#i've had this build up in my heart the more i've been exploring the oc tags

[ardate]

I've been checking out the OC tags for a little while, and I can say the state of OC sharing on tumblr is in absolute misery.

We've all discussed how bad the ratio of reblogs has become, how the amount of them have been dwindling those last couple of years, but I think an extra important emphasis has to be made on original creation. Though everything is hit by the lack of sharing, fanarts at least have a tag people will look for, improving their visibility - fandom OCs are sadly shared less than fanarts, in general, but they still enjoy that same visibility.

But what of the purely original? People who have OCs belonging solely to their own world, with a tag nobody will look for? I've been seeing awesome OC art that has been sitting for days and weeks with 0 or 1 notes, sometimes 5 or 6 with luck (though most of the time only likes)... And though there are exceptions, overall, it's a frankly saddening sight.

The way for someone to get attention on their OCs is to already be a well established blog or to produce fanart on the side to build a following. Blogs solely creating original content sit at the bottom of the note pool with no escape in sight.

As much as we praise tumblr for its tagging system and the fact it doesn't kill old posts the way other social media does, it still does fail in the way of uplifting creation that isn't fandom-based.

I don't have a solution to this. It is merely a sad observation. It's only natural that people would look for what they already know and love. But in a world where all of our interactions are linked to consumerism, in a world where automation replaces human imagination, I'd love to see a community of people willing to actively search for, and uplift, the creatives that are trying to peek out of the water.

One reblog may lead to another may lead to a follow, may lead to a creator feeling like their work matters.

So I'm doing it, one reblog at a time.

[boundinparchment]

Genshin Fic Reccomendations

Here are some of my personal fic reccs. All links go to AO3. Some of these are from writers I've had the great honor to get to know. Others are ones I've stumbled across over the course of the last few years. All have a special place in my heart and I wanted to take the time in the final week of the year to lift up other writers!

This list is alphabetical by character (and skews heavily towards Dottore). Dividers are from saradika-graphics.

If you're on this list and want your tumblr tagged as well, let me know!

Alhaitham

The Brazen and the Cold - Rosengrata

Teen. Alhaitham/OC. Rosen always puts so much attention into the dynamic between the characters and making them feel immersed in the world, like they belong there. The bickering and the banter between Aisha and Althaitham is incredibly entertaining.

Magpie - Insult2Injury

Explicit. Alhaitham/Female Reader. In which you catch Alhaitham in a compromising position and offer some…assistance. Mind the tags.

Childe & Scaramouche

Love is a Dog From Hell - Maokitty

Mature. Childe/Female Reader, Scaramouche/Female Reader, mind the tags. Absolutely heart-breaking as only Mao knows how to cultivate. Immersive and grounded in the way reader is woven into the world of the Harbingers (and all the more painful for it). This fic is one of the only exceptions for either of these characters; thanks for hurting me in this way.

Diluc

Lady Lazarus - Unlockthelore

Diluc / OC, OC / OC. One of the first Genshin fics I ever read as a whole (pretty sure). The prose is so rich and descriptive, captivating right from the start. Go check out the author’s other fics + original works

Il Dottore

Take My Everything (It Was Always Yours) - Nightfrost

Mature. Il Dottore & The Tsaritsa. Like all stories on this list, it deserves far more attention than it gets. This was one of the first Dottore fics I read, back when little was available other than the manga and a few brave people were creating content based on that alone. The writing itself is beautiful, poetic in the way it portrays his rise to power and his dedication to the Tsaritsa despite his hatred for the gods. The warnings should be heeded (torture, descriptions of torture, monsterification, not a happy ending).

Moon Waltz - Yoshinori

General Audiences. Gender neutral reader/Dottore. An enjoyable mix of canon and headcanon, especially with the Segment lore thrown into the mix.

I’ll Break You - 12thFatui

Teen. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Beloved enemies to lovers with lots of world building. An indulgent favorite read.

Lungs Into Gills - Lestaire

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. The definitive Sharktorre fic. Need I go on? (I’m absolutely enabling you again if you ever do more with this).

Solar Flare - Lestaire

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. A Fontainian scientist finds herself in Snezhnaya as Dottore’s new assistant. Shenanigans and pining ensure. It’s been a treat to see this story develop! <3 I’m looking forward to the rest of it (and all of you should too!)

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting - LocalPlagueNurse

Mature. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Heavy family dysfunction and angst, in which Dottore’s wife grows tired of his nonsense and the man is too dense to realize until it’s too late.

Chemistry - Jessamine_Rose02

Not Rated. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Yandere, dark themes, unhealthy relationship. Whenever I’m in need of a dark yandere fic for Dottore, this one comes to mind.

He Hates You - Sweatandwoe

Explicit. Il Dottore/Reader. He just can’t stop thinking about you and has little self-control (and we love him for it)

Arrangement - Sherwood

Explicit. Il Dottore/Reader. Modern AU in which Dottore is a sugar daddy and both of you toe the boundaries. Mind the tags.

Motion Sickness - Chickenparm

General Audiences. Il Dottore/Reader. Zandik explores ancient technology. It doesn’t go as planned.

Eventide - Chickenparm

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Unrequited love, mild yandere themes, smut; mind the tags. Another fic in which the writing is just as captivating as the character interactions themselves. The dynamic is perfect and I love the reader character in this, who could easily be their own person.

A Seed of Doubt - Krokus

Explicit. Il Dottore/Lumine. Hurt/comfort, smut. BDSM and sub/dom relationship, in which Dottore is (of course) perceptive. Mind the tags.

Responsiveness - Krokus

Explicit. Il Dottore/Lumine. Smut, BDSM, sub/dom relationship, implied drugging. A little experiment to see how Lumine reacts to his touch (and more). Mind the tags.

Crackling of Fire and Lightning - harmonic_melody

General Audiences. Il Dottore/La Signora. Signora survives her duel with the Raiden Shogun but returns with a newfound fear of lightning. Emotional hurt/comfort, and as usual Dottore sucks at feelings.

More Than Routine - morikouyou

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. Mind the tags; violence and noncon, generally a dark fic. Reader remembers Dottore from when he was Zandik, and finds herself a subject of his experiments.

Quid Pro Quo - Petrichorium

Explicit. Il Dottore/Female Reader. A deal with Dottore to help find a cure seals Reader’s fate. Jealous and repressed as only he can be, mixed with a Reader character who knows exactly how to get what she wants. Lives rent free in my head a lot.

Pale Flames Withering - Cassander

Explicit. Il Dottore/Pierro, Il Dottore’s Segments/Pierro. A beautiful relationship study in which both are bad with feelings, juggling immortality, and misinterpreting one another.

Kaveh

Even Exchange - Chickenparm

Explicit. Kaveh/Neutral Reader. Cute dynamic and a reader character that’s easy to believe exists within the universe; organic in their banter and interactions with Kaveh.

Scaramouche

Inauguration - Chickenparm

Explicit. Scaramouche/Female reader. Companion fic to Eventide. The only other exception for me regarding Scaramouche. Love the characterization! Scaramouche, so close to godhood, and yet so lonely, insecure; Reader, strong-willed and unbelieving. Themes are on-point, such a good balance to Dottore’s character in the other fic.

Xiao

Preta - Maokitty

Teen. Xiao/Gender neutral reader (if that’s wrong, correct me Mao; going by AO3 tags). Xianxia, with a lot of in-depth clarification and notes for those not familiar with the genre. I’ve been meaning to go back to this one, both for the prose and because I have a soft spot for the yaksha and adepti of Liyue.

Zhongli

Against All Odds Series - Rosengrata

Teen. Zhongli/Original Female Character. Hauteclaire struggles with her place as a Khaenri’ahn in a post-cataclysmic world; Zhongli is one of the few who understands the burden of a long life.

Stay Gold - Enegmatic

Mature. Zhongli/Female Reader. Reader comes from Fontaine and, upon looking for a new start, bumps right into Zhongli. Such good world-building and organic interactions, tension absolutely on point!

[filmofhybe]

corn on a cob

🌽 pairing : park jeongseong x oc 💌 GENRE : fluff 700 wc

warning : food , kissing , sharing food

; AUTHORS NOTE : day 13 of “24 days of Christmas with filmfohybe” is almost Christmas🥹 I got a corn on a cob at my town’s Christmas market and thought about jay. And I’m going to london tmr!! I’m so excited. Now let’s get to it.

MASTERLIST TO MY OTHER WORK

The air was crisp, filled with the enchanting aroma of roasted chestnuts and the lively sounds of a Christmas market. Jay and I strolled hand in hand, surrounded by twinkling lights and the joyful hum of festive music. The atmosphere was magical, and I couldn't help but feel a warm excitement bubbling within me.

As we wandered through the market, Jay's eyes lit up when he spotted a stall selling corn on the cob. He nudged me playfully, "You know, I've been craving one of those sweet and smoky corns. What do you say baby? Can I get it?” , “of course let’s go get them!” I grinned in agreement, and we joined the line, anticipation building as we inched closer to the delicious buttery aroma. Finally, we got our hands on one steaming cobs, adorned with a generous slathering of butter and a sprinkle of seasoning. The first bite was a burst of flavors—sweetness, smokiness, and the rich taste of butter that made my taste buds dance.

