talk about those things for free you know? But the last time that I cried hmm...oh I know! I lost a ship off the coast of Ikopesh about two weeks ago! Half a ton of Namutian Ivory...in some beast's belly now, ugh. Not to mention the price for replacing the vessel."

Zatar: "The day I was kicked out of the brothel where I used to live with my sister. I didn't want to sleep in the gutters again. I got over it."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Wadikir: "Do I use sarcasm? Only as often as I use my tongue!"

Zatar: "Sarcasm doesn't fill your belly."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Wadikir: "Their hair! Is it combed, has it been cut recently, do they have the money to take care of it? Are they bald like an Apunian? Is it braided like a northerner? You can tell alot by a head of hair."

Zatar: "Their body."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Wadikir: "Hmm...I'll say scary. It's exciting, getting that little thrill! I already deal with enough happy endings."

Zatar: "I don't really like stories..."

Any special talents?

Wadikir: "Oh! I can write with both hands at the same time! I can stack tablets as high as me, I can do a handstand, I can thread a needle with one hand..." He continues to list random 'talents' seemingly without end.

Zatar: "I'm a hunter. I hunt."

What sort of sports do you play?

Wadikir: "Ugh sports...my father wanted me to wrestle. Do I look like I can wrestle? If I want to be grounded, I'll just have more business meetings with Makorans. I prefer games, exercises of the mind."

Zatar: "I've never played any."

How tall are you?

Wadikir: "I'm 6'1", impressed? Don't be, I'm so thin I could probably slip through the gaps in door frames if I wanted to!"

Zatar: He shrugs. He is a huge man, nothing compared to someone like Narul, but amongst humans he is imposing at about 6'7".

What was your favorite subject in school?

Wadikir: "I didn't go to a school, but don't worry I'm educated. Debate has always tickled me."

Zatar: He stares at you.

What is your dream job?

Wadikir: "Hmmm...King of the Green Sea! Wait no...too much to do then...hmmm...come back to me and I'll let you know."

Zatar: "Serving my king."

Tagging @roach-pizza , @jclibanwrites , @the-octic-scribe , and anyone else!

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behold, a feature presentation of the cast of Renegade Prince! i love these idiots so much TT_TT

(huge shoutout to crowsen's tiefling maker which did so much heavy lifting for my knock-off tiefling heavy cast)

taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites, @memento-morri-writes

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design the clothing of a fantasy group of swamp people with me!

sorry for the wait on this, I fell into a depression hole for a few days but I have managed to climb out now and here we go! ☺️

As explained in this post, I want to invite y'all on this journey with me to design the clothing of the Iba du Dahg ("people of the swamp"), a group of Aleketur Inhuman people living in monster-infested Fury Swamp. I would love to hear your input on my ideas, for y'all to add your own ideas, and I would ESPECIALLY love if y'all drew out your own ideas and designs and shared them!! But it is not required at all.

Okay, just going to show the initial sketches I have done for their travel clothing and I'll explain my thought process as we go (for the full thought process and info, plus little mannequin sketches you can use to draw over if you want to also do some designs, check this google doc)

these are far from the final, cohesive designs, they're just me throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks.

As explained in the google doc, the clothing they wear when out and about in the swamp would, I think, mostly be greens and browns to blend in with their surroundings, and I really like the idea that they cover/stylize inevitable mud stains by incorporating a kind of reverse-ombre effect with a lot of their clothing. I also think they would include a lot of alligator-inspired iconography, motifs, and imagery—scales, teeth and claws, etc—so I tried to include those where I could.

The hat is so Function AND Fashion I really love it. But my FAVORITE thing I made so far is:

LOOK HOW CUTE! It doesn't really go with the outfit that I put it on top of but THIS MOSS COWL IS SO GREAT I'm totally going to knit one for myself when I have the chance. Look at those cute lil mushyrooms!!

I also did some super quick sketches of some under-clothing:

And that is about all I have so far. I'm going to be focusing on more traditionally masculine travel clothing designs next, while also seeing if y'all have any input or ideas, and once that is done I'll move on to the in-village clothing, which should be really fun because we get to use a lot more colors and have to worry a lot less about function.

