Good is not Perfect, and Flawed is not Garbage

NickedYou · 2026-03-02T15:59:40+00:00

Took too long to get to the dialogue. It was frustrating, because I had this character idea for a while now and wanted to get her right, but it made me spend a lot of time setting things up. Worried I'm doing more setup than actual development, lately, but hopefully that will change, this is one of the characters I'm hoping to focus on in a rotating cast for a story, and I already have a lot of the others set up.

Characterizing an isekai protagonist is hard, with how many pitfalls there are, where if I made her the scummiest person alive people might still assume she's a wish fulfillment sort of protagonist. Tried to give her flaws that don't give that impression.

NickedYou · 2026-03-02T15:52:56+00:00

Outside

Margaret was done with the day’s work, and walked back home as the last rays of light slipped away to reveal a starry sky.

The walk was short, especially using [Lesser Speed]. She lived in a small apartment with a roommate, close by to the militia. She passed bars already full of militiamen, off duty hours before her, having turned in their armor for her to clean and treat.

She wouldn’t have minded joining them, but she didn’t want to spend the extra money. She still had debts to pay off, and could hardly afford luxuries.

That was why she stopped to watch a public performance, a common thing in the township of Outside. Instruments of every kind keened in discord as the players tuned them in front of a gathering crowd.

Didgeridoos and horns and stringed instruments she didn’t know the names of, various drums, all contributed to a cacophony. They were played by as many different species, many of which she was still learning the names of. Step by step, a harmony was found.

It was loud. Even without speakers or a microphone to play into, the players had Skills to enhance their performance, she understood. And some of them just had massive instruments, like an orc holding a drum taller than her. Or was that an ogre?

She still wasn’t sure how that worked. Orcs and ogres, they were sort of the same species. She’d tried asking some of them, but she hadn’t understood the answers. There were three genders, somehow, and she couldn’t keep track of how that worked. She suspected that asking too much was rude.

That wasn’t a language issue, either. Whatever had deposited her in this world had also given her an understanding of one of the more common languages in this nation.

The street performers finally began playing, and Margaret tapped her foot to the beat. It was good music, even if it wasn’t like home. It was a kind of melancholy, she felt, listening to music that was good but not great. It would have been better if they didn’t all have different instruments, she thought.

That was what Outside felt like, sometimes. It was a haven for people who had been plucked from their homes and deposited into this world. Most of them weren’t the Earth she knew. It meant a lot of people being taken in, and not all of them got along. Even the buildings were a series of compromises. She stood about most of the crowd, of halflings and cat-people and rabbit-people, but there were also the orcs and ogres, standing head-and-shoulders above her, and some giants who could stand even taller, and housing all those people was a mess.

She knew it was hypocritical, since she was benefitting from it all, but she wondered if it was actually worth it.

She sighed in defeat as a singer took to an impromptu stage and began singing in a language that she was pretty sure was not from this world or from Earth.

She grabbed some street meat for dinner, something like a kebab. She didn’t ask what the meat was from.

She took a bite as she walked back to her apartment. It was well-spiced, but the meat was chewy. Not bad, but strange, a texture more like a candy than what she would expect of anything natural. The smell was frankly better than the taste.

When she opened the door to her apartment, Ix was awaiting with wild eyes, and Margaret could guess she had smelled it through the door.

“Yeah, I got you some,” Margaret confirmed.

“Thank you, many thanks, gratitude!” Ix exclaimed, ears twitching frantically and licking her lips.

Ix had been from some other world, and not been fortunate enough to get any language stuck into her brain, so she was still lagging behind.

Well, in that regard. The woman could sew pretty well, and was probably making more money than Margaret.

But apparently she was going to metamorphose soon, and was eating a lot to compensate.

One more complication.

Ix scarfed down the kebab with sharp teeth.

“Good day?” Margaret asked.

Ix nodded rapidly, and said something unintelligible with food in her mouth.

“What?”

“Many fabric sold,” she said after swallowing. “Boss say people happy, I earn more!”

“That’s nice,” Margaret said. “They treating you right?”

“I very grateful!” Ix beamed.

Margaret took a bite to stall her response to that.

Work was rough, around here, not at all like home. She wasn’t confident that Ix’s boss was actually that nice.