Jay and I took turns nibbling on the corn, sharing laughter and playful banter. “Right stop taking big ass bites this is literally my favorite!” “EXCUSE ME? I want it as well..” As I bit into the corn, a small smudge of butter found its way to the corner of my mouth. Jay's eyes twinkled mischievously as he reached over, his thumb gently wiping away the errant butter. I couldn't help but blush at the intimate gesture under the soft glow of Christmas lights. “Jay don’t do that..” my face is now probably redder than Rudolph the red nose reindeer.

A subtle, sweet taste lingered on my lips, a combination of the strawberry lip balm I had applied earlier and the buttery goodness of the corn. Jay leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a tender kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, surrounded by the festive ambiance of the Christmas market. Smiling into the lovely kiss.

"Mmm, maybe strawberry lip balm and butter should be a lip balm scent or even flavor," Jay suggested with a playful smirk, his eyes still locked onto mine. I chuckled, enjoying the light-hearted exchange as we continued to share the corn on the cob. “Uh I don’t think anyone would like that…” “I will though. Taste exactly like the two things I love..”

We explored the market further, weaving through stalls adorned with handmade ornaments, festive decorations, and the sweet scent of hot chocolate wafting through the air. The vibrant colors of the holiday season surrounded us, creating a picturesque backdrop for our shared moments. The market's carousel beckoned us, and we decided to take a whirl on its ornate horses. The melodies of classic Christmas tunes filled the air as we circled under a canopy of twinkling lights. Jay held me close beside me. Holding my waist as he watches me with a darling smile and the world seemed to slow down as we enjoyed the simple joy of the moment.

As the night deepened, the market came alive with an even more magical glow. The towering Christmas tree at the center of the square sparkled with countless lights, and couples danced to the tunes of a live band. Jay and I found a cozy spot on a bench, wrapped in each other's warmth, watching the festivities unfold. Him secretly taking candid pictures of me as I ate my cotton candy.

The air was filled with love and laughter, and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect Christmas experience. With a contented sigh, I leaned against Jay, grateful for the simple pleasures shared on this festive night—the sweet and smoky corn on the cob, the stolen kisses under Christmas lights, and the warmth of love that made the holiday season truly magical.

[alexrosekey]

Hermione-centric and HP World Building Expansion edition

A late entry from me. Beware that this list is based on my personal preference. If you don't like the ships, remember the rule - don't like don't read. Ship and let ship!

That being said, it has been a while since the last time I've come up with a rec list. But reccing great fanfics has remained one of my greatest passion. Having decided to fully integrated myself into the Harry Potter fandom again, I'm amazed at how creative and talented the authors of this fandom are. There are a plethora of interesting ideas and premises, with various themes and genres along with inquisitive, thoughtful observation regarding the characters and the world building of Harry Potter.

Without further ado, let's dive in to my submission for today's @hprecfest prompt: fics with over 100k+ words. All the fics below are Hermione-centric (one less than the other two but still), with amazing social commentaries on the HP world and impeccable observation on the magical world, which to me are the best aspect of HP fic.

unsphere the stars by @cocoartistwrites (M, 222,827, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle)

When you can't change time, but you can't go forward, what is left? Hermione learns how to be the protagonist of her own story.

To quote one of the bookmarks: Hermione is more than she ever was. This story is a journey of Hermione to grow, to love and to explore magic and its beauty more than she could ever be. Don't let the pairing deter you, this is no doubt one of the most memorable fanfic reading experience I have in my years of being in fandoms. Hermione and Tom are both portrayed spectacularly and thoughtfully, and the prose are some of the most poetic I've ever seen.

To sum up the whole of my reading experience, I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling for 30 mins after reading the last chapter, completely shell-shocked.

All I could say is, if you want an astounding character arc for Hermione, with in-depth magical system and immersive world building, plus interesting OCs and breathtaking writing, then this fic is definitely for you!

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 7: A Canon-Compliant Fic.

2. What's Past is Prologue by ABitofWit (E, 244,611, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy)

It's eight years after the war and Hermione Granger has taken a break from her career at the Ministry of Magic to compile an oral history of the conflict. She's interviewed just about everyone she can get her hands on but she wants to be thorough. And that means getting in contact with a very unwilling Lucius Malfoy.

Listen, I know the pairing is weird as fuck. I know, I had my doubt too before reading it. But the raving bookmarks convinced me to give this a chance. And boy, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

This fic is more than just a ship fic, it's about love and what we would do for it, the greyness of life and choices, of redemption and finding one's self worth outside of pre-existing, archaic ideas and values. It's about change and how we're never too old to learn. WPIP is everything I've ever wanted in a fic, emotional, sincere, humorous, gorgeous, sexy, steamy and sweet. Full of heart and soul.

Most of all, the development of and between Hermione and Lucius is so natural and makes a lot of sense, without them being OOC. This fic reminds me that Hermione is not at all flawless (the opposite of the usual Mary-Sue, little-miss-perfect trope that Hermione tends to be portrayed in fics), while successfully humanizes and makes Lucius Malfoy one of the most interesting HP characters in my eyes. (Who would have thought that I've spent years not giving a jot about this guy, only to fall in love with such a mess of a man like him??)

Combine with sharp commentaries and observations on the British Wizarding World, Wizarding politics and a not-canon folder supporting cast, this is no doubt one of the best HP fic, and one of the best fanfic I've ever had the pleasure to read.

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 2: A Comfort Fic and Day 9: A Rare Pair Fic.

3. Six Pomegranate Seeds by Seselt (E, 185,965, no pairing but implied Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger)

At the end, something happened. Hermione clutches at one fraying thread, uncertain whether she is Arachne or Persephone. What she does know is that she will keep fighting to protect her friends even if she must walk a dark path.

Sooo, this is one very weird fic. One of the oddest fics I've ever encoutered, in fact. I've read it twice, one before I read the book series in full, one after I've finished the books. And let me tell you, SPS is a stunning work.

The odd, floating third-person POV, the dry and sharp, straightforward tone of Hermione. Her competency, her compassion despite all the pain and the emotional repression. This is definitely not your usual time travel fix-it fic.

Most of Hermione's work happened in tandem with the 7 books' main storyline. Hermione's soul is put into the body of a young orphan Pureblood heiress. This gives the fic one of the most interesting spin on the Hermione-is-a-pureblood trope.

Through Hermione, we have a closer look into the background and the context of the main events of the books, plus a deeper understanding of the Pureblood society and a much more sympathetic view into the students Slytherin house. All without whitewashing and offsetting the corruption and the effects of the Purebloods and the Slytherins' stuffy, archaic views on not only the young generation of students but also the British Wizarding world.

I lost count of the amount of time I slapped my knees while reading this work the second time whenever I encountered a particularly sharp line of thought/commentary from Hermione in this fic. I'm also amazed at how much work and research the author has put into SPS, particularly in terms of making up tons of new magical theories and the use of exotic and lesser known vocabulary (seriously, if you decide to read this one, prepare a dictionary next to you, or get ready to regularly stop mid reading in order to look up certain words 😆)

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 7: A Canon-Compliant Fic.

That being said, thank you for checking out my list! Thank the admins of @hprecfest for holding such a fun activity. Feel free to join in yourself. Happy reading 💋

Day 16: A fic that made you laughed

Day 19: Fic with the hottest smut

Day 22: An unfinished fic (hasn't updated in 10 years or the author stated it has been abandoned)

Day 26: A fic with an ending you can't stop thinking about

[thana-topsy]

Fic Writers Self-Rec

I've been tagged by so many lovely people in my time away from tumblr! Thank you so much to @gilgamish @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @kookaburra1701 and anyone else I might have missed tagging me in this one.

I tag @expended-sleeper @mongoose-bite @banjotea @turbo-toast and @yesjejunus

Rules:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Halfway to the Sky An obvious choice I think! This fic is my absolute baby. Driven by a purely OC cast, it was kind of a gamble to release into the wilds of fandom, but I'm just eternally grateful and humbled by the amount of support I've gotten through the process of writing it. To say it's been a life-changing story for me is an understatement.

Hollow Men This fic was a genre switch-up for me. I'd never really written a "Recovery Fic" before, and it certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone. But it was one of those that tore its way out of me, just desperate to get out of my head. And I learned so much about writing and about myself. It'll forever hold a special place in my heart. Also an OC-heavy narrative that showed me I could, in fact, drive a story without an NPC anchoring me to the world.

Breathing Water / Liminal Bridges Pardon the two-fer, but I had to include the sequel in this! Breathing Water was a HUGE turning point in my writing. It was the first time I'd written a super compact narrative beginning to end before posting the story. So I was able to really refine the story, plot out appropriate foreshadowing, and wrap everything up neatly. And then Liminal Bridges, a sequel born out of a pure love of Neloth and Teldryn and wanting to see them bounce around in the world some more, has spun off into something so wild and wonderful that I can't wait to start sharing new updates again.

How to Build a Home (or Die Trying) A lesser-known fic of mine, this one I wrote at the very beginning of lockdown in 2020 and it taught me a LOT about flash-fiction, vignette storytelling, time skips, and pacing. That, and I'd wanted to write something with Ralis for a while at that point. It was a fantastic remedy for a rough year. Quickburn with some well-earned fluff.

Finding Mara A spin-off of a sequel, this is one of those fics that I am so incredibly proud of, fond of, and was kind of the prototype for stories like "Hollow Men" and "Halfway to the Sky". It was poking at a lot of themes that I wanted so badly to explore, but didn't yet know how. Nilandur is a character who, in so many ways, changed who I am as a person.

