Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
i think I'll keep this one until the end of Halloween
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish) In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you. They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different? NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Wait, wait, I just figured out how to follow yourself?
WHAT?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish) In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you. They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different? NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Nimue, Viviane, Nimiane, the Lady has many names. She is an enchantress, an Archfey, a weaponsmith, and one of the most famed fey in existence. Known best for creating and bestowing to King Arthur the artifact Excalibur, and renowned for felling the Archmage Merlin and entombing him beneath a tree. The Lady of the Lake, an unseelie Archfey, has meddled in the affairs of humans since before recorded history.
The Lady cherishes and loves those who fight for a cause. She cares not what this cause is, whether it is for the safety of a nation, an attempt to achieve world domination, or completing a ritual to summon a Demon Lord, she only cares for devotion. To those who are fully devoted to a cause, she aids and showers with blessings and gifts, especially her renowned blades, which she crafts in the depths of her Lake domain. She sponsors conflict, bloody wars, and crusades with utmost joy. Regarded in ancient texts as a guardian of good, because the protectors of the realms plead for her aid in times of trouble, and she provides. Often, though, she is playing both sides. She sees such a conflict as beautiful, such devotion on both sides of the battlefield, such fervor and hope for victory. That is what she spreads throughout the world.
Now, about Merlin. Merlin came seeking the Lady in an attempt to steal the secrets of her enchanted smithing and limitless supply of magical power, and he was willing to do anything to get it. Long story short, Merlin disrespected the lady and broke every great rule of the fey in ways that she has erased from the annals of history. What is known, is that for his unspeakable transgressions, the Lady killed Merlin in a swift and rather one-sided battle. His body still lies beneath a tree on the shore of Nimue’s lake.
Hey Arch. You taking your own spin on the Arthurian legends?
Just felt like writing something and had the Wikipedia page for the Lady of the Lake open :> also had an idea for a while about a warlock of Nimue who was a hexblade :>
Nice to know that Im not the only person that randomly has the Wikipedia pages of various mythological and historical figures open
I also have ones open on the history of Archery and Eva Perón :>
anyways, I think my take on the Lady of the Lake is at least somewhat interesting :>
Quite the chaotic combination. And yes, I do enjoy your take on it. It takes the basics of the Lady, and adds your own Archfey twist
Hiya arch! Love your little piece
have you perchance listened to Lydia the Bard’s new album?
I’ve listened to some of them (Changeling, Run, and re-listened to Feed us Your Girls) but haven’t got the time to check out the rest :< Run and Changeling are so good though!
Please listen to the full thing, I’ve been listening to it on repeat all day. I’m thinking of doing a changeling animatic displaying the backstory of one of my ocs. She gets turned into a siren.
Changeling has so much animatic potential ohmigod, first thing that came to my mind when I heard it.
I knowwwww
I was looking at the lyrics and THERE’S SO MUCH THERE and so many ways to interpret each line
can i tell you the lore of my lady?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Nimue, Viviane, Nimiane, the Lady has many names. She is an enchantress, an Archfey, a weaponsmith, and one of the most famed fey in existence. Known best for creating and bestowing to King Arthur the artifact Excalibur, and renowned for felling the Archmage Merlin and entombing him beneath a tree. The Lady of the Lake, an unseelie Archfey, has meddled in the affairs of humans since before recorded history.
The Lady cherishes and loves those who fight for a cause. She cares not what this cause is, whether it is for the safety of a nation, an attempt to achieve world domination, or completing a ritual to summon a Demon Lord, she only cares for devotion. To those who are fully devoted to a cause, she aids and showers with blessings and gifts, especially her renowned blades, which she crafts in the depths of her Lake domain. She sponsors conflict, bloody wars, and crusades with utmost joy. Regarded in ancient texts as a guardian of good, because the protectors of the realms plead for her aid in times of trouble, and she provides. Often, though, she is playing both sides. She sees such a conflict as beautiful, such devotion on both sides of the battlefield, such fervor and hope for victory. That is what she spreads throughout the world.
Now, about Merlin. Merlin came seeking the Lady in an attempt to steal the secrets of her enchanted smithing and limitless supply of magical power, and he was willing to do anything to get it. Long story short, Merlin disrespected the lady and broke every great rule of the fey in ways that she has erased from the annals of history. What is known, is that for his unspeakable transgressions, the Lady killed Merlin in a swift and rather one-sided battle. His body still lies beneath a tree on the shore of Nimue’s lake.
