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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Hiya! firstly i wanna say that i love reading your larissa fics so much, thank you so much for all the larissa content that you produce. I also wanna request a kissing booth at the fair/harvest festival fic? either f!reader or larissa is in it, i leave that to you :> add in some larissa gay panicking for reader and i just think it would be so cute!

Kissing Booth

Larissa Weems x Reader

Authors Note: This started out fluffy... and then it just progressed soooooooo idk

You were a little uncertain when your students asked to attend the Harvest Festival in Jericho so they could fundraise via kissing booth. As their advising professor, you felt as if the whole thing may be a bad idea, but they were determined. The sight of Principal Weems watching over the other Nevermore students made the Harvest Festival worth the time.

You always felt as if there was a flirtation between the two of you, but you had no real evidence to substantiate that claim.

"I see the students seem to be enjoying the booth... I was hesitant to sign off on it..." Larissa stood at your side, glancing over at the students who were excitedly chattering with one another.

"They wouldn't stop talking about the idea, so I'm glad you did." You fold your arms over your chest and glance lovingly at your little group of students. When you turn back to Larissa, you look up to see she was looking down at you now. You bump your hip into her gently and tease her, "Did you get your kiss yet?"

"I have not." Larissa shrugged in response, looking away from you as she spoke and pretending to observe the surrounding fair.

"Say the word and I'll kiss you. I'll even give you a discount because you're so pretty." You gaze out onto the carnival as well, but you ended up missing Larissa's face turning bright red and her blush reaching up to the tops of her ears. She had not expected you to be so forward with her.

"I-I- Uhm, well-" Larissa fumbled for her words, unable to decide how she wanted to say yes to your offer.

"Mx. L/n, can you help us with this?" A student called from the kissing booth, drawing your attention away from the panicking Larissa. You glance up at her and offer a wink before taking your leave to help your students. Perhaps later you could talk about that kiss.

-------

"You kids go on back to the school. I can finish packing up." You shoo off the students, knowing curfew was drawing near and tomorrow was a school day. They were taking the bulk of the supplies back with them and you were more than capable of putting the table and chairs in your car.

Once the students disappeared from sight, you jumped at a feminine voice behind you, "Need some help?"

You spin around to see Larissa standing there, her head cocked to the side as she stared down at you. You must admit you were pleasantly surprised by her presence as you expected her to be back at the academy by now. Her hands reached out and took the folding chairs from your arms. Rather than argue, you accept her help, "Thank you, Larissa."

You pick up the table by its handle and together you walk to your car, making idle discussion about the Harvest Festival and how you imagined the students enjoyed it. Once to the car, you pop the trunk and toss the table in, followed by the chairs. You glance up to Larissa when the job is done, reminding her of your earlier discussion, "You know, I never did give you that kiss."

"Oh, you don't have to- I mean, not that I wouldn't like you to. It's just that I-" Larissa looked away from you, nervously glancing anywhere that wasn't you.

"Larissa, I'm going to kiss you know, if that's okay?" When you interrupt her, you take a step closer, reaching out to grasp her by the front of her coat. Her eyes widen at your forwardness, but she doesn't step away.

Larissa nods, giving you consent to kiss her. You reach up and pull her down by the back of her neck, but you don't connect your lips. Rather, you make her close the gap between the two of you. She hesitates for a moment, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure..." You move your face closer, leaving millimeters between the two of you. Her breath is hot across your lips and you are unsure of how much more of this you could take.. Gently her lips graze over yours, the initial meeting was so soft and unsure. You needed this woman to stop teasing you and just kiss you already

You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped when Larissa darted a tongue from between her lips, moistening them. Her gloved hand came up to your cheek and finally she connected your lips for a short sweet kiss. After you parted, her eyes locked onto yours and you were sure of what she wanted.

You pulled on the back of her neck, pulling her into a deeper kiss. This one was hungrier. Her arms wound around you, one around your neck and the other around your waist. She pressed you up against the car and you continued exploring one another's' mouth. When you grazed your tongue along her bottom lip, Larissa pulled away, her breathing heavy.

"Sorry." You whisper quickly. Her face was still mere inches from yours and your eyes were locked on hers.

"Care to join me for a drink?" Larissa ignores the apology and finds her own way to move this evening along, "At my place?"

"God, yes." You couldn't even attempt to hide your desire to spend more time with her. Without hesitation, she pushes her lips against yours for another chaste kiss.

That night, you hadn't gone any further than more kissing on her living room sofa. Both of you were still too timid to do any more. The smell of her perfume mixed with the taste of red wine on her tongue had you on your knees. Larissa asked you back for dinner the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #principal larissa weems #wednesday netflix #oneshot #fanfic #gwendoline christie #larissa weems fluff

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rutobuka2 · 2 months

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hello ruto!! i’ve been such a fan for a long time, and i was wondering (if you’re open to giving advice) — what things have helped you balance consistent artmaking with other demanding life stuff?

hello!!! thank you so much for the support!! glad you've been going along for the ride! 💖 I would love to try to give some advice!

1- when I was in school, college, uni, etc, I had a lot of energy and health and used to draw all the damn time! In class, at home, etc. So I bet most people in that situation don't need help finding time to draw, since work isn't mostly expected of them.

2- nowadays, since I work with art, I have a strict schedule I have to maintain so I can create, edit, post art consistently. I believe for me, though, even before having a work relationship with art, it was about a self-feeding loop of being surrounded by fans, wanting to participate, to share new ideas, see what folks think of my art, what they want to see next... I would have a lot of trouble creating consistently if I didn't have the constant feedback. It's something that brings passion and drive, and it makes my hands itch to draw! So perhaps finding a niche, responding to comments, being social with fellow fans or artists will help you find that desire to create art!

3- don't force yourself too much. It's so easy to get repetitive strain injury, since nowadays we're always using our fingers and wrists for every task! Also, life is so important! If you need to stay away from making art for a while to take care of friends, family, yourself, it should take priority. You'll find it easier to find inspiration if your life is going well, too, there won't be a looming cloud of dread and anxiety around you if so!

4- try different things to see what feels better! I like changing materials, theme, so that things feel less monotonous in the actual "builder" phase of art. So using a different sketchbook, using loose paper, different media, etc will make the bored side of your brain be more focused! (If I didn't work with art, I'd also try to finish a 30 day drawing challenge, for once! They're so demanding!)

