stellar 💫

30s, she/her · mdni 🔞 · writer, editor, video game enthusiast · oc rambles and fic

[stellactrums]

— intro

hello~! welcome to my virtual hobbit hole 🥰

you can call me stellar. 30s, she/her, bi, enfp. i'm a professional copy editor by day, fic writer by night, and lover of games, books, and fictional universes all the time.

you'll see me post about love & deepspace, honkai star rail, touchstarved, d&d, bg3, the elder scrolls, stardew valley, and more!

— nav

bluesky · twitter · AO3 · carrd

— tags

#stellarfics #stellarwips #severinebowen #sevzayne #sevsylus #snowcrowmoon

[moonlitbeth]

here’s some smuglus

[luna-azzurra]

The most interesting thing about your character is not their wound. It's what they built on top of the wound to survive it.

The wound is backstory. The structure they built on top , the habits, the walls, the jokes they make to change the subject, the way they leave before they can be left, that's character. So don't show me the wound. Show me the architecture.

The reader will figure out what's underneath. That's the part that makes them feel clever. Let them have it.

[partyartyart]

Sesshomaru Sketch <3

[redspringstudio]

i need to see a TOUCHSTARVED beach episode like this ASAP

[mxrderscenes]

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[cardinal-writes]

chase

summary: valko is bad at playing tag pairing: valko x reader rating: mature 🔞 (slightly suggestive) word count: 890 tags: gn!reader, low-stakes predator/prey vibes, oops a silly game of tag gets horny, use of pet names (little wolf) note: hi! i've been taking a break from tumblr because real-life has been Very Busy but i'm dropping in to post this bc wolfboy gave me brain worms; also available in my love & drabble-space collection on ao3

“Tag,” Valko murmurs, breaths grazing your ear. He snuck up on you from behind and banded an arm firmly around your shoulders, ensnaring you as though you were small game. Now, his chest is hot against your back and his heart thuds languidly; he hasn’t even broken a sweat, the rascal. “You’re it.”

And then he’s off— tail flicking sharply as he darts into the tenebrous maze of trees. Moonlight-dusted foliage cracks and rustles in his wake.

Oh, it is so on.

You give chase.

The forest unfurls like a quilt, a patchwork of murky shadows resolving into distinct hues of green and brown, gold and orange. Autumn is on its way out, but winter has yet to strip the trees bare. On a different night, perhaps you’d pause to appreciate the beauty of it all. Tonight, however, you’re on a mission. You run, fast and sure-footed, vaulting over logs and ducking under branches. It’s easy to follow Valko’s trail since he was kind enough to mark it for you; claw-slashed trunks act as breadcrumbs, as signposts. They beckon you this way, this way, follow me little wolf.

Abruptly, his trail ends. In all directions, the underbrush is untrampled as though he was raptured mid-stride. You peer into the dark with narrowed eyes and turn in a circle. Fast as he is, he couldn’t have gotten too far ahead of you. Or maybe he doubled back?

The breeze picks up, buffeting your spine—a brisk whoosh from top to bottom—and then you’re being grabbed. Your adrenaline spikes. As it does, Valko hooks his arms beneath your shoulders and hoists you into the air. You flail, kicking wildly, but he just chuckles and holds you tighter.

“Tag,” he says again, playfully nuzzling the underside of your jaw despite your attempts to wrench away. Above you, his legs are folded over a branch, and you suddenly understand why you lost his trail. Sneaky, overgrown bat. “You’re it.”

“You already tagged me,” you grouse.

“So?”

You roll your eyes, then glare sidelong at him. “So you’re supposed to be trying to get away from me.”

Valko smirks. “Why would I wanna do that?”

You’re torn between huffing and elbowing him. Before you can do either, he tosses you into the air, drops to the ground, and then catches you with one arm around your back and the other beneath your bent knees. The ordeal punches a breathless yelp out of you.

“Cute,” he comments.

For that, you do smack him—one open-palmed slap to the center of his chest—which is met with amusement. His golden eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs. Scowling, you cross your arms.

“Aww, don’t pout.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “You really wanna chase me that bad?”

You’re not delusional enough to believe you could actually catch him if he set his mind to evading you, but sprinting through the forest, tracking him— it was exhilarating. And he soured what would’ve been your victory by ambushing you. Despite all his strengths, your wolf makes for a terrible prey animal.

“Tell you what,” he says, expression shifting from smug to expectant, “how about we start over.” His chin dips and his pupils darken and his tail brushes your calf. “And how about this time I chase you?”

