incandescent-creativity
Curiouser and Curiouser
Aspiring author, asexual, she/they. Mostly a Writeblr, often a nerd and space enthusiast. Accidental creator of the comic sans WIP posts. See pinned for wip pages; ask box is always open!
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pastadrawstma
Local Magpod obsessed attention whore
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patchworkpuzzle
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kpopynati
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People who have self-pubbed, how's it going for you?
You can tell me in a normal ask or an anon ask or or a dm, with as much or as little detail as you want. What are your numbers like? What do you think you did well, or could have done better when it comes to selling your book?
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People reblogging dungeon meshi posts and going “I don’t go here but”. Well? Fix that then.
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New type of narrator. Not unreliable narrator but narrator whose need for therapy is definitely influencing this story.
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Dear, oh deer
Art by me! Okay to rb <3
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It’s been ages since I’ve done one, but the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt today matched up with a nice chunk of what I wrote today!
So in honor of the coincidence, have the first draft of what Ash discovering she has horns now.
When I wake up, it feels like it has been less than a minute, but I find myself in a different bed than the one I’ve been sleeping on in my room, laying on my stomach with my arms folded beneath a pillow that supports my head.
That’s not how I usually sleep, which only heightens my disorientation. I push up with my arms carefully, conscious of the healing wound on my right forearm, and try to sit up. It must have been one hell of a nap; my muscles feel tight and stiff, like I was sleeping on them funny. Which I guess is what I was doing, since I woke up on my stomach.
I was placed on some sort of a cot, which makes more sense once I sit up and swing my legs over the edge to recognize the apothecary. Nobody else is in the room with me, human or otherwise. That puzzles me, until I realize that they must have thought that I was stable enough to attend to other matters.
Still, I would have thought that Zach, at least, would have been here. We seemed to be on pretty good terms after our conversation yesterday, but maybe he is in a separate room, working off his portion of the pain price.
That must have been what happened to me. I must have taken the price in the head. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I remember it the blasting pain that happened, and it only happened after the last of the ritual’s light had faded. And I’m still dealing with it; I have the most blinding headache. It makes it hard to think straight, so I sit there, numb without thought, for a long moment before it occurs to me that head wounds can be pretty serious.
That’s another reason someone should be here attending me. But when I look down at the flat pillow in concern, there isn’t a spot of blood on it. That seems pretty unusual to my eyes. It’s not that I don’t trust in the healer’s skills, but I don’t even feel any bandages on my head.
I lift a hand to my temple to make sure, and forget about my headache for a second. There might not be any bandages on my head, but there is a hard lump an inch or two above my ear. It’s protruding out of my hair, but poking through the thick locks makes it seem flush with my skin. So it isn’t like the healer put something on my head to dull the pain.
I take my fingers away for the quickest of seconds just to check for blood. They come away clean. My tired brain catches up and I realize that, if I was actively bleeding in the area by this lump, it would have hurt when I started poking around.
Trying to give myself some grace, I shake my head. The movement feels… strange. It’s almost heavier, but in a way that feels like the way my head moves through the air is different.
More confused than when I woke up, I go back to my tactile inspection. The thing, whatever it is continues further up and backwards, away from my forehead, getting thinner as it goes. It’s subtly ridged, like if the centerpoint of a tree ring had been raised, and every subsequent ring grew out thicker below it until the whole thing appeared like a conical tower. But thinner, and subtle, and almost curved and arching, making a space between the top of my head and…
I freeze, forming a thought that might be a realization. To confirm, I raise my other hand up to the other side of my head. Sure enough, I feel another one.
Are these… horns?
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I had a nightmare about marketing ghost punch sooooo
Buy my book! Review it!
It’s really good I promise!!
It has a Victorian era amnesiac ghost and spoilers but do you like rat kings. Do you. Just keep reading
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does anyone know of any other weird incidents like the oakville blobs or the kentucky meat shower
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and at the end of the day who doesnt love a big bi boy
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Hit me with some Drawing Requests in my asks
Whaaat the title says!
Fandoms I know/would love to draw shit for:
- Helluva Boss
- Hazbin Hotel
- Stardew Valley
- Dimension 20 Fantasy High, Escape from the Bloodkeep, Unsleeping City, or Court of Fey and Flowers
- Critical Role any season
- BG3
- The Magnus Archives
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thank you for the rentalcasks I'll try to answer them tomorrow :3
#RENTALCASKS LMAO#come down to my basement readers…#I have very fine vintages of vampires just down the way…#yes yes just in there. do not mind the brick laying tools in my hand.
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things to ask yourself when designing a female character:
how much blood is she covered in
are her eyes filled with madness
can she rip things to shreds with her fingernails
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The other day, I went down the rabbit hole of "cute donkeys" and came up with my head full of things I didn't know about mules (the hybrid offspring of a horse and a donkey), and why they were once so coveted as work animals.
Brace for info dump, while enjoying this lovely photo of a trio of draft mules.