Anyway, good luck! If you have any more questions, please send them my way! 💪

#faq

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tennessoui · 4 months

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Congratulations on getting into grad school!!! YAY! 🎉 Same anon who read through all the KUSWK tags backwards lol. I almost never read incomplete fics because my adhd could never handle, but I ended up reading a more perfect union and just... 🥹🥹🥹 I now just need Vos to show up and for Anakin to throw the biggest hissy fit in the entire galactic realm while padme makes the am I a joke to you face (sorry padme) I am refreshing your ao3 page approximately once every 8 seconds not even kidding

ahhh thank you for taking a chance on this wip!! i am not where i want to be on the progress, but hey, it's the holidays--i still want to get this finished in december, so i'm doing a lot of writing on my phone during family time lol - here's a little bit of the beginning of the next chapter, ft. a lot of anakin being pissy but unable to understand why he's so upset

Padmé’s frown deepens. Her eyes are kind still and soft, but she looks confused and wary in her confusion. “Perhaps…” she says this carefully, drawing out the syllables like she is wrestling with herself already. She rests her hand on Anakin’s chest and takes several steps closer until she must peer up at him from under her eyelashes. “Perhaps it is for the better.” “What.” “Not that Master Kenobi is apparently—upset with you,” she is quick to add, splaying her fingers out and stroking down his skin. She has started to wear her wedding band. It flashes bright silver in the morning light. It had been her mother’s, thank the Force that they’d given Padmé a set of heirloom rings, given that Anakin had had no idea where to go for that sort of thing. Nor the funds to purchase them. He hadn’t even known what sort of jewelry Padmé preferred to wear, gold or silver. Apparently these things are important. “He has locked—” “The Jedi Council has given you leave to be my husband openly,” Padmé interrupts. Her voice is laced with steel, impatience hardening into something like ire. “You could move here, you should move here! I’m sorry that Master Kenobi’s actions have hurt you, and you will need to clear the air with him, make sure his upset was temporary. I know how…important he is to you—but perhaps we can look at this situation as for the better. The impetus you needed to make this change.” Anakin blinks rapidly, head spinning. His caf had been too strong this morning—he’d been unused to Padmé’s machine, added too many grounds or used the wrong setting. “Move here?” he repeats, eyebrows furrowing automatically. “You already spend at least half your nights on Coruscant here,” Padmé points out, her tone level but with some strange and unrecognizable note to it. “I am simply asking for a wife’s due—that you spend all your nights with me.” “I…you know I spend most of my time aboard star destroyers, angel,” Anakin looks away, cutting his eyes to that damned vase behind the damned couch.

#asks #obikin #a more perfect union #the chapter begins with a 600 word tirade against padme's couch #i very much do not know why people read what i write lol #im not lying it's like 600 words about. a couch.#i am clearly running out of things to write about

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yukibluebunny · 3 months

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𝕄𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕕𝕪 ~ - Ithaqua x Reader

This is my first written request! I apologize in advance for all grammatical and other errors. English is not my national language.

Ship: Ithaqua x Reader

Request from: zuruthekitsune

Notice -> Anxiety/fluff

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Lakeside village.

One of a number of fairly large maps used to play in duo mode. The map ranked first in terms of its size, followed closely by the smaller Moon River Park, the second largest map among the three. Just behind it is the smallest Eversleeping Town, perhaps the most mysterious and shrouded in a fog of uncertainty, with its once-accessible school and corridors of unkempt streets. What happened there that the Baron has blocked off those places? No one knows yet, and is unlikely to find out anytime soon.

Today's match, the biggest stress and fear among all the other new survivors just took place on one of these three maps. The village by the lake, it was today's map drawn as if on a wheel of fortune by the drawing system, including the survivors. And also the hunter.

Emily, the only doctor in residence.

Helen, a seemingly blind maiden with a stick for assurance, yet smart enough that even despite her blindness, repairing the cipher machine was no problem for her.

Norton, on the surface a rather quiet guy seeming to be an observer, yet coming from the veteran class in residence. One of a few of the best chairmen of the hunter, as well as rescuers of his friends from the chairs.

Well, and last what a new acquisition of the residence. (Y.N). A freshman whose life in of the hunter can only be saved by a plea to god not to become the first of the hunter target. A young girl, equipped only with her not too large but old bass flute, which itself, despite its age and her father's former use of it, continued to sound as beautiful as before. However, what's the use to her of a flute if she wouldn't be able to play it while running?

Melody would only lose her charm and enchantment more with each step through breathlessness. After all, the girl was of frail stature, she wouldn't have a chance to last too long with constant running.

Even more so under stress and anxiety, let alone the pain inflicted on her by an unmerciful hunter.

The girl's luck, however, was to wake up by the shed, which she even ran into immediately. Just to hope that the hunter wouldn't think someone might be in the shed right now, much less notice her. The flute player's skills, were not at all easy. By playing her flute, she was able to accelerate her process of deciphering the machine, including giving that acceleration to other members of her team through the sound of the melody coming out of the instrument. With the only risk, of being detected by a hunter.

(Pov: (Y.N) )

My fingers moved across the keys of the old typewriter in a calm but focused manner. Who would have thought that cipher machines, would be so much like those old typewriters used by journalists, newspapers and also banks and writers. However, the difference was that this typewriter was attached to a strange box as well as an offshoot metal pole with a light bulb at the top, the light of which became brighter and brighter the closer you got to finishing deciphering it.

However, my attention, directed at the machine, did not last too long, as soon as a bell sounded across the map, suggesting that the hunter had caught the first person. Only after a brief shock from the rapidly spreading sound did I manage to look at the watch on my wrist. On it were four gray dots, but however, this time one from the prospector was a slowly charging red dot. In one small moment, I felt quite a shock and fear pass through my whole body. Norton was hard to catch. The man was quite canny and clever, his run in with the hunter always lasting until the very end of the match, or at least until the last two machines were left, but not just four of five. His fall came as a shock to me and the lack of knowledge regarding who the hunter was made the adrenaline in my veins began to flow twice as fast as before. Don't get me wrong in spite of everything I was feeling considerable stress. However, the knowledge that we had Norton on the team only calmed me down slightly. After all, I was still only a freshman in the middle, the whole brutal game.

After only less than a moment, the watch on my wrist, gave off another quiet vibration. In doing so, it showed my location along with that of the Prospector, who was now sitting in the chair. I was the closest… and that made really scared at the moment. However, leaving Norton could only have a bad effect on the outcome of the match. So, after not a long moment, I left the machine just after giving her the percentage of finish on the watch.

Norton was sitting in a chair just near the gate by the shed, but what really bothered me was the lack of a hunter beside him. No beating heart. Nothing. Silence, in the midst of the Prospector shallow breaths.

-Norton! - I called out to him quietly, approaching him quickly, but nevertheless remaining vigilant. After all, a hunter could always come back if he wanted to.

-(Y.N)…? No. (Y.N), leave me. Get away from here - Whispered Norton. This time no longer looking at one blind spot. And at me. However, despite his objections, I released him from the chair anyway. Only to catch the poor Prospector, who was not quite limping. He was out of breath again because of his asthma.

-(Y.N)..ugh. It doesn't make sense, leave me…. run away from here, he will only come here -

-Norton I will not leave you. We can't give up - I didn't listen to him, not even knowing why Norton so suddenly went from being a confident man to completely giving up.

-Freshman, we're playing against the Night's Watch… - As soon as those last two words came out of his mouth, I froze in place as my heart, instead, by itself and not by the presence of the hunter, beat harder.

Night Watch. He was as much a new hunter as I was a survivor, but he managed to build his reputation really fast. A merciless, wily fox. Quick and brutal in his attacks. While at the same time evoking no small amount of goosebumps whenever he used his skills. Norton's words only just awakened my awareness that, after all, no one had yet managed to escape from the Night's Watch. He was like a hunting predator, he will not let his prey escape from him like that without any reason.

