Iosefka DV is in the mines 🏳️‍⚧️

@seffydv.bsky.social

180 Followers 203 Following

She/her Black transfemme writer of colorful dark fantasy with a glimmer of hope Currently querying FIRE TO FLOWERS! No GenAI, ever Ask me about weird PS1 games you've never heard of https://iosefkadv.carrd.co/

Lock screen with colorful and bubbly art of several cephalopods by pikaole, including a nautilus, giant squid, flamboyant cuttlefish, and blanket octopus
Image of Nightmare-afflicted regions of Tron Daurat, identified by a colorful fog swirling like oil on water: enormous mountains in the upper right, two regions in the bottom and left. Also a strip of crystallized land known as Tzalmavet.
Excerpt that reads: So she held the image of an apple in her mind, and it wavered, because she couldn’t focus on every single detail of it at once. Should it be red? Green? Fresh? Blemished? Rotten? With a stem? Without? What size? What shape? Smell? How ripe? How many seeds inside? Cored? Sliced? She sent back something that could be considered an apple, if the viewer never encountered the concept of fruit before — but she hoped, because that was the point of attending these colleges: to learn and improve.
Excerpt of a rejection letter from an elven college: ‘While your skill is commendable (they always began so politely), there were, unfortunately, students of more promise who were chosen to join the ranks of Atelier Iofreit at this time (and Atelier Guinglain, and Atelier Calogrenant, and Atelier Osevain, and Atelier Lucanere, and and and and and). If you are willing to provide a modest enrollment fee of (however many thousands of sols they wanted to wring out of her, as if she didn’t already have to save for months just to afford their hundred-sol application fees), we would happily make a space for you. If not, we recommend that you consider hiring a tutor to improve your, respectably, lacking conjuration skills, and apply again during a less competitive round of enrollment.’ It was, conveniently, never a less competitive round, if the steady pace of Solange’s rejections was any indication.
A loose map of the setting in which my novels take place. The elven empire of Tron Daurat is at the top, ringed by tall mountains; the warlike, temperate nation of Ogygia is to its left, with the snowy Hecaton Range between them. The Kotonou Jungle sits on the border of Ogygia and Ithara, a nation of deserts and savannahs and mesas. To Ithara's north are the Bai-Tsenkher Mountains, sitting between Ithara and Tron Daurat. And to the southeast is Inenari, with its four seasonally-locked regions.
Excerpt that reads: Tiferet blinked, her lips parted around the ghost of a response, and she stared wide-eyed at the woman hovering above her: night-black eyes, branching, metallic horns, fissures of radiant opalescence; lean muscle padded here and there with a slight softness that lent gentle curves to her broad-shouldered frame; talons arched like sickles, wings dark as pitch blotting out the light, feathers gleaming with emerald eyespots. Nothing in Tiferet’s long, long life could ever hope to rival Hyaecinthe’s beauty.
Excerpt that reads: So, imprisoned in a world where a heart like hers would inevitably lead her astray, she had only one option: to bury it. To let the briars of hate and pain choke her heart like ivy over an abandoned house; until one would never know, looking at it, that there was ever a house to begin with.
Close-up of a black dragonfish with a long, glowing barbel under its jaw.
Photo of a tiny red cherry shrimp in a planted aquarium.
Photo of a vibrant maroon flamboyant cuttlefish with yellow accents and purple tentacle tips.
Photo of a white and black-striped zebra mantis shrimp in an aquarium.
Photo of a whale shark just below the surface of the water. A few remoras and other smaller sharks swim under it.
Picture of a bold red humboldt squid underwater, against a cool green background.
Sign from Evolutionary Minded Wellness that states they're now offering "inherited family trauma and early attachment trauma" (presumably for therapy but that's not very well stated in the ad)
Moodboard for my novel Fire to Flowers, depicting a black woman covered in blood and roses, purple hyacinths, baroque architecture, fractal art, and a skinned dog monster. Text describes some of the story's tropes: dual timelines, cosmic fractal horror, healing after trauma, visceral vampires, demons + angels (kinda), annoyances to friends, lush fantasy setting, and glimmers of hope.
Picrew of a light-skinned woman with black hair in a bob cut. She has red earrings with white tassels, a nose piercing, and a tongue piercing. The bisexual flag is behind her.
A Magic the Gathering card depicting Tiferet, a dark-skinned and crimson-haired elf, replacing Kardur the Doomscourge.
A screenshot of Tiferet in the Dragon's Dogma 2 character creator, with bright scarlet hair, fuchsia makeup, and bold lavender eyes.
