I am Hanna. Two years in, still lost in the Baldur's Gate brainrot.
If you are a follower/moot, please let me know if you want to be part of
✨the tag crew✨
I write about Gale, Halsin, my redeemed Dark Urge Celeste, love, acceptance and polyamory. And angst. Lots and lots of angst.
And the occasional smut, neatly collected in....
The Smut Collection
as the name suggests 🫦 🔞
Available on AO3 and tumblr
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here ⬩ A Bhaalspawn memoir ⬩ currently in progress
Celeste Masterpost
In the wake of your departure ⬩ sneaky god Gale x reader/you ⬩ finished
Gale leaves you at the docks of Baldur's Gate and you experience the five stages of grief.
All we have is each other (In another life) ⬩ Gale x f!reader ⬩ finished
You played BG3 and woke up on the beach in Faerûn. What now?
You could have done anything. Gone with anyone. Yet you chose me. ⬩ Halsin x gn!reader ⬩ finished
You are a soon-to-be redeemed Dark Urge who frees Halsin from Orin
Echoes of the thread ⬩ All x f!reader (mostly Gale though) ⬩ finished
You awaken on the beach near the wreckage of the nautiloid, fully conscious of everything that transpired during the last run—a run that, tragically, ended in failure.
Nature has been most kind to let me share in your heart ⬩ Halsin x you ⬩ finished
Spin off of Echoes of the Thread - What if Halsin does not fall in love with you?
Not tonight ⬩Halsin x you ⬩ finished ⬩ one-shot
Spin off of Echoes of the Thread - You and Halsin are the last ones awake at the Elfsong Tavern and your mind drifts back to another time, where Halsin loved and trusted you.
Cedar and Sandalwood ⬩ Gale x you ⬩ one-shot
You played a lot of BG3 and dreamed a lot about the wizard. A little too much. Right?
I have known you ⬩ Gale x you ⬩ one-shot
You wake up to the feeling of missing someone you have never known. Not a face, only a dream and a stubbornly lingering feeling.
On Gale’s Love for Mystra and his possible development into the acceptance of polyamory
On AI Detectors and the never ending accusations of people using AI in their ar
Honeyed Salmon by tillysketch for Celeste and Halsin
The Hour of Need for tillysketch, for her OC Clover and Gale
on tumblr and AO3
A study in devotion for WildMagicKatie's Willow and Gale
While you are occupied for rdekarios' Seraphina and Gale
on AO3 and Youtube
Cat!Phina for rdekarios' Seraphina
The things worth living for for WildMagicKatie
Last updated on 19th of May 2026
This blog is queued.
Contributions to Artsywarden's Galetober
Contributions to Cozy December 2025
Contributions to Kinkmas 2025
Intimacy prompts
Non-sexual intimacy prompts
crammed in a very small space - Celeste and Gale
Interrupting with a kiss - Celeste and Gale
Listening to someones heartbeat - Celeste and Halsin
Falling into someone's arms - Celeste and Gale
shoulder rubs - Celeste and Halsin
Touching foreheads - Celeste and Gale
Running your fingers down their spine - Halsin and Celeste
Doing each other's hair - Celeste and Shadowheart
Back scratches - Celeste and Halsin
Patching up a wound - Celeste and Halsin
Cuddling in a blanket fort - Celeste and Gale
Finding your Tav wearing their clothes - Celeste and Halsin
Having their hair washed by your Tav - Celeste and Gale
Your Tav crying about something - Celeste and Halsin
Taking a bath together - Celeste and Gale
Falling asleep with their head in a lover’s lap - Celeste and Gale
Sharing a dessert - Celeste and Halsin
Kissing scars - Celeste and Halsin
Sharing Secrets - Celeste and Gale
Caring for them when they're ill - Celeste and Halsin
trying to get back into the tag game so thank you @litsenn and @archduchessgortash for the push to get to it today! (I know I've missed about a 1000 tags from you both and everybody else and I deeply apologize for my lack of interaction and deeply appreciate y'all continue to think of me)
No writing or BG3 anything(unless you squint since my mind lives in dnd land and these are probably maybe possible future oc foder), but I broke into digital media about a week ago and so far I don't hate it. Been the first few things I've created in years that I am actually happy with and I'm legitimately proud (which is new) of myself for how well I feel I'm picking it up considering it's been over a decade since I made art and have never used digital mediums.