I wanted to turn to Norton again, to take him to a safer place anyway, as well as to treat him from the wounds inflicted on him by the Night Watch. Only to be pushed away quite suddenly by him.

-Run! - Norton called out to me. Trying to still get away from me so as not to expose me, as I didn't even realize that our hearts, quite rapidly began to beat.

In an instant, I saw what I really never wanted to see. I never wanted to see one of my team members fall to the ground, stunned by the hunter right above him. Oh it was him, in the flesh. The Night Watch. Hiding behind his devilish mask. Effortlessly wielding a check as well as walking in a slightly slanted position on stilts, oh no one would likely want to accidentally or purposely get stepped on by this hunter.

I don't even know why, but even Norton's shouts directed at me did not reach my head. Just witnessing how the hunter, annoyed by the loud shouts, without mercy pierces the man's leg with his stilts, to then finally look in my direction after silencing him.

A cold sweat doused me from head to toe as soon as those neon glowing blue eyes of his at the mask, bore into my figure as if I were his next victim, which I nevertheless was. However, to my surprise, he did not move towards me.

And only watched me. And Norton just below him bled more and more. Merciless.

Awareness came to me more and more. The knowledge that I was playing against one of the most brutal hunters infused my head with poison, a toxin of fear mixed fear and anxiety. With each successive sending off by the hunter, another member of my team.

The last one was Helen, who clearly through her watch told me not to go near her. So my only salvation was to find a trapdoor, somewhere located right on the map in the field. An underground passage that would keep me safe and my head cool, amidst my increasingly aching lungs. He was chasing me. I knew it. Even though I couldn't see him anywhere near me.

My hope was dying more and more, only to be suddenly hit on the head by the sight of the open flap of the underground passage.

Looking around once more, I finally ran out, with little hope that I could jump into the finally coveted quiet place without the thought that I might be caught right away. Oh, how foolish I was.

-Little lamb I don't want to play anymore?~ - This sudden voice made my head spin. And my heart pounded as a frosty breeze enveloped my frail figure in an embrace. Only for me to be violently pulled away from the only way of escape at the moment.

To just after that I felt male arms catch me from behind, without the slightest problem embracing me and holding me in an iron grip.

-No one has run away from me yet. And you won't be the first, little lamb. - His voice leaked through me like venom, but it did not cause pain, only a shudder.

But this voice was different, completely different from the way he laughed out loud or giggled meanly.

-Let me go! Let me go! - I jerked in his grasp, as if my life depended on it.

Since it depends on this right now, end he may not have knocked me down or hit me, only caught and held me. Just after a while too, easily catching and holding my hands at the wrists. Thanks to which he now gave me a better view as well as a reason not to struggle better in his grasp. The sight of his gloved hands and also the attached iron shiny slightly claws. It made it clear that if I really didn't want to accidentally cut the veins on my wrists, I'd better not jerk.

Even more so the moment one of his hands embraced my waist. Lifting me up easily. In such a way that I wouldn't touch the ground with my feet. And all she saw were his stilts, which themselves were now covered in blood and mud by the conditions that prevailed on this map.

However, now, the position I was in was of little concern to me now. After what words of the hunter spoken directly into my ear.

-Good, clever girl ~ Maybe this time it will be for me that you will play your lovely melody? Hm? - I didn't even realize when the Night Watch pulled off her mask, or just picked it up for herself, when a quiet and low murmur was directed directly to my ear.

And I could have really saved myself from sending to Helena a percentage of faster decoding.

-Did you lose your tongue sheepishly? ~ - He asked again, come this time his voice caused a shudder in my body, completely different and on top of that strange for me.

-Lovely frightened sheep ~ - In an instant he tightened his grip on me.

Only to then turn towards the shed. Pulling away, and me, away from the only way of my escape.

-I want to hear your melody, little one. And no matter how many times you beg me, I will listen to it ~ - And I could have given today's match to someone else after all.

My god...

#identity v #idv #idv night watch #idv ithaqua #ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #identity v x reader #night watch #x reader

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zara2148 · 1 year

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Interesting Bits from Midnight Mass’s scripts

So I mentioned being a nerd who actually compared the final episodes with the available scripts for Midnight Mass episodes (episodes 3, 4, 5, and 7). One point that jumped out at me was how it more obvious that Riley wasn’t just tolerating Father Paul’s company in AA meetings in the original scripts.

That through line IS still there in the final product, I just think it’s not as obvious and many walk out of the series thinking Riley is only tolerating him or dislikes him the whole time. (deep sigh)

The two cut/altered scenes I have to point to for that are from episode 3.

This first scene survives in an altered form, as the scene we IMMEDIATELY cut to after Hassan brings up his concerns about bibles in school to Bev and everyone, and Bev manages to regain control of the whole situation and is even applauded for wanting to help the children understand miracles.

... like, really kind of strange of Riley, a staunch atheist and someone critical of the church and organized religion, to leap so fast to Paul’s defense against the childhood friend he’s reconnecting with/potentially falling back in love with. Unless we assume that yes, he’s come to like and trust Paul as a person.

(my guess is this scene was trimmed down because we are kind of being TOLD what to think about Paul, versus drawing our own conclusions about him).

Then there’s later in the episode, where the script has Riley speak more casually to Father Paul as he walks in for the meeting than in the episode, where he enters the rec center silently.

A certain level of comfort with Paul is being projected there. A vibe of “You have got to hear the latest shit that Bev is pulling now.” Gossipy housewives the both of them.

There’s also the brief, blink-and-you-miss it mention in this scene that Riley has been talking to Paul more than once a week during AA when Paul urges him to not give such a pat answer to Joe (this part is in the finished episode, I just find it easier to screencap the script).

Speaking of... this bit was cut from the AA trio scene after Riley tells Joe it’s enough he showed up:

From context, it reads very much that Paul is saying he and Riley are friends, rather than suggesting that Riley and Joe will be/are friends. Like you could read that into it and I think it is a part of it (Paul just wants Riley to be surrounded with friends, guys), but it reads more to me that Paul is saying he wanted to push for and challenge Riley to be his best self as a friend with his “that’s bullshit” speech.

But I think the most obvious moment of “Oh, Riley isn’t just talking with Father Paul to fulfill a parole requirement and is hesitant to speak with him otherwise” that survived to the final cut is in episode 4, after Riley’s spent a while comforting Erin about her abortion and Joe’s death has more or less been handled.

Like... he didn’t have to ask that question. He could have just talked about his feelings surrounding this event or not even brought up Erin’s miscarriage at all in the meeting. It’s a very personal thing to share, even with a priest acting as a therapist.

He’s not doing this for Erin’s sake, it’s not a roundabout way to get the priest to go comfort his religious friend as he’s quick to dissuade Paul from that. Riley brought up this topic to get his own emotions about it out.

And he wanted to hear what Paul thought you should do in that situation. He trusted that perhaps, he might have a better idea than Riley himself did.

And of course, it’s a twist of the knife that not long after this emotional honesty, he catches Paul in a pretty significant lie.