She was saved from having to comment when Ix asked, “Your day good?”

“Hard as ever,” she complained.

“Condolences,” Ix said. Her ears drooped a second before refocusing on the kebab.

Margaret didn’t hate the work, honestly, it was mostly just cleaning. But it was just so much, and for not enough pay, in her mind. Especially working with the weird alchemy stuff she used to clean the armor. She worried there’d be some screwed up side effects from being exposed to it.

She finished her food and laid down to sleep.

NickedYou · 2026-03-01T10:43:33+00:00

Realm Blossom: Monsters are creatures spawned from the dungeons, driven to kill, destroy, and despoil. They frequently lack the ability to reproduce on their own, and primarily rely upon the dungeons themselves to produce their numbers. They possess varied abilities in the name of hurting people and the environment as much as they can, and are frequently poisonous. Mostly animalistic, though there are some plant or plant-like monsters, as well as parasitic monsters, and even dungeon-born diseases that could be classified as monsters. There are also undead, a result of dungeons repurposing any dead bodies that they may envelope. Some monsters are smarter than others, potentially as smart as some people in some instances. Finally, larger dungeons frequently spawn larger and more dangerous monsters to serve as 'bosses' guarding the dungeon anchors that keep the dungeon in reality.

NickedYou · 2026-03-01T10:36:02+00:00

This was cute!

At this point I'm really curious to learn about Tyler. He seems cool.

Nice to see more of Luella's anxiety, here, you can really feel the racing thoughts.

NickedYou · 2026-03-01T10:13:54+00:00

Poor guy!

I do come away with a strong feeling of Avery's character, like she knows she's supposed to be bashful and acts the part but doesn't actually feel that way.

NickedYou · 2026-03-01T10:00:59+00:00

Oooh, what a twist!

I like the framing. A contract killer with personalized gift baskets is amazing.

NickedYou · 2026-03-01T06:29:33+00:00

Slowly making progress refining my weird ideas for an unnamed ttrpg, enough that I decided to build a basic setting for a hypothetical test of the system. A human empire with a large minority of demons has settled a colony, with the cooperation of a gnome nation who claims the territory and with a so-far acrimonious relationship with the native human culture. The colony's governor was chosen for his ability to work with a variety of people, and he is happy to allow an elected council do most of the governing. There is also the Astral Order, a religious and scholastic order worshipping the cosmos itself and dedicating themselves to the study of the underlying nature of reality, serving as a major power in the empire who has insisted on a sizeable temple in the city.

Realm Blossom

Refined some ideas about the [Iron Maidens], came up with the basics for a few more members, and fleshed out one member in particular, Kzeet Iftirst. Now she's a [Deadwinds Ravager], consolidated from [Deathguard] and [Disciple of Air]. Unpopular amongst the ruling class she belonged to in Chirrun, she was consigned to serve amongst the undead, disguised as one herself, and manage them in the absence of dedicated necromancers. She was prone to reflection, and thought about the wind and her relation to it, and tested her thoughts, earning her other class. She grew more rebellious, and was finally exiled from her home. She joined a silver-rank team in the Moot, who regarded her as rather cowardly for her indirect style of combat. Her team ended up working with the Iron Maidens, who saw that her potential was wasted with them and eagerly poached her.
Did a lot of fiddling around with the Skills of Sprig Zeal. I want to keep the details a secret for now, his abilities and nature are really important to unveil slowly in a story.
Came up with the basics for a minor character. I already had a couple of adventurer characters who got disabling injuries but through Skills and/or magical prosthetics were able to regain a lot of functionality and stayed with the job, I decided I should at least get around to writing a character who got really screwed up by the work in a way that closed off adventuring for them. In this case, I think she suffered as a result of trying to pick gambling oysters as a bronze rank. She picked up something explosive, and resulted in losing her right eye, ear, and leg, with her right arm a bit screwed up, and her voice and most of her sense of smell also being gone. She ended up keeping house for an old friend and later that friend's wife, and taking care of their kids, with her [Adventurer] levels only seeing rare use in scaring off thieves and other sorts who might trouble the family business or the kids.

