#mostly just writing up the journal entries right now because I'm having fun with it

[whathorselegs]

I love it when I tell myself I can't start another WIP because I have too many going on, just to start yet another WIP.

Can't stop thinking about my skk mermaid AU post so now I'm writing more about it. It will now also feature Marine Biologist Rimlaine via journals that Dazai finds

[thelaurenshippen]

How much of an impact has writing and consuming fanfiction had in your writing career?

I ask about fanfiction specifically because it's such an open communication sort of media, it's so easy for author and reader to interact. Do you think you'd write differently if you'd never been in the Fanfiction community? What do you think has carried over from those works and interactions into your current works?

ooh, such a fun question! I've never really thought about this before!

so I will admit, while I have been reading fanfiction since 2006, I never actually wrote fanfiction until 2018 (and then didn't share any of it until 2021). so I think those specific relationships affected my writing in very specific ways.

from a reading perspective, I think fanfic really showed me that a story can be anything, told in a million different kinds of ways. the two fandoms that I was deeply entrenched in/reading fic in were sherlock (lol) and the winter soldier (I stand by it). both of those fandoms - TWS especially - did a lot of very interesting stuff when it came to story structure, multimedia storytelling, etc. while of course there's great published fiction that does the same (I've been a huge David Mitchell stan since I was 20, I read House of Leaves for the first time a few years ago, A Series of Unfortunate Events is such a great example of this tbh), I think there's a lot of freewheeling experimentation in fanfiction that encouraged me to do things like write Some Faraway Place as a mix of journal entries, reddit posts, letters, and tumblr posts.

it's also interesting to me that you bring up the author/reader interaction, because you're right, it is such a huge part of fanfic and a part I rarely thought about for a looooong time. I'm a socially anxious lurker by nature, so I would leave comments (show your local fanfic writer some love!) and I would follow a lot of those writers, but I'd never, like, interact with them directly. and my comments were usually along the lines of "I'M FLINGING MYSELF DIRECTLY INTO THE SUN" rather than openings to conversations lol.

but that changed significantly when I started writing fic. the first fandom I wrote for was SO small and the ship I was writing for even smaller (I'm responsible for over half the fics in that tag), so there wasn't really any interaction there. but then I started writing in a different fandom - still small but much more active - and joined a discord and everything. I'm not really active anymore, but I met someone who now has become one of my best friends and who is a huge reason why Desperate Hollow, my queer outlaw novel, finally got fucking finished.

so being in fanfic really affected my writing in the sense that I found a writer friend who - like a lot of other writing friends - has had a profound affect on me as an artist. but more broadly, writing fic for that fandom - about 200k words of it in eight months - taught me some very important things:

how to write a lot of words very, very quickly

how to let go of something being perfect - no one knows who I am on ao3 and people are just happy to have fic for a small fandom, so it doesn't have to be GOOD

how to write physicality - this is very hard for me, even now. I'm an audio first person, I rarely think about what people look like, how they move their bodies, etc. writing fic is so helpful, because if you're using canon scenes, you don't have to come up with the blocking, you just have to figure out how to describe it.

dialogue/character voice - learning how to mimic a writer's style is good from two perspectives: one, you learn more about style and voice by having to unpack someone else's. two, as a writer working in a scripted medium, you often are trying to write to an established style, because you might be in a writer's room for a world that you didn't create.

this is a less tangible effect, but writing mature works for a fandom that has mostly morally gray characters helped me get more comfortable with being bolder in my own work. Desperate Hollow is about two men in the wild west, one of whom has killed a lot of people, and both of whom are career criminals. the show I'm working on currently has the messiest found family dynamic and it will only get messier. I think in the course of writing TBS, I sometimes got scared of doing the wrong thing, or of leaning too hard into the darker parts of the story, and I'm trying to let my characters and stories be deeply imperfect now.

I hope that answers your questions!

[jasper-borealis]

Personal post time babyyyyy

did I just bomb a crap ton of reblogs after not going on this site for almost 3 months, and now I'm going to rant? you betcha!!!

ok sooooooooo, I'm not having a good time with my faith. I have grown up my entire life as a member of the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod (or WELS for short) and for awhile now I just…I can't say I agree with their stances on…a lot.

what kinda scares me is that there are some folks who follow me who are highly involved members, and I'm honestly kinda scared of them sending this post to my family…so you know who you are, please please don't share this post with my family.

honestly if I tried to put all my grievances with the WELS in this post, it would be the length of the journal entries I write in a fugue state, so I'm not going into all of it. But my biggest issues I have are A. they way they go about reading the holy texts, B. how strongly political they get (some are better then others, but others…), and C. their internal synodical doctrines (Prayer fellowship is one of the biggest for me)

How they read the holy texts. as I've been studying theology, and the bible, more and more, I've been finding I take massive issues with a litteralist reading of the western cannon of the bible. I find that the bible makes much much much more interal, spiritual, and logical sense, when you read a majority of the bible as Wisdom Literature. I still read the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) as basically inerrant, and the Pentateuch (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy) and mostly inerrant with stories/parables mixed in. The WELS' official way to read the bible is as 100% literal, and thus must be applied to our modern day directly [except those pesky verses about slavery, those they don't take literally (although some do…and it's terrifying), because ya know…they aren't hypocritical at alllllllll] and I just do not see strong reasons for reading the texts that way, I understand why they do…but I don't agree with it.

-How Strongly Political they get "a few years ago, some black robed heathens announced that gay marriage was totally fine. are you going to listen to some black robed heathens? or the eternal God who instituted marriage in the first place"…….this is a almost direct quote from a sermon a month ago, so ya know…totally Apolitical and able to reap those fun tax except status perks… this was just one thing…while the WELS is better then a lot of churches, and the church body mostly stays out of things…they don't do much to stop pastors and individual churches from becoming a propaganda branch of the political right wing…

-their internal synodical doctrines The WELS is full of internal doctrines on how things work…and the biggest one I have issue with is their doctrine of "Prayer fellowship" it basically states they WELS members are not to ever pray, or worship, and any non WELS members. the only exception is when the member themself is running the worship service, or leading the prayer. the WELS gives biblical verses that "support" this doctrine (just like the verses they use to say women can't vote in any internal church affair, or hold any religious position, I.E Pastor, Elder, President.) I have looked at these verses for a long time, and while I understand why they get those positions from those verses, I just don't agree with them at all. It all comes from a literalist (and context blind) understanding of the texts, and I just can not say in good faith that I agree with them in any way shape or form.

This all comes in tandem with the knowledge that I am going to be Excommunicated sometime this year…why? because I'm a big ol fruit. I tried for YEARS, to not be queer. I did everything, I prayed night and day, I self harmed constantly, like some kinda Augustinian monk, to purge these "fleshly lusts" from my body…for two years. I begged God to kill me almost every night…the only reason I didn't do the deed myself, was because I was afraid if I took my own life…I would end up in the fires of hell…I also didn't want my family to be heart broken…cause I love them all so much, and I just didn't want to hurt them… To say that these years left lasting scares, is a understatement. I have only recently, through the help of friends and a therapist God put in my life, have been able to live with a sliver of hope in my future. every time I get punched…or slap myself…I am instantly reminded of my self harm (I hit myself with my fists as my main source of pain). to say that I will be working on undoing this mess for years so come, is obvious, but fortunately, I see light at the end of the tunnel, and every day had been getting better. I accepted my Queerness about 9 months ago. I changed my mind, when a friend sent me some theological sources, and talked to me about it…and it took awhile, but I eventually changed my mind about how I was destined for hell for something I tried, and couldn't change. Initially…it was terrifying…what was I going to do? basically everything I ever thought was true was under question…and even after basically spending every day of these past few months in furious study…I still don't know all the answers, but I am confidant enough to say I do not think that God has any issue with queerness.