(Also, the sheer number of points I can gesture to as evidence that Paul ALSO very much cared about Riley could really be its own series of posts... and it might need to be, since it does seem to get missed/overlooked as an element of his character. It’s a twisted bromance and I love it so.)

#midnight mass spoilers #midnight mass #priley #might as well tag that though this isn't romantic #long post #it wasn't supposed to be long lulz #riley flynn #john pruitt #father paul hill #let's see how much attention this gets before i consider doing more

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damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog · 10 months

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Song of Crickets

AO3 Link

MC is having trouble sleeping

Ominis x fem!MC

SFW

Good ol' angst and comfort

Word count: 1,928

A/N: I wanted to polish this and post it during breaks while working on the bigger fic I'm finishing up atm. I was cleaning out my drafts and found this short, self-indulgent fluff thing that's been sitting mostly finished for a long time. Sorry if it's boring! I like it even if nobody else does :)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sounds of night had once lulled MC to sleep, but that time was long gone. She used to be enchanted by the sounds of crickets and the distant cries of owls, but nighttime had become a harbinger of terror. She did everything in her power to put off sleeping until the wee hours of the morning when her body physically refused to continue on. Even when she did let sleep's grip pull her under, she would only last a few hours at a time. Her dreams were filled with visions of everything terrifying, violent and regrettable she had done that year to earn the regrettable nickname of "Hero of Hogwarts." Her waking hours were spent preparing for OWLs and drowning out her thoughts spending time with friends.

MC and Ominis had spent the entirety of their Friday evening together in the Room of Requirement. Their friends had invited them to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers, but the pair had politely declined. MC and Ominis had scarcely gotten the chance to be a typical adolescent couple after everything that had happened in their fifth year of school. MC could think of nothing better than an evening spent in each other’s arms, kissing his perfect lips and talking about nothing in particular.

The late May air had drifted in through opened windows in the Room of Requirement for hours, and when the sun had fully set and the air turned chill, MC nestled into Ominis' side under his robe. As she listened to his voice echo in his chest while he described a particularly devious prank on Duncan Hobhouse, she felt at peace. The pair had enjoyed an evening of conversation and romance, talking about everything from their most embarrassing mistakes in class that year to what they wanted to do as adults. Ominis had reclined against the couch and pulled MC to his chest, arms around her lovingly as he reached one hand up to indolently run his fingers through her hair and kiss the crown of her head now and then.

As the evening drew to a close, Ominis rolled to lay MC gently on the couch, stood and stretched. "I suppose we ought to go back to the dormitories. I don't even want to know how late it is."

MC looked up at him and felt a tug in her throat. Her blissful thoughts evaporated as quickly as his warmth fading from her skin. "Just a while longer couldn't hurt, could it?"

Ominis chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You've said that at least three times now, my little hummingbird. I adore spending time with you, but I’m very tired. Perhaps we should pick this up tomorrow morning. We can find more things to do, just you and I. What about a walk to Hogsmeade? I would love to find some sweets to buy for you, and I certainly wouldn't be opposed to a butterbeer or two."

MC stared off into nothing. Spending more time with him in the morning was exactly what she needed, but it was the interim that gave her distress.

When he didn't hear her say anything, Ominis grew concerned. "What is it, MC? Are you feeling all right?"

MC’s words became stuck in her throat and, knowing he could not actually see her, she shook her head as she sat up to draw her knees up to her chest.

Hearing nothing, Ominis reached a hand out and placed it on her head. "It's only a few hours. Surely you can wait that long," he said reassuringly as he ran his fingers over her soft hair. When he heard quiet sniffling, he froze. "MC, please, speak to me—did I say something wrong?"

"No," MC furiously wiped her tears away, embarrassed at her outburst. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm being selfish, and you already have so much on your mind... never you worry. I think Hogsmeade is a lovely idea."

Ominis sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms again. Her body went limp against his chest. "Please tell me what's on your mind. The others tell me you look as if you haven't been sleeping well lately. I thought you might just be anxious about your OWLs, but now I'm worried. You're never like this."

"It's just..." MC paused to sniffle, "I haven't been able to sleep properly for weeks now. It’s selfish, but I don't want this evening with you to end because I'll be alone again."

Ominis leaned back and held her by her shoulders. It was almost as if he was staring directly into her eyes, and it was utterly haunting. His face darkened with worry. "What happened to cause this? I might be able to pull some strings and get favors at St. Mungo's. If it's an illness or a curse, I would talk to them in a heartbeat for you and—MC, has someone hurt you? If someone has hurt you, I need to know. Merlin help the wretched soul who dares lay a hand on you and think they can get away with—"

"It's because of everything that’s happened," MC interrupted quietly. "Ranrok, Rookwood, even that slimy Harlow... and dear Sebastian, too. I'm terrified of being alone in Hogsmeade, especially near the wandmaker's shop. I can't stomach my memories of Rookwood... and the things I've seen—Merlin. Lodgok, the dozens of poachers I've simply extinguished without a second thought, the innocent victims of Ranrok... and Uncle Solomon."

"You should have told me." Ominis tried to admonish her, but the words came out as despair. "I care about you as much as life itself, and I think I ought to know things like this."

"But you seem to have taken things so well," MC mumbled. "I didn't want to bother you with my own troubles. Before tonight, we hadn't had a romantic moment together in so long. I didn't want to ruin our evening with something like that."

"Taken it well?" Ominis felt a twinge of frustration. "How could I have taken any of this well at all? I lost Solomon as well, and now that I've lost both Anne I might as well have lost Sebastian, too. He never speaks, barely attends classes... How could anyone take that well?"

His scolding surprised MC and, realizing she had ruined the end of their evening despite her best efforts by frustrating him, felt utter despair. In a selfish moment, she wished he could see the tears that welled in her eyes. She leaned forward and buried her face in Ominis' shoulder, gripping the back of his robe over his shoulder blades and letting loose sobs that shook her entire body as weeks of anguish, frustration and exhaustion finally boiled over. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

In a panic, Ominis immediately held her tight and rubbed her back, hushing her and rocking her gently. "It’s all right. Please, don’t worry. Just breathe.” With every shudder, every shake of her breath, he felt a sting of her pain. He held her head to his shoulder, tenderly pressing his lips into her hair. "You must be feeling tremendous stress. It has been difficult, hasn't it?" A lump formed in his throat so quickly, he could do little to stop his voice breaking. "Unbearably difficult."

The only other sound in the room to accompany MC’s tears was the dull thrum of crickets and the night breeze from outside, and Ominis suddenly felt as if they were both impossibly small against the rest of the world. He thought of the scriptorium, Aunt Noctua, the catacomb and losing the entire Sallow family in three separate, cruel ways. Neither he nor MC had been the same since winter, and he felt tears sting his own eyes. He melted into MC, holding her as if he might lose her, too. "I'm here. Please, you don't have to do this alone... I don't want either of us to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened to us.”

“All I seem to do is tempt danger and pain. There are so many people I couldn’t help, and now I see them every night. I’m scared that, eventually, I’ll fail you, too. I don’t want to only see you in my dreams.” MC’s tears began anew, unable to form words. Ominis gathered her up in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. He rested his chin on her head and noticed how small she felt, still shivering and crying.

