agh, this sketch is really rough and unfinished but I couldn't get it done in time for her birthday and I think I fucked up the perspective 😭
Either way, I guess this is your official introduction to Miss Pearl Wyndham, my OLNF MC.
Pearl is known very well in the little town of Golden Grove, probably because she went out of her way to try and befriend everyone. She never seemed to lose the high energy from her childhood, if anything she just seemed to get more expressive. Her personality is somewhat odd or kooky, but she really doesn't seem to care. Piano, music, and ballet are some of her absolute favorite pastimes. Theatre and performing arts are her total jam, she loves everything about the stage. She loves academics and wants to learn as much as she can while she's still able.
Pearl was born in Vietnam, but moved to Golden Grove when she was ten and has been there ever since. A large chunk of her family lives there, but some do live in the US. She's 3/4 Vietnamese and 1/4 American by blood. Her family is huge, holiday gatherings look like somebody hosted a convention.
Unfortunately Pearl was born with several health issues. she is a type one diabetic, suffers from fibromyalgia, a weak immune system, and epilepsy. She has seizures sometimes. They're usually absence seizures where she black outs and unconsciously walks around or does things, or they're atonic seizures where she passes out for a short period of time. These were occasional, happening every few weeks or so. In the mornings she often has myoclonic seizure clusters soon after she wakes up, which is repetitive jerking motions for a few seconds, often her arms or shoulders. Tonic clonic seizures are a lot more rare, they're the textbook seizures, shaking on the ground. Some days her fibromyalgia keeps her bed bound, and she hates it. She often fears that each day will be the last day she'll ever be able to get out of bed, so she lives like it is. Many of her bed bound days are filled with textbooks all over her bed and workbooks scribbled in, it's the one of the only things that can help her ignore the pain.
Despite the setbacks, she is determined to pursue ballet and dance professionally. She8 practices a ton and takes the highest level of ballet class at the local studio.
Well there's a lot more about her but thats what I can write down, she's my babyyyyy
Thank you once again for all the people who submitted their ideas! This event wouldn't be possible without your lovely help. The event will start in September 24-30. You can still submit your creations after the last day, and I'll be reposting as much as I can!
Here are some reminders:
- Avoid posting content that shares patreon exclusive information.
- Ensure that any sensitive content is tagged properly.
- (Optional) Mention the account @olnfweek202x and use the tag #OLNFWeek2026! - Have fun, make sure to take care of yourself!
Thank you for helping out for the third time, and I'm excited to see what you'll make! I'll be listing helpful posts below.
tips for drawing tamarack baumann (and plus sized characters in general)
post containing qiu's hex code
(incomplete) collection of sprites
please note that i will not be reposting anything that erases or disrespects any of the characters identity, so try to be respectful!
I drew this doodle for @sir-feline’s Louis! Forever obsessed with teal hair ˗ˋˏᰔᩚˎˊ˗
Originally I planned to make a video with BGM, inspired by the concept “draw headphones and the music starts playing” from RedNote (Xiaohongshu) creator @ 疯狂大泡泡.But I later worried about possible copyright issues… Plus I was way too sleepy to edit the video haha, so only this illustration is here in the end
hiiiii 👋 hi 🙋♀️ i’m lady kier from deee-lite…. welcome to my klæüsêt…….. yes, i am a mouse potato…… computer nerd…….. otaku…………… and this is where it happen
dreamed i was a girl complaining about annoying guys dancing on the club (<-never been at a club) and the visual image was jamie throwing crazy dancing moves
pngs cuz i think it goes too fast to appreciate him properly
At eighteen, the change in Shan Fang was so drastic it felt like a rebellion that had arrived absurdly late.
To those who didn’t know her well, it was as if Shan Fang had swapped out her core. She shed her sweet smile, and her gentle, soft aura evaporated completely. Shan Fang no longer kept her hair neat; she dyed it pink and black, put on makeup whenever she could, and experimented with an eclectic mix of styles. She started skipping classes and never again set foot in her after-school ballet lessons. She refused to join any non-mandatory group activities, deliberately choosing to be left behind. Toward anyone who didn’t interest her, Shan Fang lost all desire to socialize, becoming cold to an extreme degree. Aside from spending time with Tamarack, she was almost entirely solitary; she didn’t even seek out Qiu Lin much anymore. Plenty of people said she’d grown arrogant and fake, but Shan Fang couldn’t care less; she turned a deaf ear to every bit of discontent.