So now my life has changed, from one of intense self hatred and depression, to one of constant low boiling fearand terror…I am closeted, because my mother and father are very homophobic and transphobic, and I am terrified of what will happen when they find out…do you know what that does to somebody? to love your family so deeply, and your parents to love you deeply back…but behind every hug, is the knowledge…that they hate so vehemently, something so thoroughly ingrained in who I am…that they don't know about…it honestly sucks so much. I cantor (lead the hymns) at my church, and my church loves me for it, and I'm very popular over all with my fellow parishioners…but knowing that every smile, and "thank you so much for singing today!" or "Oh you did so well! I always love your voice"…will be wiped away when I come out of the closet…

I am planning on coming out sometime later this year…when? I'm not sure…but I know I can't keep this mask up for much longer…because while I don't self harm, and my mental health is slightly better over all…living a lie to your family because you know they will hate you…is kinda a drag on the ol brain. I've come out to two of my siblings, I have 6, so I came out to the two sisters closest to me ( I love all my siblings hugely, but these two I have just been slightly closer to) and both of them are chill, one of them made it very clear that she was here for me, and that when the time comes, she will do her best to do damage control….and the other basically went "Ya no shit Sherlock" and has been chill about it (both reactions where kinda hilarious, and I love them even more for it) Once The WELS hears of my coming out…I will immediately be called for a "Church discipline meeting" aka a inquisition with the elders and pastor, where they will try and get me to recant my "sins"…but as a famous theologian said-

"Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Holy Scriptures or by evident reason-for I can believe neither pope nor councils alone, as it is clear that they have erred repeatedly and contradicted themselves-I consider myself convicted by the testimony of Holy Scripture, which is my basis; my conscience is captive to the Word of God. Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one’s conscience is neither safe nor sound. Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. So Help Me God. Amen" -Martian Luther, Diet of worms, 1521.

-so I honestly don't think I will even bother to go to that meeting…because I don't want to go through that hurling of fire and brimstone. I honestly think I will just send a email in response…and just let them decide how to go about it. Will there be consequences for this? yes… but God is with me…amen.

[life-with-geo]

January 8th

Hi, I’m back (almost started with hi guys, then remembered I have no followers lmao). It's been a week since I posted last, and I think I'm going to start posting every Sunday at 9:30 PM, essentially right before I go to bed. To be honest I don't know how long I’m going to be able to keep that schedule up, I might be taking on too much, but hey, we shall see, things change all the time. 

In the week thats passed, not too much has happened. School started back up on the second, unfortunately, and I’m already drained. Ever since my visit to the hospital, everything is so much more draining than before. I hope eventually I’m able to pick myself back up from this burnout, but apparently, the time it takes to recover from burnout is about 3-5 years. I don't have 3-5 years to heal from all this lol. 

We had a project due the day after we came back to my AP Lit class, our personal portfolio. I had a lot of fun writing it over the semester, but I also hated it. It took me through a lot of emotions and lore related to my past. I talked about my mom, my most recent failed relationship, and my failed friendships, all of which made me sad. I also talked about my grandma though, and my wonderful stepmom, so I think overall it kinda works out in a way. I think the worst part was putting the pictures into the binder. Pictures of my biological mom (you'll hear about her eventually) as well as pictures of my grandma. I may have been a little petty and attacked my ex in the portfolio, which is funny considering hes in that class and everyone can read them. I wonder if he will approach me about it, I doubt it, he's kind of a coward. 

On a much more positive note, things have become slightly more serious with this guy I’m talking to. Some might say it is FAR too soon to be talking to another guy fresh out of a relationship, but it’s been over a month now since the last one, and I’m too much of an all-or-nothing person to be hurt by one guy for too long. Or girl. I just struggle with attachment stuff. ANYWAYS. He’s way different than any guy I've ever talked to, and tbh, its refreshing. He's kind and gentle, but also ambitious and driven. It's something I've always wanted in a partner. I really hope it goes somewhere because he is genuinely so amazing lol. 

This week in the mental health section we have…journaling. Now I know a lot of people just say journal to get your feelings out there but people don't actually talk about the psychology behind journaling, the benefits of it, and WHY it helps. I know this is a pretty basic thing to talk about but its my first post with this little section added so bear with me, it's fine. 

There are a lot of different ways to journal and different kinds of journaling, and it really doesn't matter which one you do, it varies on your needs and what you’re trying to prioritize. I personally bullet journal and have another separate journal for my thoughts and feelings. So a lot of people wonder how journaling can actually be beneficial and I did a lil bit of research and fouuuuund… depending on the kind of journaling you do, it can be either just a release of emotions, it can help track symptoms of mental illness (or physical illness if you suffer from medical conditions, you can track if it’s getting worse or not, especially helpful in cases of people with chronic illness, but again, it varies person to person). Journaling can even help to identify negative self-talk that you may do unknowingly, and you can put in the work to change those negative thoughts into something positive. (All of this information is from a study posted by the University of Rochester Medical Center).

So to focus on the benefits of regular (“regular”) journaling, I’m mostly just going to talk about how it can be done and what to recognize in your journal entries (ITS ALWAYS HELPFUL TO GO BACK AND REREAD THEM EVEN IF IT HURTS, you can see how far you've come, and see what’s changed and whats benefited you throughout your writing journey). Journaling can be instrumental in the progression towards certain goals, as it is an internal reflection, slightly different from a diary, which can be defined as writing about the events of a day, and is mostly a daily thing. Journaling doesn't have to be a daily thing, it can be something you do more often when you’re having a rough time, with long entries full of crossed-out words and scribbles, versus the times you’re doing okay and when the entries are shorter and the words are neater. Either way, journaling is very good for self-reflection, helping you identify triggers and other things that may cause you any amount of emotional stress.

I think my favorite kind of journaling is bullet journaling, which I’ve only been doing for a short while but it’s very different from my thoughts and feelings journal. My bullet journal is something I use to keep track of assignments and also my habits, my reading, and things I've watched, I might start using it to track screen time. I also use it to track the story I’ve begun and this blog as well. It’s becoming very helpful when it comes to the planning of my future and the progression of my goals. I personally never found my thoughts and feelings journal to be very helpful when it came to goal progression, but it’s different for everyone.

One of the best parts of a bullet journal is the creative freedom that comes with it, of course, that’s not for everyone, and some people may simply choose a more minimalistic setup, or they may just not bullet journal at all, but that’s seriously one of the most therapeutic parts. Its a very chill process, I personally stole my setup from a YouTuber who I like, so it’s not my own creativity, but thats something Id like to do someday. 

Anyway, that wraps up this week's post, we shall see how this does, I might mess around with the length of posts, as this one got pretty long. See you next Sunday :)

[esleep]

i was tagged by @chaumas-deactivated20230115 (forever ago i'm sorry), and i am so late to this that i believe most of my mutuals have already been tagged so if you see this and want to do it please do (and tag me so i can see).

last song: "The Sweetest Taboo" by Sade is currently playing from my big huge no-theme playlist. a classic.

currently reading: I just started "The Foxglove King" by Hannah Whitten, which is the most recently-published book I've read in a good while. i'm not very far in so i don't have much of an opinion yet, but it promises to be about necromancy and dead gods, so that has promise. so far the writing seems to be slightly better quality than a lot of the "romantic fantasy" booktok schlock, so i'm giving it a chance to get going. i wanted something light and easy and fun after chewing through Dune Messiah again. balance in all things.

currently watching: to be perfectly honest i don't watch a lot of shows right now because of attention span issues that i'm currently trying (and mostly failing) to get a handle on. during my workdays, i have been working my way through critical role campaigns 1 and 2 (alternating between them - when one starts stressing me out too much, i switch to the other for a while). it's a nice background to have up in my second screen, keeps the brain quiet but doesn't require my full attention to follow.

current obsession: i've been playing this solo journaling rpg and having a very fun time playing with my silly little OCs like dolls, using my quill pen and ink to write the entries :) it's been a very nice little injection of whimsy into my days.

[iconoclast-infidels]

"So you're cute and funny and now so willing to make accommodations. I got the whole package." He kept chuckling. "You know I know you know it."

Gary was more of a fret in his head. He was a newer family addition when they left and as much as Nico's heart missed him, he wasn't sure the animal would feel the same. Animals seem to adapt better to change than people do. He's never seen them as "just animals" or anything like that in a lesser way, but as a being that can speak to the vultures he still knows the animals have different intelligence than humans. Sometimes he wishes he could spread his own vulture-like wings and become one so he wouldn't have to keep dealing with the nuances people do.

"You sure? I hope so." He liked to think Gary actually remembered him. After fours years he was worried. "I've thought about him a lot. Mostly in the tub. Ernie might have rubber duckie. But Gary the penguin is who made bath time lots of fun for me." It was probably silly, but how could Nico step in a tub without thinking of that penguin? "I wish I could speak penguin too."