“Hush, my darling,” Ominis whispered. “You don’t need to be perfect. Protecting others is noble—I admire you more than you could ever know for it—but please don’t throw your life away needlessly for it. Remember that I want to be with you, too. Were you suddenly not in it, my life would be little more than a pale shadow of what it is now. I promise you won't fail me like that. I need you.”

“I need you too,” MC’s voice quavered as she gripped the hem of his robe.

Even as their breathing eventually slowed and their trembling faded, his hold on her remained fast.

“I’m sorry you have to think about this too,” MC finally mumbled. “I know you suffer because of your family and everything that’s happened. I don’t want to burden you.”

Ominis squeezed her shoulder. “Please don’t hold these things inside you on my account. I love you, and while I wish the circumstances under which we met were better, you are a light in my life. You mean an indescribable amount to me. I would do anything if it meant you were happy.”

Ominis could feel the muscles in MC’s back begin to soften at his words, and her grip on his robe loosened. He traced a hand up the side of her face and lovingly swept away whatever tears he could find. She sighed deeply and held his hand in place.

“Shall I stay with you here tonight? I promise I’ll chase off any bad dreams I can,” he said with a small smile.

MC sniffled once more. “Only if you want to. I would feel terribly if you didn’t sleep as well here as in your own bed.”

“Something tells me I’ll sleep quite well with you next to me,” he smiled.

Slipping his hand away from her face, Ominis unclasped his robe and let it fall from his shoulders. He draped it over MC and she nestled into it instantly. His robe always smelled freshly laundered with hints of his cologne and the sweet skin she had kissed so many times. She stared off into the opposite corner of the Room as she listened to his heartbeat.

“Now please, lay your weary head to rest. I'll be here by your side the whole night through. I promise.”

Ominis guided MC to lie down on her side, and he followed close behind, pressing himself to her back and draping an arm over her.

“And if I wake you with one of my bad dreams?” MC asked hesitantly as she took his hand and held it in both of her own.

“Then I shall hold you and kiss you until you are asleep again,” Ominis replied matter-of-factly. “Tonight, you needn’t worry about frightening dreams. I am your protector.”

For the first time in many nights, MC felt sleep come to her peacefully and quietly. The songs of crickets lulled her as she listened to Ominis’ breathing become slow and steady, and she closed her eyes with the confidence that the two of them would be all right.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #Isabel Greymoore

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oldestenemy · 1 year

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Time isn’t solid in the Spiral.

That is what they learn.

When they land choking and sobbing in the heart of Bartleby, as the Spiral Key for Azteca turns to ash in their grip. As they drag themselves in a dead sprint to the center of the Myth classroom, stuttering and coughing and coated in glittering glass dust from Xiabalba. Cyrus Drake ushers them to Ambrose’s office before the students he’d been lecturing can look too close.

He does not ask if they are okay.

Ambrose says there was nothing they could do.

Nothing they could have done.

The wizard wants to scream that there is—there was—there could be—

Perhaps the Headmaster can see the way their whole body begins to coil like an overwound spring.

“Do not linger too deeply on this,” He says, voice still altogether too soft, too gentle. “For some places, Azteca will live on many centuries or even millennia yet—”

“—But not here, not for them, not for me.” The wizard spits, looking down at their hands still smudged with the remains of the key. And then they remember. They left a mark there. At the base of the statue that would vault them to Xiabalba. Just in case things went… badly.

They think Cyrus figures it out just as they finish the sigil of transport.

But the wizard is already gone.

Opening their eyes to smoke and the whistle-crash of meteorites as they hit the ground.

Somewhere distant, they hear screaming.

No, no no no it was supposed to be better—Maybe, maybe if—

Panicked, they draw the same marking sigil at the base of the statue and then teleport home.

The sounds of Grizzleheim’s familiar woods envelope them as their watchtower hall comes into view. But they don’t pay it any mind. They grab for the spiral door and after fumbling through their keys, pull out the one for Mooshu, if Emperor Yoshihito had taken the throne just before the fall of Celestia then maybe—maybe it was soon enough—

They do not linger in the brightly lit market of Mooshu’s imperial city.

The flash of their own spellwork surrounds them as they return to the mark in Azteca.

And there is still screaming.

There are still head and fist sized chunks of glass raining from the sky—

There is a workaround.

There must be a workaround.

Zafaria is no better, they are a handful of decades after Mooshu in time.

Dragonspyre—

…Would that work?

Would going back in time within a place itself work? Would it hold between worlds?

This time they run through the Zocalo to the spiral door, not bothering to go home, just marking the same sigil in the damp ground of the Quetzal Grove before—

Damnit.

Before returning to Bartleby’s core. Before running dead sprint out once more, this time towards the edge of the void left by the death school. Looking desperately for—

“Malorn!”

Malorn Ashthorn jumps a mile at the ragged shout of his name, and the smaller students around him scatter like startled fish. “Hey— I was—oh, oh gods what happened to you?”

“No time—” The wizard is breathless and their throat is still burning from the smoke, “—The Dragonspyre key, now.”

He seems to know better than to protest. The wizard can’t blame him. They don’t know what they look like right now, but they know by the time they were headed for Xiabalba everyone on Azteca was watching them as if they might explode at the softest touch.

Malorn pulls a chain with the key on it from around his neck, and barely has time to offer it up before the wizard snatches it away and takes back off. “Hey- hey wait!” He starts to follow but they do not have time or thought to look back. “What happened?”

The soft tones of their ever present companion invade as they reach the spiral door again.

As you turn the spiral key of Dragonspyre into the door, deep down, you know it will not work.

Shut up. Shut up.

If Raven wants to weave her impressive lies about fate—let her.

The wizard has called off fate before.

They will do it again.

The heat of the Basilica overwhelms them as they stumble out into the dim light of ruined Dragonspyre.

“Stop this madness.” Cyrus Drake is standing before them with the same words he offered to his own brother, moments before the wizard was forced to strike him down. And their barely-viable plan shatters before it can even begin. “You know better.”

“I don’t want to know better.” The wizard shoots back, and for a moment they can feel their spell deck burn in the pocket of their robes. Like their own body is ready for a fight they have not yet decided to initiate. “Get out of my way.”

Is this what it’s like?

Is this how he felt?

“Or what,” Cyrus questions, eyebrows raised. “Tell me—did you think like this when you first saw Dragonspyre of old? Did you grieve the trees at the academy who were felled? The hundreds of lives lost under the titan?”

“Stop it!” The wizard shouts “Stop trying to rationalize it— I can fix this, I can save them, I am supposed to—

“You are supposed to be my student, my responsibility, and a child.”

This is where the laughter starts.

It shakes the wizard to their knees where it turns into sobbing.

When was the last time they truly felt a child?

So what if they’re barely still a teenager.

No longer ten and facing off ghosts.

No longer fourteen and facing Malistaire.

Nineteen and facing Malistaire as a shade had felt even worse.

“I have to see it.” They choke out, looking back up to find their Professor still there. “If I don’t— I have to try.”