I never got to really define my style all those years ago either so this has been extremely cathartic.
Anyway have a flower gal I started this morning and will be steadily working on today.
And the merlady I have yet to get back to finishing (she was my first attempt at this so I definitely would like to finish her up)
Technically I drew that merphae first but used the ref so badly and dont love it all, so it doesn't count.
I'll leave this open for anyone who's got something to share since I am so woefully behind on my own tags.
First! Thanks so much to everyone who peaked in on me… @babydinosaur930 @gortashsrighthand @dr4gonwriter and everyone who kept tagging me @mellybaggins @archduchessgortash @wasteful-sam and everyone else!
I took a little spring break.,and then in was MerMay and I almost died in a scuba accident once upon a time…so I didn’t want to be a month long buzzkill!
Anywhoo…
I’ve been type typing away…broken all my nonsense into three novel sized long fics …Gale& Lily’s personal papers in the Candlekeep collection devoted to them (Marginalia): A close third pre canon of Gale’s life from newly chosen to encountering the orb: And a late canon/post canon about finding a way for Astarion to see the Sun (Forgotten Star)
There’s probably 200k words of writings that I like that don’t fit into any of those that @optimisticgrey and I have been calling The Dekarios Cut.
It have been called the Dekarios collection, but, really, who can resist a good Zack Snider joke?
So without further ado (but with this incredible image from @alstromeri-a)
Reversal of Fortune
From the Dekarios cut~
Originally a writing prompt “God Gale breaks Durge’s Heart”
titled —In which Gale makes himself an AI girlfriend…
TW: the safest tag is probably that this is pure Dead Dove for Durges
The walk back to the Elfsong passed in silence.
Evening had thickened the Lower City into an oppressive crush of heat, lamplight, and irritation. Narrow streets clogged with shouting pedestrians forced them shoulder-to-shoulder with sailors, laborers, and apprentices spilling from taverns into the lanes. Somewhere nearby, someone was butchering eels badly enough that Gale caught the smell even through the smoke drifting from a sausage brazier.
He said nothing the entire walk home.
His jaw remained clenched so tightly that the muscle ticked once near his temple whenever someone jostled too close. He never once looked at her.
By the time they reached the Elfsong, the taproom below had already risen into full evening uproar.
Durge touched his sleeve.
“I’ll clean up a bit,” she said. “We’ll have dinner and go to bed early. I know this has been a difficult day, seeing Mystra again.”
Gale looked down at her hand.
Then, very deliberately, he stepped out from beneath it.
His voice was quiet, but there was none of his usual gentleness in it now.
“You may tear yourself free of Lolth. You may break your oath. You may spit Bhaal’s blood from your mouth. You may defy the god who made you a weapon and call it freedom. Rebirth.”
She went still.
“Gale—”
“No.” His voice remained level, which somehow made it worse. “Let us not perfume this with sentiment. You are asking me to kneel before the goddess who discarded me and then demanded my death as penance. You are asking me to kneel prettily and be grateful if she forgives me.”
“How convenient, that liberation is sacred when it belongs to you, and hubris when it belongs to me.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“No?” A faint smile touched his mouth. “Then enlighten me. “Mystra herself has placed me within reach of the Crown, told me the nature of the orb. Apotheosis stands nearer to mortal grasp than it has in a century.”
He stepped closer.
“And the woman who claims to love me asks me to turn away.”
“Because I know what power does.”
Gale’s expression hardened instantly.
“Do not insult me.”
The words landed flat and cold.
“You do not even know your own name, unless you have been lying to me since the night you murdered that gentle-souled bard in our camp, or the night you tried to kill me. You did not know you conspired with Gortash. You did not know the shape of your own life until it was returned to you in bloodied fragments.”
He stepped closer.
“And yet you presume to instruct me in the uses of power.”
Her face went still.
“I have studied magic since I was a child,” Gale said. “I have served Mystra, defied death, contained Karsite fire in my own breast, and stood before the Crown of Karsus with my mind intact. But you, who cannot tell memory from bard’s tale, would have me believe your fear is wisdom.”
A faint, contemptuous smile touched his mouth.
“No. I decline the lesson.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then trust me.”
“Please, Gale. I love you.”
