Lace/Wally. Over 25. They/He. Sideblog for @lacependragon. I follow, like, and reply from there. Adult SFF author. Queer and inclusive stories. Feel free to follow and chat.
So are we welcoming racists back to the BG3 fandom now or what???
@annikvs is back with a new blog @anatheriaart
You know, the Russian nazi artist that loves drawing Wyll being decapitated
and if not decapitated, jokes about him being Black by referencing racist paintings
And yes this is about race to her
And let's not forget the nazi shit
And there is more that I talked about before, like drawing an animatic of Astarion selling the Gur into slavery, and liking a comment claiming Wyll's fans want special treatment for their "woke character".
You know a normal thing for a nonracist person to say and do :/
And now she is back, claiming to be Ukrainian to avoid being judged too hard for her blatant racism as if Ukrainians didn't have it bad enough already...
I said it before, and I will say it again. If you are welcoming racists and nazis to sit at the table with you, you are one. And if you're not, then don't let these racists and bigots be comfortable enough to join you at the table.
I'm 12k into the outline for book one of Starkyda. I'm so excited for it. It feels really good and the inciting incidents, the kick offs, are extremely good this time around. I'm taking my time and really digging as deep as I can. And I love the way I'm outlining now. It all feels so good and right.
One of the things about Metakratti's relationships and arcs that is really important to me is Rini's initial story.
Rini craves attention. She needs attention. She wants people to look at her, to listen to her, to love her. She wants people to look when she walks into a room and care about what she feels.
She wants people to pay attention.
And Nat completely fucking demonizes her for it.
And Nat is WRONG.
This is one of Nat's biggest issues in book one. They push so hard against Rini. And, on some deep deep level, it's because Nat sees Rini as the worst parts of themself. As someone who needs others so deeply that it destroys her and everyone she touches. That's how Nat views Rini.
But that doesn't mean wanting attention is bad. Hell, part of Nat's motivation is how much they need to be in that protector/caregiver role in their own life. How it gives them control.
Nat is wrong.
Rini's desire for attention isn't bad. The way she goes about it is bad. And Rini needs to learn how to properly seek attention.
But Nat, and everyone around Nat, also needs to learn to stop being a dick to people who are attention seeking. Because people seek attention for a reason. And there's nothing wrong with it.
Metakratti is designed from the ground up to focus on the characters, the themes, and the cool shit I wanna accomplish, hence a magic system based around electricity. Because the whole point of Nat is how they both do and do not fit into the system and what that means for them and their world and morals.
Also
Liesel has wings now. Bc Wing Kink. And angel imagery. Which means I need a winged people. Which added so much depth to the world as I figured out what sort of winged people I wanted her to be associated with (and how her heritage would play into her struggles with her OCD).
Also
Electromaginetic spectrum.
electromaginetics.
Now with more parts of the spectrum! Because triangle.
Y'all wanna see something completely batshit? So completely off the wall that you might yell?
This is my current concept for the new Descent plot. Believe it or not, like half of it remains the same, conceptually. More, thematically.
No word of a lie, this is what I want to do. For those of you following, you know who this second fucker is.
Descent Concept
*Nat Enters a tidy, mid-sized, but well-stocked shop. Books spill from overstuffed shelves, herbs and flowers dangle from hanging pots, several small creatures scatter beneath the shelving as Nat walks through. Strange trinkets made of materials Nat both does and doesn't recognize gleam and groan from the shelves. A clock turns to follow them with its eye-hands.
Citrus wafts through the air, cutting the thick scent of herbs and dried flowers in two. Behind a worn wooden counter with an antique cash register stands an elf peeling an orange with a long, tapered nail.*
Nat: I hear you can bring the dead back to life.
Basil: Depends on the dead. Depends on the life. Depends on what you're willing to pay.
Nat: Anything.
Basil: ...*takes a drag off his joint* Three ways to raise the dead that are proven to work. First one requires a body, fresher the better, no longer than five days and five nights.
Nat: Not an option.