"See? Exactly. Totally a rule. It's gonna be fine."

He was glad Dmitry didn't take offense to how he was poking at him. It was meant to be playful. He always put his cards all out there in his own way so he could be heard, but it never meant anything more than affection, a way to grow together. He didn't usually actually think to be glad really. He was so used to Dmitry being the one that understood him, but after the break he wasn't going to take anything for granted. The rest of the world wasn't like Dmitry.

Some call it sass or even cynicism, but Dmitry interpreted Nico like he was his natural born language. If Nico was ever angry or being confrontational it was unmistakable. Hints and passive aggression wasn't his way. He came right out and said it. This was playful fun. If a little teasing couldn't be handled, don't date a demon. Fun fact, he can be teased back and it's like water off a duck's back. Nico once considered writing a book on that, a how to guide in the middle of watching their journal entries to help build a bridge between demons and humans, or just for shits and giggles, whatever end. He lost his confidence during the break. Maybe he'd reconsider again at a later date.

"Fuck yeah I am!" He may have gotten a few years older, but he still had the ability to the spazz out of nowhere even if his usual temp was a somber brood and zoom into a goofball mode. He flailed up with a jolt of energy. "You could watch me foreverrrr. Hell, babe. You might be flipping channels, trying to find something good. But nah. You gonna find yourself right back here for the thriller." Then even saying the word Thriller made him think of Michael. " Your Thrillerrrrr Thriller niiiiiiiiight. Fuck it. Just call me MJ. I'm about it." He kicked his foot out at the ankle, crossed them, hit his toe to the floor, and spun in a circle. He even tried to do the little pants tug at the end, but they didn't go far considering he always wore skinny ladies jeans. But hey he tried.

So, there was a little silliness before they held hands to get out of there. Nico had to settle himself down anyway because watching Dmitry look off balance sobered him.

"Shit. You..." He was about to ask if he was okay, but Dmitry seemed to get there himself first. "Okay. Let's do this. Yeah, Lisbeth can sit here if you want. She's your call. Hold on."

Then he did a double take making sure Dmitry looked stable even though he said he was fine and went to find a bowl to leave down for Lisbeth. "There we go."

"I'll keep her company."

Nico's face went pale... paler. The voice. A voice on the Hell Radio. Nico bore a clenched jaw and a face of annoyance.

"Seriously, not right now. We're trying to leave here."

"I was just-"

"Don't."

"But DMITRY!"

"If you manifest right now I will unalive you again. I swear to fuck, Jovan. This is our time. OUR TIME. Me and Dmitry's. Do you hear me? You will wait. You guys can have time later when he gets back. You will wait until I give the signal or I'll break every guitar in this house."

"You would not! You'd be fucking yourself."

"I've been alone a long time. I'm pretty good at that by now, buddy. You're missing the point."

"Fine! But I'm cat sitting."

"Fine! You can cat sit, but shut the fuck up. You're ruining my concentration. I'll never be able to step into the veil this way. You know I gotta focus. FUCK! Fuck it all."

Then as Nico realized he was arguing with the invisible entity in front of Dmitry he resigned to it all. Even if Dmitry could only hear Nico's side of the conversation. It didn't matter. It was probably easy to deduce what was going on here.

"Oh. Did I mention Jovan came back and never leaves me the fuck alone? Talk about Hell on Earth."

Then he made a face like he was responding to Jovan.

"I'm kidding. Kidding obviously. You're mother fucking Casper with a guitar." Then he waited a couple moments as he looked at Dmitry and smirked. "More like Beetlejuice always popping up at the wrong moments."

"Alright. Alright. Is everything settled? Can we all let me focus. I'm trying to go to Russia here. Veil. Veil. Totally in focus mode."

Right then a bird on the window started to flap it's wings and caught Nico's ears and threw off his concentration again. He darted his head to the right and saw it. It flew off.

"What the? I swear. I'm not a natual at this magic stuff. The universe is just trying to make me lose my cool right now." Then like a mantra he said, "I. Am. Un-Fuck-With-Able. I. Am. Un-Fuck-With-Able." He took another deep breath. He blew out. "Also, for the record. I don't care if we're going to Russia. Anybody asks who I am, I'm saying you're husband. I'm like a Swedish gay submarine, bitches. Okay. I'm good."

Jovan was giggling in the inbetween over by Lisbeth knowing the reference, but Nico didn't bother to explain himself if Dmitry didn't.

He took Dmitry's hand and stood side by side with him confidence and focus ready.

"Oh no, the horror! You, clinging to me, how will I ever live?" he giggled, not minding one bit. And about the mug, "Hey now, y'know that coffee is serious business. Это жизнь!" Life itself. "You'd go to the moon just for me if I asked for moon dust, you know I know it," he teased right back at Nico.

"Gary will be fine, I promise. He lives in a forest with... it's technically not a lake, but might as well be. We'll figure it out, he misses you," he said, hoping to reassure Nico.

He listened about Nova and nodded. "It's so a thing, definitely a rule." In truth, though he did believe that was true, he was also saying it for his own sake - he had to believe his mom would forgive him and not hate Nico either. It was the most important thing to him; he needed to keep his family together and his mom was family, but just as much as she was, so were Nico, Nova (whom he wanted to know better), and Nico and Dmitry's pets. He'd even have gone as far as to include friends in the list, like Amy and Jovan and Sammy - only, Jovan was now dead, Sammy had a very important job, and Amy, well... he hadn't seen or talked to Amy in years either. He'd really just isolated himself the entire time, not even realizing in the process how bad it had been. He hoped he'd never wind up in that kinda spot again. He didn't think he could handle it, and he didn't want to put Nico through that, not after having promised not to. He fully intended to keep that promise and guard it with his soul.

But then Nico pointed out Dmitry's selfishness in a way that felt... not judgemental, no. It was true, what Nico was saying - he'd never really seen how much of an effect on others his own mess could have, not like this. But then, he had never even thought it would be possible for an infernal transplant to take place, let alone two in one night. No, the American Mary situation had been far too much at once, and as much as he kept telling himself he was over it, he really truly wasn't.

But Nico was, instead, being sweet. He had pointed out the selfishness now more in appreciation than anything. At least, that's what Dmitry was getting from Nico's feelings: a whole lot of cuteness overload. "What, you're a cinema now? A Hollywood treasure?" Dmitry asked deadpan, but definitely referencing that one song. He had a sense of humor. It was also not exactly up to date.

He watched Nico empty out his nag and change into better shoes, and then when Nico offered his hands, Dmitry took them and stood up. He paused for a moment, eyes closed, holding tight to Nico so Nico wouldn't let go just yet, looking a little pale. Evidently, he'd stood up too fast. Once he felt better, he let go and nodded. "Let's go. Lemme uh... Water for Lisbeth, I think it's easier if she stays here maybe?" he suggested. He also threw his own shirt on, over Nico's shirt he was still wearing, not wanting to face Russian weather with no sleeves at all. That simply wouldn't do. "I'm ready."

[coolcattime]

The Journal of Katherine Delaney -- Entry One.

This is a character journal I'm writing for my current D&D campaign for my half-elf wild magic sorcerer, Katherine Delaney. It's a custom campaign with the best friend as the DM and set in their custom D&D world: Libris, the great book.

This is kinda just something I'm doing for fun. It's turned out pretty long though, because as it turns out I have a lot of thoughts and also turning multiple d&d sessions into one journal entry makes for a pretty long piece of writing.

This is probably just gonna be something I post every so often as the campaign goes on since I like writing.

It’s been a while since I’ve kept a journal. Being on the move makes it inconvenient, I suppose, but after today I needed some way to process all my thoughts, and writing has always helped with that in the past. Now that it seems I’ll have a more permanent place to stay rather than having to carry a large book around with me, I may finally be able to actually keep a journal again.

I can say with certainty that the situation began around a week ago. While waiting for Leontine to arrive back from telling my family about my safety and the fact I’m not ready to return home right now, the brooch Rupert had gifted me began to make noises as if it was an actual bird. It was an extremely odd experience, especially as it started tugging, pulling me somewhere. I’ll admit, had I acquired that brooch in any other way than a gift from my brother, I probably would’ve gotten rid of it at that point, but instead I followed it. I followed it all the way to a town called Four Hollow, where is calmed down and acted once again as a regular piece of jewellery. At least it did as long as I stayed in the town, my attempts to leave where meant with bird song and being pulled back. So, seeing that I was quite stuck, I wrote to Leontine of my new location (which she thankfully was quite understanding about) and found myself once again just waiting.