Let me know your thoughts!!

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It's annoying to me that Richard is actually a good orator

Our first look into the Arena, but we'll get to know it quite well by the end of this half-Episode.

Meet ... The Rebel.

Snippet: (cw: non-sexual nudity, violence, blood mention, death mention)

“You’ve arrived at the moment of our final sacrifice,” Warin said, giving Richard a slight bow even as he eyed Jac and Ishe warily. “Please, Your Highness, call out our last gift. The woman has wronged you and our queen more than anyone, it’s only right you’re here to witness her death.”

Richard raised a hand, standing every inch a prince from the shiny bronze hair to the arrogant lift of his chin to the broadness of his shoulders and the straightness of his posture. As happened most times Jac looked at Richard, the swift, vicious urge to smash him into pink paste with her hammer swept through her. The crowd quieted somewhat, waiting on the words that would fall from his mouth.

“Tonight, beneath this Full Dry Moon,” he spoke loud and sure, “we wet this Broken Earth with rivers of rebel blood to honor the Daughter Iabelia, and to celebrate Order! The Order that raised walls across Lushale with the Earthbreaker name!”

He paused to let the clamor from the crowd swell. Drunk off wine and blood, the stands dared to scream their true feelings—of both praise and rage. The crowd writhed, ripping their own clothes and throwing whatever was in hand. More than a few fights started up.

“There is no Chaos that can overcome Order! No Dark that can live in the Light!” Richard turned his head just enough to throw Z a wicked glare over his shoulder. “But if these rebels want to live in the Darkness—let them die in it as well!”

The gates screeched open, and the woman who walked out onto the sands seemed to take the whole Arena off guard. She was lean and tall, and walked with her head held as high and proud as Richard’s. Long, dirty-blonde hair hung down her front, the only thing covering her breasts. They’d given her a loincloth to cover herself and nothing else, so the violence all over her body was on full display. Her right hand gripped a short sword, dull and chipped.

And she stared Richard right in the eye.

Sudden, alarming emotion swept over Jac at the sight of her. She felt sick. Hot and cold at once. Felt an ache welling in her chest. And she had no idea why.

All eyes in the box snapped to Richard, who just stared back at the woman, the moonlight illuminating the color rising in his face. Fuck.

The woman raised her sword, and let it kiss her neck. Jac’s stomach turned—no. This proud, broken woman wasn’t going to let it end like that, was she?

But the woman only grabbed her hair with her other hand, pulled it taut, and slashed. Next, she grabbed the other side of her hair as well and severed that too. Then she tossed the last of her modesty away, leaving nothing to hide her chest.

Jac realized the woman was crying. 

It was obvious that Richard was fighting to keep his voice even, but the rage rattled his words like an earthquake. “For your betrayal of your country—!”

“You have betrayed your country!” she screamed, pointing her sword up at him. “And the queen her queendom! She kidnaps our children, marks our bodies, collars our necks—how am I, the one who wants freedom for her people, the traitor? How is Daivad the traitor?”

Fuck.

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What's in your bag, OC?

tagged by @mrbexwrites tagging @leechjuice @thebrownleathernotebook @scribblesbyb @xenascribbles @cherrybombfangirlwrites & anyone else who is interested

Rules: Name five things your OC would have in a backpack or any bag at school.

lazy Monday so I decided to include visual references made into pngs for the hell of it, this is for the main character of my current wip who lives in a haunted library and may or may not have a thing for ghosts

Wilma doesn't go anywhere without a couple of lighters buried at the bottom of her bag, ready to jet outside at any given moment to sneak a couple puffs off the toke hiding up her sleeve.

Another anxious habit, who would she be if she didn't have a few prayer cards hidden in the inside zipper, bent and faded from the nervous worrying of her fingers over the years. In a pinch, she isn't below using them as rolling papers.

The skeleton key is a master key that can unlock any of the doors in the library, but Wilma only stole them this time to unlock one.