Cyrus seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding once and offering them a hand. As he pulls the wizard to their feet, he speaks at last. “Then I shall accompany you, if this is truly something you must do.” The formality reminds them of the moments after Malistaire’s death. When they had both stood shellshocked in Ambrose’s office.

If this is how it has to be.

It’s better than not knowing at all.

~*~

It’s not better, in fact, the momentary silence of teleporting to the Quetzel Grove is almost worse for the bare trace of false hope.

The wizard steps far enough out to make eye contact with Pacal.

Until a metiorite comes down between them.

And they are forced to bend, this once, to the will of Raven, and her fate.

#wizard101 #wizard101 fandom #wiz101 #azteca #morganthe #arc 2 #still tapping. less murder.#lark is still playing funky wizard game from their childhood #i have a writeblr for this but shh

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averagetmntfan · 5 days

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The struggles of school

((A “tbadm” Mini fic))

Let’s be honest here, no one really likes school. It’s boring, there’s a lot of work, and people can be rude. But for some people, school is an escape. But that’s not really the case here.

Chip has a love-hate relationship with this subject. Sure, he loved the work. He found it rather enjoyable and easy. And yes, he was one of those big brainy people who loved math. Let’s just say, he’s a master at puzzles. You may be wondering “but that has nothing to do with the hate part of a relationship!!”

Well..let’s just let the story start, okay?

___________________________________

The sun gushed through the curtain, it’s power lighting up the classroom. Kids chattered and chirped all around the room. Their laughter booming all throughout the class.

Dale was rather bored. She was trying to balance a pencil on her nose. As it fell over once more, she slumped and let out a sigh.

She peers over at Chip, who seemed to be working on some extra work. For math class, maybe? Or perhaps history.

She jumped as chip groaned, slamming his head on the desk in frustration.

“…you okay?” She asked, raising a brow.

Chip lets out a loud sigh of frustration.

“this work is just not as challenging as I thought it would be.”

“Isn’t it like, grade 8 math though?”

“Yeah. It’s too easy.”

Dale sighs at her brother, patting his head.

“I’m sure a nerd like you can’t find some harder questions on the internet when we go home.” She reassured him.

I guess that’s true. It’s not liking googling it was a problem. As he finished up the last question, he noticed Dale had disappeared. he quickly looks around the room, wondering if she wander over to the other kids or not.

He realized the bathroom pads had disappeared too. “Oh. That explains it I guess..”

As he packed up his work neatly in his binder, someone had appeared before him.

“Whatcha up to, chip-dip?”

Oh great. It was mecari. Wonderful timing as always.

Chip ignored her, quickly grabbing a book and starting to read it.

Suddenly, the book was ripped out of his hand and chucked across the room.

“What gives?!” He demanded. Now standing up from his desk.

Mecari snickered. Getting right up in his fuzzy little face.

“Look. Nobody cares how smart you are. Nobody cares what you do. And nobody cares who you are. You’re just an introverted freak who happens to be good at something.” She pushed his head, making him almost fall over.

“Without that big brain of yours, you are a complete nobody. And utterly useless.”

Mecari smirks, as she walks back over to her group of friends.

Chip sat back down. Feeling low of himself. What if she was right? Without his incredible skills in school, he basically was a nobody. He felt embarrassed. Tired even. He just sat there, spacing out on a spot on the desk.

A few minutes pass, as chip sits there. Just silent.

Within a second or two, Dale was back.

She sat down, noticing his work was gone.

“You finished?” She asks, reattempting to balance the pencil on her nose.

Chip zoned out.

“Chip?” She poked him, sending him back to the present.

“yeah. Yeah I f-finished.”

“Oh. Okay, cool! Wanna draw with me?”

He pauses. Mecari’s words echoed in his head before he answered.

“Sure. Y-yeah..” he stuttered.

((*COUGH* @mikey-rottmnt *COUGH*))

#<3 #jj rambles #tbadm #Tbadm dale #Tbadm chip #tbadm au #babqftim au

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clarafyer · 9 days

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MY PERSONAL ART TIPS! A big thread I'll be adding to

I too, was once a 10 year old gacha kid whose only drawings were a way too detailed catgirl persona and friends. I didn't have much in-person or online inspiration and help for a long time! So I'll help others earlier in their art journey (and perhaps the masters too, never not a good idea to try some advice!)

So let me spare some of you a few of the unnecessary mishaps during everyone's art life.

If you've never seen my blog before, hello! My name is Clara. I'm a neurodivergent teen artist, aspiring animator, and resident cat person. It's nice to meet you! If you'd like to know who you're taking advice from, here is some of my latest work!

Now without further ado, LET THE HELP COMMENCE!

STROKES: Fix stiffness in your poses!

To start off, a BIG thing I recommend for newish artists, is don't be afraid to draw loosely! The looser the lines, the less stiff the pose. And stiff poses are a very common issue within the community. Sure, your anatomy may look bad for the first while of drawing looser lines, but it will help you be more confident in strokes. The more confident the stroke, the more efficient an artist. The more efficient an artist, the faster you learn.

To practice loose lines, simply draw a long line as fast as you can. Over and over again. I know, that may seem boring, but it helps train your hand and arm to be faster. But if it's so much a hassle to do in your free time, then do it on the side of a worksheet if you're in school, or a sticky note if you're at work.

Speaking of practicing...

PRACTICE MAKES BETTER: Get over it!

I said the phrase wrong, didn't I? Oh wait, no I didn't. NO ONE IS PERFECT. And don't forget that! There will always be issues, problems, and mistakes in your art that you don't realize until the day after you've shared it with everyone you know. The artist is always their worst critic. So the best thing you can do is to keep at it. Practice your weak points to support the composition more, hone in your strong points to better make a focal point. Practice will always help, even if you don't see it. A slow pace is better than no pace!

"But Clara, what are my weak points? How do I know what I always mess up on!?" you may ask...

ANALYZING YOUR ART: Pros and cons!

Well, pick your latest finished piece and tear it apart (NO NOT LITERALLY OH GOD NO PLEASE-) I mean analyze it. Grab your pen and a separate paper, or just your notes app, and make a list of pros and cons in it. Doing this with multiple pieces is especially important, as with multiple examples, it's easier to find a pattern.

How about this, I'll give you an example!

Here we have a piece I made a few weeks ago. It's of my Western AU of my main cast of OCs. TIME TO NITPICK!

WEAK POINTS

- The clouds are too detailed compared to the rest of the composition

- The right horse seems very stiff (I already am aware I struggle with drawing animals nowadays)

- The funky hatching I did with the plateaus in the background just isn't working out as well as I thought it would anymore

- the god damn horse on the right

- The sky in the middle just seems far too empty. I could have added more indication of the sun at the top to add more noise

STRONG POINTS

- The color palette I chose blends well while having the colors still be sharp and clear against each other

- The entirety of the woman and her horse on the left

- The glitchy effect adds some zestiness to it that I love

- The whole thing looks quite cinematic, with a successful wide shot and the black bars imitating that of a movie's

- The inlines of the otherwise completely flat-colored silhouettes help define the overlapping shapes quite well

And there you have it, 5 pros and cons each I found in something you probably only noticed were little to none. No, I'm not bragging, it's an actual psychological phenomena where the artist notices so many more intricacies than the average outside viewer. Your mom isn't hanging up your art out of pity, GET THAT OUT OF YOUR HEAD! People love your art so much more than you do.