Map from Monster Hunter 2: highly stylized depiction of the world, with a black dragon bringing night across the world in the wake of its wings.
Screenshot of Scrivener folders for Ithara, showing Summary, History, Locations, Culture, and Creatures. Under Culture are many subcategories for Naming, Magic, Religion, Government, Occupations, Currency, Calendar, Art & Architecture, Fashion, Technology, Cuisine, Music, and Weapons & Armor.
A loose map of the setting in which my novels take place. The elven empire of Tron Daurat is at the top, ringed by tall mountains; the warlike, temperate nation of Ogygia is to its left, with the snowy Hecaton Range between them. The Kotonou Jungle sits on the border of Ogygia and Ithara, a nation of deserts and savannahs and mesas. To Ithara's north are the Bai-Tsenkher Mountains, sitting between Ithara and Tron Daurat. And to the southeast is Inenari, with its four seasonally-locked regions.
Tiferet in the DD2 character creator. A mahogany-skinned elf with green and lavender eyes and curly red hair in a bun.
Moodboard for my novel Fire to Flowers, depicting a black woman covered in blood and roses, purple hyacinths, baroque architecture, fractal art, and a skinned dog monster. Text describes some of the story's tropes: dual timelines, cosmic fractal horror, healing after trauma, visceral vampires, demons + angels (kinda), annoyances to friends, lush fantasy setting, and glimmers of hope.
Excerpt that reads: Scintillating light shines from the base of the stairs. She stops abruptly in the lobby, where another demon emits that riotous glow from beneath its skin. It doesn’t notice her, however: the horse-shaped mass prowls on clawed fingers toward the other end of the room. Toward the innkeeper, who cowers behind a table that can’t possibly protect her. And Tiferet’s blood sings with delight. She should leave that woman to die. The innkeeper would have done the same for her, after all, and Tiferet won’t have to do anything but watch. Casimir would never know. This is a perfect, delicious opportunity. Tiferet stands there, watching the demon slink closer and closer to its prey. The air fills with the taste of that obnoxious elf’s horror, so sweet and tempting on her tongue. The demon crouches. The innkeeper shrieks. The demon leaps. Tiferet’s sword pierces cleanly through the demon’s eye sockets and pins its head to the far wall.
Watercolor art of a sprawling desert with a towering city of domed, pointed rooftops in the background. Strange airships with long, spiked protrusions fly through the sky. In the foreground, a horned knight riding a blue lizard looks on.
Concept art of monsters from Parasite Eve. A chameleon has its mouth stretched to the back of its neck, and its hind legs have merged into one long tail with a foot at the end. A cat is a skeleton with skin stretched over it, spikes along its spine, and three cauterized tails. A green and red-mottled crab has detachable eyes that can fly around. A dogman is bulky and muscular with a strangely small dog head.
Cover art of Deltora Quest: The Shifting Sands. A bright sun beams over a desert. The title is on a lapis lazuli in the background. In the foreground is a giant locust-like insect, green with crimson stripes and several slimy orange egg sacs under its throat.
Shelves of Halloween decorations at a craft/decor store in July, somehow.
Excerpt that reads: Her mouth hangs open; her lips twitch, but words fail her. He’s so gentle and thoughtful and self-sacrificing and he’s still here and sometimes he has half the sense Binah gave a tree stump. The churning storm of emotions inside her refuses to be expressed in any reasonable way, but it has to come out somehow; so against her will, despite the fact that she’d much rather yell at him more, she…laughs. Not like her usual array of false laughter. This laughter staggers up from her chest and stumbles past her lips; hesitant breaths that quicken and rise, each escaping more eagerly than the last. She sits back on the ground and tries to cover that uncharacteristic sound with the back of her hand, but this laughter defies restraint. It flies into a bright, undignified song that makes her shoulders shake and her eyes fill with tears, and it doesn’t stop. Casimir stares at her like he can’t decide if he should laugh with her or start begging for forgiveness.
A Gibbarts 'Understand my ship in 5 minutes' template featuring Tiferet and Casimir. Notably, there's a 228-year age gap, but it's fine because they're elves; Tiferet exceeds the horny limits, while Casimir is full up on awkwardness; and they're polar opposites on relationship experience, introverted/extroverted, and pet name usage. But they're nearly identical in waiting for a confession, making dinner, and affection through actions!
A screenshot of my old outline that states "They probably have sex after that too."