[whatgaviiformes]

i'm absolutely windswept

I started Thunderteers in May of 2019. I remember very distinctly being out to dinner with Hubs, coordinating the AU concept almost entirely for a long, epic first story. We were at a Chili's and I had my usual indecisive platter of appetizers as my meal. As of today there's only been 3 chapters of what mapped out that day. Some of it made it to paper. I've never been great at those long epics - I love reading them, but my writing brain is most solid with the 1K-6K word length.

So I started building the world with fic. I wrote about Virgil playing the violin, and how he made music. I explored Gordon's accident, and what it could've happened in place of a hydrofoil. I reached for Military!Bros instead of my usual FishTank, and explored the truth behind legends. I forced myself to make and break OCs, spent way too much time researching when songs were created, recipes of the time, if certain animals were classified the same way, and what name a city may have had in 1774.

Other things I decided not to research at all.

Above all that, before I posted a new story or fic, I asked myself if the imagery was there, and was it something I was proud of? Because I knew - the only way I could get others to set sail with me, was to make sure I was taking you on the journey. Not if it was historically accurate, but does this feel like our boys, and are they interacting with the environment in a way that feels like it would still be them? Is it possible to still see Gordon? Still see Scott?

That was my first AU.

Naturally, in asking myself this, I've had different images in my head all this time, and I was lucky enough this month to have the chance to ask the amazing @chenria to bring one of them to life for me. You can find the post below:

Sailor Gordon by Chenria.

Go like it, reblog it, send her support, consider joining her patreon if you can. She knocked it out of the park, and in so doing - inspired me along the way.

If you decide to read Thunderteers, just know - it's not always beautiful.

But this one - it's all love and heart. I've written the snippet for Windswept as a thank you to chenria's amazing work, to everyone who puts up with my reblogging posts for the age of sail (#ships ships ships) or who tag me in things to see, or have Wellerman living rent free in their heads and let me play along. Thanks to those that have read the story, maybe cried along, or sent me words of encouragement.

Thank you for letting me experiment with language and story, and sometimes - when I get really lucky- for the words I've written to matter to you.

*****

Windswept (~500 words)

As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. The wind tugs at his clothing, hanging loose and informally on his silhouette, and at his hair where he stands aloft amidst the sails. The seabirds close to shore weave their dance between the ropes above, circling him curiously. Even though his form is strange to them, he’s not unwelcome in their home in the air. If anything, he’s just a part of the flying clouds that make up the rigging of their ship.

The gulls’ calls sound like laughter, and he smiles with them. The birds will accompany the ship for a time, darting towards the quick meal at the bow where the front of the ship often disturbs the sea life below. If the voyage is to be a lucky one, they’ll grace the wood of the ship with a gift or two that’ll be left to wash away only with the next rain.

Gordon can feel the sway of the ship stronger from above; though with the Thunderbird still anchored close to shore, the waves are gentle as they lap against her firm hull. The movement is a tease for the voyage ahead, as Gordon has always found himself more comfortable in their journeys out to sea than he’s ever felt in his tentative steps on land. The ship has watched him grow and come of age, from awkward limbs racing up the rigging, to strong shoulders heaving her lines and helming her wheel. She’s given him the freedom to roam, to explore lands and seas unknown, and even with the thrill of adventure, Gordon feels most safe in the comfort of her embrace. If that isn’t a home, he doesn’t know what else is.

He knows her in the early morn - the way the sunrise paints cotton and how the mist tingles at the fuzz on his arms at the start of his shift. He knows the echo of their shanties within her oak beams, and the squeak of her joy when the creatures of the sea ride along with her bow waves upon them really catching the wind and when the tang of citrus remains on his tongue from breaking fast.

He knows her in the rain, the smell of wood and cotton when burdened with wet from above as well as below, the crackle of lightning in its brief and staggered illumination of her flags. He knows her in the cold, when the puff of his breath is visible and the wind cuts into his skin. Among whales, massive and elegant as they groan their song into her hull.

He knows her in the evening – Virgil and John’s cooking and their different nuances for flavor and spice, the vibrato of Virgil’s violin paired with the warm timbre of the Scott’s cello pulsing along her foundations. The way she creaks below Alan’s eager footsteps.  He knows the soft glow around flame-lit lanterns in the darkest of night and the hush of melodies uttered in multiple languages up towards twinkling stars. The way his hammock rocks him to sleep with her movement.

He knows her in both fair winds and motionless skies, in the brightest of sunlit days and the most cloud-covered of nights. Through doldrums, archipelagos, and the far reaches of the seas, and along coastlines, he knows her.  

And his soul trembles just as she does, her unfurled sails shuddering in anticipation of catching the wind.

TBC..?

[venusdevotea]

My Tavs!

I've been lurking on BG3 tumblr for a while, but I wanted to finally make a proper post showing off my characters! I've got a couple of campaigns going on, and I'm always looking to make new characters and explore different playstyles and think of fun lore. It's been so awesome to connect with other members of the community too, namely @basketobread's gorgeous mind and OC's, creator our best girl Lunara!

Without further ado, here is my first Tav Tal'riia!

I had originally named her Karliah after the legendary archer of the nightingales in Skyrim, but then got annoyed that her name was too similar to Karlach's, so I changed it. I usually run rogues or clerics in my irl dnd campaigns, so again she was originally a rogue but then quickly realized Astarion was a rogue too so.... to make more sense having him in my party all the time, I changed her class to ranger and holy hell was that sick as FUCK. I made her strong type at first so she gives off femme himbo vibes (lovable loser rizz) because GOD I missed like half of the content in my first run.

She is a Seladrine Drow Ranger!! Honestly haven't thought much of her personal lore because I just went for what I thought sounded super awesome to me off rip. I don't have any pictures of her in scene, because I just didn't think to take more tbh and I wasn't super proud of many of my choices and the things I missed in my excitement to finish the game asap to then.... start my next run!

Which brings us to my next two OC's, a re-run of Tal'riia's story and my first Durge Muerta! I... ended up deleting my first campaign and ran a whole do-over, since like I said, I felt increasingly dumb as time went on and after consuming more and more bg3 content online, I realized just how much I had missed in my first campaign.... SO brings us to a re-realized Tal'riia with a different skillset and playstyle. I went for sorcerer/tempest cleric, because I had heard how strong that build was, and with the cheats ring I got from the basket equipment mod, I had a lot of fun playing around. I've got a couple pics of her here:

Tal'riia 2: Electric Boogaloo Seladrine Drow Sorcerer/Tempest Cleric (I'll post more pics of her when I get back to her story!)

Of course had to also start my first Durge Run, which I chose to go a good route (I'm too nice even in rp to go full evil, but idk, I might try it soon!) and I decided to run an eldrich fighter Durge because I feel fighter makes more sense of a chosen of Bhaal than a sorcerer? But idk that's just me. Here's Muerta!

I actually have such an unhealthy obsession with her Muerta Half Wood-Elf Eldrich Knight Fighter (Yes the lightning jabber build) Heart of gold, little murder-y at times, but ultimately does resist her Urges. What's a little murder between friends!! Red rum is my drink of choice at a bar! POV: Durge is also casually your bff. Honestly pretty normal. Just don't meet the parents...... or the sister.

I'll share my next campaign in a separate post here. This campaign I'm running based on my dnd character I'm playing in an irl campaign with friends! I made our whole party in the character selection screen, but only moved forward with my character because.... there's only so many unfinished adventures I can have lol.

[card-queen]

Writer Q&A Tag

I am truly blessed! Thank you so much for the tag @maskedemerald! It really means the world to me!! I'd love to do more tag game things just to get involved or join a writing group of some kind!

What motivates you to write?

Disappointment, I guess? A lot of things I read/watch/play don't go places I want to see, don't explore ideas I want to hear about, don't show the effects of events on characters I think should be there. It sounds all negative, I know, but it's really not. Nothing gets me fired up quite like getting mad at the things that should have been.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work that you love (just please credit them)

Well, I'm not sure on this one. I still consider myself pretty green as a writer, so I don't think I've written anything that stands out just yet. I'll grab this from one of my little writing challenges. I grabbed two random characters and a vague prompt to write a little scene about. It was surprisingly fun as I hadn't actually written for Velena yet.

‘That’s the funny thing about the truth, it doesn’t seem to change.’ ‘You truly expect me to believe that utter drivel about it being luck that you survived?’ ‘I don’t expect anything,’ Hughwen retorted in a predictable manner. Velena almost heard the words before they came out of Hughwen’s mouth. Was he becoming more predictable? Or was she? ‘You have your ungrateful life while your comrades don’t. How many good men died today instead of you?’ ‘I have no idea, I didn’t think to count,’ Hughwen said coolly. Velena felt something in the atmosphere change. Either she was getting to him, or Hughwen had decided he no longer wished to cooperate. ‘But I can tell you this, not that you asked: few of those men were “good men”.’ Velena looked Hughwen up and down. His face bore that smirk she had grown to loathe in the short time she had known her prisoner. His eyes showed a mixture of challenge and defiance. He had decided he was done for the day. She could see it.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

I'll say Cas for the sake of the question but quite honestly, I find myself getting wrapped up and enjoying thinking/talking about my characters without even realising it. Each character has something really enjoyable or challenging about them that makes them fun to write. The world, the story, the factions and forces within the world, the other characters and their struggles -- they all take root in the other characters as well, so even if you don't find their personality to be enjoyable, their perspective on matters, characters, past knowledge etc. often makes them stand out as enjoyable to me. Anyway, to answer the question: Cas' endless struggle to build an image of himself isn't really true to him to combat the stigma of a reputation that also isn't true to him. He pours himself into duty, over-exerts to the point of breaking and denies some of his stronger aspects because they might make him look like the criminal people see him as. He's exactly what I want from a main character: vibrant and adventurous, with a good heart and a rogue's mentality and a sucker for outcasts and black sheep.