The explanation is hybrid vigour, when hybrid offspring have enhanced traits compared to its parents:
Mules are stronger, hardier, healthier, have better enduranve, harder hooves, sturdier skin and can handle extreme weather better than horses or donkeys. They are also more patient, more intelligent, and easier to handle than either of their parent species. Horses may be faster, but that's about the single thing they're better at than a mule of the same size.
So mules, being all around nicer to work with and getting you more work for the same amount of feed, and with less hassle, were preferred for just about every job purpose.
Habby du Magnou, a Poitevin Mulassier mare, and her daughter Lady du Magnou, a rare Poitevin mule
But since horses have 64 chromosomes and donkeys have 62, mules end up with 63 chromosomes, which means they are almost invariably sterile. That's because biology gets very confused when trying to split an uneven number of chromosomes neatly in half to create germ cells. There are a few documented exceptions of fertile mule mares (never stallions), but they are very, very rare. So you have to keep crossbreeding the two parent species to produce them, usually by breeding a donkey sire (jack) to a horse dam (mare). This is because it's easier for a 32 chromosome egg to incorporate a 31 chromosome sperm into a viable zygote (fertilised egg) than vice versa.
Because of this, there was (and still is) in France a breed of absolutely massive draft horses, the Poitevin Mulassier, and a breed of big-ass donkeys (pun intended, but honestly, it's arguably the largest donkey in the world, and it's shaggy like Highland cattle), the Baudet du Pitou, two breeds whose main purpose was to breed the enormous and super-strong Poitevin mule.
The Poitevin mule
This absolute unit was the must-have work-animal for all kinds of farm and industrial work for centuries, and a significant French export, until mechanisation made these magnificent creatures obsolete.
With no demand for the Poitevin mule , its parent breeds dwindled, almost to the brink of extinction. Determined conservation efforts during the last few decades are slowly bringing their numbers back up, but they're very far from their heyday, when some 20,000 Poitevin mules were born annually.
The Poitevin Mulassier
Both the parent breeds are still endangered, which means most of the current effort is directed into bringing up the numbers of Poitevin horses and Pitou donkeys. This means breeding horses to horses and donkeys to donkeys, with very few breeding opportunities allowed to produce the Poitevin mule. Only about 20 of those are born each year.
The Baudet du Pitou
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i wanna do this again…. assign the person you reblogged this from a representative emoji like they’re a kpop idol
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It’s been ages since I’ve done one, but the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt today matched up with a nice chunk of what I wrote today!
So in honor of the coincidence, have the first draft of what Ash discovering she has horns now.
When I wake up, it feels like it has been less than a minute, but I find myself in a different bed than the one I’ve been sleeping on in my room, laying on my stomach with my arms folded beneath a pillow that supports my head.
That’s not how I usually sleep, which only heightens my disorientation. I push up with my arms carefully, conscious of the healing wound on my right forearm, and try to sit up. It must have been one hell of a nap; my muscles feel tight and stiff, like I was sleeping on them funny. Which I guess is what I was doing, since I woke up on my stomach.
I was placed on some sort of a cot, which makes more sense once I sit up and swing my legs over the edge to recognize the apothecary. Nobody else is in the room with me, human or otherwise. That puzzles me, until I realize that they must have thought that I was stable enough to attend to other matters.
Still, I would have thought that Zach, at least, would have been here. We seemed to be on pretty good terms after our conversation yesterday, but maybe he is in a separate room, working off his portion of the pain price.
That must have been what happened to me. I must have taken the price in the head. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I remember it the blasting pain that happened, and it only happened after the last of the ritual’s light had faded. And I’m still dealing with it; I have the most blinding headache. It makes it hard to think straight, so I sit there, numb without thought, for a long moment before it occurs to me that head wounds can be pretty serious.
That’s another reason someone should be here attending me. But when I look down at the flat pillow in concern, there isn’t a spot of blood on it. That seems pretty unusual to my eyes. It’s not that I don’t trust in the healer’s skills, but I don’t even feel any bandages on my head.
I lift a hand to my temple to make sure, and forget about my headache for a second. There might not be any bandages on my head, but there is a hard lump an inch or two above my ear. It’s protruding out of my hair, but poking through the thick locks makes it seem flush with my skin. So it isn’t like the healer put something on my head to dull the pain.
I take my fingers away for the quickest of seconds just to check for blood. They come away clean. My tired brain catches up and I realize that, if I was actively bleeding in the area by this lump, it would have hurt when I started poking around.
Trying to give myself some grace, I shake my head. The movement feels… strange. It’s almost heavier, but in a way that feels like the way my head moves through the air is different.
More confused than when I woke up, I go back to my tactile inspection. The thing, whatever it is continues further up and backwards, away from my forehead, getting thinner as it goes. It’s subtly ridged, like if the centerpoint of a tree ring had been raised, and every subsequent ring grew out thicker below it until the whole thing appeared like a conical tower. But thinner, and subtle, and almost curved and arching, making a space between the top of my head and…
I freeze, forming a thought that might be a realization. To confirm, I raise my other hand up to the other side of my head. Sure enough, I feel another one.
Are these… horns?
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Detail from a walk. Maybe I’m losing it but everything looked so lovely yesterday.
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