Basil: Usually isn't, by the time they find me. All right then, second way requires a keepsake of the person's, something their soul can latch onto, and the blood of kin. Genetics don't matter, love does. Closer, the better. *looks them up and down* Lover?
Nat, shakes head: Family. I can do that. How--
Basil, frowning: One question before we move on. An important one, I'm afraid. Was it a violent death? Because if it was a violent death, only the third option will work.
Nat, looking away: ...It was.
Basil, sighing: Right, then you'll need the third. Not the nicest, but if they mean that much to you...
Nat nods, clenching their jaw.
Basil: None of you are terribly smart, you know that? *sighs* Right, there's two steps to it. First, you're going to need two things: a keepsake, and the essence of whatever killed them. If a person, their blood. If magic, fragments, etc., etc. That's how you pinpoint the soul in the Underworld. Violent deaths shake up the soul. They're harder to work with. We need an anchor.
Nat: And the second step?
Basil: You open the door, go down the stairs, and find the soul in the Underworld, then you trade it - one for another.
Nat: ...Trade how?
Basil: *another drag* You kill someone, and you send their soul to replace the one you're taking out. The body - well, I can handle that part. Simple enough to make a body. But that part, choosing someone to take their place and making that trade, that has to be you. Those are the rules.
Nat, exhaling slowly: Well. At least I can kill two birds with one stone.
Y'all wanna see something completely batshit? So completely off the wall that you might yell?
This is my current concept for the new Descent plot. Believe it or not, like half of it remains the same, conceptually. More, thematically.
No word of a lie, this is what I want to do. For those of you following, you know who this second fucker is.
Descent Concept
*Nat Enters a tidy, mid-sized, but well-stocked shop. Books spill from overstuffed shelves, herbs and flowers dangle from hanging pots, several small creatures scatter beneath the shelving as Nat walks through. Strange trinkets made of materials Nat both does and doesn't recognize gleam and groan from the shelves. A clock turns to follow them with its eye-hands.
Citrus wafts through the air, cutting the thick scent of herbs and dried flowers in two. Behind a worn wooden counter with an antique cash register stands an elf peeling an orange with a long, tapered nail.*
Nat: I hear you can bring the dead back to life.
Basil: Depends on the dead. Depends on the life. Depends on what you're willing to pay.
Nat: Anything.
Basil: ...*takes a drag off his joint* Three ways to raise the dead that are proven to work. First one requires a body, fresher the better, no longer than five days and five nights.
Nat: Not an option.
Basil: Usually isn't, by the time they find me. All right then, second way requires a keepsake of the person's, something their soul can latch onto, and the blood of kin. Genetics don't matter, love does. Closer, the better. *looks them up and down* Lover?
Nat, shakes head: Family. I can do that. How--
Basil, frowning: One question before we move on. An important one, I'm afraid. Was it a violent death? Because if it was a violent death, only the third option will work.
Nat, looking away: ...It was.
Basil, sighing: Right, then you'll need the third. Not the nicest, but if they mean that much to you...
Nat nods, clenching their jaw.
Basil: None of you are terribly smart, you know that? *sighs* Right, there's two steps to it. First, you're going to need two things: a keepsake, and the essence of whatever killed them. If a person, their blood. If magic, fragments, etc., etc. That's how you pinpoint the soul in the Underworld. Violent deaths shake up the soul. They're harder to work with. We need an anchor.
Nat: And the second step?
Basil: You open the door, go down the stairs, and find the soul in the Underworld, then you trade it - one for another.
Nat: ...Trade how?
Basil: *another drag* You kill someone, and you send their soul to replace the one you're taking out. The body - well, I can handle that part. Simple enough to make a body. But that part, choosing someone to take their place and making that trade, that has to be you. Those are the rules.
Nat, exhaling slowly: Well. At least I can kill two birds with one stone.
Catteep [cattle-sheep]. Primary livestock creature. Banned for consumption by lower classes. Only the elite and dragons are permitted to eat them. Approximately 75% of the available grazing land is used for catteep. The meat of catteep is called "meef".