Hey Arch. You taking your own spin on the Arthurian legends?
Just felt like writing something and had the Wikipedia page for the Lady of the Lake open :> also had an idea for a while about a warlock of Nimue who was a hexblade :>
Nice to know that Im not the only person that randomly has the Wikipedia pages of various mythological and historical figures open
I also have ones open on the history of Archery and Eva Perón :>
anyways, I think my take on the Lady of the Lake is at least somewhat interesting :>
Quite the chaotic combination. And yes, I do enjoy your take on it. It takes the basics of the Lady, and adds your own Archfey twist
Hiya arch! Love your little piece
have you perchance listened to Lydia the Bard’s new album?
I’ve listened to some of them (Changeling, Run, and re-listened to Feed us Your Girls) but haven’t got the time to check out the rest :< Run and Changeling are so good though!
Please listen to the full thing, I’ve been listening to it on repeat all day. I’m thinking of doing a changeling animatic displaying the backstory of one of my ocs. She gets turned into a siren.
Changeling has so much animatic potential ohmigod, first thing that came to my mind when I heard it.
I knowwwww
I was looking at the lyrics and THERE’S SO MUCH THERE and so many ways to interpret each line
can i tell you the lore of my lady?
Oh, absolutely.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
This is TheFriendlyArchfey’s Alternate Account! “Your Dream Girl’s Dream Girl, Your Favorite Artist’s Favorite Artist.”
_-If You Want Perfection, Take a Sip and Drink It In! Kill Your Old Complexion, Welcome to Your Brand New Skin!-_
_-The, ‘Who,’ When You Call, ‘Who’s There,’-_ _-Dreamer of Dark Days and Darker Nights-_ _-Prince of the Pumpkin Patch-_
“I believe the greatest act of rebellion in this world is staying soft.”
honest guys should i write fanfic about her i'm feeling pretty compelled....
guys what should i name the honedge it's a spirit and the protag of my fic found it buried up to its hilt in its own grave and its name is from the gravestone i need help i just need a name that is both ambiguous in gender and time period
halp
Mandias? Sounds oldish, but not necessarily telling how old
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish) In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you. They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different? NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Nimue, Viviane, Nimiane, the Lady has many names. She is an enchantress, an Archfey, a weaponsmith, and one of the most famed fey in existence. Known best for creating and bestowing to King Arthur the artifact Excalibur, and renowned for felling the Archmage Merlin and entombing him beneath a tree. The Lady of the Lake, an unseelie Archfey, has meddled in the affairs of humans since before recorded history.
The Lady cherishes and loves those who fight for a cause. She cares not what this cause is, whether it is for the safety of a nation, an attempt to achieve world domination, or completing a ritual to summon a Demon Lord, she only cares for devotion. To those who are fully devoted to a cause, she aids and showers with blessings and gifts, especially her renowned blades, which she crafts in the depths of her Lake domain. She sponsors conflict, bloody wars, and crusades with utmost joy. Regarded in ancient texts as a guardian of good, because the protectors of the realms plead for her aid in times of trouble, and she provides. Often, though, she is playing both sides. She sees such a conflict as beautiful, such devotion on both sides of the battlefield, such fervor and hope for victory. That is what she spreads throughout the world.
Now, about Merlin. Merlin came seeking the Lady in an attempt to steal the secrets of her enchanted smithing and limitless supply of magical power, and he was willing to do anything to get it. Long story short, Merlin disrespected the lady and broke every great rule of the fey in ways that she has erased from the annals of history. What is known, is that for his unspeakable transgressions, the Lady killed Merlin in a swift and rather one-sided battle. His body still lies beneath a tree on the shore of Nimue’s lake.
Hey Arch. You taking your own spin on the Arthurian legends?
Just felt like writing something and had the Wikipedia page for the Lady of the Lake open :> also had an idea for a while about a warlock of Nimue who was a hexblade :>
Nice to know that Im not the only person that randomly has the Wikipedia pages of various mythological and historical figures open
I also have ones open on the history of Archery and Eva Perón :>
anyways, I think my take on the Lady of the Lake is at least somewhat interesting :>
Quite the chaotic combination. And yes, I do enjoy your take on it. It takes the basics of the Lady, and adds your own Archfey twist
Hiya arch! Love your little piece
have you perchance listened to Lydia the Bard’s new album?