Yet anyone close to Shan Fang could easily tell that beneath her so-called cynicism, it was still a performance. There was a sense of order lurking inside her “rebellion”; she was, in fact, meticulously imitating the mannerisms of people who “don’t try to please.” The downward press of her lips, her offhand refusals, even the calculated messiness of her hair: all of it was carefully choreographed.
This transformation began in her senior year. On the first day of school, Shan Fang ran into Bian Jun, an old friend she hadn’t seen in seven years. Bian Jun had once been someone Shan Fang viewed as even more fragile than herself: scrawny, timid, like a blade of grass that could wilt at any moment. But seven years later, Bian Jun reappeared, oozing overwhelming confidence, wielding an aggressive allure, her self-regard bordering on the pathological.
Shan Fang’s initial reaction was panic. Bian Jun had seen the version of her that once huddled with her for warmth, and she was terrified Bian Jun would pop the bubble-mask she had worked so hard to construct. But Bian Jun didn’t. Her attitude toward Shan Fang hardly differed from how she treated everyone else. Until one quiet evening, when Bian Jun came over to her house, hooked the corner of her mouth, and said, “How amusing. Even my snakeskin tote holds less pretense than you.”
In twenty years, Shan Fang probably still won’t be able to forget Bian Jun’s eyes in that moment, layered with contempt, a frustrated “why can’t you be better,” and pure mockery. So, predictably, Shan Fang flew into a rage and, for once, let it pour out directly. They fought, threw punches, and argued, tearing through the room for over an hour, until Bian Jun conceded, forcibly wrapping her arms around Shan Fang to end it.
Shan Fang’s fury wasn’t about Bian Jun’s insult. It was about Bian Jun touching her deepest, most hidden fear: she hated Bian Jun for leaving her behind, for stranding her in the past; she hated her own weakness, her lack of courage to truly change; she was terrified that all her “maturity” was a sham, that the child who walked home from school alone had never really left. Her rage, at its core, was a knee-jerk reaction to being seen through. Shan Fang had nowhere left to run.
Bian Jun laid into her: “You’re a coward, so just be a coward. Stop faking that melancholy.” “So goddamn dumb your brain’s been soaking in water for years and turned into a shriveled almond.” “Still not done playing house? What the hell are you fantasizing about day in, day out? Try actually giving those people a cold shoulder. You’ve built yourself up into some kind of deity; whatever happens next, you’ve brought it on yourself.”
Shan Fang was, on one hand, shocked by this crude, caustic, condescending tirade. On the other, those blade-sharp words chiseled right through her heart. She looked inside, and it was indeed hollow. But now that the crack had been carved open, what could she put in there?
Shan Fang resolved to change, but until the change took shape, her strategy was, fittingly, very “Shan Fang.” She wanted to be herself, to become the real “Shan Fang,” so she broke her goal into bullet points, laid out the steps, and drove her progress forward with a cool, obsessive determination.
The thick notebook Qiu Lin had once given her became the core birthplace of this “Ego Project.” Flip through the first dozen or so pages, and you’d still find notes on Qiu Lin’s and Tamarack’s preferences, routines, and eating habits. But start from the back, and it was all densely packed, clearly catalogued action items: experimenting with subcultures, teaching herself certain skills, deciding which classes could be skipped…
Tamarack was deeply worried by this. Bian Jun just found it hilarious. But behind the absurdity, what it revealed was that Shan Fang didn’t know how to become herself “naturally.” She only understood the methodology of “goal-setting, planning, execution,” and when “building a self” became the new objective, she instinctively resorted to the only path she knew. If a person is never allowed to make mistakes, to say no, to be “unlikable” while growing up (even if, most of the time, the fear was in her own head), then when she finally decides to be herself, the only way is to pretend to have a self first. Besides, if she didn’t use the plan to keep her mental state in check, she might be swallowed whole by the question “who am I?” Shan Fang wasn’t just using the plan to engineer a self; she was using it to protect the growing, deeply fragile “true self” from being crushed.
In the process of turning inward, Shan Fang inevitably stumbled into certain existential crises. She couldn’t help wondering whether abandoning her old ways would actually make her happier. Bian Jun teased her that she’d read so many books she’d gone soft in the head, and urged her to visit their hometown when she had the chance. No matter how long she lived in America, her roots and her way of thinking were still Chinese. What if a dose of earthy Chinese sensibility was her true calling? Bian Jun’s offhand yet uncanny speculation would be proven right in the years to come.