It’s like static discharge, the responding tingle that steals through your limbs. You imagine him pursing you, both of you racing head-long through the dark, lungs burning, muscles straining. Imagine him tackling you. Imagine what would come after. And just like that, your grudge against him melts away.

“Whaddaya say, little wolf?”

You pretend to consider your options, enjoying the way his ears twitch as he waits for your answer. To his credit, he remains silent. “I say…” you drawl, fingertips skating across his collarbone, “you should put me down and count to one hundred.”

He complies with the first instruction, making sure you have your footing before he lets go of you, then cracks his neck like he always does before a gym session. “Only a hundred? Sure you don’t wanna make it more of a challenge?”

You shake your head. “I’m impatient.” To further emphasize your point, you unzip your jacket and toss it at his feet. The night air is cool against your bare arms, but Valko will catch you long before a chill can set into your bones.

His gaze crawls over you, the heat of it almost unbearable. Hunger laid bare. “That makes two of us.”

“Down, boy.”

He grins, then strips off his vest. Unlike you, he was wearing nothing beneath it, and moonlight glances off the cut lines of his form. A flush has already started to spread over his chest, pushing more color into the plum-colored splotches that decorate his skin— bites and hickeys and scratches you’ve given him over the past week. You could have him again right here and now if you wanted.

Tempting, tempting.

You turn away so as not to spoil the fun. “Start counting,” you say.

He’s on you in a blink—bowed over you from behind and only a hair’s breadth away—and your heart lurches into your throat. His body heat seeps through your thin undershirt like you’ve cozied up against a radiator. When he next speaks, it’s through clenched teeth: “Start running.”

[autumntheredhead]

“Can mutuals DM you?”

There are mutuals I would let spit in my mouth tbh

[nixdvn]

A group of idiots (old art)

[kristasss]

Bring Valko back 😭

[lunamaedotjpeg]

I love his big ass tits

[stellactrums]

My brain is so borked and I know I need to consciously unfuck it, but damn. Having a little super computer in my pocket at all times is so hard to give up lol

[c-dra]

my... what big teeth you have 🐺

[teaboot]

I really admire your ability to just do shit. To make art, to try things. I don't want to impose, but how does one get this skill? How do you break away from the idea that you need permission?

I just don't think I've ever had it? I love creating and always have. I love watching my hands use objects to bring thoughts into reality. I started drawing before I could walk. If there is such a thing as a purpose, or a destiny, or a calling, I think mine is that.

I suppose my best advice is to forget the idea of permission at all

[wild-giggle]

We often get taught from the very beginning that children are supposed to obey and do as they're told. You spend the majority of the most impactful learning period of your life with nearly every moment controlled; even when creativity is vocally encouraged, every situation from schooling to lack of children's rights engineers it so that everything else teaches you otherwise. Don't think outside the box, follow the instructions. Sit here, go there. Do as I say, because I said so.

Questioning authority is an automatic no.

Some people learn to rebel, some people learn to do as they're told, some people land somewhere in the middle. Everyone responds to it differently, and of course despite the systems at play, everyone grows up in slightly different environments that enforce different things. But all of us who become adults eventually have to learn how to be independent in a world where we've been raised to not think for ourselves.

The workforce, of course often tries to teach otherwise, but barring a job, your life is yours to live. Not anyone else's. As teaboot said: forget the idea of permission at all. The greatest gift of adulthood is, most often, the freedom to do as you please. Obviously everyone has different capabilities with their time and money and physical/emotional state, but the best gift you can give yourself as you grow older is to teach yourself to not need permission.

It might take time and it might take practice. Start with the little stuff if you need to. But learn to listen to your own body and your own mind, and your own needs, over what society tells you is right or what you think is expected of you, and there you will find the greatest joys.

[ahollowyear]

I think one of the moments I first started to heal was when my therapist and I were making a collage, and she startled me by ripping a whole magazine in half while making it. I think I said, "whoah, didn't think you were so violent," and she replied: "Sometimes when you create, you have to tap into your destructive power."

Such a gentle, neutral framing of the things that sometimes must be done in order to live. Still stewing on that one.

[weaselshaped]

[complains about Dragon Age constantly] I sure do love Dragon Age

[tenswordsart]

recharge

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

i absolutely love watching this fandom breathe life back into Valko. every fic, every piece of art, every tiny headcanon passed from one person to another.

there’s something really beautiful about a community deciding that a story isn’t over just because someone else said it was.