Excerpt that reads: Xaphasa’s neck straightens like a spring snapping back into place. Her mouth opens, and she clicks her scu ling tongue against her teeth. “Poor leech. So elf-like, it thinks it sssssstill is one. Fooled everyone, Solange, even herself.” “Solange is dead,” Tiferet spits back. “I am Tiferet.” “Sola-a-a-a-nge. Tifffffferet. The name of the denier means nothing.” Like a wolf circling its prey, Xaphasa slinks around the warlock; unlike such prey, Tiferet stands unbowed, arms crossed under her chest. “The longer the denier denies, the worsssssssse the ruin to come. Does she sa-a-a-a-a-avor her own pain as much as everyone else’s?”
Excerpt that reads: A rueful smile flickers across her lips. “How do you tell the person you love that you have to hurt things to survive? That your existence is a moral quandary where you either inflict suffering on a regular basis or starve yourself and slowly lose your mind?
Text that reads: “Keter’s compassion. Hokhmah’s potential. Binah’s purpose. Hesed’s charity. Gevurah’s binding. Tiferet’s harmony. Netzach’s courage. Hod’s law. Yesod’s community. Malkhut’s eternity.” “May Keter’s compassion guide our hearts.” “May Hokhmah’s potential enrich our lives.” “May we see the world through Binah’s purpose.” “May Hesed’s charity brighten all around us.” “May we find focus through Gevurah’s binding.” “May we be tempered by Tiferet’s harmony.” “May Netzach’s courage drive us ever onward.” “May we bend to Hod’s law with grace.” “May we be welcomed into Yesod’s community.” “May Malkhut’s eternity grant us Light everlasting.”
Excerpt that reads: The twins’ heads snap to the radiant figure who strides into the parlour on the rhythmic click, click, click of her silver heels. Few elves wear confidence as effortlessly as Tiferet, for she proudly flaunts features others would call flaws. A magenta dress of impeccable tailoring flatters her full figure without baring much of her flushed mahogany skin - save for shapely legs prowling beneath its ruffled hem and a window under her ample bust. Her scarlet corset, embroidered with flowing silver, hugs a wide waist and draws attention to wider hips. Her vibrant crimson hairbun and the few curling locks she allows to tumble down her cheek openly bear graying streaks of salmon pink. Where the other elves’ long, pointed ears stand straight as blades of grass, hers droop toward the ground; and yet she decorates them with emerald piercings and draping silver chains. Despite it all, she holds her soft chin high, her spine straight, and keeps a warm curve to her pink-painted lips.
A pale woman with white hair, cyan lips, and icy blue eyes glares at the viewer, sneering in annoyance. A trans flag is behind her.
Excerpt that reads: So she ran, terrified and alone, able only to buy fleeting seconds of life before her bloodthirsty pursuer found her. She struggled and fell until she could not stand again. And when she failed one last time, his teeth ripped through her throat. The explosion of pain from the ragged hole in her neck swiftly dulled to a warm euphoria, then melted, faded, until Solange saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. Until Solange’s body and mind gave up, and she died. And still he drank her spurting blood, for he was not content to merely feed on her. He drank until he gnawed a hole into the center of her being, for he wanted to claim her. A hungry seed found purchase in that emptiness, a fragment of his own cursed blood, and it bloomed in her corpse. Its festering roots coiled around her heart and burrowed through her veins and ensnared her soul until the cold embrace of death was swept away in a firestorm of raw, agonizing, accursed life, and Solange screamed.
A Gibbarts 'Understand my ship in 5 minutes' template featuring Tiferet and Casimir. Notably, there's a 228-year age gap, but it's fine because they're elves; Tiferet exceeds the horny limits, while Casimir is full up on awkwardness; and they're polar opposites on relationship experience, introverted/extroverted, and pet name usage. But they're nearly identical in waiting for a confession, making dinner, and affection through actions!