There are 84 students in first year at Starmont Academy in the first book of Starkyda. Six of those are our main characters - Jules, Sabine, Wren, Saoirse, Lucian, and Kiryu.
Of the other 78:
52 of them are male
and 26 of them are female
7 of them are allied with the fallen Liu family
10 of them are allied with the Cuirc family, the current head family
11 of them are allied with the Baksh family, who are allied with the Cuirc family
12 of them are allied with the Trumbauer family, who are allied with the Allard family
16 of them are allied with the Allard family
and 22 of them are allied with the Yoshinaga family
28 of them are pro-Freak Flight (the nickname for the Flight containing the main six)
48 of them are anti-Freak Flight
and 2 of them have complex feelings about the Freak Flight
At least half a dozen of them are explicitly after Saoirse.
By the Rites of Stars (Starkyda) - Chapter 1 - Saoirse - 1st Draft Snippet
Notes: I like this one. It's a nice introduction to the dynamic these three share, as well as an introduction to the newest character of the series - Aisling, Saoirse's handmaid. I hope you enjoy!
----
"You didn't wrap your hair, my lady," says Aisling.
Saoirse grimaces and tugs her fingers through some of the kinky, black curls. She had wrapped her hair.
She'd scorched it to cinders on her way to Lucian's room, last night. That's the fifth one in as many days. At this rate, Saoirse's going to raise the price of silk on the island, singlehandedly.
Saoirse sighs. "How bad is it?" Her hand falls to her lap and she curls her fingers together.
Aisling hums and sets down the basket she had on her hip at the foot of the bed.
"Not bad at all," she says, pulling combs and picks and jars of oils and creams from the basket. "We've plenty of time."
"We're not behind schedule?" asks Saoirse, scooting to the foot of the bed. Lucian gets to his feet and disappears out of the room, nodding on his way out. The door almost catches his tail.
"No," says Aisling, settling behind Saoirse and starting to work on her hair. "I knew you'd be here." There's a laugh in her voice, small but there, and Saoirse's face burns. She stares at her hands, fingers twisting in her lap, and presses her lips tight together.
Aisling leans around and beams at her, pressing their cheeks together.
"Not an insult, my lady. I quite like this room, myself." She winks and Saoirse can't help the snort of laughter that slips from her lips.
The first touch of the comb in her hair has Saoirse stilling from long practice. Once Aisling works through all the tangles, Saoirse's thinking of doing star buns. Quick, easy, and it gets her hair out of the way for this morning.
Saoirse swallows. The hatching. Watch if—
"Aisling?" Her voice is high and tight.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Could you tell me a story? Or some gossip? Something?"
Aisling hums. "Of course, my lady." She sets off into a story about the housemaids and a recent relationship scandal, and Saoirse settles into the bed, closing her eyes and letting the words wash over her.
Aisling is the only woman in the house taller than Saoirse, and kneeled on the bed, her mouth hovers above Saoirse's head. Her words dance along Saoirse's hair before landing in her ears, and each word relaxes the tension in Saoirse's shoulders almost as easily as Lucian's bed.
Six years as her handmaid — tomorrow is their anniversary — does that.
Lucian returns during the story and he settles on the other side of the bed to help with Saoirse's hair. The scent of coconut oil and mango fills the air — imported hair products that work much better than anything local — and Saoirse tilts her head to let the two work her hair into the two star buns she asks for.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready, as well?" asks Aisling.
Lucian huffs. "Well, you see, you two have taken over my room."
Aisling snorts. "As if we've never seen you naked."
Saoirse's face burns. Aisling shouts as Saoirse's hair ignites.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Saoirse leaps to her feet and scrambles away from them both. She slaps her buns, both mostly done, and tries to stay away from everything flammable. Lucian opens the window.
Saoirse sighs as her hair simmers down to a dull, glowing smoulder. "I can finish getting ready in my room." She shuffles toward the door and stares at the floor. Always causing problems. Messing up Lucian's morning. The most important morning of his life. And here she is, messing it up.
"Are your hands okay?" Saoirse's gaze flicks to Aisling, who is blowing on her hands. "Did I hurt you?" She voice cracks and she grimaces.
