Original - Blog Posts
I was sitting in a car on a roadtrip, procrastinating studying, and I had this highlighter from somewhere in my bag and some grey markers I bought earlier.
The only problem was that I was inking, in a car... at night, with a really bad car light. Luckily I had done the sketch at day time. You can’t imagine how aesthetic but unsettling it was seeing the pitch black forest outside the window though
I tried to take a photo but this is the best I got
The back contains a poem I wrote about aromanticism as someone who’s questioning but also desperately wants to experience that fairytale love stories
🌑The darkest nights can produce the brightest stars⭐️
New piece- she's my mushroom gal, might name her Psyche.
Bit of context behind her--
So, my minecraft skin I usually use is a red mushroom person (made by me).
Lately though, in my modded server with my friends, I've been on a bit of a dark theme with my builds and my pets- crows, black dragons, raccoons, and I'm nearly done with a dark tower for enchantments and potions.
So, I'm considering making a NEW skin of a dark mushroom person, and redoing my house a little bit to fit the theme.
Fun times :)
What I wouldnt give to feel the static in my limbs again.
For as much as it makes me jump and twitch at least I can move.
For as distracting as my restlessness is at least I am not still.
Not frozen by the empty space between my skin and my bones.
Left hollow by the absence of motivation; Of want for anything.
Black Shuck
Black Shuck o Cane Nero, un'entità spettrale ricorrente nel folklore delle isole britanniche: la sua apparizione era considerata presagio di morte.
Black Shuck or Black Dog, a spectral entity found primarily in the folklore of the British Isles: its regarded as a portent of death.
OC creato da me. Per favore NON USARE senza la mia autorizzazione.
OC created by me. Please DO NOT USE without my permission.
You don't screw with the devil
Fanart for a dear friend. This cute guy is Lux, the main character from an original story, so, please, DO NOT USE this image without my permission.
Fanart per una cara amica. Questo bel tipo è Lux, il personaggio principale di una storia originale, quindi, per favore, NON USARE quest'immagine senza il mio permesso.
The promise of repetition
Is a weak peace of mind,
Dangling like the balance
Of rickshaws,
Shared one and two-ways
Derailing thoughts
To the station tracks for long
And then, and then
…
.
The promise of repitition
Is of no reprieve from
Moans of limbs
As you hung on the mountain, the
Little helper a rope on your waist
And with the stopper
Called friend,
A human;
A dog;
A cat;
A plant;
A memory;
A sentiment;
A friend;
.
…A person.
.
Repitition is of a phase—
Should be a phase,
For staying in limbo
Bears lightness
No person could take
Without risking all
For the sake of
Finding
A peace.
A Lullaby
Thank you. For the bottom of their heart, for existing.
.
But they do not say, for their tongue feels the weight of a star. A very whimsical, forgetful star. Such a thing it is they cannot catch it for longer than a second, and can only feel the sensation before it burns where they are cradled and goes far, far away.
Spaghetti
<•>
I remember being of full, of it being
Sweet but not too much as it
Bursts nicely
In my mouth;
The long noodles of tomato
Sauce and
Meatballs,
Creamy cheese melted
And I’d eat, eat, eat,
Like I’m chugging something
Addictive
My lips was covered; red
And messy—
And I’d remembered being
Full that It’d ask “Spaghetti”
For my Birthday,
Ten years later after that
Memory
Believe in Me
I told them:
.
I had believed I was a messenger of
Heaven;
I still believed I see
Devils on my mirror;
I can believed that my
Beliefs hold me, and I speak beyond my blood
And colour—an organ, carrying my identity with it, pumping my life and no
More than it that.
.
I was made of flesh, born, and see the basin carrying water
To be baptist as newborn under the cross,
Under the view of my
Religion. I assumed, it was
Like many others I witnessed as young kin
Of church.
.
And older, a day, a month, a year, in another country later:
Icy-veins I felt from the fingers to my arms, to my toes, frozing in untangilabe scare, alone
In my dark, dark room.
I was 12, weeping and thought:
I wished my hesrt to resist, let it be stone
So I would not cry, to simmer my anger out
Why not!?
.
It rejects
I reject it:
And heart pounded, my tears
Crinkling from my eyes, hanging off my eyelids
Down, down, to the floor
To my
homely
floor.
My throat chokes
I cannot keep it still.
.
My mind reeled to a story of a memory
I hoped to think I truly do hold dear: My silly mistakes, my promises,
My lies,
My childhood: I was living
Off the floor, a computer and I was
Everywhere, nowhere, but grounded
In my little corner of the
Room.
.
Don’t let me forget you, child.
.
Forget to pray, to beg, to be arrogant,
Be nothing but the silence you permeates
Around you.
.
Don’t forget this lesson, child
You born under the cross,
Once aquianted with the church every Sunday
At mass
And now you see yourself not
A follower
But a lover of arts
And a hyprocite of your religion,
Learning alongside them
And you see it, oh yes,
So close and you are there;
So far and you are the only one here.
.
Be still my beating heart.
.
It asks, “What are you, if nothing
But a walking dead?”
.
I believed to be an animal, a person,
Speaking, recognizing, engaging,
Walking on two feet.
.
It asks again, “Are you true?”
.
Again, I told them:
.
I believed because the rest of me
Can cry,
Can twinkle my toes,
Can laugh,
Can hate,
And love.
I can move and heart,
My dear heart, the holder of my being: “You are alive.
And I am alive.”
.
I can think, therefore I am here. I am living as you,
and
you as me.
Dear you,
.