It appeared that I’d arrived in Four Hollow at a busy time of year as they were (and still currently are) preparing for a festival. From what I learnt over the few days I’ve been here, the giant crystal that the town is built around provides the town magical power that they’ve used to make many things run automatically in such a way I’ve never seen previously. It’s quite fascinating, seeing all the ways such magic can be used to improve life, and the town’s appreciation for that is why each year they hold a festival to show their thanks. Currently, they’re in the build-up phase, showing off the impressive feats the crystal can do, mostly things akin to firework shows, things that are entertaining and attractive to those from out of town. In three days’ time, however, they will turn off the magic for twenty-four hours, to allow the crystal to rest and to show their appreciation for the improvements it’s given to their life. Obviously, the idea of magic being turned off worried me, but I’ve been assured that it’s just the magic related to the crystal, so I’ve little to worry about.

I’ll admit, I had gotten a little bored of watching the displays of the crystal by today. I’ve been here for quite a few days and while impressive, the displays did little to take up the time in waiting for Leontine to return. I was actually sat watching a squirrel when I was pulled into meeting the group.

For the stake of easing my confusion, I’m going to briefly describe each of my new companions now, rather than when we actually introduced ourselves, so I can use their names throughout the whole story.

Vallana (Val): A firbolg woman who appears to have an unhealthy obsession with killing goblins in a way that’s frankly uncomfortable. She’s at least friendly towards the group, but certainly is more than a little murderous.

Caspien: Val’s traveling companion. A gem dragonborn cleric. He seems frankly exhausted by Val’s talk of goblins. Though he may just be easily frustrated in general.

Maize: A centaur woman with an unsure disposition, but clearly strives to be helpful. Mentioned disliking the ‘fae bourgeoise’ and I’m not sure if I should worry.

Hamish: A shifter man who appears to be part cow. So far, I think he’s the best natured of the group as he seems to just genuinely want to help people. He is a friend of Rupert.

Scorn: A tiefling man with no horns, no tail, and near pitch black skin. We found him ‘brooding’. Is apparently a wizard, though he hasn’t mentioned what school of magic he’s studied. Quiet, but I think he’s a good person.

Dynol: A goliath man with a large ice spike in his chest. Has apparently lived in Four Hollow for a number of years. Grumpy.

Anyways, the beginning of today’s oddities began when Val appeared in front of me asking if I’d seen a goblin, quite an imposing question from an armed stranger that towers over you. I had managed to stutter out an answer when thankfully Caspien appeared, apologising for his travelling companion. The two began bickering, as apparently her questioning strangers has been a recurring issue, but they had only exchanged a few sentences when Maize came by. She had a crate strapped to her back, and I saw a wine glass falling from it. I had meant to catch it; it was just my luck that I practically threw it to the ground. I was incredibly embarrassed, only more so when Hamish ran onto the scene assuming the breaking glass was due to a fight. It was then that the confusing events of the day truly began.

An earring, designed to look like the tags you sometimes see on livestock, that Hamish wore began moving, swinging seeming of its own accord. Such an event had apparently not happened before, and we decided at that moment that we were being lead somewhere. Admittedly that’s an odd idea now that I look at it written down, but sometimes you just have to go with the seemingly alive piece of jewellery leading you somewhere.

It led us to a back-alley pub, completely empty save for the bartender and Scorn. He was sat alone in a dark corner booth, and I think he may have been enjoying himself far more before we invited ourselves to sit with him. At least, that’s the impression that the awkward silence we found ourselves in gave.

The silence was broken by Caspien accidently triggering the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. I swear if I hadn’t been nearly deafened, I would’ve panicked far more. However, by the time that the ringing in my ears stopped it was quite clear that Caspien had made the noise with some magic trinket he had, shaped like an orb made up of rings. It was also clear, thanks to just how empty the bar was, that Dynol had entered. He seemed quite frankly out of it, though perhaps that was just the result of the sudden noise. He didn’t come over to us until after we had started our introductions. This time is also when I learned of Hamish’s friendship with my brother, as he’s apparently stayed at his girlfriend’s tavern a number of times.

Dynol oddly came over to accuse one of us of pulling his bag, something none of us had any motive to do. When we all denied doing so, he opened his bag and produced the broken handle of a sword which was glowing dimly, and he appeared to begin swinging it haphazardly. In retrospect, it was most likely the object pulling him around, but it did seem rather reckless of him at the time.

Either way, he did join the group as we were finishing introductions. No sooner than we were all sat down, did an object that we each had begun to act wildly. I have already mentioned by own brooch, Hamish’s earring, and Dynol’s sword handle, however it seemed that everyone in the small group had some kind of object that appeared to (and likely did) have a mind of its own. Val had a coin, Caspien a spear tip, Maize a smoking pipe, and Scorn a holy symbol. None of us had acquired these objects in the same way, a fact obvious to me as none other than Hamish would’ve had the opportunity to receive a present from my brother (unless they’ve all met him somehow, but I sincerely doubt that). Yet all of them were clearly reacting to being in the presence of one another. Perhaps due to that fact, Caspien touched the broken piece of spear he had to my brooch, which quickly flew off as if it was a real bird.

I don’t know quite what possessed me to chase it. I think I just didn’t want to lose it (though I funnily enough have now) or maybe had followed it once so I just thought it was worth doing so again. But, either way, I stumbled out of that pub and after the brooch as if my life depended on it. The others followed me, though that hadn’t been a thought in my mind until they did so. I’m sure we must have been a confusing sight, such a large group running out into the fields and woods outside of town. I can’t say how long we ran for, long enough that I probably should have given up on following.

I was extremely thankful for the others’ presences when the brooch passed through some overgrowth too thick for anything larger than it to easily follow. Had I been alone, I likely would’ve had to use a spell. I know none that would’ve been great for the situation, and I can just imagine surging alone and ending up unconscious in the middle of nowhere. Hamish pulled down one of the smaller trees, which seemed to just completely bend to his will, clearing a path for us. Maize had leapt over, an impressive feat that put her a little ahead of the rest of us, but I’m quite sure it also broke whatever glassware was still in that crate she still had strapped to her. Honestly though, that didn’t cross my mind as instead I was totally focused on what was at the bottom of the valley we were walking into.

A crashed airship. That’s what we had been led to (and as we got closer, we found the brooch hitting itself against the door we used to get inside). None of the others had seen an airship before (and I admit that I’ve only seen one myself in pictures), wondering out loud how such a large ship had crashed landlocked when the closest body of water is Chicken Lake, which is far too small to justify a regular ship of this size. I corrected them, that this a ship designed for flight, but I had to admit at further questions that I didn’t know how it achieved such a feat. Caspien proposed a theory that its large balloon is filled with water, much like how ships for the water are propelled by air. I’m not quite sure how that would make a ship fly, but I don’t have any better theories.

Naturally, we decided to explore the thing, though it only became stranger when we were actually inside. Immediately I realised the floor was wrong, feeling like stone but not looking like it (and I imagine that it would be a bad material to use in something that needs to lift into the air). Of course, it was dark, so I wrote off the oddity to that, even after we lit a torch so those who can’t see in the darkness could explore comfortably. It became clear that there was a number of directions we could explore: one staircase up, two staircases down (one to the left, and one to the right), and a corridor that went straight ahead. We decided to firstly go down the left staircase, which led to a door we managed to unlock with Hamish’s earring which in turn opened to a large open area and a corridor with seven doors. Curious, I opened one of the doors and was greeted by a bedroom forming that matched by own tastes to a frankly strange degree. A bed designed for two with purple sheets, a rug covering most of the floor, a bookcase, a dressing area, and a desk that I’m currently writing at. All the furniture is where I would have put it. There was more specific stuff too; a ballet barre, a music stand, some empty plant pots stack up waiting to be used. Yet the real oddity was the books. When I picked one up which happened to be on mycology, it was in a state as if it had been read and well-read at that, but all the pages where blank. I was tempted to close my eyes and run my fingers across the pages but decided against it. I didn’t want to be questioned about what I was doing, and if there had been braille, I would’ve been able to see it. That and I doubt Leontine is reading books in braille.