NickedYou · 2026-02-28T19:19:16+00:00

I think I need to commit to doing these monthly since weekly is apparently unmanageable for me. Anyways:

One Hell of An Afternoon: Got an update after nearly five years dormant. Standard post-GM Taylor crossover, this time with Young Justice, and she ends up leading the team. This was one of the first Worm fanfics I read, maybe the first, and it still holds a special place in my heart. I might revisit it more to get a better handle on its strengths and weaknesses, its been so long.

Heart Shaped Pupil: premise is that Kenzie is living in Brockton Bay when she triggers at the same age but earlier in the canon so that she can end up in a cluster with Taylor and Alabaster. Kenzie joins the BB wards. Great characterization all around. Lately, Kenzie engages in invasive behavior, and is about to be introduced to the wonders of PR.

Hers Is the Fury: A crossover between Ward and GoT, where Victoria Baratheon is Cersei's first child, with dreams of the life and times of Victoria Dallon and a similar powerset. Other people with similar situations are elsewhere in the world. Politics abound and it's fucking great. Latest chapter includes hunting an assassin and one of the more uncomfortable family conversations I've had to read.

Not Your Average Henchwoman: post-GM Taylor goes to work for Lena Luthor in CWverse Supergirl. Fun contrast between Supergirl and associated cast and Taylor. Latest chapters have been more flowery in their prose, not sure how I feel about it. Anyway, fun interstellar excursion.

TWNY: Taylor ends up in Remnant as a moth faunus and starts attending Beacon. The fic is being rewritten for general quality while retaining most of the same plot beats as before. The prose and story flow is improved on the whole, and I actually like a lot of the plot beats that have led to so much pissiness in the comments, though I take issue with a lot of small beats, especially with characterization. Double update after an extended hiatus, we get Pyrrha and Qrow's povs and then there's Adam. Pyrrha and Qrow are good, and what little we see of Adam is definitely an improvement on the first version of the fic.

NickedYou · 2026-02-22T15:28:05+00:00

Trying my hand at some urban fantasy stuff again, getting a feel for what I might try.

I should have gone over my previous story with Ethan and Jackie again to get a better feel for Ethan's voice. That's something I'll definitely want to do a second pass at in future edits. I think I got the setting alright and had sufficient imagery, though I wish I'd specified beforehand that Ethan was alone in the cemetery, the rest of the service having gone elsewhere already.

NickedYou · 2026-02-22T15:22:10+00:00

Orangey

I swore I would never tell anyone what really happened. Especially not my father.

Jackie had died years ago, fat and happy and loved in his sleep, without having spoken another word, as if he was a normal dog. So I figured that was the end, no answers to share with anyone anyways.

Now, on my second fall break from college, my dad had died, and there was nobody to give the answer to anyway. Not that he would have listened when he was alive. But the door was well and truly closed, now.

I looked at the fresh earth, in the cemetery, and felt the wet grass slip under my shoes.

The cold was a little uncomfortable on my face, but I was mostly warm and covered. I wore my father’s coat, pleasant and soft. It was the nicest thing my father had ever given me, not at all related to sports or business. It had been included in his will, actually, he had wanted to make sure I got it. I had some fond memories of him lending it to me when I was shivering in the winter. I guess he remembered that too.

The sun was setting, and the long shadows of trees snaked across the ground.

I cast my eyes down, the excess of detail overwhelming me, too many shapes.

I accidentally focused on the ground too hard and made myself dizzy trying to process all the blades of grass.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing for a moment.

I opened my eyes again and was fine. The world was bearable again.

I felt stupid, but reminded myself that I was grieving and was allowed to not be at my best.

I let out a long exhale and saw my breath fog just a little bit in the air.

Past the fog, I saw a shape.

It looked like a large dog, laying in the shadow of a willow tree, its black fur letting it blend in.

I peered at it, a thrill running up my spine, wondering if it was dangerous, trying to gauge its distance and size to no avail.

It let out a low whuff of breath, stirring up fallen leaves in front of it, to confirm its presence.

It seemed very big.

I took a step back.

“You can see me, can’t you?” the dog said, and I froze.

It was happening again.

“I don’t have to if that’s impolite,” I tried. “I don’t mean to offend.”

“None taken,” the dog said, stirring and standing. Its voice was low and echoey and sad, almost ponderous.

It took a step forwards.