That's it for the first post. Don't worry, there'll still be more helpful tips coming! I just won't be able to fit everything in here with Tumblr's picture limit and all. Happy drawing!

#art help #art tips #my art #art advice #oc art #artists on tumblr #drawings #oc artist #art community #art #artwork #audhd artist #autistic artist #adhd artist #teen artist #drawing #Clara's Art Advice Thread

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jiiamp · 8 months

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✶ Oscurmodix ✶

[ Oscurmodix ]

✦ A gender related to loving dark mode and praising it for its excellence and perfection

This gender may also relate to the following very long and hyper-specific scene:

It’s late and you’ve had a long day, perhaps due to a long shift at work, or maybe you’ve been doing chores around the house. You sit in the darkness of your room, sitting at a desk or on your bed, looking at your computer. You’ve been handling schoolwork all evening and are on one final essay due the next morning. Your screen brightness is down low, you may have night mode on. You’re listening to soft music as you type away on the keyboard. The area is quiet, dark, and peaceful. Eventually you finish, and all you need to do now is cite your sources, then you can hand in your hard work. As you go to click on the first link disaster strikes. The site you entered flashbangs you, making your heart race as your brain struggles to understand why you’re so shocked. Once you’ve gathered your whits you gather the information you need, wincing at the glare of the harsh white light. Once you’ve finished you close the tab in relief, returning to the safety of darkness your essay tab provides, breathing a sigh of relief. But then it hits you, as you look at the list of links yet to be clicked on, your mind fills with dread. You can’t simply download a dark mode extension for whatever reason, maybe you have no storage, or the computer is connected to your school, which doesn’t allow extensions. All you can do is power through the brightness and try to finish your essay. You click on the next link, and are flashbanged again, but your reaction is much more mild this time. You get the information with as much haste as you can muster, then quickly exit the tab once you’re done. As you realize the gravity of your task, the list of links seems even longer than it did before, but you push on. You get through two more sites and your eyes feel as if they’re burning from the whiteness. Sure you could simply turn on your own light, but maybe you live with other people who wouldn’t appreciate a light on so late at night. Or maybe you’re simply too stubborn, after all how dare these bright websites try to best you? Your goal is to finish your essay tonight and you’re going to do it no matter how bright each site is. As you continue through the list of links your eyes protest in pain, but you keep typing away, determined to finish. After each site the list seems longer, and every site seems brighter. You try to go as quickly as you can, gritting your teeth in hatred every time the white screens seer your eyes. Your head begins to hurt, and mixed with the exhaustion you start to feel you can only look at the white sites for a few seconds before switching to your wonderfully dark and peaceful essay tab. After what feels like many hours you go back to your essay tab for the millionth time, and realize you have made it to the end of the list. You almost begin to cry in relief as you finish your essay and turn it in. Your anger fades and is replaced with pure triumph. You best blinding brightness and finished your essay in time, now you can finally rest in the peaceful darkness of your room. In the morning you plan to share the story of your accomplishment with anyone who will listen. And perhaps, you’ll even make an entire term for what you endured, making sure to draw out every detail in your retelling.

Oscur [o] + mod [o] + ix

Oscuro is the Spanish word for dark, and modo is the Spanish word for mode

Made by me (as far as I know)

Please credit if you repost, it is greatly appreciated ^w^

ID in alt text

#☾ ✮ 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 ✮ ☽#Oscurmodix #xenogender #mogai #mogai coining #mogai identity #lgbtqiia+#gender coining #xeno coining #lgbtq #liomogai #dark mode

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gattnk · 4 months

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Commissions open!

Current slots available: 5 Payment: Upfront, in euro. If your commission is equal to/above 40€, you may pay half upfront, and half after the last revision gets approved. Paypal invoice only!

FAQ down below!

Frequently asked questions:

How long does it take for you to finish commissions? -Something like 2-7 days, depending on the commission (I'm also taking into account revisions here). I'll keep you informed of my progress and any eventualities that might slow me down.

Do you need references or character sheets? -No! I can work with descriptions and design characters from scratch. References do help, but they're not necessary.

Can I commission more than one character per drawing? -Simple companions/mascots are on the house (as long as they're smaller than the character, you're covered!). However, an additional character costs an extra 50% of the base price, and three's a crowd so I'd have to budget anything over two blorbos at once.

Can you do backgrounds? -Yes, but elaborate backgrounds require budgeting. If you let me know what's on your mind, I'll name the price!

Can I use your art to make money? -If you mean using my art as your YouTube persona, Twitch banner, brand mascot or something similar, yes! But let me know this is your intention beforehand, and please credit my work. -If you mean printing or reproducing my art and selling it as merch, that's a tentative no. Let me know this is your intention beforehand so we may try to reach an agreement. It will definitely cost you more, heads-up. This also goes for AI training. -If you mean NFTs, no. Non-negotiable, sorry!

Do you accept requests? -The day I actually earn enough to make a living, perhaps ;w;

Can I get a discount? -If this is your first time commissioning me and you ask for a shaded full body commission, you're in luck! You get a 50% discount. Also if you're commissioning me for educational purposes (as in, you're gonna use my art for a school project for some reason) or a charity event, let me know and I'll see what we can do with your budget.

¡Ay, pero esto está en inglés! -No es una pregunta pero tranqui, que hablo español :D parlo anche italiano y entendo muito bem o portugués.

#my art tag #commissions open #art commission info #art commission prices #art commission sheet

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nouearth · 4 months

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If you were able to create a character for DC comics/lore. What would they be like? And which powers would you like them to have? Nice work, author. Love your writing!

💌 : hmmm, that's hard! i feel like i have so many ideas, but i've never done enough world-building to make it more interesting beyond surface-level powers, lol. but since i finished a book that was kind of magical, i shall introduce. . .

maxwell baker / arcus.

a divine wizard whose powers can create and manipulate the skies in the beginning of his lore! perhaps maxwell will gradually be granted powerful divinity powers through his loss of hope after a tragic event? i'm not good with building up powers, lol, but i can imagine him being a big help for support uses in team-battles!

as for personal background, i'd love to see a more gentler but authoritative figure / leader in comics! maxwell is a new teacher in his city, where he teaches at a secret / underground school for children with powers, conducting core lessons on how to control your powers and emotions. his co-workers dismiss him because of his lack of experience, but he remains optimistic because in the end, he's here for his students.

perhaps that tragic event where he breaks down and loses all hope is when the school is suddenly infiltrated and destroyed by an organization or something that wants to utilize the students as their lab-rats! many faculty members are left for dead due to the sudden surprise, and it's only maxwell left to survive as his powers were little to no use in stopping the students being taken away!

and maybe his journey throughout his lore is learning to believe in himself, bringing the students back (at least those who were taken alive), and uncovering a more sinister organization at-hand and how to defeat it once and for all. dun dun dunnn.

not that great, a little cheesy, but i did my best, ok. anyways here are some outfit inspirations (i didn't draw this LOL, but not sure who to give credit to :o). and also not me suddenly making dc comics into a shounen or magika girl manga, like pls.