Full journals and broken pencils, filled to the last page in varying ink, scribbled writing of nightmares and rude customers, birds with no heads and girls with no hearts. She can't keep a clean pencil for the life of her.

Her mother's rosary, if not in her bag then around her neck, nibbled absentmindedly between her teeth, or tucked safetly in the confinements of her coat pocket to twist her fingers around the beads, she always keeps this with her. Even after everything.

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Bones and Bullet

3: You've Really Got to Learn to Fight Offense

CW: knife mention, drug use mention, combat violence, blood and injury, swearing, needle mention, drugging mention, gun.

Word Count: 3k

Chapter Songs

Taglist: @addisons-damn-dialogue @written-in-gold @kk7-rbs @vacantgodling @void-botanist @astral-runic @wingedcatgirl @foxys-fantasy-tales @felixvanhuss @calicohyde @angsty-prompt-hole @noblebs @sunset-a-story @k--havok (fill this out to be +/-)

Chapter Three

It took Shadow a minute to remember where he was. The faces of the posters on the walls were stuck with knives, from in-bed target practice he guessed. There were more clothes on the floor than hanging in the closet, and there was something under the pillow. He pulled it out and for a moment didn't process what he was seeing.

“I fucking knew it,” he muttered as he stared at the well-worn, faded band shirt. He got up, now wide awake and armed with the shirt, mentally practicing how he'd confront Veronica about it. He went to find her, not expecting to get the air knocked out of him as soon as he rounded the corner into her living room.

He landed on his back, wheezing as he caught his breath. Veronica had been waiting in ambush to tackle him and his annoyance about the shirt flared up into full-blown anger.

“What the fuck Veronica?” he managed, glaring up into blue eyes that were already drilling into him. He briefly thought that this was the closest they'd been in years as she straddled his waist and pinned his arms above his head, her lips pulled into a snarl.

"The fuck yourself, asshole, why do you have F?" She growled.

The drugs. Of course she was mad about that, and he couldn't blame her.

“Oh shit,” he said, and that apparently wasn't the right answer because she grabbed the collar of his shirt and balled it up in her fist, tightening it around his neck. “It's not what you think,” he said, shoving her off and wrestling free, jumping to his feet at the same time she did. He held out one hand towards her, as if that would hold her off, his other one still holding the shirt he'd found in her room.

“What is it then?” she demanded, her face flushed and her chest heaving with the furious breaths she was taking. Her eyes darted to his other hand, the one clasping the shirt, and the redness in her cheeks flooded down her neck all the way to her collarbone. “Why do you have that? Did you go through my shit?!” She lunged for it but he held it behind him as he fended her off.

“You fucking went through my shit!” Shadow shot back. “Don't-be-fucking-hippocratic-” he spat out, struggling to keep the shirt away from her.

“It's a different shirt!” Her words were matched by a shove, a hard one that knocked him back against the wall. "And it's hypocrite, moron."

"Bullshit it's a different shirt!" Shadow's voice squeaked with indignation as he tossed the shirt into the corner. He mirrored her fighting stance. He didn't want to fight Veronica, but if that's what she wanted then he had a better chance of stopping an avalanche than talking her out of it

“You're here to kill me, just admit it,” Veronica growled, backing towards her kitchen. Shadow watched her hands, which were braced in front of her like a boxer.

"That doesn't make any sense," Shadow snapped back, eyes twitching with irritation as she changed the subject. “If I was going to kill you, I sure as hell wouldn't do it like this.”

“You never were very smart.”

Shadow guessed she was going for the nearest empty vodka bottle on her counter before she did, ducking as it came sailing his way. It smashed into the wall behind him, pelting the back of his legs with shards of glass.

"Damn it, Veronica!" She was in a foul mood, but still, that would have hurt.

He dodged the dish she threw next and got closer to keep her from grabbing something else. He didn't make it in time to stop her from snatching up a mug, but he did knock it out of her hand to interrupt her from throwing it. She kicked it right back up with her boot before it hit the floor and caught it.