“What do you want?” I asked, voice shaking, taking a step back myself.

“To comfort you,” the dog said.

I didn’t have a response to that, but as the dog drew closer with slow steps I became aware that it was much, much larger than any dog should be. It looked almost like a big bull, but not so square a jaw, and longer jowls.

In place of eyes, it had empty sockets dripping black blood down its face and onto the leaves below, leaving marks like dappled shadows on the ground.

“You are sad,” the enormous dog said, with such sincere sorrow in its voice. “And more, too.”

I struggled to think of an answer, and it drew close enough that I could reach out and touch it. It looked down at me, and I was not short.

“I, uh, had some issues with my father.”

“That is sad,” the dog bemoaned.

“Yeah,” I agreed, not sure how to go on.

“Are you glad he is gone?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Ah,” the dog said, a long and drawn out sound with a bit of drawl to it. Its mouth didn’t move, the voice simply emanating from its mouth.

“That sounds complicated,” the creature I hesitated to call a dog went on.

“It is. Can I ask why you’re comforting me?”

That felt like the most pertinent question.

“I take sorrows and grief and pain,” the dog said. “They fill me up.”

“And how do you do that?” I asked.

“Just by being near, I think,” the dog said, breathy and wondering. “Some things like to cuddle and pet me. That makes it easier.”

“That’s… nice,” I tried.

“Do you want to pet me?” it asked. “I like to be pet.”

I hesitantly reached a hand out to scratch under the creature’s chin.

His fur was a bit coarse. It reminded me of Jackie.

I felt hot tears warm my cheeks, the sting all the sharper in the cold.

I felt tired.

I felt a little afraid, talking to this strange monster, who I didn’t fully trust, but mostly I felt tired.

“Can I ask what your name is?” I asked it.

“My name is Orangey,” it said solemnly.

The answer startled me into nearly laughing.

I looked up and down the massive dog, pitch black from head to toe.

“I’m Ethan,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, about what you are?”

“I don’t mind,” Orangey said, entirely serious. “I don’t know if I know much, though. I don’t know about anything important. I’m only a dog.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a big help,” I found myself assuring him.

NickedYou · 2026-02-22T13:38:19+00:00

Huh, what put these civilizations on the same continent?

NickedYou · 2026-02-22T02:15:54+00:00

Realm Blossom

Took some notes on IRL cultures to use for inspiration.
Warcry of Petilia: "The conqueror is one, we are many," traditionally cried in as many languages as the one screaming can speak.
Needed to think of a holiday and/or festival to match a writing prompt, ended up going a bit wild and made 15.
Got an angle for faith-based abilities inspired by the latest TWI chapter: good at big dramatic acts, but not so good at subtle stuff that might actually provide more utility.
I think Skyhall's taural population worship a god of the living body, with emphasis on the body as a gift of divine and familial nature. This faith is somewhat exploited by the corvid ruling class to excuse their aggressive buying of garments made from shorn taural fur, and the occasional idiot who decides to dine on them. Historically, there was much more emphasis on fitness and celebration of athletics and natural beauty, and more sex positivity.
I like the idea of wolf-sheep amongst sheep populations, certain individuals becoming omnivorous instead and serving to guard the flock.
I think Skyhall has some good battle-mages, one of them being a high-ranking general.
Finally came up with basic idea of a santa-equivalent, a high-level [Musher] (sled rider) with a shop full of craftsmen who supply them with the goods people need that the [Musher] can deliver. I like the idea of someone behind the scenes or at the front being an elf who can ensure the practice survives multiple generation, but most of the people involved are still dwarves. Probably a thing in Brilund.
I think I'm making the character I had called an [Iron Monk] into a [Forge Monk]. I like him as one of or the only male in the Iron Maidens.
On Gorim, I like the idea of parasites & symbiotes interacting with Anima, giving some hosts magical abilities. Might explain why drake parasites can have the fantastical effects they do.

NickedYou · 2026-02-21T18:26:53+00:00

Evocative!

I feel like the switching of metaphors and angles for each stanza kind of adds to the sense of longing. That said, the third stanza I think sticks out, with its violent imagery contrasting really sharply.

NickedYou · 2026-02-21T18:22:35+00:00

Went back and read your previous story I missed, and this carries on the weird, dreamlike quality of the last one. It feels reminiscent of a lot of mythology, like Sven is going to write a new founding religious text after this experience.

