I NEED SOMEONE TO TAKE ME BY THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND SLAM MY USELESS, EMPTY SKULL INTO THE TENDER MAUVE

HEY HI GOOD MORNING WHAT THE FUCK? HELLO??????? THIS IS SO???? IM SCREAMIND??????

irish goodbyes by @jamieycomplainey (miriam design by @violaextract )

the flowers i used are balloon flowers (purple, meaning everlasting love) summer blue (the Blue ones, common in wedding bouquets) baby breaths (white, also everlasting love) and i also used ferns for the green which mean magic, fascination, and secret bonds of love. i put wings on the sword because the dnd paladin logo has wings on the helmet :-)

@parallasso

i was not made to “adhere to genre conventions”. i was born to run along a beach barefoot and nude like if robinson crusoe was gay

i just cant imagine hating drag queens. if i was new to this world and the largest woman id ever seen both physically and spiritually who smelled delicious and was refracting light with he power of three pounds of glitter was walkign toward me the only conclusion i would be able to come to would be I Am About To Meet An Angel

br’aad vengolor is a manic pixie dream girl in the sense that i think if he had prolonged exposure to any particularly evil character who did not want to kill him he could probably fix them.

@parallasso …do u remember this w/us lmao

Good morning to every Fated writer who wrote Velrissa, Silnan, or any variation of Br’aad with too many a’s, not enough, or the ‘ in the wrong spot :) you are the backbone of our society

i love when sibling characters are fucked up from the same event but in opposite ways

19 is such an unromantic age for spring. in winter it’s all well and good, it serves like an overcoat and scarf. it coats all embarrassment about who you are in a thick layer of frost and ennui- so what if i’m boring. winter serves as a modifier to the shame of being boring while young. it’s winter, i’m 19, light my cigarette about it. but in spring? and, god forbid, summer? it seems almost chaste, as a number. to be 18 in summer was monumental, a symbol of incredible, defining freedom, a maidenhead and a maiden voyage all at once, even if i knew as i was 18 that it was humiliating to be 18. but 19? in spring? that winter ennui is remaining even now that the frosts are melting. how horrifically embarrassing it is to be 19 in spring! hustler and virgin all in one. i don’t even like good music.

i don’t think any of you understand. the impetus, the fucking click behind scythebelts for me, is not strictly romantic. it is that sylnan, his entire life, has been trying to hold on to everything he can and he never gets to. and velrisa, god fucking bless her, has been waiting for someone to hold on to her like that, like nobody really has.

the impetus, the fucking spark, the starting point for everything i write for them, is based upon the gutsense fucking horror of seeing someone reach for you and not knowing if they mean to catch you for certain or just until you’re not useful.

everything else is just fluff and filler. the cleric/rogue dramatics, the high contrast, the jokes, the mutual admiration, the aesthetics- all of it is fluff and filler. good, but just not why i love it.

at core and center, they are holding on to each other until they are bleeding from the goddamn fingernails because nothing else is willing to stay as static and calm as they are. nobody else- not as though it is a personal failing on anyone else’s part, it is simply the way things go- is willing to cling on as hard for some chance at steady ground. sylnan and vel are. that’s what makes me write em.

the problem with trying to branch out from what i normally post of my writing is that i really wanna write for OHSHC but i wrote for that show when i was like 13 and i don’t know where those demons went but i also don’t know what i’d do if those demons were to come back.