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Easy answer: dialogue. It's fun to craft the ways characters say what they mean to say. Complex answer: that moment in the third or so draft, when you're looking at your overview and you see a common thread you didn't notice before and suddenly a whole wave of thematic resonance just clicks into place.

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I can't truly say yet. I think dialogue but to be honest, not many people actually read my work. Especially not now that I've started from scratch again!

What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Silly asks, memes and just fun-building questions. Characters are simultaneously tools that fulfil a purpose within the story they inhabit, and ALSO they are vessels of personality and joy that bring the life to events and scenarios. You really need to have fun with and love your characters beyond their purpose and silly headcanon questions and fun doodles often do just that!

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Enneagram, I guess. For me, I like to see similarities around where I'm aiming to feel grounded. The vast infinity of everything is really daunting and I do my best to avoid thinking about things that 'could be anything'. Anything = too much = I'm drowning. I've always tried to connect my work to other things to feel less disjointed but there was always something that didn't feel right or help me all that much. Everyone always went to TVTropes but I really didn't like to. Thank goodness I found something that worked for me!

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

It's not so much one thing that I like the most, it's the fallout and effects of that thing. From this unspecified event, my world has:

The Runes of Magic as it is known. People are born under the sign of two or three Gods, with one God being their patron and thus, their birth element.

From Magic, there is Soulfire. Soulfire is the birth element dying and needing to be Cleansed. Uncleansed Soulfire can create Rifts and if a body with Uncleansed Soulfire is eaten by a beast or animal, they will transform into a Monster during an Athyric Moon.

Speaking of, Magic and Gods ties into the Godmoon or Athyric Moon. A monthly event that most Continental countries base their calendars on. A full-moon event that causes all Magic to be enhanced or brought to full power.

With Athyric Moons & Magic, there are engineers and tinkerers who use the Runes of Magic to make crystals and jewellery to perform simple tasks, like a Ice chests to keep stored food frozen, Heatstones for warming public baths, Crystal lamps to give off a faint glow at night, etc. These devices are designed to last the month then be recharged by the Athyric Moon.

Returning back to the original point with Gods & the Runes, we have the religions that populate the world. Each having different core beliefs, rules, taboos and ways of life based on the Virtues of the God that governed that land.

and so on, and so on...

Things in worldbuilding don't exist in a vacuum. If something is created, it may make something else in the world impractical or impossible. There may be something else that needs to be created alongside it to make sure that life would be sustainable for those in the world or area. These are areas where you can really have a lot of fun!

What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

My first goal for my day is always to write. If I can't write, then I'll watch, read or play something that might give me ideas or inspiration. If I'm not in the right mind for that, I spend time with my sisters and the dogs, and remember what I'm doing it all for.

Don't sweat the details, honestly. Some days/weeks/months just suck and it's good to recognise when it happens so you can just hit the eject button. Things tend to have a way of working themselves out. I find that if you're blocked when writing, there's something there that's bugging you and you might not even know what it is. The answer will be right around the corner before you know it, just don't go looking for it. Relax your brain, the answers will come find you.

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I can only really tag @maskedemerald, @yunidraws, @albicantknight, @snow-the-wanderer, @prismshard, @reneethegreatandpowerful and @merwetketet! Many of whom are inactive, I know, but I don't know anybody else!!

If you see this and want to do it, then pretend I tagged you, please! I need more friends here.

[askthedarksidersfam]

Birthday Bash

So today is my birthday!! And I decided as a fun treat for myself I'd write my apocalypse survivor celebrating! I've always wondered what having a birthday in the post apocalypse would be like! It's all OCs from here!

Word count is over 6K

What was that saying for Spring? “April showers bring May flowers”?

Well, it must be April with all the rain that had been flooding the streets for days on end. Mere hour breaks didn’t lessen the dark clouds overhead, nor the lightning that flashed in the far distance.

Despite the world quite literally ending for humanity, nature did not mourn for their absence. It waited for no one and carried on as it has done for millions of years.

The rain had stopped, been near stagnant for almost three hours, a new record at this point. Thunder rumbled through the air, rattling the shells of demolished buildings and adding to the empty, almost eerie ambience.

But that didn’t stop Grace and her party of four from venturing down the streets. Together, the group of five traversed down dilapidated roads and shorn neighborhoods with Grace, the lone human, at the lead. Prometheus, alongside an ever vigilant Tarya with her swiveling ears and watchful eyes made the rear, with Tarya’s twins, a new family addition, settled comfortably on their mother’s back.

The two were still far too small to be venturing away from their mother, despite Dalva’s, the more adventurous of the two, protests to walk on her own to explore the exciting world around her. Sabodi, the more shyer sister, preferred to keep close to her mother, or Grace, her elder sister.

How Grace had loved the new family additions like true sisters.

Wiping away the slight sheen of sweat beading at her brow, Grace fans herself as the humidity starts to finally affect her. The April season was just as wet and hot as she had remembered it to be in her youth from fleeting, faded memories. But one specific memory belonging to the month of April hadn’t changed in the test of time.

Her own birthday.

At some point of her life in the post apocalypse, Grace hadn’t thought anything of her birthday, finding the need to celebrate or even acknowledge it a waste. It brought no food to any mouths or a modicum of safety to her in those earlier years, so she let it fade away to nothing but a piece of the past.

Not this year however.

This year felt more different. Safer, and with a more full belly, Grace had felt semblances of happiness returning to the more mundane things of her life. With solid walls surrounding her, contact with people (however brief and awkward it gets at times), things had begun to shift. Albeit it took a few years to reach where she is now, Grace took it as it came, and decided to do something different.

After reorienting herself with time again, courtesy of a grownup who kept tabs on the passage of the years, Grace had been able to keep up with the dates. And came to a discovery.

On the day she read the calendar, her birthday was fast approaching. The 19th was not even a week away.

That was five days ago on the 14th.

Today was her birthday.

She had learned after all these years, she would now be twenty.

Twenty…

Two whole decades of living, with over half dedicated to living in the post apocalyptic world. She reached this far. This was further than she ever expected to ever live in all her life, especially in her childhood.

The ability to live this long deserved a reason to celebrate. To truly party.

Which was why all five of them were currently trekking through the streets and deeper into the city’s heart. Towards the shopping district.

Worn down signs and half demolished neon lights dot the streets, some of the more functional lights doggedly spit bursts of electric sparks. Some of the more lucky signs flicker dimly with quick shivers of colorful light before dying just as quickly as it came. Puddles bled with the quick colors, illuminating the dull world to something more vibrant.

Leaping over a great grooves unquestionably in the shape of claw marks on the concrete, Grace pulls the hood of her jacket further over her head. Pellets of rain spat at her in the slowly building drizzle, urging the girl to get a move on lest she like to catch a cold.

Sick on a birthday. How exciting.

The thought however, doesn’t stop Grace from taking the slightest detour to pluck a single shard of concrete from a broken curb. Merely the size of her pointer finger and just as wide. For a second, Grace feels the coarse shard with her fingers, letting the hardness pierce her soft skin.

A curious grumble sounded from Tarya as Grace looked around for a moment before pulling her arm back and swinging it forward in a sharp arc, letting the piece fly from her hand. The piece clatters noisily across the street in a skipping motion for a considerable distance before submerging into a deep pothole with a quiet ‘splash’.

While that accomplished absolutely nothing, it brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

The simplicity of her little game brought some comfort, bringing a sense of longing for the distant past. How everything was so different back then, when Grace didn’t have to think about when her next meal would be, or whether or not she’d be sleeping for a few measly hours before danger came crawling to her doorstep.

Now with those questions finally being able to be answered with a “yes, food and shelter is available”, Grace allowed herself to indulge on the simpler things.

Then, the quiet of her mind is broken when thunder breaks across the sky, shaking the very air. The whole party jumps at the sound, with Prometheus’ hackles raising and Tarya’s wayward glances to the sky as if expecting a foe to descend from the clouds. The twins yip and chitter nervously, unused to the strange loud sound.

Throwing a glance to the dark clouds illuminated with lightning, Grace picks up her pace, more than willing to get out of the streets. The rain deterred most demons and angels, preferring to take shelter, that didn’t guarantee totally empty streets. Hungry beasts still prowled the city in search of an easy meal. Angelic soldiers would patrol their territories under orders or find some way to a fight on their expeditions, more than bored.

That thought urged the redhead to have a purpose in her stride, carrying herself with a swifter speed than wandering. And with the wind picking up the light rains, Grace needed no more excuses to stay on the empty roads longer than necessary.

But luckily, the brisk pace was beginning to pay off with the silhouette of the mall slowly beginning to loom over the horizon. Surrounded by distant demolished towers and twisting flora life, it beckoned Grace to come closer. Promises of a day full of exploration ahead.