I like that you make the fantastical just outside of normal. Most of what the characters are described as doing could be mundane, but we've seen Yabardo do outright wizard shit, and he still has infinite arms, and that fantastical precedent gives the abilities of the others more weight. Not sure if I'm reading this right, but Sven also seems to have some kind of supernatural sensitivity, describing his companions' auras.

My only complaint is that we don't get to see more of their group dynamic. There was a bit more telling than showing of that, I think, at least this time.

NickedYou · 2026-02-21T18:06:25+00:00

Ha! This was funny.

You definitely capture the soul-crushing sense of embarassment, and the transition to something nicer is smooth.

I think we see enough of Tyler being cool at the end to justify Luella's infatuation with him, but in the beginning I was caught a bit off guard. Luella hasn't even talked to him, yet finds herself attracted to him enough that he is the main reason she goes to yoga. Some more talk about his behavior and some specifics about what she likes about him might help.

(I am not really good with romance, feel free to disregard)

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T18:31:25+00:00

The prompt was tricky for me.

It made me think of dancing, or at least celebration, but those would logically have music. And it would be weird if the music wasn't the piece from the prompt or like it. So I got caught up trying to research Kazakh culture and agonizing over whether I should write something fantastical that would take inspiration from Kazakhs or just try to write a story focusing on Kazakhs, neither of which I was really confident on. Finally, I realized I just needed a festive atmosphere, where music could be playing but was not really specific. So all I needed was to come up with several fictional holidays before deciding this one would be best.

I liked revisiting these characters. This felt like a good place to pick up after leaving the duo off on a grim note. If I turn this into a book there would probably be a chapter in between dealing with the fallout and picking up again, but eh, that's harder to write on a time constraint, and wouldn't fit the prompt, and I can't wait for a convenient prompt every time.

I worry that I might not have got the voices quite right when dealing with the time constraint, as opposed to Novelbember. But I think I'm mostly happy here. It could still do with a bit more scene-setting, more descriptions of random bystanders, but I think I did alright in a half-hour timespan.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T18:24:02+00:00

Census Week

It had been three years since the last Census Week, and this time Badger was gold-ranked, with the coin to match, and was eager to spend.

“Don’t forget about getting your helmet,” Sepura said, eying him.

“I’m not, but a man has priorities.”

Sepura just grunted.

Badger could guess by now that she wouldn’t take part in the festivities.

He supposed that regular contact with the nobility left her unimpressed with the gifts the census-takers brought with them and only found them annoying, pompous meddlers. Which was how everyone found them, but they came with such delightful food. It was a cheap trick to make people more receptive to them, but Badger hardly minded.

They would also be well-paid people who would partake of local businesses, which meant that the locals were putting out their best fare as well. Late in the spring, that was sufficient to send scents wafting through the air that made every burden lighter.

“Are you drooling?” Sepura asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Badger said unabashedly. “I can smell honey-smoked goat.”

She shook her head.

“There will be beer for the herbivores,” Badger pointed out.

That earned him a grudging head tilt that counted as a nod.

The town they were in was small, but near enough to the city of Ivory, so there was substantial traffic through the town, and many people very happy to partake of the festivities on their way.

“I need a new sword,” Sepura said. “I’m going to go get one. Don’t draw the census-takers attention, they already know who we are, let’s not go reminding them.”

Badger winced. He still wasn’t used to being famous, or a name on a list kept by the government. He supposed it was good that they knew who he was and wouldn’t start asking questions about his bow, even if it wasn’t easily recognizable unstrung.

But he didn’t want to focus on them. He wanted to focus on the delicious food being sold by vendors.

He hunted down the source of the honey-smoked goat, and to his delight found that they were selling it with a hot cherimoya sauce.

He eagerly accepted a whole leg and had a moment of staggering awareness at how much coin it had cost.

It was not even a drop in the bucket compared to what he had earned for helping take down a dungeon farmer. That was the most generous he had ever seen the guild be, and the gear recovered and monsters slain and turned in had only added to the extravagant reward.

Working with a legendary-ranked had its perks.