Now one room I likely would’ve written off as coincidence, however as the others each opened a door, it became clear that everyone was experiencing the same thing I had, a room being formed to their exact tastes. We made a few jokes about whoever previously owned the ship having very broad tastes, but I think joking went out the window when a bedroom perfect for a centaur appeared. After we had all entered a room, the large space that had been empty also transformed, turning into a common room of sorts. Again, I have to assume that it’s suited to our tastes. I noticed a few of puzzle boxes I’ve enjoyed in the past, as well as sets for a few games I’ve played with Leontine.

I, at this point, wondered aloud if we had walked into a trap. One of the others noted maybe, but if it was a trap, it was a nice one. I wonder now, knowing the truth of the situation, if it would be accurate to say I was paranoid, given that everything is fine, but this situation could have just as easily ended with as all being eaten.

…Why did I write that?

Fuck, Jas, I… Get back on track… I, I just need to focus on the present.

After managing to convince Val not to do the, frankly dangerous, task of bring a campfire on wheels she had found in her room down the staircase, we returned to our starting point to continue exploring. We decided to take the staircase up, which led to another locked door. This one we unlocked with Val’s coin, and it led out to what must be the uppermost deck as it’s open to the air. I believe this deck will be easier to enter and exit from once we get the ship out of the crater that they’re a little stuck in currently, though I guess that’s something to speculate on later. There wasn’t much up there, just a clearer view of the balloon, as well as some pipes that lead into it. Honestly, how this ship works is beyond me currently.

With little to see up there, we headed once again back down to our starting point. We decided to explore the final staircase, heading down once again. The deck below was blocked by rubble, with only a further staircase down available to explore. So, we headed further down, reaching again a locked door. This one was unlocked by Scorn’s holy symbol.

Inside this room was what I could only describe as an incomplete engine, the kind of thing an artificer may build, but clearly broken. And once again the trinkets we were carrying began to act oddly.

I don’t remember who the first to throw their trinket into the engine was, though I clearly remember the result of it connecting to the engine, as if it was always a part of it. Lights came on, whatever magic was present on this ship coming back as the engine was repaired. We all followed in turn, and I could hear doors opening and other loud noises that I couldn’t explain. It was when the final item was thrown in that the ship came to life more literally. And by that, I mean, the ship began to speak.

Ship, a simple yet fitting name, is apparently not just an airship, but rather a colony of mimics. Yes, the objects we had all been carrying around (myself for the better part of a year) were mimics, dormant and apparently friendly mimics, but mimics all the same. I question how my brother managed to craft such a thing into a brooch, but I feel like that’s a mystery he won’t have an answer to. At the very least, Ship isn’t planning on killing us as we can “grow the colony”. Apparently, prior to our arrival, they had been sleeping for a quite a while, unable to wake until the seven objects we carried were brought back to the engine, but before us they were merely passed and sold between people. And our reward for awakening them? The airship, something so rare in Libris that most haven’t even heard of such a thing. Well, Ship did say that one of us could kill the rest for sole ownership, but I’m quite against that idea, and I sincerely hope that none of the others are contemplating it either.

I should probably be more scared of being on a ship entire crafted by mimics, but during our introduction Maize compared them to a group of sentient mushrooms that want to help you. That was the moment I realise that such a fear may be quite hypocritical of me given my relationship with Leontine. I’m unsure if Maize has met Leontine, or just managed to allude to her via an otherwise very unusual metaphor, but I imagine if they haven’t met Maize will be quite glad to meet her. I think Leontine will get along with Ship too, so that’s two people to immediately introduce her to once we’re reunited. However, Caspien seemed to quite dislike the idea of the mushrooms, describing the idea put forward by Maize as his “worst nightmare”. Perhaps I should warn him about Leontine, but I don’t think I should get into the habit of warning people about my partner. I’m sure he’ll be fine with the idea once he meets Leontine, after all she is completely wonderful. They’ll all love her, I’m sure. Well, not the same way I do, but who wouldn’t love her. She’s so cute, especially when she’s talking about mushrooms and her eyes light up and she gets so focused, I could just watch her forever when she’s like that. And of course, she can hold her own in a fight! That’s probably important to these people, so many of them have armour and weapons. And she… she’s just the best and… and I miss her so much.

Anyways, Ship then introduced us to the, I guess, caretaker of the place: Laundry. They appeared to be created of different clothes (I believe with a basket underneath) formed into the shape of a wizard. Apparently, they were named by the last crew of Ship, and are here to do our laundry and “create new rooms”, which I assume is something to do with the completely empty deck where the rubble I mentioned earlier has now been cleared. I guess this place really is just to shape to our desires, so long as we continue to keep the mimics happy.

After these two introductions, Ship gave us the information that they’re currently grounded, unable to fly until we get them another mimic. This mimic is currently in the town of Four Hollow and is the form of a key the size of a half-elf’s forearm. To be more specific, it’s the size of my forearm. I’ve never had my forearm used as a measurement before, but at the very least we thought it was likely that someone in the town will have seen a key that large. We asked Dynol who had lived there for a few years, but he seemed quite oblivious to the place.

So, we decided to head back into town, now with an unexpected quest binding us. We started by finally getting the crate Maize was carrying to where it was meant to be. I doubt there was any useable glassware left, but at least we could now fully focus on our task. We attempted to talk with one of the people in charge of assigning the volunteers tasks, but he seemed thoroughly uninterested in helping us. However, after a small amount of pressing, he did say that the only key of such a size in the town is the one currently inside the crystal.

We took one of the tours available in order to confirm this fact, and looking inside from a closer vantage point, I could clearly see it. The key we need is the focus inside the crystal, the thing that allows the town to harness the magic and make sure the crystal doesn’t explode. In three days, it’ll be taken out of the crystal for twenty-four hours. We have that time to get a hold of it, something I’m quite sure the entire town will try to prevent us from doing, or we lose the opportunity for a full year. So, here’s the real problem we’re presented with: how do we acquire the key, and can we do without destroying Four Hollow’s livelihood? Those problems were made worse by Ship’s confirmation that they wanted the key forever. At least I saw those things as problems. Val and Dynol seem to be quite happy to just kill everyone in the town (Val because, well, she seems to quite like murder, and Dynol because they looked at him oddly). Maize seems to not understand the need for towns in the first place. The others, at least, seem more reluctant to destroy the livelihood of an entire town.

By this point, sat in the common room aboard Ship, we didn’t know much about the ritual yet. Really, we just knew that the ritual is performed by various religious types who visit the town for it, and that the key with initially be taken out of the crystal by one Marion Windcutter. Now, I’ve heard of him. A diplomat or envoy of sorts from The Elmmyu’rra States. He’s not technically a noble, though he’s counted as one due to his renowned ability for sorting problems between noble families. I’ve never personally met him, but it’s possible he’s met my parents. Hopefully if he has, he likes them well enough as then dealing with him will likely be a lot easier.

With a lack of good ideas for obtaining the key blooming, we decided to take advantage of the common room and relax a little. I decided to write to Leontine about this situation. I couldn’t tell her nearly as much as I wanted to, after all look how long this entry is, but I told her the basics. Firstly, I needed to make sure she knew I was with a group. After all I had been alone when she left, and this situation could very much look like a kidnapping if you were unaware of it. Secondly, I gave her directions to the ship and a request to not enter Four Hollow. Perhaps I’m just overly paranoid, but I’m sure this situation we’ve found ourselves in will end in trouble. I don’t want Leontine to turn on there on Sunday and get lost in the chaos, or worst get there afterwards ask after me and get into trouble due to our actions.

The others questioned the paper crane a little. I suppose it is a piece of paper that can find by itself, but it is basically just a trinket. I of course told them that I was just sending a letter, and to watch out for Leontine. Perhaps I should’ve given a longer description of her, so they don’t confuse her with someone else, but there’s no one quite like Leontine. I can’t imagine anyone else claiming to be her and someone actually believe them.

After I sent the letter, I decided to watch Hamish and Caspien while they played a game that I recognised but didn’t know all the rules of, I asked some questions, to attempt to pick up the gist of what was going on, but the two seemed to disagree on the rules.

Now, I personally didn’t notice, but it must have been at this time that Scorn was standing awkwardly in a corner with a death grip on his pack. I can’t say I blame him for this, after all it had only been a couple of hours since we’d met, and he seemed to prefer his own company. However, apparently Ship disagreed. No sooner had he said:

“Not, really no,” I assume in response to a telepathically asked question, had Ship locked every door currently available to us, effectively sealing us in the common room. Their motive for this was both quite simple and less nefarious than one might expect given the description I just wrote. Apparently, this odd group we find ourselves in will not work if we are not friends. That’s logical enough, after all we will be living and travelling together so we must at least be able to tolerate each other. Though I’m not quite sure locking us in a room with a bottle of alcohol and a deck of cards is the most effective method possible.

The alcohol, which we started while deciding on a game to play, according to Maize was a type of grain alcohol. It was fair stronger than I would have preferred without anything mixed in. I still drank it, but I couldn’t help but grimace at the taste.

We settled on playing poker, and playing the rules set forward by Scorn as we each had a different set of rules in mind. It was quite nice, relaxing as we weren’t gambling. Caspien ended up winning the first round which he called beginner’s luck.

As we played, we decided to discuss our favourite thing we’d done while adventuring, a topic put forward by Hamish who also told his story first. Apparently, he’s somewhat of a local hero where he’s from, having driven off some monsters away from his home village along with a rallied army of townsfolk. He smiled as he spoke of this. Without question, Hamish is a good person and I understand why Rupert befriended him.

Scorn admitted that he hasn’t done much adventuring yet as he’s been doing various types of training under an archwizard. He apparently doesn’t have a preferred school of magic, though he admitted to not being gifted at transmutation. Yet this was so far the most open he’s been with the group thus far, so I decided not to push on the issue (though I believe from words said later that Caspien doesn’t believe that Scorn is actually a wizard, though I don’t see any reason he would lie about such a feat).

Maize went next, telling of the time they accidentally broke the wrong person out of jail. A bold story to tell to a group of people you’ve barely met, but I have to admit it was entertaining. She had met to break out a dwarf and instead broke out a halfling who she had decided could well be a dwarf that simply shaved. The crime either one committed was apparently not important to the story, though perhaps she didn’t know herself.

I shared a story next, telling of a time myself and Leontine chased an owlbear from a farm. It was the best story I could think of that didn’t involved Jas or Désirée, so I wouldn’t need to answer questions about them. Yet even the safe story prompted some questions, mostly about how one chases an owlbear. I, of course, explained briefly that it was a combination of my own magic (though I didn’t mention that it was mostly due to most of them making a loud noise when cast) and Leontine’s aura of mushrooms that injury any foe that come too close to her. Caspien didn’t react much to this, so either he wasn’t listening to the question he asked, or sentient mushrooms don’t scare him as much as he claimed. I hope it’s the former as if I’m going to be friends with these people as Ship suggests necessary, I need them to like Leontine. I think I may already be on the way to that as Hamish appeared to have heard briefly of her from Rupert and therefore, he must know how important she is.

Val’s story was, predictably, about killing goblins. Oddly enough she began by talking about leaving her home, a place she only really described as being very different from the rest of Libris that she’s explored and that there were also goblins there. However, before I could question that she began describing killing goblins. The shocking reveal was that Val, like Hamish, is considered a folk hero. The goblins just so happened to be a group of marauders who were terrorizing a town that happened to be very thankful for Val’s actions. She promptly learned the wrong lesson from this encounter.

Finally, Dynol told, shortly and simply, the story of his first kill after leaving the village, that of a white bear. He still wears the pelt too, so I suppose at least it wasn’t just a kill for glory. Apparently, this is also when he found the sword hilt that led him here. Caspien almost immediately questioned his first kill being a bear, which admittedly is a fair bit bigger than most hunters start, but I assumed based on his wording that it was just Dynol’s first kill as a solo hunter rather than absolutely.

I realise now, having written down all the stories that Caspien didn’t actually share a story, not even one like Scorn to just say he hasn’t really adventured before. It’s a little odd thinking about it as he seemingly loves to talk, as is abundantly clear from the amount he’s been mentioned thus far. Perhaps he simply forgot as it was after Dynol’s story that Laundry (apparently free to move around the ship unlike us) entered with food.

It was a pot filled with something that was between a soup and stew, too many vegetables to be a soup, but a little thin to be a stew. Laundry was little help in identifying it, merely calling it food. I suppose it didn’t matter as long as it was edible.

We questioned where the ingredients had come from, as Ship had said the alcohol was from the previous crew and none of us felt like eating century all rations (and I’m also not quite sure we’d survive it). Thankfully they were fresh, wild vegetables and roots gathered from the woods the ship has crashed in. Of course, that means that Laundry had left the ship, though they made the excellent point that anyone who sees them will just think they’re a wizard. Honestly, if we get fresh food out of it, I see no problem with them exploring. Though Dynol did have a complaint about the lack of meat, but really did he expect a sentient laundry basket disguised as a wizard to kill something? I’ll try and see if there’s a market or a butcher in Four Hollow if he complains again, though I’m not much of a cook so he’ll have to deal with that part.

While eating, we played a second round of poker. This time Dynol won. I think the second loss may have frustrated Scorn a little as he threw his cards down, lightly but still. Admittedly, I’m not the best at reading people, so maybe it was a completely innocent gesture. It was about here that Maize decided to tell another story. This one was about an incident where she decided to try and flirt with someone. Apparently, a common way of doing so where she if from is to kick an object as hard as you can. This did not translate to wherever she was at the time, and it was instead seen as an act of aggression. She claims to have been completely run out of town. Now as to why she told this story of an incident where she was clearly embarrassed, I’m not sure, perhaps the alcohol had gone to her head, but it did bring the group together. Enough for Ship to ask if we were friends now. Obviously, we all answered yes, even if I’m still not quite sure if completely trust everyone yet. Scorn said that he still didn’t trust any of us with his stuff which I thought was adamantly fair.

Finally free to leave, we decided to return to Four Hollow once again, in order to talk to those taking part in the ritual about Hamish and Caspien joining. The walk was much easier this time as we had begun to form a path through the brush. It was certainly the least peaceful though, even compared to the original frantic run. The entire time Caspien was just ranting about his hatred of badgers. The entire half hour walk. I was thankful to hear the humming lights of the town as hearing them meant there was finally quiet. Honestly, the magic of the town is completely fantastic. It would take a council of magic users to sustain something like this in any other town, but here it’s just one crystal. Can we really just take the focus and not think about what we’re destroying for it?

We proceed to the church, a stone building while most in the town are made of wood. It was lit up and heated, a welcome beacon. All of us but Scorn went inside, he elected to wait by the doors. Inside our eyes were drawn to three places.

Immediately we looked to a group of three dwarves in the middle of the room. Dressed in robes and blindfold, they were loudly chanting prayers in a language that I believe was drawvern, but I didn’t understand to know for sure. Crystals of various colours decorated their robes, jiggling with their movements and providing a messy melody to their song-like prayers. Their display had gathered a small crowd.

However, despite how their show display may have made it look, they were not the only religious devotees in the building that appeared special. One was a firbolg woman at an altar. Her back to us, it was clear she was wearing a backless dress. She was reading a holy text, though not as loudly as the dwarves. The other was an older elven woman sat alone reading a thick leather-bound book. She dressed in in grey vestments with only a blue band as decoration.

Of these three, we decided to firstly talk with the firbolg, as she didn’t seem as busy as the dwarves nor as unapproachable as the elf. As we approached, she turned around and I just had to admire the craftsmanship of her dress. It was far more ornate than anything I’d expect a holy person to wear. Crafted from shimmering purple fabric, different shades creating a handprint pattern, each one having a heart in the middle. Painted on the fabric surrounding the hands were blue flowers. I can’t imagine how much time it must have taken to create it.

She introduced herself as Tulip, a follower of The Evening Glory, and asked us our business. We introduced ourselves and said we (or rather Hamish and Caspien) wanted to take part in the key ritual and therefore we wanted to know a bit about it. Hamish seemed shocked that we wanted him to take part, despite mentioning that he was a cleric when the ritual was first brought to our attention and us talking about the plan multiple times before this point. Anyways, Tulip answered our questions, explaining the ritual to us. The ritual itself doesn’t have any fancy techniques we would need to know being very individual. Marion will take the key from the crystal, taking it to a room where each religious devotee in turn will be given the key to perform a ritual for their god onto it. The key doesn’t leave the room at any point and each person will be search on their way in and out (expect perhaps Marion). Obviously, that’ll make stealing the key during the rituals a harder task than we initially thought. She also told us if we wanted more information on the crystal and the key and the history, there’s a book in the mayor’s procession that will contains this information. Hopefully we’ll be able to look at it tomorrow.

Then Tulip asked what exactly Caspien and Hamish would add for the ritual if they were allowed to join, what their gods would do for the key. So, they presented what gods they followed. Or rather Hamish presented the goddess he follows as a paladin: Chauntea, goddess of life and bounty. Caspien meanwhile doesn’t follow a specific deity. He’s a cleric of the tempest rather than any god that represents such a domain I’ve never heard of a cleric doing this before, but I didn’t want to question him. If I ever return home, I’ll ask my questions to one of the churches there. Most of them have at least a shrine to gods of oceans and storms, to keep our ships safe and our city’s name of Storm’s Rest true.

Even with a lack of a real idea for what they’d do for their rituals, Tulip gave her blessing for them to join. Apparently, there’s far less people here this year than is normally expected (and Tulip claims to have been taking part for forty years so she would know). However, she also noted that it wasn’t just her blessing that we would need. We’d also need that of the mayor as well as the dwarves and the elf who will also be taking part in the ritual. She gave us some warnings about the elf, an apparently prickly woman who’s been participating in the ritual for as long if not longer than Tulip but has never given anyone her name. A follower of Mystryl, the previous deity of magic whose death is what caused the spell plague. I had researched Mystryl before, in some of my attempts to figure out the origins of my own magic, but such research couldn’t give me insight into the pain of following a god killed by someone’s greed.

It was about at this point that Scorn re-joined us, a story of an odd individual he had met outside. While standing alone he had been approached by a man who had questioned if he was banned from the church. Thankfully this question was due to the man apparently fearing the church and believing those in it had cursed him as opposed to stereotyping. Apparently, the gist of the conversation was that the man believes he’s been cursed by the church and also wants to know how to cure lycanthropy and then ran off, though obviously I only know what Scorn relied to us. When Scorn told someone in the church about the encounter, he was told the man was called Mikihel and is known as being quite strange and a hypochondriac. However, this information didn’t stop Scorn from wanting to research lycanthropy once we were done with the church.

Obviously though we still had business to do at the church. Given that they had a break between their sermons, we next went to time with the dwarves. Despite being blindfolded, they turned towards us as we approached, likely as we aren’t exactly a stealthy group. They attempted to talk in unison, but never quite managed to. I suppose it must be a rather difficult trick to do in regular conversation. They introduced themselves as devotees of Thautam, a god of crystals and magic. As they stated themselves, it was obviously to see why they are here.

To get their blessing, they simply asked for mysteries, to bolster their knowledge. And the group did give mysteries, mostly nonsense mysteries that were really mysteries at all. They were good enough to impress two of three the dwarves though. The other ended up storming off in frustration, but we ended up getting the blessing by majority vote.

Finally, there was the elf. As we approached, I prepared myself for careful diplomacy that I was already sure would be needed. It hadn’t occurred to me that my companions might not be so careful. As soon as we approached her, the woman rejected our request, telling us to leave and instead talk to the mayor or Marion when he arrives tomorrow. Of course, we told her what Tulip had told us, both that we required her blessing to participate and that there were significantly less people present this year. However, she didn’t seem particularly bothered by this information. In fact, she said from her perspective she believed she should be the only participating the ritual. Caspien questioned why, getting frustrated, and I answered that obviously she knows the most about the crystal. Whether true or not, it felt like the right thing to say. She’s likely been the one doing the rituals the longest, and also the crystal is believed to be a magic from pre-spell plague, that’s why people think it surges like wild magic does, which would make it a remnant of Mystryl. Of course, it being a remnant of Mystryl is the point she argued, that she is the only one with a real connection to it.

This is about when Caspien did something both infuriating and stupid, insulting the woman for following a dead god. I have absolutely no idea what he thought he was going to accomplish by doing this, other than soothing his own frustrations in a way that completely ruined our entire current plan. I questioned out loud if we just were just giving up on diplomacy, hoping for a hasty apology, not an answer of yes. For obvious reasons, his childish, pointless outburst resulted in the woman slamming her book closed and exiling the entire group other than myself.

She invited me to sit, an invitation I graciously took, and questioned why I was with such a group of people. I, perhaps unwisely, told her the truth. That it was quite a forced arrangement, caused by mere happenstance, and if we didn’t act as friends it will result in being locked together in a room by a ship. She found this funny, I assumed from disbelieve, until she said it was due to the idea of a member of the Delaney family being bossed around by a ship. I was shocked momentarily. I forget sometimes that my coat has my family crest on it, a fact I could tell didn’t impress the woman. I haven’t been this close to home in a while and even now I'm still the length of a continent away, being recognised hasn’t been much of a concern. She said she keeps up with local politics, I wonder if that means she knows that I’m technically missing.

She had more questions, the first being why we had an interest in the ritual. I answered as truthfully as I could, without giving away details that would get us into trouble. That Ship is fractured, that a part of them is in the town, that we suspect that it’s the key from the crystal. And then she asked what if the key is part of Ship. So, I confessed my own dilemma about the situation. I want to fix Ship, obviously I do, and they’re sentient so it would cruel not to, but I don’t want to leave Four Hollow, a whole town, without their main livelihood and at the mercy of wild magic surges, some I know isn’t pleasant. I want to find a way to make a replacement, either for Ship or the crystal, but I have no idea if that will be feasible and if it is if the group will help me create it when we don’t truly need to. She appeared to have some sympathy for the problem I’m faced with, even if I cannot tell her the full extent of the situation. Finally, she asked why she should give her blessing to Caspien and Hamish and I gave her the simplest reasoning I could muster. If they got her blessing, they would very likely leave her alone as opposed to if they didn’t, where I’m quite sure they would return to bother her some more. Not my best argument, but I truly couldn’t think of a reason to argue that Caspien deserves anything from her. Thankfully she accepted my reasoning and said we had her blessing. I thanked her before leaving, re-joining the group outside to tell them I’d savaged the situation.

We needed to talk to the mayor, but given that it was night had already fallen, we decided to wait until tomorrow. So, Scorn asked if we could help to a library. I agreed whole-heartedly as there were a few things I wanted to research myself. So, we all headed to the thankfully still open library.  I think at some point, the building must have been a regular shop just based on the layout and the types of displays that were being used, but that made little difference to us. There were free books and places to sit and that’s all we needed. As Scorn went to research the crystal, I went about finding books on airship crashes and mimics.

None of my readings gave me any clue towards the material the key is mimicking as I hoped it might, but I did learn some interesting facts regardless. Ship likely crashed around 100 years ago as that’s the only crash I could find out about in the general area. Secondly, mimic colonies aren’t really limited at all to what they can turn into, being able to create far more complex structures than feral mimics due to their being more than one mimic present. If a colony mimic is separated from the rest, it can go into a time of stasis and hold its form so long as it doesn’t transform again, which is likely why the key has remained a key this whole time.

Scorn’s research also revealed some interesting information, namely that the crystal has a history of defeating itself and the town, or at the very least there’s very dramatic possibility fictional stories of it doing so. Now, I’m hoping that this mostly just applies to the crystal itself and not the key, but we may have a serious problem coming our way on Sunday.

With what research we could do for our main mission done, Scorn headed downstairs to look up some books on lycanthropy. Almost as soon as he had disappeared from view, there was a loud crash from his direction. We all rushed to follow him and there was Mikihel (quickly confirmed by Scorn as he was the only one that had met him prior), ranting and raving about Scorn betraying him, about being terribly cursed. It must have taken five minutes of arguing, including both Maize and Hamish pretending that they were lycanthropes as well (Hamish successful, Maize not so much), to get the man to confess to believe that he’s a were-slug that transforms on a waxing gibbous.  He added on that he could only transform outside when I pointed out that that was the current phase of the moon.

After this confession, he ran off, us following him all the way to behind the church. He stood, still not transformed, yelling at us to stand back from his coming beastly form. And then, to the shock of all of us, he did transform into a slug. Not a giant monstrous half-slug half-man, just a regular slug. Then I heard laughing from the bushes.