If she tried hard enough, Grace could pretend that she was entering the mall before everyone else early in the morning. That today was simply another day and she was coming to the mall to celebrate her birthday like all other teenagers do, er… did.

The long dulled memories of a normalcy in walking down the great halls of an enormous shopping center begged to be relieved again. For far too long had this luxury been robbed from her, far too young she’d been torn from everything she only began to understand and thrust into a new world she couldn’t navigate.

After all this time relearning and guiding herself to live this hard, brand new life, didn’t she deserve a chance to escape? A few hours of losing herself in the confines of solid walls, pretending nothing beyond the building existed?

No scrambling for survival, no great war between two very real yet mythical races, and no worries about what hides in every shadow. Just bliss.

Breaking from her dead glare into the far distance, Grace eyes one of the grand entrances to the mall. Twisted metal what was probably once depictions of art lay on the ground, stripped of the once bright paint and shorn like weak branches. The spindly end points spread out like spider legs, and are just as wickedly imposing as a Trauma.

Neon signs above the collection of entrance doors wrote out a scrambled ‘welcome in” with several letters either half torn down or missing altogether. The array of sliding glass doors were in mid-motions of opening or closing, probably from the fleeing crowd or scavengers. Several of the doors were shattered open, glass lettering the floor.

The paint was in several degrees of peeling, years of severe wearing revealing the monochrome gray of the building’s foundation. Scorch marks from an unknown source marks the facade’s face a sooty black in a straight streak across the welcome lettering.

A few remnants of corpses lay across the tarmac platform, three winged, armored corpses and two large leathery, hardened cadavers long since picked clean by animals. All seemingly have been caught in the throes of battle of their poses of impalement and severed limbs have anything to say. Even down to the eyes missing, nothing was wasted.

Though the sight has become an all to familiar

occurrence in the apocalypse, Grace couldn’t help but grimace at the sight and stench. Those poor things, she doubts that their end was all but peaceful.

But that wasn’t her concern. She could mope about the fates of angels and demons caught in a fight, but that wouldn’t bring food or shelter to the table. Plus, it isn’t going to suddenly change the other-worldly people’s views on humanity and change them for the better. Such fantasies belonged in book pages where the impossible happened casually and gave everyone a happy ending.

Those thoughts can be kept with a fool.

Breezing by the mangled cadavers, Grace and her entourage round near the mall doorways. Glass crunches underfoot heavy boots as the girl inspects the entrance.

They’re large, meant to accommodate big crowds and large groups to come in and out on the constant. They’re more than big enough to allow Tarya, the biggest of them all, to crawl in with some effort. Not that the GrimHorn could have any problem tearing through the metal framework.

But today, Grace didn’t want a hint of brutality on this day. Or rather, an unnecessary amount.

Green eyes inspect the destroyed doorways and take notice of glass protruding from the frame. Fingers flex around the leather gloves, feeling the hard material as she aligned herself with one of the doors and braced her hands to the frames.

With one great heave, the door’s shifted slightly, after years of being rusted into place they stubbornly held. Giving another rough shove, the doors screamed horribly against the broken frame, but gave a little this time.

More confident, the redhead places her booted foot to the door and times her kick with her shove. Then, the stubborn metal framework finally gives way, sliding completely free from its position and recedes into the wall. Grace yelps as she almost falls from the sudden freeing of the previously unmovable doorway. She barely manages to catch herself on the frame, narrowly avoiding kissing the glass covered rug inside the mall.

Looking back to her entourage who all more than clearly watched her tumble stare at her, sounds of damn near close to laughter escaping from Prometheus and the twins. Tarya‘s head ducks down as if ready to inspect for injuries a grumble coming from her, a burr of concern.

Immediately, Grace gives a thumbs up to the maternal demon and begins to work on the other doors. Pushing and kicking with effort.

Then as the young woman pried open the last pair of dead sliding doors with a horrid screech, bliss awaited dead head.

Taking her first steps inside, Grace is met with the smell of musty air, definitely from years of zero maintenance and holes in the roof allowing weather to stink the place further.

The sight isn’t exactly what she remembered from childhood. Tiled floors coated with layers of grime under open spots in the ceiling, varying pools of dirty water accumulated in the dips of the floor. Graffiti painting the walls of scrawled messages and crude characters. The once vibrant paint jobs of the mall a duller hue, as if the very life had been siphoned away from years of neglect.

The concession stands were in absolute shambles, destroyed and partially picked clean from opportunistic thieves. Whether from when the apocalypse happened or afterwards was a mystery.

But what irked Grace the most, was without a doubt the deafening silence that blanketed the whole place. It felt too wrong, this place was supposed to be crawling with people, boisterous children as the music was barely audible over the chaos. But now? Silence.

However, it is quickly broken as the sounds of groaning metal tears Grace to attention. Whipping her head back to the origin, the culprit Tarya who’s more than trying to squeeze her way through, wings tucked flush to her body as she crawls through. Protesting chirps from the twins fill the air as their mother tries to slither her huge torso past the doors, metal stretching around her frame.

“You can do it.” Grace encouraged, observing her closest thing to a mother try to bully her way past. She was already close to fitting, and the woman has seen her fit in much smaller without trouble. Though, she supposed it was in the case of an emergency that was why Tarya could do such things.

Whether luck from her words or impatience, Tarya in one great shove, breaks free from the confines, tearing the metal with a terrible snap, and Grace immediately covers her sensitive ears. The twins screech noisily as Prometheus snarls, scrambling to get away from Tarya’s stumbling path, the demon trying to catch herself as her daughters crawl across her back, airing their complaints.

They’re heard by their mother, purring apologetically as she shakes her head, ridding herself of the dust that accumulated on her when she broke free. Prometheus harrumphs from his spot, completely unimpressed. Grace merely smirks.

“C’mon, we got a whole day of exploring ahead!” Turning on a heel, Grace begins her march forward, ready for everything this place could offer. Passing by a map posted on a

Broken glass, dirty water pools, graffiti, and half lit stores was what could be seen as far as the eye could go. It was vastly unimpressive but-

Wait…

The lights were on?!

Completely scratch down what Grace thought before as she ran to the shop’s window, a bookstore, staring gape mouthed as she looked at the dim, but very real, lights flickering.

The dying lights, those that remained, cast their pale colors upon the rows of shelves inside. All lined with books. Grace could only gawk.

Well, actually, the simple fact that electricity was still working, in a huge place like this, for some odd years, was more exciting than anything.

So many thoughts raced through her head as she booked it through the shop doors, beelining for the shelf of unclaimed novels. Unworried of the faint, questioning churr from Tarya.

Immediately, Grace’s fingers traced over each and every book, feeling the aged pages, every groove and dip as she perused the titles. Every single one of them she didn’t recognize, which made everything all the more exciting! There were new things to be read, and she was more than eager to learn what stories the pages kept all these years.

There were so many to choose from, where could she even begin?

Begin by shoving the most intriguing ones in her backpack, weathered from time that the soft blue fabric was more of a gray tinted blue. She packed light for this trip, with a few snacks, water, extra carrying pack, a sketchbook and her weaponry which stayed on her at all times.

She bet that within hours the backpacks would be stuffed to the seams. But it would be worth it.

After three rearrangements of five books and a wander around the bookstore, Grace spotted a wagon cart knocked over in the children’s section. She promptly set it upright and dumped her backpack between the seats, lifting the weight off her shoulders. A very convenient solution to her predicament of how many books could she take back to Haven.

The five books turned into sixteen. Different genres from fantasy, horror to non-fiction, thick chapter novels to illustrated pages for efficient gardening. Her muscles shivered excitedly at the prospect of curling up on her bed and reading by starlight. The simple domesticity of the imagery left her wanting for more.

More of the simple pleasures, more of the fun she’d been denied for so many years. A chance to feel what the older survivors reminisced about late into nightfall. Things she didn’t even have a taste for when others seemed to have indulged in the good times. It made Grace wonder how different their lives were.

Talk of classic movies and boomboxes with the latest hits when she knew living on the move and distant screams when the sun went down. Memories of luxurious homes and lavish meals at fancy restaurants where she knew scavenging for scraps.

Grace didn’t envy them, as much as she wanted to. She couldn’t imagine missing a wonderful life she didn’t know. It was pitiful to see them all struggle together, try as they might to cope without those strange luxuries. Maybe these little gifts of books could ease their minds, even if it was temporary. But with this discovery, she can always come back to pick each book off the shelves.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea…

But for now, she had a birthday to celebrate and a mall to… ahem, shop to her hearts content.

Readjusting the bow on her back as well as her grip on the wagon’s handle, Grace trotted past the doors and to her awaiting entourage. The twins perk up, chirping curiously at the shiny, so to speak, toy their elder sister brought. Tarya tilts her head as well, matching the image of her daughter’s tilted heads as each stands on her shoulders. Prometheus remained stone faced.

“Look what I got!” She doesn’t expect an answer, “I got some paper with words on it!” An oversimplification and terrible joke all in one. She’s sure Prometheus rolled his eyes as he huffs, throwing his head back to emphasize his displeasure.

The twins however seem to disregard the embarrassing attempt at humor, instead both clambering down Tarya to skitter right into the wagon. Dalva, the more adventurous, wastes no time in throwing her whole body inside, landing on the backpack with a pleased chirp.