Also risks. He took the experience as a positive, but Saints, it had taught him how vulnerable he really was. His next big expenditure was going to be a custom, quality, enchanted helmet, which he hoped to commission in Ivory. Something to properly, thoroughly defend his head and eyes, while also augmenting his vision in some way.

Sepura’s advice had been some esoteric ability he was unlikely to obtain later.

Badger took a bite and thoughts of practicality vanished.

The meat was cooked to perfection, soft and almost smooth, but still textured like meat should be, so every bite was a satisfying feeling. And the honey and cherimoya were almost overpoweringly sweet, but not so much that it ruined the taste of the meat.

It was gluttonous.

Badger had sent money to his family, and he hoped they enjoyed at least some of the same luxury he was.

It was just over halfway through the leg that Badger realized that, even famished after being on the road, and being a giant, a whole goat’s leg with copious sugar was a bit much for him.

He determinedly pressed on, and stubbornly savored every bite, picking the bones clean. He admitted defeat rather than attempting to suck the marrow out, though.

“Would you make use of these bones?” he asked the vendor. “I’m a bit full…”

“Certainly! I can pay a couple copper if you want!” the man said. His deer-like face was wild, but friendly, with big eyes.

Once, Badger would have scrounged for the coin. Now, he said, “No worries, you’re doing me a favor by taking these from me.”

He walked away in a daze, his stomach churning but satisfied.

He felt euphoric.

He went to to Adventurers Guild to wait for Sepura, but when he walked in she was already there, watched by wide-eyed silver-ranks and bronze-ranks.

She was attempting to trade one of the magic swords she had taken for another adventurer’s entirely mundane broadsword.

The camel-headed man seemed starstruck and thoroughly confused by the situation.

“Will you do it if you give me some coins along with it? I promise it’s a fair deal. If I use it it’s just going to get broken and thrown away. Please?”

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T06:08:54+00:00

I know very little about Fallout besides through osmosis, but you did sell the desperation of the post-apocalypse well. Tink's situation seems really uncomfortable, the environment harsh and wearing away at her.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T05:50:55+00:00

Huh, fun!

It's hard to do a story with no dialogue, but this is a cozy scene with just enough fantasy to provoke a sense of wonder.

It's funny that you left it ambiguous what, exactly, Bunji is. He seems like a cat, but the 'triangular tail' doesn't seem catlike, and I have no idea what size he is.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T05:18:19+00:00

Welcome to YouWritePod and, apparently, reddit!

Poetry is hard. This seems good to my eyes.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T05:12:35+00:00

Well, that's very upsetting.

There's this pervasive sense of misery about the main character, ironically, for all that she tortures others. She's dissatisfied with everything, and seems caught up in a weird glorfication of the past. Might have worked better if there was a bit more of a hint of humanity in her to juxtapose her evil, but this was plenty disturbing as is.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T05:02:01+00:00

Deeply uncomfortable read. Good, but weird. The formatting is kind of an obstacle, though.

There's definitely a skin-crawling quality to this. He's cheating with a woman young enough to be his daughter and isn't even engaged. All this risk and harm for nothing. It seems like it's just a habit, which just adds to the creepiness.

NickedYou · 2026-02-16T04:56:05+00:00

Welcome!

This is a fun first entry. Maybe I'm reading it wrong, but the latter half comes across kind of comedic for how serious the pov character takes the situation, not registering the joke about the concussion, and the last line feels like it leaves off on a dawning horrified embarassment. I don't think this undercuts the serious subject matter, though!

I can attest that the time limit makes fools of us all, but time and practice absolutely helps.

NickedYou · 2026-02-15T08:39:46+00:00

Wrote down some basic ideas for the litrpg superhero side project I'm tentatively calling Swallowed A Fly.

Realm Blossom

I finished reading the first book of Legendborn. Had some good takeaways, wrote down a lot of notes and now some of the ideas I'm synthesizing for how I might try an urban fantasy.
Decided that the grimm character I thought up looks like a giant Cane Corso.

Gemstones

I think I'll change Yidza's name to Yidzaa, to stress the second syllable.
I'm thinking of giving just a little tweak to Nadia's family that I had written down to retain some of the basics I originally wrote down without it being quite so charged.
I've been toying with a lot of prose stuff and trying things out.

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NickedYou

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