“No.” A small, humorless smile crossed his face. “You love the man who might yet be persuaded to kneel. To remain small, manageable, grateful. To look upon Magic’s crown jewel and turn away because its brilliance frightens you.”
Gale took a drink of his wine. “I’ll sleep in the alcove.”
There was a note on the side table when Durge woke.
Gale’s side of the bed had not been slept in.
The alcove curtains stood open, the blankets folded with insulting precision. His books were gone from the table by the fire. So was his staff.
The note had been written in his neat, elegant hand.
I won’t be joining your excursion to Szarr Palace today. It’s best I prepare the spells we will need for confronting the Elder Brain.
G.D.
No endearment. No flourish. Not even Gale.
Only initials, as if she had become a colleague whose presence he found a professional annoyance.
By evening, when everyone had returned to the Elfsong coated in crypt dust and exhaustion, Gale’s room was lit.
He sat at the table by the window, reading as though he had spent the day in ordinary study.
Durge shut the door behind her and began peeling off her blood-soaked leathers. Across the room, a woman stood near the sideboard and poured brandy into two glasses.
Slim-hipped. Long black hair falling in a silken sheet down her back. Black, not white. Not silver. Not common among drow.
It took Durge a moment to understand what she was seeing.
The woman turned slightly.
Her own face looked back at her.
Durge strode across the room. “What is this?”
Gale accepted the brandy without hurry and looked up from his book.
“Brandy,” he said mildly. “Would you like one?”
Something hot and murderous unfurled beneath her ribs.
“This is a violation.”
Gale thanked the woman wearing Durge’s face with a soft touch at her waist before pressing a brief kiss to her cheek.
“Would you call down to the kitchen for dinner?” he asked pleasantly. “I believe they still have pheasant this evening.”
The simulacrum nodded and moved obediently toward the door.
Only then did Gale look back at Durge.
“A violation?” A faint smile touched his mouth. “Please. You speak as though I trapped your soul in a phylactery. It is a simulacrum.”
“It thinks it’s me.”
“She resembles you,” Gale corrected. “She thinks precisely what I designed her to think. An important distinction.”
Durge stared at him in disbelief.
“And you fuck it.”
“You have always possessed a distressingly crude understanding of intimacy,” Gale replied. “But yes.”
He took a slow drink of brandy.
“It turns out everything I mistook for love could be reconstructed with a bit of snow, several crushed rubies, and fifteen hundred gold pieces.”
“You made yourself a slave. Someone who looks like me who will obey you?”
“Quite the reversal of fortunes, isn’t it?”
Gale’s eyes lifted from his glass at last.
“Interesting,” he said quietly. “You spent the better part of last night informing me that I could not be trusted with my own future, yet somehow I am the tyrant in this conversation.”
Durge’s jaw tightened.
“I was trying to save you.”
“No.” For the first time, something cracked faintly beneath the composure. “You were trying to contain me.”
Silence.
Gale looked away briefly, toward the darkened window and the distant glow of Lower City lanterns beyond the glass.
“Do you know what haunts me?” he asked softly. “Not Mystra. Not the Orb. Not even her command that I die obediently.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“It is that I believed you would understand.”
Durge gasped, “You think I should have encouraged this?”
“I think,” Gale said, “that I stood beside you when that bard’s blood was still fresh in the dirt. I stood beside you after the night you tried to kill me in your sleep. I stood beside you after learning that you are the reason we may all die, or worse, become illithid.”
He set the brandy down.
“I trusted you with Bhaal seated in your marrow because you asked to be more than what he made you.”
The words struck cleanly. No heat. No pleading.
“You looked upon me with the Crown in sight and offered me less faith than I gave you at your worst.”
The simulacrum returned then, quiet as silk, and closed the door behind her.
“The kitchen will send up pheasant,” she said. “And wine.”
“Thank you,” Gale said.
She crossed to him without hesitation. Without doubt. Without that old edge of judgment Durge knew because it had once been hers. Gale took her hand briefly, almost absently, pressed a kiss into her palm, and the small intimacy was worse than if he had struck her.
Thank you for the tags, @saylofwaterdeep, @optimisticgrey & @woundedsoul12!
And for the uno-reverses: @gortashsrighthand, @carnivaley, @ele-millennial-weirdo, @lucretiouswept, @defira85, @cinder-rellish181 & @litsenn!
I love reading/seeing all of your wips! 🥰
Let's do two bits today, shall we?