She was so fast, she'd always been fast. When it wasn't aimed at him, it was fascinating to watch. She'd clearly kept her skills up since he'd seen her last, and he barely caught her arm as she swung at him, mug in hand. She twisted it free and kicked him in the stomach, staggering him as a wind up to the punch she aimed at his face.

He felt a sting and touched his cheekbone, pulling his hand back to see blood on his fingers. It wasn't bad, he'd certainly lived through worse, but his stomach sank anyway. Then it knotted with anger as he met her gaze again, giving up on the idea of settling this peacefully. She'd always been a better fighter than him, but he was mad enough not to care as he swung his leg to kick her in the side. Still, he hesitated enough that she caught and yanked his ankle around, using his own momentum to throw him to the floor.

"Stop lying to me!" Her voice so angry it shook as she stood above him, her fists tight and white-knuckled at her sides as her nostrils flared with every breath. She wasn't fishing for the truth, but Shadow gave it to her anyway.

“I'm not lying, stupid.” Shadow scooted back and rolled to his feet, raising his fists defensively and circling as she did.

“You're here to kill me for a million dollars.”

She must still hate him. That was the only way her reaction made any sense. She hated him and assumed he hated her too. And maybe he did, he certainly wasn't too fond of her right now, but he'd never kill her over it. Unlike her, he actually thought their friendship had meant something.

“Are you fucking serious?” His voice shook, his body on fire from the rage in her eyes igniting his own like a trail of gunpowder between them. “For the last time, I'm not going to kill you, I'm here to warn you, you dick.”

“A million dollars is a lot of money, I'd take it if I were you.”

“Okay, fuck you for real actually.”

“Then why do you have Chem F?!” Her screech pierced his ears and briefly took him back to the cafeteria of their childhoods, to the time they served her Brussel sprouts instead of pizza because of some other act of rebellion, he couldn't remember which one, there had been a lot.

“That's none of your business.” But Shadow knew that answer wouldn't satisfy her. She hated needles, she hated syringes, and she hated what flowed through them the most, she always had. He should have known better than to have the sedative anywhere near her, but he hadn't expected her to go through his things.

“It is my fucking business if it's for me!” Veronica could feel a pressure, a heat, in her chest that she was all too intimately familiar with. It would escape somehow, like steam out of a kettle, and she'd never tried to contain it before and wasn't going to start now.

“It's Not. For. You.”

Veronica's teeth ached and her jaw twinged as she clenched it too hard. The couple of drinks in her system did little to quell the flashes of memory that little silver vial had conjured. Shadow's face didn't help either. Neither did his voice or the heat in his eyes as he met her stare down.

She responded by swinging, feeling the kettle boil over and blanch her insides, forcing the searing pain out in the form of a swinging punch towards his face.

Shadow did his best to block but he knew that wasn't enough. She liked fighting and had always been better at it than him. She fought like time was slower for her and was fueled by a rage against the world that he didn't share. He blocked the first punch, but missed the second one that landed in his ribs. He bit back a whine, thinking that she surely wouldn't break a bone, even as mad as she was, they had a code. But it definitely was going to bruise, code or no. He shook it off, dodging her next attack by jumping over her coffee table to get away. Veronica growled as she followed, knocking over the bottle of vodka that was still there.

She got too close while swinging for his face again and he caught her wrist, spinning her around to pin it behind her back, forgetting to lean away as she swung her head back, catching him in the mouth and filling it with the taste of iron from his now-split lip.

"Ow!" he sputtered, wrenching her arm up tighter in retaliation, though not high enough to do any damage.

"Hey!"

Veronica had clearly made up her mind about the syringe, and Shadow wasn't sure she'd believe the truth if he even got up the guts to tell her. Her swift and vicious stomp on his sneaker with her boot distracted him enough to let her break free from the hold. Before he had a chance to scramble away, she landed an elbow on his jaw as she spun back around to face him again. It ached immediately, but didn't feel broken, and that distracted Shadow more.

Veronica had been easily capable of breaking most bones in the human body since she was too young to drive, so why wasn't she hitting harder?