Excerpt that reads: They ride through the corpse of Havrelee. The bones of homes convulse, fingers clutching and backs arching. Some unidentifiable liquid seeps up through the cracks in the opalescent cobble road, globules drifting up into the sky. Lightning flashes crimson and violet between the stars above, a sound like cracked skulls and broken ribs. And yet, the town is still. Holding its breath. As they cross a shimmering street, something moves too quickly out of the corner of Tiferet’s eye. She whips her head down the road, glares down the foggy emptiness. She can’t see anything, but she hears…something pounding, frantic, distant. Then the air blurs, pressure crushes down around her, and the world turns. In the next split second, Amdusias howls, its head crashes against the road, the buildings are sideways, her shoulder slams into the cobble, the swirling sky is in front of her, and by the time she realizes she’s falling she has fallen, her back already stretched across Amdusias’s blade-horn, the razor’s edge splitting through her flesh and barely scraping against her spine, and somehow she doesn’t scream. “Tiferet!” She hears Casimir somewhere out of her sight, but she can’t look for him because Amdusias is trying to right itself and it’s going to carve the rest of the way through her, so she crushes its will beneath her own and forces it to stay in that buckling kneel, and there’s that blur in the air again, and an impact, and Vaillant squawks, and Vhixatik bellows as she commands it to defend them. Through the turmoil she hears that pounding rhythm, closer, closer. She has to move. She can’t dispel Amdusias without a gesture, but her elbows are the only thing keeping weight off her back - and if she disperses into bloody mist Casimir would know what she is, and she can’t think clearly enough to weigh that risk because she has to do something.
Excerpt that reads: She would claim what she was owed. She would make every loathsome soul see the wages of their disdain. She would rip open the throat of this wretched world and watch paradise drown in its own blood.
Photo of a beige-blue vampire shrimp perched on a rock, its frond-claws extended into the water to catch debris.
Photo of a round, orange bed bug on a person's skin.
An image of a parent bug, a shield bug with a mottled green and red shell.
A pink and white orchid mantis sitting inside of a similarly colored orchid blossom.
Photo of a velvet ant (wasp) on a leaf. Its bright red body is in sharp contrast to its black banding and legs.
A bronze-skinned woman with metallic blue wasp features. She wears an azure hood and sheer veil lined with gold. Her locs are made of the same chitin as her antennae, blue chitin fading into amber. Art by Elufae.
A picture of me holding a hognose snake. She's beige with brown spots and bold orange stripes on the underside of her tail.
Excerpt that reads: ‘While your skill is commendable (they always began so politely), there were, unfortunately, students of more promise who were chosen to join the ranks of Atelier Iofreit at this time (and Atelier Guinglain, and Atelier Calogrenant, and Atelier Osevain, and Atelier Lucanere, and and and and and). If you are willing to provide a modest enrollment fee of (however many thousands of sols they wanted to wring out of her, as if she didn’t already have to save for months just to afford their hundred-sol application fees), we would happily make a space for you. If not, we recommend that you consider hiring a tutor to improve your, respectably, lacking conjuration skills, and apply again during a less competitive round of enrollment.’ It was, conveniently, never a less competitive round, if the steady pace of Solange’s rejections was any indication.
A list of mutations from overuse of hydra blood infusions: You grow patches of scales over your body, halfway between fish and lizard. Your breath becomes eye-wateringly acrid, visible as greenish mist. Spiny fins emerge from your forearms. You can control their angle with a little practice. Your teeth fall out and are replaced with needle-like teeth, pointed inward like those of a salmon or other predatory fish. You can make unarmed strikes with them that inflict 1d4 piercing damage. Your hands and feet become elongated and webbed. Your swim speed increases by 5 feet. Your blood becomes highly acidic. If you take slashing or piercing damage from a creature within 5 feet, they take 1d4 acid damage. You grow a flexible, scaled tail and a spiny fin that goes from the base of your neck to the tip of the tail. You can use your tail for unarmed strikes. Whenever you next receive an open wound, instead of a scar, the wound heals over as a small version of your own face lacking hair, eyes, or teeth. You grow a new limb, but in the wrong place. It is too vestigial to be used properly. If cut off, it may grow back. Your saliva becomes a noxious poison, constantly drooling from your mouth. A creature who ingests this poison must make a DC 14 Constitution save or become poisoned. This includes you. Your neck elongates to three feet. Unfortunately, you cannot regenerate a severed head yet.
