#panic-begins-at-sumer

As much as we love Herbert, Herbert doesn’t love us back. Why would he want to date those loud, smelly penguins?

A random personal headcanon is to do with Saint-14 and my own Guardian, who I headcanon as eastern european, so her and Saint have frequent conversations in Russian or other Slav languages both might speak :D

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

hmmm torn between the comparison of oryx and nokris, which is so very apt and would make both of them so furious (and savathun knows it, of course!! and perhaps mourns them both, in the only way she can...?), and this line:

“I do,” says the witch, pensive, “hate to see waste.”

which is when I wanted some of the oh shit to kick in (at least. for lavinia)

7: Where did the title come from?

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

ditto friend

also bc u prompted it: observe, my Guardian + Ghost in Sims 4:

thanks for the ask!! :)

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Boho, formal, tomboy!

21. obsession from childhood?

Stickers :D

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing?

I feel I need to crowdsource the answer to this one... but uhhh fight scenes, inhuman mindsets, chatty, nonchalant or jokey personalities, either if they’re sincere or if they’re Actually Intense beneath it. grumpy and snappish characters, probably bittersweet or sad tones

36. Post a snippet

“That’s odd,” Boon says, squinting at the City on their roughly once a decade trip to see how humanity is doing. “Wasn’t it brighter last time?”

“Hm,” Omen says, though they both well know that it was.

The City is well on its way to deserving the name. They walk in on one of a maze of crisscrossing roads, and tents have long since unfurled into buildings, built across from and atop each other in configurations that make Omen a little nervous. The walls grow the most between each visit, though always more scaffolding than stone.

But tonight there is no sign of movement on the walls. Instead, xe sees the flicker of an open flame along the streets.

“A fire?”

Boon floats upward to get a better look, humming with alarm.

“No... that isn’t fire. That’s Light.”

Even stranger. Some kind of signal? But there are no signs of danger, no weapons’ fire. Just the City, gone strangely dark – but not quiet. People mill about, set up stalls and sell food that steams into the air. Most are wrapped warmly, fending off a chill that xe has entirely forgotten about.

“Power outage,” Boon says, still scanning. “A big one. It might have hit everything.”

The Light is fire – a network of braziers and bowls. The closest has a Risen – no, they like to be called Guardians now – coaxing the curl of flame higher.

43. How do you deal with rejection?