#✰ : nou.asks #idk ive always been a mage person #like literally every jrpg #i'm always obsessed with the mage #idc about sword-wielders why are they always given the most amount of responsibilities #cant wait for dc to shelf my character as soon as one issue doesnt sell well #as if they do marketing for their new heroes pfttttt

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frisiunia · 4 months

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Happy New Year Everyone!

Howdy! Greetings! Or... simply hello! I'm actually hearing fireworks while writing this post! And it's about three hours to the midnight in my country right now. So Happy New Year fellas!

I wanted to tell something about progress of my AU. So it could be noticed that I've changed some of my ideas. It is normal for things to develop and change in the process. So Fix-Page is already a thing and I'm still updating it, rereading my older posts etc. I'm planing to correct my older stories and maybe even rewrite some of them. I draw characters' desings. I still draw Sofia and there is going to be 13 arts. So perhaps I should try to be more productive. Maybe soon I'll finish one of my unrelated to Undermourning project and be able to put some more work into my AU. Though since I've started planing my work I'm much more productive anyway. So I suppose I can be quite proud of myself. I only hope that I will be keep making progress in the new year. And I wish you the same, no matter what you work on! On a (non-job/school related) project, on your job, on school or yourself! Happy New Year once again!

#undertale #undertale au #undertaleau #undermourning #new year #happy new year

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thestandardgirl · 1 year

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hello

I've been writing since forever. It's the only way I can express myself. When I was about 5 years old and didn’t know how to write, I once took a piece of paper and a pencil and took it to my mother, and I asked her to write down my memoirs like Emília from Sítio do Pica Pau Amarelo (a Brazillian TV show for kids). ''What memories do you have, you're only 5 years old'' was the answer I heard. I think I just wanted to record my life. I needed to write some things down before I forgot what I was thinking about.

so, ever since I learned to write, I have had my diaries and filled them with my anguish. When I was a teenager, I used to write on tumblr, because I was afraid my mother would read my diary (I caught her doing that once, but that's a topic for another day). I love to reread what I was feeling at a certain time in my life. the other day I was reading about how I was suffering from crush on a guy at school, more or less in 2015, and today I don't even remember who that guy was. I don't even remember his name, much less his face. funny how things work. will it be that 10 years from now I'll read in my diary about how I'm grieving for my breakup with my most current ex, and think ''wow, how silly of me, I don't even remember him properly''? I really hope so. because now it seems that this pain will never go away.

but anyway. about me and my writing. I am that person who avoids conflicts as much as possible. I don't know how to talk when it's time to fight, I don't know how to think under pressure, I don't like to talk. if someone yells at me, I cry. I decided to go for the academic route at university precisely for that reason. I like to research and write my findings. if you don't agree, you can write an article refuting me. if I find it pertinent, I write another reply. no face to face, no clash.

and I love to read. my favorite genres are fantasy and romance. 95% of what I read is fiction. I love living other people's lives, falling in love with vampires and fighting epic battles - things I wouldn't have the courage to experience in my real life. it hasn't been long since this desire arose, but I started wanting to write myself. create my own stories and perhaps support someone like my favorite authors support me. but I still don't feel ready for that. I think I still need to grow a lot with my writing. I'm insecure, and I'm afraid of finishing a project like this and not feeling comfortable with the end result - I think I also end up being too much of a perfectionist sometimes.

I'm also not a very creative person in the artistic sense of the word. I don't know how to play any instruments, or draw, or cut paper and create collages. no matter how hard I tried, and took classes in all sorts of activities, my brief dreams of being an architect or fashion designer or actress/singer were always just that: brief and dreams. but with writing it is not like that. I don't need fancy and specific materials, nor a gigantic idea right from the start; I can control and write little by little; I can go back to the beginning and change something without it compromising too much of the rest of the text.

that's why I'm here! I think writing these texts reflecting on my life is a good way to start this writing career - also because this is not my career, so unfortunately I'm not fully dedicated to writing and I have bills to pay…. and anonymity is also something that comforts me. for now, the only way for me to publish anything and not throw up with anxiety of people I know reading it, is under a pseudonym. I'm not ready for people to know me personally, and I'm afraid of possible confrontations for the truths I intend to write about.

in short: I haven't revolutionized anything yet, I haven't had any brilliant ideas to save the world, I haven't even figured out how to deal with my own insignificant problems. but I hope to find all of that. and also to find someone to talk about life.

yours sincerely,

standard girl

#journal #writing #university #thoughts #blog #diary #mine #journaling #girl blogging #girl blogger

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iryght · 8 months

Text

When you finally found another artist in your school, you could only wonder.

Do you feel this too?

It's always there, until it isn't.

it can be after that blissful moment, when you finally, finally finished that piece. Your masterpiece. You look at it and for a moment, all is well.

Beautiful. Perfectly imperfect. Not what you originally planned, maybe, but great on its own way. Yours.

You blink. You breath.

Then, in flash of black, the feeling is gone. Gone with the wind and air, with that little voice that says wrong wrong wrong-

It can last longer than that. Sometimes it's a minute, sometimes a whole day. But eventually, inevitably, that bliss will fade. That little scrap of happiness will fade and fly with the pages of your sketches.

Maybe, you thought, this wasn't so bad. Maybe, he feels that too.

Perhaps he looks at your drawings, at your vastly different styles and also thinks, i am not enough, can I even call myself an artist?

You heard about it once. It was shocking back then, to hear someone else talk about the void in your soul. You could remember perfectly, how you thought that maybe you are not the only one feeling like an imposter.

They said it was part of existing. That this was what made so many people great. Trying and trying and always seeing the wrong parts of it and always trying to fix it. This circle of self criticism. It was what made people improve.

It felt like freedom, knowing you aren't the only one trapped in this cage we call humanity. Knowing you aren't alone in this. That this feeling is normal.

But then, the little voice whispers.

Don't you see? That just means you will always feel like this.

No matter how far you reach, how good you get.

You will always feel this hole in your soul, this earning.

You will look at the sun and the moon, will look at your dreams and yourself and think i can do better than this.

You will forever be unsatisfied.

Reaching, grasping, coiling around that scrap of hope like a snake to its prey.

Aiming for the sky, the moon, the stars.

Forever aiming for more, despite knowing you will never get it. Not truly, not completely.

Until finally, you are free from this flesh cage, free in a burst of ashes. Falling in the gentle and wild hold of the ocean.

For those who dream are forever cursed to fall.

Once more, unblinking at what was always there, you shut that voice away. You look at your drawing and wonder what is missing.

Icarus knew he would fall and tried anyway. Only a fool would follow his example.

But humanity was always foolish, wasn't it?

So you ignore the fact that this hole would always be there, you do your best to ignore the soulless beings pretending to join your journey, you even ignore the fact no one around you really believes in you.

You shut that all away and, like a broken record, wonders what is missing.

Maybe some color would help. Maybe some yellow would fix this.

Nothing would really fix it. But that doesn't stop you from trying.

After all, you are just another fool, one who thinks they will learn to swim at some point.

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