I’ve listened to some of them (Changeling, Run, and re-listened to Feed us Your Girls) but haven’t got the time to check out the rest :< Run and Changeling are so good though!
Please listen to the full thing, I’ve been listening to it on repeat all day. I’m thinking of doing a changeling animatic displaying the backstory of one of my ocs. She gets turned into a siren.
Changeling has so much animatic potential ohmigod, first thing that came to my mind when I heard it.
I knowwwww
I was looking at the lyrics and THERE’S SO MUCH THERE and so many ways to interpret each line
can i tell you the lore of my lady?
Oh, absolutely.
Wonderful
She was originally a Victorian lady, but didn’t quite fit in with the others. A bit too wild, but couldn’t show it. Spent her whole life repressing it, forcing herself into the mold, getting abused at home and looking for an escape in marriage. However, the one who took interest in her was worse than either of her parents had been. She and her fiancé went on a boat vacation i guess and she was found in her room reading in a foreign tongue. Accusing her of witchcraft, her fiancé tried to take advantage of her but she attacked him. Angry and violent, he grabbed the nearest pointy thing and stabbed her through the eye before tossing her overboard. She was transformed into a siren, as women do when thrown overboard, and has spent the time since working with her sisters to save women from fates such as her own.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish) In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you. They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different? NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
Oh believe me I will
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
Oh believe me I will
Im not done with august yet >;3
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
Oh believe me I will
Im not done with august yet >;3
Despite the fact that theres barely any of it, it kinda reminds me of Kino’s Journey in a way, if you know what that is
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
What do you really want? The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time. I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now? I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane. “August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back. “That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me. “Do you have any Pokémon?” “N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her. She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.” “Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine. I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought. The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast. “Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword… I don’t want to think about the implications of that. Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet. Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger. All the color seeps from my vision. The darkness is warm, too.
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
Oh believe me I will
Im not done with august yet >;3
Despite the fact that theres barely any of it, it kinda reminds me of Kino’s Journey in a way, if you know what that is
I guess they're kinda similar. Not a bad comparison. I'm working on expanding it, though
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Hello
why do you keep altering your pfp?
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
I can't find one I liked,
i think I'll keep this one until the end of Halloween
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish)
In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you
Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you.
They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different?
NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Wait, wait, I just figured out how to follow yourself?
WHAT?
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish)
In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you
Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you.
They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different?
NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
I knowwwww
I was looking at the lyrics and THERE’S SO MUCH THERE and so many ways to interpret each line
can i tell you the lore of my lady?
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
Oh, absolutely.
This is TheFriendlyArchfey’s Alternate Account! “Your Dream Girl’s Dream Girl, Your Favorite Artist’s Favorite Artist.”
_-If You Want Perfection, Take a Sip and Drink It In! Kill Your Old Complexion, Welcome to Your Brand New Skin!-_
_-The, ‘Who,’ When You Call, ‘Who’s There,’-_ _-Dreamer of Dark Days and Darker Nights-_ _-Prince of the Pumpkin Patch-_
“I believe the greatest act of rebellion in this world is staying soft.”
Mandias? Sounds oldish, but not necessarily telling how old
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Your honor, shut up, you wasn't even there
It’s only a war crime if you lose
Hello!
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish)
In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you
Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you.
They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different?
NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Wonderful
She was originally a Victorian lady, but didn’t quite fit in with the others. A bit too wild, but couldn’t show it. Spent her whole life repressing it, forcing herself into the mold, getting abused at home and looking for an escape in marriage. However, the one who took interest in her was worse than either of her parents had been. She and her fiancé went on a boat vacation i guess and she was found in her room reading in a foreign tongue. Accusing her of witchcraft, her fiancé tried to take advantage of her but she attacked him. Angry and violent, he grabbed the nearest pointy thing and stabbed her through the eye before tossing her overboard. She was transformed into a siren, as women do when thrown overboard, and has spent the time since working with her sisters to save women from fates such as her own.
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
FANFICTON (it ain't much yet)
What do you really want?