Overall, however, Shan Fang maintained a remarkably good state of mind. Bian Jun and Tamarack gave her immense encouragement and strength. Bian Jun’s very existence was a kind of proof: she was living evidence that leaving the past behind was possible. A person could step out of a corner and into the spotlight, could go from never speaking to being a creature so dazzling. That truth was more powerful than any comfort.
In terms of relationships, Tamarack and Bian Jun were the only people to whom Shan Fang opened her heart without any reservation.
Bian Jun was the most unique presence. She didn’t belong to Golden Grove, but to Shan Fang’s past. Bian Jun used her teasing and sarcasm to desensitize Shan Fang. She mocked her indecision, cattily remarked that Shan Fang had to rehearse a script just to turn someone down, and with her almost cruel approach, she sanded Shan Fang’s heart into coarse leather.
Bian Jun also worried about her. During the most chaotic stretch of Shan Fang’s state, she didn’t ask many questions. She would simply cross the long road, knock on her door, and say, as if she just happened to be passing by, “Come out for a walk.”
Bian Jun harbored a strange, resolute faith in Shan Fang. That faith manifested as, “I can’t be bothered with you; whatever, you’ll figure it out.” Unlike the Shan Fang of their childhood, she truly treated Shan Fang as an equal, not as some fragile relic of the past in need of protection.
Tamarack always gave Shan Fang the utmost patience. With her, Shan Fang could pour out all those tangled, endlessly looping anxieties, and Tamarack never interrupted, never rushed to offer advice. She simply listened, with that quiet, utterly focused attention that made Shan Fang feel her ramblings actually carried weight.
After listening, Tamarack would respond through the lens of her own values. Her answers were never overbearing; they felt like a warm ball of cotton, gently wrapping all of Shan Fang’s unease, hesitation, and reluctance to step forward. With Tamarack, Shan Fang was always at her most relaxed.
Around the same time, Shan Fang also gradually grew closer with Renee. Renee, too, was someone who had struggled through hardship and found herself. Shan Fang deeply admired this and hoped to learn from her. Renee, sensitive and perceptive, noticed the intent behind Shan Fang’s changes. Grateful for the kindness and solidarity Shan Fang had shown her in the past, even if it was a performance, Renee quietly offered whatever help she could.
The only one who got hurt was Qiu Lin. Shan Fang had once used Qiu Lin as an outlet for her romantic attachment, so she’d subconsciously concluded that her feelings for him were also just another act to polish her image. And so, she let go of her crush and chose to create some distance between them, to set her emotions right.
If it had simply been a matter of drifting apart, Qiu Lin wouldn’t have objected too strongly. He could see that Shan Fang hadn’t been herself lately. But it was the fact that, while distancing herself from him, she was growing closer to Bian Jun, Tamarack, and Renee that filled Qiu Lin with a profound sense of unease. Especially Bian Jun: she was an old friend, with a bond of childhood innocence; she had an Asian face, leadership presence, and a way of handling everything with effortless grace… Every single trait Shan Fang had once confided she liked about him was replicated in Bian Jun. No, Bian Jun was even more elegant, even more novel.
Qiu Lin, who had always lived in the spotlight, surrounded by admiration, had no idea what to do. It wasn’t that he’d never noticed Shan Fang’s struggles before, but he was still mired in his own adolescent swamp of identity anxiety. The concern he had managed to muster, the greatest effort he could spare, now seemed to have been completely useless.
This left Qiu Lin, on one hand, deeply annoyed. He hated being shut out by the person he cared for, frustrated that he apparently wasn’t even worthy of her trust. On the other hand, he was wracked with self-blame. The old Shan Fang had been like air, utterly vital yet something he never thought could disappear. He had accepted her kindness and given her back what he thought was good in return. He had never truly seen her. She understood his turmoil, but he was utterly clueless about what she wanted.
But precisely because Qiu Lin was Qiu Lin, he couldn’t possibly give up on his best friend over a problem like this. Qiu Lin began to develop a thick skin, even acting outright shameless. If Shan Fang wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, fine, he’d try to figure it out bit by bit. Qiu Lin firmly believed that Shan Fang still had feelings for him, but before any of that, she had to fall in love with herself first.
sometimes I’ll go through the unsent project and search up my relatively rare name and pretend that the messages are to me and that all my old friends miss me too