The first is a crumb of the bread on the other side of the shit sandwich that was Mara meeting Tara in the Dead Gale/Dead Everyone AU. I'm saving the full scene for the fic itself. 😈
TW: referenced suicide attempt (but Mara knew she would be resurrected)
“I believe it is my duty to inform thee,” Withers scolded as Mara cast a cantrip to dry herself off, “that thou cannot solve all of thy problems by drowning thyself.”
“Until I face the Absolute, you bet your bony ass I can,” Mara returned through clenched teeth. Then, she added, “And I jumped off a roof.”
“I retrieved thy soul echo from the bottom of the Chionthar,” the skeleton corrected.
Mara scowled. “The roof was near the river. It must have… bounced.”
“Soul echoes do not bounce.”
The second one is Gale in the Fugue.
TW: Dead Gale
“... Mara…” he whispered into the oppressive, if familiar, gray of the Fugue plane. “I must get back! She needs me.”
Gale scanned the seemingly endless horizon that he knew was, in fact, very far from infinite; it only appeared that way to the dead, as a means of further dampening spirits that were already quite drenched in malaise as it was. He found it more than a little excessive upon repeat viewing.
After rotating almost a full circle, he spotted the skyline of the City of Judgement and immediately strode toward it at a brisk pace. Gale expected that he would soon find himself experiencing a sort of slingshot of the soul—right back into the world of the living, as before. However, recent events were… a mite unprecedented in his reckoning.
Mara had lost control of her Urge. Entirely. She was trying, fighting hard enough that it had broken his heart to hear the fear in her thoughts as he'd used the tadpole to contact her, but she was losing the battle. He'd tried everything he could think of in the unfairly miniscule window of time he'd had to work with—short of outright attacking her, that is.
He shuddered even to think such a thing, but maybe… he should have reached out with more. After what had happened in the Underdark, he simply no longer trusted Mystra to offer assistance that followed his intentions. Not where Mara was concerned, at least. Nonetheless, if he could have rendered her unconscious or even effectively restrained her, he would have had more time to find a way to help.
He had been certain he could reach her with the tadpole, and he was right. He did reach her, but it didn't matter. Nothing they tried had allowed her to regain control. That damn thing inside her had murdered him… and it made her watch!
Gale's blood practically boiled at the thought. How… why would anything be so cruel?! It was clear to him now that it was not a simple curse, or even something as mundane as possession, not that any possession could truly be called mundane, but what was affecting her was too powerful, too clever to be easily exorcised. It was… complicated. Fortunately for Mara, and the Sword Coast itself, Gale of Waterdeep was quite adept at complication. He would figure this out.
While he might find himself resurrected within minutes or hours, he knew he couldn't count on that. And… Mara might not have stopped at him. What if no one was left to pay Withers? Would she remain trapped inside her own mind, forced to watch that horrid thing run rampant? There must be something he could do to ensure that would not happen…
Ha! There was indeed, but he'd best get closer to the city before he made his first attempt, as that was where he would need to be should he fail. With any luck, his circumstances and the importance of his mission would grant him a measure of leniency.
It was impossible to tell exactly how long it had been since his arrival, and the Fugue played tricks. He knew already that wise as he might have been to such things whilst living, the rules placed upon the dead were… different.
After an inestimable amount of perambulation, as he neared the serpentine lines of souls awaiting judgment, he caught a flash of something… someone familiar. A fiery light flared momentarily, only slightly dimmed by the leaching gray of its surroundings. Someone was yelling, their tone sharp with fright and anger, though he could not piece together a single word. He knew that voice, didn't he? Great black wings flapped behind another figure as he squinted, wishing he could influence the weave to sharpen his sight across distance, but he knew already that it did not answer the dead. In the blink of an eye, whoever had been there… was simply gone.
Curious as he was, he had more important matters to contend with at the moment. Saving the woman he loved from unspeakable evil, for one. He was close enough to where he needed to be now.
Gale sighed, shook his head ruefully, and puffed, “The moment of truth. Here we go...”
With that, he began to pray.
A gentle uno-reverse to any who tagged me, and to... @missfortunetherogue, @dr4gonwriter, @afilmnoirdetective, @bladesingerlily, @echoechowhiskey, @flamemittens & @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream.
