welcome to my site! this will (eventually) be home to all that dwells within the recesses of my brain. you will learn about my interests, my worlds, & any projects i decide to take up. the current format is based on the template used by ayu's brilliant site, but eventually i plan to handwrite everything while i relearn html/css properly.
want to get in touch? my email is celsient[at]pm[dot]me.
i'm cel i was born in 2003. they/she pronouns. there are plenty of things that this site will be someday but right now it's fairly plain. behold my secrets
^ this is my cat ludo, glutton prince of sloth
he lives with my parents though he's still my beloved little despot
i have a great love of worldbuilding, the practice of creating fictional worlds and characters. it's an activity that provides me a lot of comfort. i even started a worldbuilding society when i was in university!
what are my worlds?
🛰 ️DUAL RECKONINGS
STEWARD INBOUND, WORLD IMMATERIAL, HALCYON MARCHES RIGHT ON IN. an alien land stares down the coming millennium while its new cold war grows hotter. the science of neurethemy, the screaming of the sun, and the communists' four-dimensional computer network from here to the moon.
in summer 2026 i intend to put out Seven Legs Running, an anthology of stories set in the late conflict era broadly about the revolutionary movement and its eventual schism. told from seven perspectives across the planet's seven imperial powers in the twilight of their rule. so look forward to that.
the story of Dual Reckonings itself is set eighty years later at the turn of the millennium. it's about a burnout losergirl alone in space and shackled to amalgam divinity, a miserable messianic godkid dreading their kingdom to come, and a wretched young woman who will redeem her family name and become god in the process. themes of transfemininity, isolation, disability, and grief.
🌫 FOGWORLD
IN ISOLATION LIES MADNESS, THOUGHT POOLS WITH THE MANY. mind-choking fog pushes civilisation into towering cities, fixed points in a misted landscape that seems unable to remember itself. trade caravans in the sparse tide, chrysalising royal aides, rural orders of monastic counselors, and out there in the distance, sometimes, the wandering machine god Ephenisus with its 17-34 legs and angelic crimson eyes. broadly epistolary — told through a trove of in-universe documents.
⚙ LUNAR SICKNESS
i admittedly think of this much less. a faux video game about repurposed industrial landscapes and the crusades of the supercomputers who rule over them, three hundred years bereft of original purpose. spun off from OCs for a game — i'll give you five guesses.