As it turns out the person that had cursed Mikihel was not the church, it was in fact an eleven-year-old. The son in fact of the church worker Scorn talked to about the man, who had happened to break into her spell scrolls and had been tormenting Mikihel with them. Now, how a child could use a spell scroll well enough to actually affect someone I don’t know, but I suppose Mikihel may not be the wisest of individuals and that may have improved the child’s odds. We returned the child to his mother, making sure he would get an appropriate punishment, as well as making sure that Mikihel was returned to his normal form. He was given some compensation from the woman (apparently a betting pool of some sort, I’m not exactly sure), and left declare the child his archnemesis so I’m not precisely sure if we made the situation better or worse. I suppose it doesn’t really matter as this isn’t seem at all related to what Ship wants us to do, but at the same time at least we don’t need to worry about an evil cursing cult within the local church. I do wonder if there was more to the story, children typically don’t just go around polymorphing people, but no one seemed especially concerned with figuring out the why of the situation.

Well, either way, it seemed we had done everything possible for tonight. Marion won’t arrive until tomorrow and it seemed too late to be bothering the mayor. So, we headed to the tavern, the one we had originally met Scorn in, to have a drink or two. Val made her intentions of getting blackout drunk before we were even in the building. I had intended to have a few drinks myself until Maize ordered the place’s ‘finest ale’ and that apparently was shrimp ale.

I don’t quite understand how fish and seafood-based alcohol became popular away from the coast. I’m from a coastal city and let me make myself clear, they don’t taste good. There is absolutely no reason these kinds of drinks should have started to be served inland, but here one is. ‘Exotic’ according to the bartender. What does that matter if it tastes horrible?

Well, upon realising what was being served, I decided not to drink. I wasn’t the only one not to partake, Hamish refused as well, stating that he’s a vegetarian. Everyone else did partake, though I believe Scorn may have regretted it. He only had one drink, quite a lot of which was left still at the end of the night. True to her word, Val did get absolutely drunk. After about four pints, she turned an odd shade of pink, leaving the question of just how much shrimp was in the drink. The colour change confused her but did not deter how from drinking more. She ended up having to be dragged back to Ship by Maize who thankfully had the strength to move the tallest member of the group who was wearing full armour. I imagine if she hadn’t, we would’ve had to leave Val at the tavern and hoped she’d make her own way back.

We’re back on Ship now. Night has well and truly fallen. I pulled one of the blank books from the bookshelf in my room to write in, I didn’t see the harm seeing that they are empty, and books are meant to be filled. It has helped with my thoughts at least. The nonsensical events of the day feel a lot more certain in my mind. I still am not quite sure about the people I am stuck with, however, there’s a saying that all the best adventures start with an odd situation involving strangers getting stuck together. Or at least that’s what the most famous book on the most famous apparent adventure in Libris says. So, I should think of this as an opportunity, as a do over. A Delaney is meant to be an adventurer, and even if they assured me that it was fine, that there was nothing anyone in my position could’ve done differently, I know I royally fucked up. So maybe I can do it right this time, do more with this opportunity than I ever could have done just wandering aimlessly. I’ll become a real adventurer, and I’ll make them all proud.

[byulsgrease]

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

[truebuggy]

I recently realized I'm probably on the spectrum (friends will laugh at this because they've been trying to tell me for years) and the thing I'm thinking about the most is the way that every single social interaction I have feels like I'm playing a visual novel where there's a correct response I can give and an incorrect one and I never quite know which is which. I've realized that before every interaction I have a split second moment where I'm trying to plan some normal sounding things I could say and also just generally bracing myself. And this really is every interaction with everyone except extremely close friends.

It's also probably why I'm good at the customer service parts of my job tho, because I can ALWAYS SAY THE SAME THINGS to customers, so it becomes easy, even fun.

Also!!! The character Norma from Dead End/Deadendia is making me go "Oh..........." a lot, cuz she's a canon autistic character and (while there are a lot of things she experiences that I don't relate to, mostly because my mask is so permanently glued to my face, so to speak) some of the things she deals with have helped me recognize those behaviors and struggles in myself.

I just never consciously noticed these things before. I mean I always knew social interaction was incredibly hard, but I chalked it up to debilitating social anxiety and OCD. I do have OCD, and I think that is part of it, but I'm at a point where my OCD is under control enough that I can tell that's not the whole story.

It makes me seriously wonder how many women, non-men & trans men think they just have extreme social anxiety when in fact they're actually undiagnosed autistic.

Sorry for Personal Blogging on my Blog I know I never do this anymore but I don't want to write a journal entry on my neocities right now cuz I'm lying DOWN

Edit: I wanna note I also thought my problems w social interaction were because of trauma, but I think on reflection, trauma IS part of why I'm scared of interacting with people, but mostly because it taught me what the consequences of messing up the interaction can be...you know? Anyway.

[j0shy]

thu, 3 march 2022

i already wrote today's entry once before, but apparently tumblr hates me.

let me try again.

today, i stayed in bed until 12 pm so i didn't have to eat. i know i shouldn't have done that, but i felt like if i was still in bed, i wasn't technically "skipping" breakfast, and i was really worried about eating pizza for dinner.

when i eventually did get up, i ate a tub of melon pieces. it's not like i was planning to not eat all day!

mum was already awake when i came downstairs, so that was nice. usually i have to wake her. but she left for work early. she also got home early!

yesterday she yelled at me and i felt really bad. i was trying to explain my experience as a trans man to her, because we were talking about how i don't feel safe walking the streets here sometimes. she just kept repeating that she doesn't experience living here that way and i was like "that's great for you, but this place is pretty backwards and i am openly trans and queer, so it's different" but i guess she didn't want to hear that.

i always freeze up when people yell at me. my mum's no different. i feel like she uses it to her advantage, because she knows once she raises her voice she'll automatically "win".

anyway. so for dinner i ate pizza, and then i took a walk. i'll admit it was a panic walk, because i finished almost the entire pizza, and i obviously don't know how many calories it had, though i'm guessing it was around 1500.

it was a really nice walk, though! the sun was setting and it was kind of chilly, but combine that with the exercise i was getting and it just felt nice!

i've been avoiding going on long walks because... well mostly because after work, i get lazy. but also because the obsessive way i was doing it before wasn't enjoyable and i didn't want to fall back into that.

i guess i forgot walking can also be nice, too. i might go on a walk again, tomorrow. or maybe not. i have blisters.

only a few more days until i'm supposed to fly to america. i'm really worried i'll test positive for covid the day before. mum has symptoms. she tested negative on a home-test, but i don't really trust those. or that she took it the right way.

there's more things i'm worried about regarding america. like: i'm worried jubilee won't be who they say they are. i'm worried they'll hurt me and because i'm stuck in another country, i won't be able to leave. i'm worried we won't do all the things they say we'll do: that instead i'll be stuck inside their house. i'm worried they'll treat me like they have to do what i say. sometimes they already try even now.

i'm worried they'll be angry and depressed all the time: that something will be wrong every day that i can't fix.

i'm also worried i won't be able to finish the fic i'm working on on ao3. i only have 3 more chapters to go, but just like always, having to write the ending is giving me a bit of anxiety.

also... look. i know how this entry sounds. the future therapist who's going to read this (because showing them my journal is easier than trying to explain everything) is probably going to think i'm engaging in some pretty self destructive patterns. i'm worried about eating. i'm counting my steps. i have a job down south but i'm planning on quitting and moving back home to a place where in the past i've never thrived.

but i'm trying to recover from my disordered eating. i don't know if what i had ever counted as a disorder, but i don't want it to be that. i also don't want to go back to eating my feelings every time i feel bad, because i always feel bad. that's kind of the entire reason i wanna go back to therapy after all this time. it's not getting better.

i have a job i actually like and i live in an entirely different place where i was trying to build a future away from my mother and i'm getting out of my comfort zone and doing fun things i would never have otherwise done, and i still think about jumping in front of a train and i still hate myself and i still want everything to just stop.

back with my mum, i can go back to therapy. mum even wants to go to therapy together, which means i can think about a future that she's actively a part of where hopefully our relationship isn't so toxic.

i can also go back to school. maybe i can figure out a dream for the future that isn't just "make money and survive". maybe if i figure out what i want, i can actually make something of my life.

plus. i miss my cat. and he lives with my mum. so.

breakfast: skipped

lunch: melon (50)

dinner: pizza (?)

total: ???