Thanks a lot spillingteanotpermitted @optimisticgrey @archduchessgortash @missfortunetherogue @lilhumanoid @gortashsrighthand @starlit-serpent @bloodsol94 and @scoldingdarjeeling for the tags 💚 It's been a while since the muse visited me, and I'm sorry for making you wait (Uno reverse tag to all of you, friends!)
I've started to work on a little something today, taking place during the Third Act in the House of Grief, post battle against Viconia.
Ellith wandered through the large chamber, sticking their tongue at the many Shar statues that adorned the place. As they reached one corner of the room, a subtle breathing sound caught their senses. And a smell too. A sweet, familial scent which happened to be eerily comforting.
There were a few sobs as well, from behind those heavy doors. Without waiting for their friends, Ellith pushed open the wooden panels and stepped into the room. Weapons, supplies and a few other outfits… nothing unexpected here; nothing other than the huddled form hidden between the weapon racks.
The bard didn’t hesitate and walked straight to the curled-up figure, as their own fingers brushed against the hilt of their dagger.
A human woman. Grey hair tucked in a loose bun, her face hidden in her hunched knees. Ellith could smell the fear oozing from her very being, but the heavy flowery smell was all around the place.
And then it hit the bard’s nostrils and mind.
Lavender.
She smelled like lavender.
Ellith’s head started to spin, and they had to take hold of the rack on their right to keep balance. It took them a few seconds to catch their breath. They needed to keep their mind sharp; No matter how harmless this woman seemed to be, she could be one of Viconia’s followers.
“Look at me!” Ellith commanded with a stern voice, fighting against the dizzy spell. “And tell me who you are.”
Their threatening shout alerted the other companions, and before long, the sound of their quick footsteps was getting increasingly closer.
The old woman obeyed, slowly raising her head to reveal her face. Wrinkled and tired, with a deep sadness in her eyes. She looked positively terrified... and lost.
“What are you doing here?” Ellith asked, trying to keep their voice stern… but the face in front of them was making it quiver.
“Forget her…” Shadowheart whispered as she joined Ellith’s side. “Just another victim of Shar’s bewitching. I suppose her memory’s gone. Let’s not waste our time with her.”
Ellith nodded. They knew their friend was correct… and yet, there was something about this woman that kept them stuck. The scent, those deep brown eyes filled with fear… why were they so familiar?
“Wh-Who are you…?” The woman asked as a spark of recognition appeared in her eyes. “I know you…”
Taken aback, Ellith stumbled backwards, only to plough into Astarion who had joined the party. “Careful, honey-bun,” he said with a gentle but playful voice. “Remember that you have a few curious friends around.”
If you read The Uncanny Urchin, you might have an idea about what's at stake here...
Gently tagging @elceewunjo @burnt-by-marigolds @lucretiouswept @theya-art @wasteful-sam @judasiskariot
@bloodless-sandpiper @bhaal-battle-beer-bard @echoechowhiskey @et-augury @izumiphoenix if there's anything you want to share 🌟
I finally started the summer semester for Uni, but luckily it's only one class! This is a little different to my usual "fic progress" WIP updates, but I've been gnawing at the idea for about a week and finally allowed myself to put words onto a doc!
Thank you so much to @unovafarm, @lucretiouswept, @gortashsrighthand, @carnivaley, @optimisticgrey, @archduchessgortash for the tags! I loved reading all of your WIPS. You are such incredible writers!
I hope you enjoy what I have to offer :3
There is a particular kind of man that can look at himself in the mirror and know exactly how fucked up in the head he really is.
Not the kind who would confess his depravity so openly- tearfully, dramatically, to just anyone who would be willing enough to listen- searching for a sense of absolution in the retelling. No. I am talking about the kind of man who sits with the knowledge that he is not like the others the way one sits with an old scar. Familiar. Unremarkable. Simply... there.
I am that kind of man.
What I do in the dark hours of this city- and I will not dress it up, not here, not inside my own head where a performance like that would be truly pathetic- is undeniably wrong. By every metric a decent soul might apply to the word. I know this. I have known this since the day I started this so-called life. And I have continued anyway, because the alternative is simply existing through another night with nothing but the inside of my own skull for company, and I am afraid that particular option ran out of appeal some time ago.
It started, as most unfortunate things do, quite simply.
I could not sleep.