Aisling shakes her head and her hands. "Nah, just smarts. I've done worse to myself walking into door frames." She grins. Her short hair, a few fingers tall, is immaculate even at this early hour, and she keeps the sides so clean and tight that it makes the men in the house jealous. Saoirse wishes she could be half as put together as Aisling with Aisling's help.
By the Rites of Stars (Starkyda) - Chapter 1 - Saoirse - 1st Draft Snippet
Notes: I like this one. It's a nice introduction to the dynamic these three share, as well as an introduction to the newest character of the series - Aisling, Saoirse's handmaid. I hope you enjoy!
----
"You didn't wrap your hair, my lady," says Aisling.
Saoirse grimaces and tugs her fingers through some of the kinky, black curls. She had wrapped her hair.
She'd scorched it to cinders on her way to Lucian's room, last night. That's the fifth one in as many days. At this rate, Saoirse's going to raise the price of silk on the island, singlehandedly.
Saoirse sighs. "How bad is it?" Her hand falls to her lap and she curls her fingers together.
Aisling hums and sets down the basket she had on her hip at the foot of the bed.
"Not bad at all," she says, pulling combs and picks and jars of oils and creams from the basket. "We've plenty of time."
"We're not behind schedule?" asks Saoirse, scooting to the foot of the bed. Lucian gets to his feet and disappears out of the room, nodding on his way out. The door almost catches his tail.
"No," says Aisling, settling behind Saoirse and starting to work on her hair. "I knew you'd be here." There's a laugh in her voice, small but there, and Saoirse's face burns. She stares at her hands, fingers twisting in her lap, and presses her lips tight together.
Aisling leans around and beams at her, pressing their cheeks together.
"Not an insult, my lady. I quite like this room, myself." She winks and Saoirse can't help the snort of laughter that slips from her lips.
The first touch of the comb in her hair has Saoirse stilling from long practice. Once Aisling works through all the tangles, Saoirse's thinking of doing star buns. Quick, easy, and it gets her hair out of the way for this morning.
Saoirse swallows. The hatching. Watch if—
"Aisling?" Her voice is high and tight.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Could you tell me a story? Or some gossip? Something?"
Aisling hums. "Of course, my lady." She sets off into a story about the housemaids and a recent relationship scandal, and Saoirse settles into the bed, closing her eyes and letting the words wash over her.
Aisling is the only woman in the house taller than Saoirse, and kneeled on the bed, her mouth hovers above Saoirse's head. Her words dance along Saoirse's hair before landing in her ears, and each word relaxes the tension in Saoirse's shoulders almost as easily as Lucian's bed.
Six years as her handmaid — tomorrow is their anniversary — does that.
Lucian returns during the story and he settles on the other side of the bed to help with Saoirse's hair. The scent of coconut oil and mango fills the air — imported hair products that work much better than anything local — and Saoirse tilts her head to let the two work her hair into the two star buns she asks for.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready, as well?" asks Aisling.
Lucian huffs. "Well, you see, you two have taken over my room."
Aisling snorts. "As if we've never seen you naked."
Saoirse's face burns. Aisling shouts as Saoirse's hair ignites.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Saoirse leaps to her feet and scrambles away from them both. She slaps her buns, both mostly done, and tries to stay away from everything flammable. Lucian opens the window.
Saoirse sighs as her hair simmers down to a dull, glowing smoulder. "I can finish getting ready in my room." She shuffles toward the door and stares at the floor. Always causing problems. Messing up Lucian's morning. The most important morning of his life. And here she is, messing it up.
"Are your hands okay?" Saoirse's gaze flicks to Aisling, who is blowing on her hands. "Did I hurt you?" She voice cracks and she grimaces.
Aisling shakes her head and her hands. "Nah, just smarts. I've done worse to myself walking into door frames." She grins. Her short hair, a few fingers tall, is immaculate even at this early hour, and she keeps the sides so clean and tight that it makes the men in the house jealous. Saoirse wishes she could be half as put together as Aisling with Aisling's help.