The voice inside my head asks for the umpteenth time.
I’ve never had an answer, not a good one at least. I used to think I wanted a family. Then, as I got older, I thought all I wanted was to be safe. But now?
I just want the customs lady to let me onto the plane.
“August Owen?” She stares at my passport, the soulless old picture of me staring back.
“That’s my name.” I give her the response she wants, nothing more. My passport’s what, four years old? Five? Surely not old enough for her to keep me trapped in her little airport purgatory for ten minutes. But there she is, frowning as she looks at the girl in the photo, then at me, then back to the photo, scrutinizing all the details like it’s a spot-the-difference game and there isn’t a massive line behind me.
“Do you have any Pokémon?”
“N–” I start to tell her I don’t, then I feel the still-unfamiliar weight of Honedge’s pokeball in my pocket. “I guess?” I wouldn’t exactly consider Honedge mine. I didn’t catch or name them, and I know full well that they’re only with me because I was the most convenient human around. But if examining my passport was a ten-minute endeavor for this lady, the nuances of my and Honedge’s relationship would surely be lost on her.
She sighs and rubs her temples. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. “You guess?’ It’s a yes or no question.”
“Yes, then.” I try to sound confident, but the words end up coming out more annoyed than I’d expected. But since I am annoyed, the customs lady doesn’t seem to notice. She just sticks out her hands and takes Honedge’s Poké Ball from mine.
I’ve only had Honedge for a few weeks, but as it leaves my grip, I have to fight the urge to lash out and take it back. Is it stupid that now, even after such a short amount of time, it feels like a part of me? A kindred spirit, another wanderer who knows how devastating it is to be alone in the dark? Get it together! It’s a Pokémon, for arceus’s sake! I tell myself, just to get out of this pointless train of thought.
The customs attendant scans the Poké Ball and hands it back to me. Great, she can at least do something fast.
“Enjoy your flight,” she recites the same spiel she’s told every passenger before me, but I’m already too far away to hear her.
Before I know it, I’m in the air, digging my nails into the armrests. My first flight, and the only person to share it with is a Pokémon. And even out of their pokeball, Honedge isn’t a particularly calming influence. They just float above the seat I paid for them to have and stare(?) at me with lifeless metal eyes. I know it was stupid to buy a seat for a Pokémon, but in some strange way I’m still struggling to wrap my head around, Honedge was a human once. They probably would have liked a window seat while they were alive, so why should it be any different now? If I died and became a floating sword…
I don’t want to think about the implications of that.
Then, the plane hits a long spot of turbulence, and I’m jostled out of my scary thoughts into a scarier reality. My seatbelt suddenly feels inadequate; what good is a little scrap of canvas going to do if the entire plane is a single mishap away from becoming the world’s worst drop ride? At this moment, it’s the only thing stopping me from bolting to the bathroom and hugging whatever airlines consider a toilet.
Just when I’m sure the plane’s going to drop, I feel something touch my hand; Honedge’s ribbon, surprisingly warm, twisting through my white-knuckled finger.
All the color seeps from my vision.
The darkness is warm, too.
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Ah yes my daily reminder that ghost types are always horrifying
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Your honor, shut up, you wasn't even there
It’s only a war crime if you lose
"I am WHO
I am WHAT
What's the reason for my real existence
Don't know why"
Hello! Call me Gato (Cat in Spanish)
In this place where you're not here, in this place where I was with you
Your eyes are too kind, and I'm covered in wounds. Don't let me love you.
They say people are born different. We brainwashed in the same system. They expect perfection. So how can we be different?
NOW, ALL HAIL MERLIN, AND THE GREAT MERLIN ARMY. GIVE ME A 4D8 ATTEMPT: [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll] + [roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Tune in for the continuation when i continue it!
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Oh believe me I will
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Your honor, shut up, you wasn't even there
It’s only a war crime if you lose
Im not done with august yet >;3
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Despite the fact that theres barely any of it, it kinda reminds me of Kino’s Journey in a way, if you know what that is
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Your honor, shut up, you wasn't even there
It’s only a war crime if you lose
I guess they're kinda similar. Not a bad comparison. I'm working on expanding it, though
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
https://youtube.com/shorts/4LJzGlBG39k?si=pX3fdcjYMCwGV_1G
me with danganronpa
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose