D. Barclay

Scottish writer working on SAORSA, supernatural-noir comic. Folklore, quiet horror, broken people, and the things that refuse to stay buried.

[dbarclayglitched]

Some stories don't start with answers.

They start with something watching back.

[dbarclayglitched]

Some weeks change you a bit.

Last week was scary, but in the good way.

I publicly put something out into the world that I’ve been quietly building for a long time. I watched my wee girl absolutely nail the lead role in her primary school nativity. I helped my wife with a project she’s working on (can’t say much yet, but I’m proud of her). All of it landing right in the middle of the usual end-of-year madness.

And today? Today I’m tidying the house, blasting far too much 2000s gangster rap (I know, I should probably grow up by now), and getting ready to put the Christmas tree up.

This is usually the point where I stop for five minutes and take stock. I’ve always done that, sit back, breathe, and ask myself “where am I right now?”

And honestly, I can’t stop thinking about my wee family.

Family life is a complicated thing. I’m sure it always has been, but the pressures kids are under now, especially with social media, really came to a head for us over the last couple of weeks. Watching my oldest navigate that, and handle it with the kind of strength I wish I’d had at her age, made me incredibly proud.

As a dad, I overthink everything. I want to believe I can just hug the pain away. Sometimes I can’t. And that’s hard to sit with.

But while I was sweating buckets today, clearing space for the tree so it’s there when they come home, something clicked.

We struggle. We fight. We overcome.

I see it in my wife’s strength every day. I see it in my oldest finding her feet in her first year of high school. I see it in my youngest charging headfirst into the world without a single fear.

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe we don’t always change the big things. Maybe we just do the small things we can do for the people we love.

Like cleaning a corner of the house. Like nearly losing half a stone in sweat trying to get a Christmas tree up.

And calling that enough — for today.

[dbarclayglitched]

So… something big for me.

I’ve been quietly building a supernatural-noir comic called SAORSA for a while now, a story set in a post-collapse Scotland where old folklore doesn’t stay forgotten, and the things we used to call myths start showing their teeth again.

This week, I finally took the first real step out into the world with it.

We’re now in the concept art stage, and the Kickstarter pre-launch page for Issue #1 is officially live.

SAORSA follows two very broken people, Euan Morton and Aimee Wilson. as they get dragged into Gaelic rituals, Sidhe mythology, and the truth behind the night Scotland fell apart. It’s dark, a bit bleak, a bit funny, and very, very Scottish.

If you’re into:

• folklore • supernatural stories • comics/graphic novels • post-collapse worlds • messy characters trying (and failing) to keep it together

then you might like what we’re building.

Here’s the pre-launch link if you want to follow along or get notified when it goes live: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/saorsa/saorsa-a-supernatural-noir-comic-of-post-collapse-scotland

More art, more worldbuilding, and more behind-the-scenes soon. Thanks for reading.

[dbarclayglitched]

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

The first SAORSA video diary is officially live.

It feels strange finally putting this project out into the world after a year of building it quietly in the background. There’s a mix of nerves and excitement but honestly, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

If you want to follow along as I try to create a Scottish supernatural-noir comic from scratch, here’s the intro:

https://youtu.be/JxLjZJX1f0U

[dbarclayglitched]

Nervous-but-good energy today, I’m officially starting the SAORSA YouTube diary.

This whole project has been living in my head for a year, and now I’m actually documenting the process on camera.

Scary, exciting, chaotic… but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Intro video goes up later today. Stay tuned.

#SAORSA #IndieComics #ComicCreation #ScottishFolklore #SupernaturalNoir

[dbarclayglitched]

Raining (By A Citizen Of Midgar)

“Raining”

(By  a citizen of sector 7)

It was raining, but the rain didn’t wet the ground, Didn’t water the flowers or fill the town. It was raining, but it didn’t cool me down, No splish, no splash, no gentle sound.

It was raining, but the rain felt hard and dry, Breaking the roofs, making families cry. It was raining, but nobody looked up Lest they wished the rain would test their luck.

It was raining, and the gutters broke Under the weight of every drop that spoke. People ran, cars crashed, Pedestrians froze as the skyline smashed.

It was raining, and we ran as fast as we could, The world was falling; so many just stood. They say clouds rain to clear the sky... So I guess the sky will show, once the pillars die.

(Sector 7, Midgar — the night the plate fell) When Shinra dropped the plate over Sector 7, the city beneath wasn’t just crushed, it was erased. Those who survived that night didn’t all make it out, but some lived long enough to remember the sound of steel and stone raining from the sky.

[dbarclayglitched]

The Still Estate

PLACES IN THE WORLD OF SAORSA — The Still Estate

There’s an estate by the river people cross the street to avoid. Rows of dead tenements staring down the road with empty windows, roofs sinking, walls rotting, everything frozen mid-collapse.

Locals say the place “doesn’t move.” No curtains shifting. No rubbish blowing. No wind through the halls. Just a perfect, suffocating stillness.

If you step inside after dark, the quiet gets thick enough to feel. Some swear they’ve heard footsteps on floors long caved in, doors shifting on levels that don’t exist anymore, voices caught in the walls like the buildings are replaying old lives.

A loop. A memory stuck in its own bones.

There are places like this all over SAORSA — corners the Collapse hit like a death sentence, leaving life frozen in the ruins of isolation.

Places where the silence watches you back.

(Picture: Clune Park — Scotland’s “Chernobyl”)

[unhappytogekiss]

Please don't leave me alone with characters, when you come back I'll have worked out what's happening with their grandchildren

[dbarclayglitched]

Que me getting lost creating a branching family tree for a side character so I can tell you who their second auntie removed is who will never be in the story...god damn it little Agnes deserves some spotlight as well

[promptcalender]

Domestic Fluff

sitting in front of the tv at night, folding the laundry together

one cooking, the other sitting on the counter and entertaining them

stealing hot cookies from the tray while letting it cool. by the time time they can be put away, about half of them are gone

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” – “Whatever you want.”

coming home from work with a bouqet every time the old one starts wilting

taking time off when the other has even a mild cold to coddle them

“Can't you stay in bed just a minute longer?” – “Mh. I guess I can get breakfast to go.”

coming home after a long day and crashing into their partner on the couch

going shopping for home decor together

curling up with a blanket when the temperature surprisingly drops and they're waiting for the heater to catch up

they belong to different faiths and celebrate each other's holidays together

[Prompt Calender: November 3rd, National Homemaker Day]

[dbarclayglitched]

These small human moments are the most important parts of writing for me.

[vexheart]

There’s a rare kind of peace that comes when you keep your world quiet and your soul protected.

[dbarclayglitched]

There’s something deeply satisfying about quiet progress.

[luna-azzurra]

On Writing People Who Self-Sabotage

✧ burning down bridges, then complaining about isolation.

✧ procrastination, but make it existential.

✧ turning every opportunity into a test you’re doomed to fail.

✧ knowing exactly what would fix things and refusing to do it.

✧ saying “I don’t deserve this” until it becomes prophecy.

✧ mistaking chaos for control.

✧ pushing people away, then grieving the silence.

✧ calling it “honesty” when it’s just fear in disguise.

✧ needing to be right about your own brokenness.

✧ craving love but ducking every time it gets close.

✧ sabotaging good things before they can leave you first.

✧ perfectionism as slow self-destruction.

✧ the guilt hangover after every impulsive decision.

✧ healing, finally, and realizing how exhausting it was to fight yourself.

[dbarclayglitched]

Feels like this fell out my draft sheets! Self-sabotage is such a powerful way to show growth — the moment they finally make the right choice always hits me hardest.

[dbarclayglitched]

Starting somewhere honest.

I’m David — Scottish writer, dad, ex-hip-hop kid who somehow wandered from rap stages into building a post-collapse supernatural-noir world called SAORSA.

I write about trauma, healing, folklore, broken people trying to fix themselves, and the strange things that slip through the cracks when a world stops paying attention.

Tumblr feels like the right place to let some of that breathe — slow writing, character moments, worldbuilding, grief, humour, and whatever else spills out in between.

If you’re into stories with heart, myth, darkness, and a little bit of human messiness… welcome.