Shadow heard the sound of glass sliding on wood as she grabbed the ashtray from her coffee table and swung, sending ashes raining down into the already dingy carpet as she did. He ducked into a roll to get away, and it missed him, smashing against the wall instead of her target of his face.

He jumped back to his feet and realized she wasn't in front of him anymore.

"Shit."

Veronica's arm was well-muscled and tense against his neck as she jumped on his back, her thighs squeezing almost painfully tight as she anchored her legs around his waist, her elbow under his chin as she grabbed him in a choke hold. He stumbled back as he tried to pry her off, sucking in just enough air to stay conscious. His head spun as she clung to him like a stubborn monkey, smelling like and strawberry shampoo and cigarettes, her breath huffing hot against his ear.

He tried to tell her off but it came out as a squeaky whine. Giving up on trying to pry her arm away, he let himself fall backwards to the floor instead. She gasped as the air was knocked out of her, and her arm around his neck loosened just enough to let him slip free.

He grabbed her wrists as she fought to take a breath, pinning them to the floor.

"Can you stop?" he panted, exasperated, while she strained against him, her face flushed and her chest heaving deeply as she regained her ability to breathe. Her eyes were less like ice and more like blue flames as they burned up at him, and as mad as he was, he realized he'd missed that fire.

Veronica took in his face, his lips and nose bloodied from her head-butt, a red mark spreading across his jaw, his eyes, flashing a toxic green hazel at her, the color they always seemed to be when he was pissed off or otherwise especially passionate. His hands were callused much like hers, and were warm on the insides of her wrists. He didn't seem able to catch his breath either, and she wondered for a moment if he wasn't lying.

When Shadow lied, he didn't usually look so righteous.

“I'm not above kneeing you in the balls,” she threatened but she didn't. She was curious to see what he'd do, whether he'd confirm her suspicions or not.

“It's for me, okay? The serum. I... I use it, happy?” his voice broke as he said it, and Veronica felt the weight of his answer much heavier on her than his body was. The way he didn't break eye contact, and how his fingers shook as he gripped her wrists made it seem even more like he was telling the truth. “We were friends, Bones, I'd never do that to you,” he said, as if the fighting had pushed him into the past, where they'd used code names on missions together.

“We were coworkers,” Veronica said, trying to spit the words at him, but something had fizzled out and they fell flat instead. Still, Shadow's shoulders slumped, his face softening from the anger to something much worse.

“You know it was more than that,” he said, his voice as soft as cotton gauze, his face looking more earnest than she'd seen in a long time, his brows knit in worry. Veronica's heart pounded in her chest at the thought that he'd bring up exactly what “more” had been, but his hands relaxed on her arms instead and she yanked free. He looked defeated and utterly done with fighting and didn't try to stop her as she shoved him off.

Shadow avoided her gaze as she stood up and just sat there looking exhausted. She'd managed not to let go of the vial of Chem F the whole time, and was still gripping it tight enough that her knuckles were white, then red on top with a smear of blood.

“If you want me to go, I'll go," he said it so quietly that she almost didn't catch it.

Veronica didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know what she wanted, but she didn't think it was that. She wanted him not to be lying. He took her silence as confirmation, and stood up to grab his dufflebag.

It was more instinct than a conscious decision to pull her gun. As if her hands didn't trust him or the rest of the serum in his bag. He froze when he heard the unmistakable click, and Veronica knew she was crossing a line, but she wasn't prepared for the look on his face as he realized she was aiming at him.

Blood dripped down from his nose and cheekbone as his eyes searched hers with more confusion than fear, and something in Veronica gave up. She didn't want to kill him, even if he was here to do the same to her. It wasn't worth it, frankly, she didn't have enough of a reason to risk being wrong. And as much as she wished she didn't know him anymore, she'd seen that look before.

She hated that look.

Veronica swore under her breath and lowered her gun, sliding it back into its holster.

"Come on, stop bleeding on my floor," she said, let him follow her to the kitchen. She grabbed him a stack of mostly-clean fast food napkins and he held them to his nose while she found her first aid kit in one of the otherwise empty cupboards.