Sabodi however had a more reserved approach, carefully sniffing the cart’s wheels as her small wings unfurled defensively, ready to take flight at the sign of danger. It was cute since she was too young to fly.

A chuckle spills from Grace’s lips when Sabodi ducks her head down when Dalva pops out from above too quickly, frightening her sister. Sabodi was far too cautious and jumpy for this world. It reminds Grace of her younger self.

“C’mon, it isn’t so bad ‘bodi,” she crouches down to her sister’s level, putting the demon at slight ease. She takes her hands and slides it under the baby’s belly, feeling the warm, soft leathery skin on her fingers. Sabodi whines in gentle protest as she is lifted into Grace’s lap, allowing her a view above the little wagon.

Gently, a small paw is taken between gentle fingers and coaxed to be placed upon the fabric wall. “See?” Grace coos, letting Sabodi get used to the feeling, “there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s only a little pull cart.”

Dalva seems to have picked up on the mood, for she sticks her head out to rub her snout on her sister’s, an encouraging gesture Grace had come to learn over time. Slowly, Sabodi’s big ears prick up with confidence and the weight in Grace’s lap is lifted as the demon carefully slinks in to sit with her sister.

“Perfect! A carriage for two!” She claps her hands together, smiling at the pair of wide, black eyes innocently staring up. Plucking the handle with a delicate finger she turns to the empty walk way ahead and playfully drags her foot on the tile, like she’d seen horses do.

“Where to my ladies? I, your valiant steed shall take you to your hearts desire!” Dalva trills, shifting restlessly in her seat as she picks up on the exciting energy. Grace puts her hand to her pointed ear, listening carefully to the sounds before her head shoots high, ears flickering skyward.

“Aha! I see! My fairest lady wishes to see the finest shops in the kingdom! Of course, right away my fairest of the young maidens!” Grace bends at the hip with a sweep of her arm, mimicking a dramatic bow. Her long braid spills over her shoulder and Dalva takes a swat at the red tuft of hair sticking from the end.

“Onward, I hear you cry,” Grace straightens her back, trotting in place as she looks around the walkways, eyeing the safest routes to run. “Onward we shall go! Your gallant steed will charge forth into the big kingdom and take thee unto your heart’s desires!”

“Charrrrrrrgge!!!” The yell echoes across the whole place as the sound of running footsteps bounced off the walls. Two squeals, both of delight, roared over the sound of blood pumping in Grace’s ears.

Picking up speed, Grace pulls her pointer, middle and ring finger to her palm, leaving the thumb and pinky to stick out. She raises the thumb to her lips and whistles the tune of a trumpet in fanfare, feeling much like a character in a fantasy novel.

It felt freeing.

Then, Grace pulls to a stop, the contents of the store from through the glass catching her eye.

An arcade. The sounds of electronic songs playing their tunes, though some spluttered sour notes. The most enormous of smiles stretches across the girl’s features, eyes gleaming with wonder.

It felt as if all the luck in the universe had condensed into one little spot and transported itself here, waiting patiently for her.

Hesitantly, as if afraid to break the bubble of this neon lit dream, Grace takes soft steps forward, taking in everything. Heavy boots gently padded the carpeted floors of black, shimmering neon paints her body in its bright glow as she took a breath in, intently remembering the scent. Faint musk and mildew.

However, her brain could practically reproduce the savor smells of buttery popcorn, fresh pizza and steamy pretzels. Her stomach moaned at the thought of a soft pretzel.

The place was obviously abandoned in a hurry. Soda cups and trash litters the ground and stains the carpet. Coins scattered the whole place, and well earned prizes lay discarded, forgotten.

The smile fails for a moment, remembering the realness of the world outside these walls.

But she was here to forget those worries, just for a few hours.

“This…” she starts unexpectedly, feeling four pairs of eyes on her, not needing to turn to know Prometheus and Tarya are Perry at her from the door. “This is… was, an arcade. People would come here to play games and party.” She doesn’t stop the drooping of her lips as she lets go of the wagon handle, opting to pick up a pile of dropped quarters.

“You know, I went a few times as a kid to one of these.” Fingers brush off the dust covered quarters, and her heart aches as she reads the date print. 2009.

“I, of course,” she laughs weakly, “had to stick to the claw machines the most. I always spent the most time trying to get a stuffed animal.” Grace’s head tilts back to see her sisters sniffing about curiously, crawling to the noisiest machines and climbing them to investigate. Tarya had squeezed herself inside, surprisingly with room to spare as she navigated to Grace’s side.

“They were always the best part to me, because I always brought home a friend. At least when I won.” She continues, looking at her mother who listens intently. She smiles and lets her gaze search across the plethora of gaming consoles. She even spotted a skating rink. She would definitely be searching for rollerblades later…

Her eyes wander again to lo and behold, the claw game of legend. The organ beneath her breastbone picks up speed, and her muscles quivered at the sight.

It was one of those larger models, meant to hold plenty of little treasures within. And in the colorful blob, Grace could get lost in the fluffy chaos. She readjusts her belt, feeling for the stuffed unicorn tied to the leather, the plush, but worn fabric soothing.

Grace had the white and pink unicorn from childhood. Her young heart won over by those blue bead eyes and heart sewn to the rump with the pink bow to wrap it all together.

It had been the only thing left from her old life. It had lasted so long from tender care and territorial protectiveness. She had done everything she could to keep her unicorn, Amalthea, intact. Even learning to sew to keep the smallest tears from tearing her apart.

“It would never hurt to bring a few… friends over for the others right?” Not a total lie. Grace would feel guilty if she didn’t bring some back as gifts.

“‘Sides, Dalva and Sabodi would like some new toys.” That was true, but the twins had their own collection of toys raided from pet shops.

It didn’t stop her from depositing the quarters into the machine, listening to the music pick up a cheery tune as Grace readied herself. Tarya watched with great interest, ears twitching forward.

Eyes scan across the wide array of plush toys, noting the many bears, cats, dinosaurs and even cartoon characters. Maybe she’d pick up the triceratops, or the rabbit with the oversized ears-

Then, her eyes lock in on the prize that stops every thought. The loudest gasp escapes Grace’s mouth, it startles Tarya who jumps back, surprised.

Laying on top of the pile is a small, but plump, white lamb. Small horns top the fluffy head and a tiny gold bell tied to its neck with light pink string.

The claw is directed to the lamb without Grace even looking away. She keeps her gaze straight on the lamb as the claw descends onto the toy, as if her focus could help the machine.

Metal fingers clamp down across the fat little body, slowly lifting it up above the other toys. As the claw starts to retreat back to the deposit box, it slips free.

“No!” Grace cries out, watching the claw return empty handed. Immediately, the girl sets back to getting the lamb. At the corner of her vision she sees the twins climb onto the nearby machine to observe. Prometheus comes from the right side, sitting with a loud huff, likely bored. But the slight tilt of his head and perked ears say otherwise.

Down the claw goes again, careening towards the toy and once more clamps its spindly fingers across the body. Only to fall out as soon as the claw lifts more than three inches above ground.

Grace growls, frustrated and tries again. And again. And again. Each play was unsuccessful. But she wasn’t ready to give up, instead opting to put the quarters in, ready to give it another try.

“Just give me a moment. It seems the greedy claw dragon doesn’t wish to give up a piece of its hoard.” She jokes, mostly to her sisters who droop when she doesn't acquire her prize. Or perhaps, their prize if she knew anything about them, it was destined to be a shared toy.

Just as she kneels down to put the coins in, the machine gives a horrid screech, rattling violently. On instinct Grace throws herself away from the danger lest she be crushed, her heart pounds wildly beneath her chest. A scream escapes her as she scrambles to the relative safety behind Tarya’s arm who remains otherwise still.

The ear-piercing sound shatters the silence, echoing across the empty room and jarring on sensitive ear drums. Grace covers her ears, watching from under Tarya’s chest for the cause of the mysterious rattling.

She didn’t know what to expect, maybe a stray demon or stumbling Wicked, but what the young woman saw was nothing she had imagined.

Prometheus, the all grumpy and impassive beast, was digging his two forelegs into the machine’s frame. The second pair of front legs held the machine in place as he was in the midst of tearing metal and glass apart.

Then, with an explosive spray of glass, Prometheus tears metal with the ease of ripping tissue paper. Grace retreats behind Tarya’s arm to avoid the flying glass that harmlessly licks the demon’s tough skin.

Slow, Grace peeks her head out as she watches Prometheus stick his huge hand into the broken frame, snuffling the items until he comes to a stop. Picking his head out of the fluff pile, he turns with his prize in hand. The small lamb delicately pinched between cragged teeth.

Gaping, the woman doesn’t move a muscle as she watches, completely awestruck. Prometheus growls at Dalva who stretches herself out to take an exploratory sniff, protective of the toy. Briefly, Grace wonders if he was taking it for himself, and she wouldn’t be truthful to herself if she pretended to be fine about that-

Ding ding!

The muffled jingle of a bell from above her head draws her to look up. Prometheus’ head was lowered to her level, shaking the toy gently as if attempting to toss it. Wait a moment…

Hands carefully pry off big ears, reaching slowly to the doll pinned by big teeth. The demon doesn’t flinch away as her hands experimentally curl around the leg and arm. The moment of truth.

She gives a small pull, and Prometheus promptly lets go without a fight.

Grace cradles the doll in her arms, feeling the almost heavenly soft fabric reverently. “Is it for me?” She whispers, warmth bubbling in her chest.

He doesn’t provide an answer, merely turning his body and walking away.

An absolute and definite yes.

Watching as Prometheus walks away, Grace pulls the lamb closer to her chest and smiles.

Looks like she had more toys to take home. So she immediately set to work. After retrieving the wagon, Grace began picking away at glass and plucking the prizes out from their confines. Bears, dinosaurs, a few cartoon characters and even a few small egg shaped electronics in plastic packaging (a weird place for an item like that) were stacked and stuffed til the wagon was close to bursting.

Satisfied with the haul, Grace returns to her wandering all across the arcade. Occasionally stopping for a quick game to play or a moment to lament over what each and every article of human machinery her sisters would stop to gawk at. They had an absolute blast of a time with the motorcycle game where she sat them on the moving bike.

It wasn’t exactly as thrilling as flying with the roaring wind in her hair and the pumping adrenaline, but it was perfection to her.

However, the looted quarters began to run out and the twins were beginning to grow bored of the place and all its climbable things. So onward they pushed.

The arcade was connected by three main entrances. One by the skating rink, the one she entered and another dead ahead, leading to a large court of sorts, lined with tables and restaurants. Her feet carried her forward as the sight of more unexplored stores just beyond the large plaza.

It’s then Grace finally spots it.

A carousel.

As if possessed, Grace breaks into a run towards the giant structure. A worried cry from her demon caretaker barely heard as she rounds upon the merry go round.

Disbelief fills her, even as her eyes rove over the many horses and animals in several poses of leaping, running, rearing and prancing, as if they’ve been frozen in time. She didn’t fail to notice the stains of blood painting the animals, or the floor. It looked as if a calvary was paused mid-battle, but all the riders were missing.

All but her.

There’s a puff of air that touches her shoulder and she doesn’t turn, knowing who it is.

“This is a carousel.” She looks to the rows of horses, spotting a control panel to the left. She walks to it, ducking under Tarya’s chest, reaching it after hopping a security fence. “What it would do was go around in circles.” She chuckles sheepishly, rubbing her neck nervously, “Kinda silly, I’ll admit, but, I always loved it.”

“It was one of my favorite things from when I was a kid…” she continued, “I loved picking out a horse to ride. And the music.” Eyes scan the controls, then spot the proper buttons to hopefully start the carousel.

“Please, please, please.” She prays, giving each button an experimental push. A shrill ringing goes off and heavy machinery groans to life. Glancing up, Grace feels tears well up in her eyes as she watches a miracle. The carousel sprang to life, light flickering on with golden hues and a tune sang for the first time in years.

Slowly, the carousel picked up speed, urging Grace to leap over the panel and hop on the carousel. Grabbing a pole, the woman looks at the nearest animal: a white unicorn with gold hair, a floral saddle and a peach horn lined with gold.

Normally, she’d opt for a more ferocious beast, like a lion, dog or viscous steed caught in the midst of a buck.

Now? It was the perfect pick.

With one swift motion, Grace throws her leg over the wooden unicorn and settles in, feeling the coolness of the brass pole against her cheek. Affectionately, she pats the head of the animal and revels in the steady rhythm of the bobbing. Up and down. Up and down.

Closing her eyes, Grace lets the darkness give way to distant memories, far and few as they are. The blackness is replaced with one of her child self in a very similar scenario to this one.

Her mother was in the most gracious of moods. She’d opted to take her and her brother to the city. They’d come across an amusement park and ventured in. Although she didn’t remember much, she could vividly recall every detail of the carousel.

The taste of popcorn and cotton candy on her tongue, the smell of a humid day, and oh the colors. Everything was so bright. She remembered how her mother was on the horse to her right.

Her cheek slams into the metal pole, breaking the illusion as the carousel breaks to a sudden halt. The music continued to sing, but the ride had come to a complete stop. Looking to her right, Grace watches Tarya come up to the carousel, ducking her large head so she could eye the girl. She tilts her head questioningly, unsure of the sudden mood shift.

“The ride stopped,” she half whines, “there’s probably not enough power to make the carousel move anymore. Or it’s just too old.” Tarya grumbles, looking at the grand machine whilst Grace keeps her eyes focused on the golden mane of the unicorn she was sitting on.

“Well, that’s okay. I’m just really happy to even find a - WOAH WOAH!”

Grace is jerked back and barely manages to save herself from a fall as the carousel moves forward unexpectedly. Has the power come back on? What was going on?

Turning to the right, Grace’s jaw nearly unhinges at the sight of Tarya’s wings and head pushed to the rooftop and those powerful legs of her digging into the ground, pushing the machine forward. It wasn’t the power at all. Just raw, brute power.

Slowly, a grin worms its way across her face once more.

As Tarya continued to push on, and the music continued to sing, Grace could conclude that this was definitely a great way to celebrate a birthday.

She couldn’t wait to tell Ulthane.

[viviennevermillion]

Genshin Impact Playlists

notes: here's a masterlist of my Genshin Impact related playlists that I posted on YouTube! I always try to make them as lyrically accurate as possible so I hope someone here enjoys these.

will be updated as time goes on

Wanderer / Scaramouche

hugging wanderer and comforting him [44:03]

hold on, don't let go. just take one step closer, put one foot in front of the other; you′ll get through this, just follow the light in the darkness. you′re gonna be okay.

smelling incense and exploring the wanderer's mental state again [32:42]

dissect me 'til my blood runs down into the drain. my bitter heart is pumping oil into my veins. i'm nothing but a tin man; don't feel any pain. i'm rusted from the rain.

Kaveh

kaveh's playlist [45:39]

i'm not looking for anything in particular but I'm far more desperate than you think. i wonder what it's like to be the universe; experiencing itself ironically. i need some space to run around; i'll always have the underground. i'll build my road despite the cost. i'm not looking to be found; just want to feel unlost.

Tighnari

tighnari shows you the avidya forest at night [29:08]

i'm a stone's throw from the mill and I'm a good walk to the river. when my working day is over, we'll go swim our cares away. put your toes down in the water and a smile across your face and tell me that you love me.

Cyno

cyno comforts you and promises to always love and protect you [34:02]

something rare; something strong stands against all the odds. love that blooms in the dark. you are good for my heart. nothing compares to feeling at home; the look in your eyes bringing peace to my soul. something magnetic, wholesome and true. of all the gifts I've been given, my favorite is you

Dottore

il dottore's lab playlist [30:55]

i cannot believe what i am hearing. a great discovery is near. lesser men may wait behind, paralyzed of heart and mind; but I am not afraid to dare. we'll change the course of history. please see beyond your petty fears. i was once a dreamer, now I'm man's redeemer we're on the verge of new frontiers!

Pantalone

appreciating pantalone and his shady vibes [26:03]

in the land of plenty we don't know what the word no means. give it to me, give me all the things I want. make it new and shiny and make them watch me, make them watch me. turn the power on and wait for light. [...] a coronation, a beheading. from the funeral to the wedding. do you think they care where the crown goes?

Kaeya

kaeya's playlist [36:45]

i woke up from a neverending dream. i shut my eyes at seventeen. lost every moment inbetween; i felt the sun rise up and swallow me and it's all my fault that I'm still the one you want. i'm a liar, i'm a cynic. i'm a sinner, i'm a saint. i'm a loser, i'm a critic. i'm the ghost of my mistakes.

Zhongli

being in love with zhongli [34:45]

i couldn't remember all the lives I had lived. it was your beauty that caught my attention. it was your kindness that made me stay. but for all my growing affections, it was your soul I fell in love with that day.

Other

a winter's night lazzo • an instrumental playlist for the fatui harbingers [33:40]

OC's

vin's playlist [32:02]

pull the trigger without thinking; there's only one way down this road. it was like a time bomb set into motion. we knew that we were destined to explode and if I had to pull you out of the wreckage, you know I'm never gonna let you go.

chìhóng's playlist [29:11]

i can't change. guess you could blame it on my left-side brain. i should know better but you know, i know, i know, i ain't ever gonna change

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[cryptiduniverse]

Trying to do costume design stuff feat. the first time I've broken out my tablet in a while....

I've been in an awful creative slump for literally like 2 years. I love my ocs, but I haven't been able to write or draw anything I'm happy with for so long. But I'm trying to revisit Vel's world and start from scratch with a lot of world building and plot elements. I've had some ideas and inspiration that I'm actually excited to flesh out and I feel like it makes so much more sense with the characters I have in the story. Idk if it'll go anywhere, but I've been developing these characters for 7+ years and have never felt like they're quite at home in their own world since character dynamics and development has always been more interesting than plot and setting for me. There is a LOT of retconning going on, with characters, backstories, and setting... I just want to have some fun with it and not worry about having a product worth posting or showing to anyone because I feel like that mindset gets me into a rut.

I feel like since it was always, at heart, a pirate adventure story it had to be golden era of piracy/western Europe inspired even though it never made sense in the timeline... I think I'd like to explore Russian historical dress and folklore since I find it way more visually appealing, way more fitting to the character's senses of style, and a closer geographic equivalent to the setting of Skavarren.