A mahogany-skinned elf woman with tumbling scarlet curls. Her glowing eyes have emerald sclera and lavender irises. Art by ToriOliveiraArt
Illustration of a witch in a pink hat, heart glasses and sweater dragging a mouse cursor magically across a desktop. There's multiple files overlaid across the desktop. Drawn by gdbeeart, Oct 2025
Several excerpts that read: “If I wanted to insult you, I’d call you, perhaps, a desultory shitstain more concerned with a chip to his own fragile ego than true, selfless service to Tron Daurat, who couldn’t identify an alukah if it pulled down his pants and bit his balls off. But I’d never say that!” “Oh, forgive me,” Tiferet scoffs, tossing her hands into the air. “Why would I want to know ahead of time that I was about to fuck my dead ex in someone else’s body? How stupid of me!” “Good to see you well, Vidame Tiferet.” Tiferet crosses one leg over the other and laces her fingers in her lap before gracing him with her charming smile. “Admirable effort, Léonce, but lies really don’t suit you.” With the innocence of a saint in her jeweled eyes, she replies, “Darling, I didn’t lie. That was just a few truths told from creative angles.” “Learn to respect your allies, you brain-dead sow,” she sighed to the crumpled warlock. “I’m saving your life, you fatuous fucking cretin!” “Aim for the demons, you blind moron!” “I know you’re two-thirds a fool, Casimir,” she drones, “but now I’m seriously concerned about that last third.” ...and sometimes he has half the sense Binah gave a tree stump. "Tiferet, your arm-" "Is broken, yes. Don't worry about it." "Don't worry about it?!" "Good to know your hearing works." "Did that simply not appeal to your divine fucking palate?" "Oh, don't worry. I've had plenty of practice cramming huge things inside me."
Screenshot of a Tumblr reblog exchange. peridotsofficialtwitteraccount: IF YOU CANT HANDLE ME AT MY WORST, JUST REMEMBER THAT I HANDLE ME AT MY WORST AND THAT MAKES ME STRONGER THAN YOU mybpdblog: Oh my goodness this makes me feel powerful I hadn't even thought of it like this.
Excerpt that reads: There was a tenderness to the way Cinthie clutched her wrists and squeezed her thighs, her hips, her breasts; a gentleness that tempered the sharp caress of talons down her skin, never once drawing blood. When she let a gasp or moan escape, when a warm shiver ran up her spine, Cinthie seemed to take note of the exact spot that elicited each response; avoiding them until Solange begged, only returning when Solange could hardly bear it any longer. And though she couldn’t see, though she could only squirm and shudder in Cinthie’s hold, Solange found a strange freedom in that restraint. Here, in this one place, with this one person, she didn’t have to make every small decision, fret over every possibility, take control of her life because anyone else would mistreat it when given the opportunity. She could forget, and just feel, as if the ever-turning world finally stopped for a little while.
Excerpt that reads: “Are you serious? You’re Nehushtan, you’ve got authority over the Order just by existing, and you don’t know that warlocks have to declare themselves when entering a business? Like an inn, for instance?” Surprise darts across Casimir’s face, but his frustration swiftly drowns it. “I’m light cavalry, Tiferet, not law enforcement. You know there’s a difference, right?” Ah. Admittedly, not a difference she’s caught on to, considering she avoids the Nehushtan like the plague. Still, admitting fault will do nothing to quench the embers of her temper, so she throws her hand in the air instead. “Well fuck me then.” “Already did.”
Excerpt that reads: A rueful smile flickers across her lips. “How do you tell the person you love that you have to hurt things to survive? That your existence is a moral quandary where you either inflict suffering on a regular basis or starve yourself and slowly lose your mind?
Art of a mahogany-skinned vampire elf. She has glowing red eyes behind a black lace veil descending from a golden crown. She wears a flowing burgundy dress with a trail patterned with roses. Skeletal wings spread from her back, the membranes made of crystallized blood like panes of stained glass.
Excerpt that reads: Tiferet stood over Hyaecinthe, arms folded behind her, feet firmly planted on either side of the masshith’s waist. Hyaecinthe lunged - and ethereal pink chains bound her against the floor with unyielding strength. Tiferet didn’t even flinch. “Let me go, you prissy bitch!” Hyaecinthe roared and strained against her bindings in fruitless rebellion. "Not until you've settled down." Gone was Tiferet’s coy lilt; in its place were piercing thorns. “I've tried to be a polite and patient hostess, and clearly that has been too generous. So, let me be very clear: you are here, Hyaecinthe, because I am your last chance at survival. If I cannot give you control over yourself, you will be euthanized. Therefore, the moment I decide you step out of line, I will pull you back in. The moment you become a risk to either of us, I will nullify that threat in whatever way it must be done.” Silence. The warlock twirled two fingers in the air. “This is where you say ‘understood,’ or something similarly subservient.” “I’m not a bird you can command to sing,” Hyaecinthe hissed.
An elven woman with mahogany skin, curly red hair in an asymmetrical mane, and lavender eyes. She wears a low-cut emerald top, pink pearls, and golden teardrop earrings, as well as red lipstick and eyeliner. A fang pokes out of her teasing smile. Behind her are the pansexual (three horizontal bars of pink, yellow, and blue) and demiromantic (a black triangle over three horizontal bars of white, green, and grey) flags.