Shadow leaned against the counter as he watched Veronica retrieve the kit. The adrenaline still pumped wildly through his body, but it was hard to stay angry at her even though he wanted to. Her face was tightened with focus as she cleaned the cut on his cheek, then stuck a bandaid over it, and he barely winced as she dabbed at the cut on his lip with more hydrogen peroxide. He let his eyes close for a moment at the hypnotic sensation of her battle-hardened hands becoming tender. Something rushed in his chest as his heart refused to slow down. The nostalgia made him feel weak in the knees, and he wondered if she felt the same. She'd always been the one to stitch him up if he needed it in the field. Or splint his finger the time he broke it hitting a wall instead of the guy he meant to punch. Or to carefully clean his cuts, her lips pursed as she concentrated on it completely. The regret in her eyes as she forced herself to apply pressure to a wound, hard enough to make him cry out.

There was something about his blood on her hands that made him wonder if it was why he couldn't forget her, like some kind of blood pact between them in which she owned him.

Shadow swallowed hard and wondered if she heard his painful gulp. He'd thought the old feelings were dead, he'd hoped they were. He'd spent many sleepless nights trying so hard to hate her just to make the black hole of her absence ache less. If she'd ever felt the same, she hadn't shown it, and he reminded himself that she wasn't showing it now, even as she softly touched his hand to pull the french-fry grease-stained napkins away from his nose.

"How does it feel?" she asked, leaning back to squint at his nose and Shadow prayed that nothing he was thinking was evident on his face.

"It's fine," he answered, and she leaned in to look closer. There went his breath again. If she noticed him glance at her lips she didn't act like it.

She attentively pinched the bridge of his nose and wiggled.

"It's not broken," she said.

Veronica wanted to apologize, but those words had never come easily to her. Most words didn't. Things happened, and sometimes they were her fault and sometimes they were his. She thought they usually evened each other out, but she still hoped he could feel she was sorry while she methodically, diligently cleaned the blood away. His pale skin was still flushed from the fight, and his chest moved quick with his breaths, but she felt the same adrenaline still alight in her veins. Every nerve of her body stood on end as she ran her hands through his hair. She didn't think she'd hit his skull with anything, but when it came to first aid, it was best to be thorough. Shadow had already had more than enough traumatic brain injuries.

“Ronnie...” he whispered it, his voice cracking, and Veronica met his eyes to see why. When she saw something warm there beyond his lowered lids and long black eyelashes, something intense, she didn't look away.

Her head spun as his hand found hers and it spun more when his lips crashed into hers, realizing a moment too late that she'd leaned in just as recklessly as he had.

This was a bad idea, it had always been a bad idea. But sometimes bad ideas felt good and tasted a little like blood. It was a searching kiss, a trial kiss, and they broke apart for a split second to wonder what they were doing. Neither of them could think of an answer before they collided again, giving in to the gravity between them. Veronica grabbed his shirt as she pushed him against the counter, dazed by his warm hands on her face, then her waist, slipping up just under the hem of her shirt to grab her hips, his skin on hers electrifying.

Veronica knew it was adrenaline, but it had been a long time since someone had kissed her like he did. A little less than seven years in fact. Other bodies had been satisfactory, but Shadow was somehow more than that. He didn't shy away from intensity, and his whine was almost hungry as he pushed back against her, his turn to pin her against the counter as she wrapped her leg around his to try to get him closer.

Shadow knew it was more than just adrenaline, and though he'd never had a home, he imagined this is what it would feel like to come back to one. His heart raced and hammered painfully against his ribs as her hands dug into his hair, gripping it and pulling his lips tighter against hers. The cut on his bottom lip stung, but he kissed her anyway, the pain bringing the pleasure into focus as she dropped her hands to yank his hips against hers.

At some point first aid kit came crashing to the floor, contents spilling everywhere along with the rest of the hash browns, but neither of them noticed beyond the frenzy of hands and lips, soundtracked by quick panting breaths and the increasingly demanding, moan-bordering sighs.