I have not been able to sleep since the night I took Cazador’s power for my own- since I carved the contract into the flesh of his back and swallowed everything he was whole. I kept telling myself that it was a fair trade. My freedom. His power. The sun’s rays beating warm and golden on my face for the first time in two hundred years without the aid of a gods-damned illithid tadpole burrowing through my brain. What was one small mercy against everything I gained?
Quite a lot, as it turns out.
Thank you for reading! I of course cannot get away from my love for Ascended Astarion, it's like a sickness that I will willing suffer through.
I am giving everyone above a cheeky uno-reverse + my regular chaos tags @et-augury, @scoldingdarjeeling, @thelittlewolverine, @asorceresswrites, and @dynamicducks!
Summary: After securing assistance from her ex, High Harper Kyle Reinhart, to find her son and grandmother, he suggests she also seek further help from the elves. This unearths memories of Morena's past with one particular elf.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Thank you for reading! ❤️
Fic plate banner art by @abigailsins
Well. I am rather pleased with him. Hope you'll like him as well, folks 🩶
Gale as the Evening Start from Alphonse Mucha ✨
Yes I know, I know, Mystryl is technically dead at this time, but she was still (as Mystra is now) the embodiment of the Weave, so I put her old symbol instead of the newest Mystra one, as a marker of Gale's love for magic, rather than Mystra herself.
And I've swapped the original design from Mucha to have a good view of the orb.
Others in the series can be found here :
Astarion as 'The North Star'
Shadowheart as 'The Moon'
Wyll as 'The Morningstar'
Lae'zel as 'The Comet'
Next (and last, for now), Karlach ❤️🔥 No idea when I'll get to her though ^^
Texts with your OC and their partner: Gale & Deia Edition
Oh, Gods, saw @unovafarm do this little thing and immediately got ideas for Gale and Deia. Their texting would be so different. Deia would absolutely send several messages, one after the other, late at night, some funny images she found or photos she randomly took. Would definitely send some photos like two cats cuddling and never say "look it's us" because it's implied anyway. I think Gale would be less of a texter, because he would probably too busy with work, but would reply to her anyway and pretend not to melt when Deia keeps updating him over random cursed thing she found in the store, or image she found online and thought of him, or telling him another thing Astarion and/or Karlach did to piss her off (lovingly).
Or another version, got me cackling.
Random tags if you want to participate: @actualdeathcleric @starryselenaria @forthosewitheyestosee @fandomjumper @dr4gonwriter @faeriiefire and @optimisticgrey
I just wanted to add this quote from the peppermint patty peanuts wiki page about Charles M. Schulz and his relationship with his gay cousin. The source here leads to a book that I did not read but the original source is Schulz's wife who confirmed this in an interview. If I can find the interview again I will link it here but uh. just in case someone tries to claim Schulz was a homophobe on this post again.
WIP Wednesday (a different sort of WIP this time 👀)
Tagged by @lucretiouswept and @optimisticgrey over the weekend! Thank you both 🖤 and pls consider yourselves uno-reverse tagged!
Also very gently tagging @missfortunetherogue, @spillingteanotpermitted, @riddlerosehearts, and @litsenn~
So. Hi. I got really, really, overly invested in the Companion Jamie collection.
For some reason, my brain decided it would not rest until I gathered some "in-game footage" of Jamie's recruitment scene (rather than, y'know, writing it, which would make more sense and take less time!). This required me to watch some Blender tutorials and make a unique pose "mod" and PUT IT IN THE GAME AND TAKE SCREENSHOTS AND EDIT STUFF AND
*deep breath*
Anyway. I'm making a little video and adding captions to things as my next steps. I fear I have lost a few sanity points while working on this but, fuck it, at least I sorta know Blender now. I already have 3 pose ideas and I am not sure my brain will let me ignore them.
Custom Jamie pose VP WIP (I swear to every god, if a similar pose already exists in someone else's pose pack, DON'T EVEN TELL ME bc I will be so mad at myself that I couldn't find it and did this shit instead):
I think their left arm looks kinda twisty but let's just pretend it's the jacket, it actually might be the jacket, but I don't know for sure and I don't care anymore. It's my first Blender project and it suits my purposes and I am proud of it regardless
Jamie pre-recruitment video WIP:
Shoutout to Rachel Dekarios for the amazing YT video that walks through the actual mod creation process beautifully - I would not have been able to do even 1/10 of the pose project without it 🖤