I'm also not sure why but the pirate thing feels so off for Vel as a character. She's just not the right character to inhabit that role, but at the same time I love it and I'm really invested in it, and I'm not sure where else I'd go with her. But I want to do them justice as a character and give them a role that fits. What I know about Vel is that she was a ship's surgeon for a while and has her own passion project studying natural sciences, and has used their travels as an opportunity to study. She is a morally grey character, but probably too introverted/self sufficient to be interested in what a life of piracy would have to offer. It would take some external force or plot stuff to make her end up in that scenario, which makes them seem like a passive character being influenced by other stuff and I really hate main characters that have stuff Just Happen to them instead of actively doing things that influence the story. Plus I've retconned a lot of her backstory and family which definitely changes her as a character... But it does feel more in place in the setting instead of the setting being built around the old backstory.

I just!!! Plots don't make sense and that's my fault cause I've written myself into a corner a million times with this story. There are a few set points that I know would happen regardless but everything between them is up in the air. (Also, I have another new character who makes SO MUCH MORE SENSE in the role of badass gay pirate and,,,, I want her to have it ... But I want it to make sense in Vel's timeline and not just be basically the same story with a different name...)

I don't necessarily want to have a set plot that I could theoretically turn into a book/comic or anything, but boy oh boy I want to talk about my ocs so much but I don't have anything to say cause I DON'T KNOW what's canon anymore and what's not ... And I like the idea of someday returning to this with actual time and motivation and making something cool with it. But maybe that'll kill my motivation again because I like exploring my stories and adapting them as I find new interesting concepts.

Man this is hard.

Also I wish I wasn't so out of practice with drawing cause I suddenly want to draw again after so long of not feeling it at all and NOW I have to relearn a bunch of stuff lol I am continuously my own worst nemesis

[hansolmates]

I've been debating whether or not to write this or not but here I am lol

Shiver oc is well, she reminds me alot of me.

I am from a religious household and I grew up with all these things instilled in me you know?

As I grew older and began to explore myself more I found so much more.

I first listened to music ( in the religion it's not allowed - wont say which one bc I respect it and it's a beautiful religion in so many ways yk - its ppls world and I dont wanna attack it or anything )

And I drank alcohol and I talked to boys

I had crushes and I didnt just live for others I started to live for myself yk?

But that guilt- that fear of going to hell it's so real and fucks me up so much sometimes

I love shiver bc it really just hits home

Like it's okay- to want things. To be more you. In a way that your denied by so many things in life.

Then ofc the recent one the one where that friend comes and like talks shit abt jk

That hurts sooo much

Bc my best friend- same religion and we were on the same page abt eveything yk? Since we were so small.

And then she found her spiritual enlightenment and I just stayed me ig, and now its so hard to yk ? Relate or build on what we had before - like jasmine was his friend once upon a time so that must have hurt

And it really did.

I cried when I read that part. I don't really talk much to my friends abt that bc I went to religious school so all my friends are still pretty religious yk and it hurts bc theres these ppl taht you care abt but they dont really accept the way you are.

Apart from a select few- I have one friend who always urges me to just do what makes me happy yk? She prays and she does all that stuff to but she let's me happy. It hurt that my best friend couldnt do taht for me yk?

She texted me once like

I dont want us go to hell , cant you just pray like us like me ?

I wasnt always like this and look I found the way and all that and it just broke my heart really bc the one person you thought would understand doesnt and isnt even willing to try

And I just yh

I'm just all over the place

Knew this would happen which is why I was hesitant but I just wanted to let you know

That the amount of comfort I find in shiver is so immense and it makes me feel so just okay. That theres nothing wrong with me.

Yk?

Thank you

Thank you so much

💫💜💫

dawh i had to read this a couple times because my heart clenched a bit and i had to take a break—but regardless i'm really happy that you reached out and let me know how you feel about shiver. while i can't understand the stress you're going through in regards to your faith vs yourself, im feel very grateful and blessed knowing you were able to make a connection with this lil series. i know i wrote this for fun and in response to some of my fam's lives but i guess reading it must be also a type of healing? to see the way you're thinking being projected into words and that experience being lived in by a character

but stay strong, things will get better, and thank u for reaching out

[marshmallowprotection]

Hey! Hey! I just read your answer to the writing reader x character fics ask and wanted to bonk you with a LOT OF APPRECIATION FOR CALLUNA!!

I'm so amazed by it still, it's so heartwarming that you've written something so beautiful inspired by one of my pieces and from where I'm currently at, the story, the plot, SAERAN, the MC/reader, every other character, they're all so on point. I just love it so much, your use of words is wonderful and the whole fic is incredible, I still cannot comprehend how good it is?? I can with no doubt say that you're currently my favourite MM writer out there, everything you come up with is just so incredibly well written and thought of. I've had to hold on giving any feedback till now because I wanted to finish reading it first before throwing all the love I have for it at you, since I'm currently just on chapter 11 because I was following it as it was getting published at first but then school got the better of me (since I always read fics at night and lately school has forced me to go to sleep way to early to do that, and I'm so deprived of fics oh my god), and as I'm only on chapter 11 I know that there's still a big storm coming because sadly someone happened to spoil something about the fic for me, but you bet I'm gonna throw even more love at you when school gives me time for that and you BET I'll be drawing some art for it too 😌💞 It's what you deserve

Also, the post itself really resonated with me, like the things you said about writing what makes you happy. It wasn't only relatable with me drawing things I enjoy, there's also the fact that I've been writing fics for myself lately. That writing has also kinda replaced my activity of reading them as much, but I really enjoy it! Idk why I never did it before honestly, but writing them just for myself is really...therapeutic in a way? There's no pressure of anyone judging you and you can do anything you've ever wanted, it's so comforting. I'm just not showing them to anyone because 1. I feel ashamed of them, I'm not the best writer but I find doing it fun 2. my headcanons are sometimes really different to others' and I sometimes feel bad for that or afraid of getting backlash/into arguments for my headcanons. But writing them is fun, and the same goes for you, I hope you continue to do what makes you happy! Though I do enjoy some good old reader x character fics, reading about Lila is also interesting and sometimes she sounds a lot like what Sunset would do so that's just a huge plus lolol

(also me 🤝 you

giving Saeran CMCs who like lolita fashion)

Pat yourself on the back! That Prince Ray art just lit a fire in me with an idea that was already in the back of my head for a while and it smacked me in the head the second that I saw that handsome boy. It was only the moment I saw a pretty boy in a crown. I am nothing but a simp.

That's the good thing about being in fandom. There are people in these places that make art inspired by writing or writing inspired by art. I love seeing that because it's a testament to the harmony in fandom and it is so easy to look to each other when we feel as if we're making an impact on everyone.

It just feels so good to create something from nothing, even if it's art or writing. The process is cathartic and we cannot deny making something makes us just feel accomplished! Your passion to your art is something that we all see and recognize! I'm glad to have been able to watch you progress with your art because you are very talented and you will only continue to better the more you have fun and practice.

Goodness Gracious, I don't know I'm prepared to see anything from the fic drawn out! I have all of these outfit references for Sparrow and for all of the other cast members in the story but I've not been able to flash them out myself. There's just something really sweet about the aesthetic that exists within fairytale AUs that I can't ignore. I am sorry to hear that someone spoiled you on one of the events in the story.

At least you don't know how it builds up or leads to that point in the story where the incident occurs. I've been spoiled in a few stories before and how I reason with myself is that: I don't know how we get to [Spoiler] and that means the full experience isn't robbed from me. I'm glad that you've enjoyed it! I put a lot of care into the story because it was such a great piece of art to work with.

I'm not ready, Seeme. Don't kill me. I don't think we can handle it. Prince Ray already kills me on sight.

Shfksnrowneoehe! Sunset is really cute. I always love seeing her on my Instagram or over here on DailySaeran. Her hair is really bouncy and sweet and it just makes me feel some kind of way. I just love frilly clothes and we need more cute MCs in big skirts. I'm very OC positive and I try to make sure that all kinds of people in this fandom know that they should shamelessly write what makes them happy.

I am glad to hear that you're exploring writing for the first time. I hope you know that you don't have to share with other people of you don't want to do that. You put your heart and soul into your writing even if there's spelling errors, translation errors, or what have you within the story, you put a piece of your heart into what you're writing. I say this with the utmost sincerity write for you and nobody else. Write what makes you happy no matter what anyone says.

I don't care if that means you're writing Self Insert Fics where you have cat ears, rainbow hair, or everyone loves you without question. Or If you're writing about an OC who loves without reason or can do "impossible" things without trouble. It's your story.

You create the canon. You create the universe. You put yourself into it. It is unashamedly you.

If it makes you happy, you write it. Put your heart into it. We put ourselves into the characters, not just our OCs. But, we put our soul into the cast of canon characters. So, just know that even if you do not share your writing, you should never feel like you have to share it for it to be proof of skill or talent. If anyone hits you with discourse if you do share it one day, let me know. I will mess them up with a Hello Kitty bat all the while wearing the cutest dress.

I've got a lot of Saeran x Reader story ideas, I'm gonna make a poll with my general ideas and let people vote on that later once I get home. It'll be a Google Form. I'll probably link it on my IG too. I hope you guys are interested in that! I hope that you're able to slow down and enjoy yourself soon here! I know that school must be really rough with everything right now. I gotta wish you luck with that.

Meanwhile, I gotta go smack myself or something, I admire you and here you are hitting me with the same thing. Djwkdhekdnodbeie