“You've really got to learn to fight offense,” Veronica murmured as she grabbed the button on his jeans and tried to catch her breath for a moment.

“You're a better kisser than you used to be,” Shadow shot back, his voice as thick as hers. He tried and failed to not smirk against her lips when she huffed in annoyance and kissed him harder, for once trying to prove him right.

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Found this cute kiss picrew (link here), so here's Astra and human!Mashal :)

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Roast Your OCs Title Game

I always appreciate a tag from @touloserlautrec , especially for a game like this!

Rules: reduce your OCs to the most stereotypical versions of themselves and make story titles for it

as always, here is the Shapeshifter trio-

Warrick – So You Want To Be A Problem? Tips On Circumventing Basic Security Measures And Giving Cops The Finger Without Going To Jail

Kerr – Frequently Getting Punched In The Face For Having A Smart Mouth: One Man’s Adventures In Moressau

Jay – Five Feet Tall and Filled With Boiling Rage: A Self-Help Book For Those Dealing With A Napoleon Complex While Practicing Pacifism

I shall gently tag @somethingclevermahogony @aalinaaaaaa @revenantlore to pass this on ^.^

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Personality Through Quotes

Rules: write quotes based on the prompt for some OCs, then come up with a new prompt for the next people

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks and @willtheweaver for the tags! I’m slowly working through my backlog here :)

A quote about conversation over a meal

Belladonna: “I usually only converse during meals at parties, but I must say I love parties. I always enjoy talking to other nobles.”

Cassie: “Belladonna tells me to stop talking with my mouth full, but she can fuck right off. I’m not stopping eating just to talk to her.”

Nellie: “Sharing food really is a blessing. I’m so lucky that I can do that now.”

Narcissus: “I try to converse as little as possible during meals. I can’t eat and talk at the same time, and I can’t abide listening to other people talk for such long periods of time.”

Ricinus: “A good meal always helps a good discussion flow smoothly.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus and I used to talk all the time over meals. He never seems to want to do that anymore, though.”

Cassiopeia: “Feeding your guests is basic hospitality. I’d never think to do otherwise, even for simple meetings.”

Stellaris: “I really only talk and eat at parties, and those never seem to go well. They always serve food I can’t eat and I’m never good at the conversation either.”

Rhys: “Nellie invited me to have lunch with her and we talked. It was really nice.”

Sel: “I am always pleased to be invited to eat together.”

A quote about the person they love the most

Fair warning this one is going to be a bit inconsistent on timeline - there was no single point on the timeline that let me do the quotes I wanted so I improvised

Belladonna: “Cassie’s truly a disaster some days, and I never can get her to comb her hair properly, but even with all that she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Cassie: “Yeah, Belladonna has a stick up her ass, but I love her, goddamn it. There’s a good woman under all those layers.”

Nellie: “‘The most’ is hard to say, but Rhys is lovely. He’s so sweet and caring and gentle - I’m so lucky to have him.”

Narcissus: “I’m certain I’m everyone’s favourite person. Who could possibly be better than me? I’m the most beautiful, charming, perfect person on all the stations, why would anyone ever want anyone else?”

Ricinus: “Love is a strange word, but I can’t say I mind the company of the serving girls.”

Goldenrod: “Who I love the most, darling? Oh, I could never tell you. Ricinus would kill him if he knew what we’ve done.”

Cassiopeia: “I do hope I never have to really hurt Septimus. I am fond of him, really, and he’s easy enough to keep in line. Everyone with half a mind for manipulation has discovered that already.”

Stellaris: “I don’t think Ambition likes me, but I really like her. I know our marriage was arranged, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still love her!”

Rhys: “I have two, is that okay? Nellie makes me so happy, she’s brought me so much joy in the time I’ve known her. And my daughter is my everything, I’d do anything for her.”

Sel: “Clones do not have feelings. I cannot feel love.” *looks down at his hands sadly*

I hope y’all enjoyed! I had fun with these ones!

@illarian-rambling @elsie-writes @writingsfromspace want to play? Your prompt is, “a quote about your worst enemy.”