Recognizing
Despair;
Depression;
Disappointment;
Dispassionate;
Determination;
Anger;
Happiness;
Love.
.
—To whom I put down these words
When described,
Could you
Tell me
The weight of the history
Each—no, all
Nouns that had
been
made(and continuing) expresses?
.
For I don’t know.
Yet I’m
Adamant in sharing
These
Common, large words, as
.
Addictive in my high
Of labelling, the power
I feel when I simply call
Them out, as
Using for my advocation, when reading
When writing, when recognizing, finally,
What am I truly saying.
.
I ask you, I beg of you
What is the weight of my words?
To them. To you.
.
.
Sincerely yours,
A surrogate child of your language
Describing Sweet Nothings
True to it
She was a form.
Subtle, gentle, and merely
A smooth, teasing
Motion.
.
She was beautiful,
For I see her
Eyes smilling in crescents
Or her nails were more deeper than
Her skin.
.
Juxtaposition to her tone
Her words clothed
In Red, pink, purple—a rainbow,
Colouring my thoughts
With its slow poison.
Opinion of A Belief
Series of thin coils.
Bit and bit, a pull whilst in peace
In months, days, minutes,
Seconds
The line is never-stopping.
.
Fingertips are humming
My mind wandering,
My feet are planted
And my heart
Murks
And sinks.
.
To cringe
Infer from the scene
Of the tone
Red and blue, mixing purples and
Shades.
Nerves of my wrist,
My calves,
Screaming like
My veins
.
Thin, bit and bit, I pulled.
Wisps of the thread disappears
behind.
I see the dust
Ever-constant,
As the bubbles of rage
On my throat.
.
My fingertips still burn.
Keep going
For my position
And my
person
Ever-moving.
Muffled
On a wall so paper thin it’s visible, I see
Clobber sounds I imagine comes when people walk, their footsteps heavy or soft depending on the pits of rain,
Trees fluttering, the sounds of crackles coming in faint rumbles,
Like the grass beneath but perhaps the feeling or warmth and softness is more apparent than whatever things I hear from it.
.
The sound-out groans, it moans in whistles,
Reminding me that things I described are things
I cannot hear behind where I am.
.
Yet I can imagine the echos the wind makes
When people walk, the thud and clobber the sounds of their shoes would make
The pitter-patter of rain, distinct
Sound of the sharp stream a car going past, motors screeching I fell more in
Curses rather than calm.
.
On a wall so paper-thin it’s visible, I hear and
Think, pictures aboard,
The muffled sounds of what a wind would speak
A Sip
Licking wounds
from the already
faded but still
reddened cheeks.
It‘s the eyes,
the twitch
of the
brows to the
muscles of the
mouth—
.
I can see it talk.
I can hear it speak.
I can feel many thoughts.
but maybe it
wasn’t.
.
A past is backward.
Did you ever took
a step forward?
I am Me
I am a contradicting, careless traveler
I wonder if I could ever relate to all living things
I hear tumbles and rumbles that makes me act on impulse
I see colours blending, shaping my world
I want to share my view of universe with my hands
Letting them see the diversity it has
I am a contradicting, careless traveller
I pretend to be predictable but in truth
I want to feel unpredictable
I touch my consciousness and see my deeper self
Worrying if my words are permanent or fake
I cry my confusion and regrets away to see my present reality
I am a contradicting, careless traveller
I understand that everything is connected
I say the world’s end is the beginning of life
I dream flickering images of my future
I try to see it all
And hope to grow
I am a contradicting, careless traveller
Humanity
<•>
One day a void was struck, turning limitless blue—
Then land began to pile above
Dots started to appear, both in the air, the ground, and the sea, moving and alive Dots turned bigger, shifting into the tallest, the smallest, or between.
Ecosystem began.
But even with that, all things must come to an end.
Take an example, the dinosaur age. When they were the loudest to roar, the king of all, they were weak—
Atleast, to mother nature that is.
Mountains began to move and the lushes of fields disconnect—
And then they were gone, we came about, taking the crown of the king in our heads. So it made me think; isn’t this the circle of life?
You live, you die, that’s what I mean.
Sometimes you might get remembered if people like your work, sometimes you’re just one of the many without a name or have a part of a legacy.
Even then we’ll be someday extinct.
I mean something similar happened before right? The bronze age and such?
But still we continue to muse, we continue to invent, innovating as much as we could get from both in and out. Heck even space came about!
Why?
It’s because of faith. We believe and blindly persist even with the answer we have and I say this;
Why not just continue? Even with the knife on our neck?
I mean we lived for more than ten thousand years, molding the simple phrase Live then die to the complicated There’s more than meets the eye.
I mean what’s there to lose? Live, live without a linger to regret!
Fangs
The heat sizzles as the sun goes on the afternoon. Clouds absent, showing clear blues.
At the school’s roof stood a person no more older than 15, with white stained shirt accompanying blue shorts covering his knees. Along with an unhealthy shade of skin, his glassy grey eyes gaze towards the students working with their activities in a daze.
Clutching the green fence tight. Eyes covered. He bit his lip.
Do IT.
He clutched his head.
TheY deSeRvE IT.
He screeched. Not a sound a came out.
The voices kept booming in his mind, distracting him from the slam of the door.
He didn’t notice footsteps were approaching.
He didn’t notice they were holding a knife.
He didn’t notice the crazed glimmer directed at him.
He only notice a chuckle before his sight turned crimson red.
“Die.”
••••••••••
Knife clattered on the stone floor.
He gulped. The blood tasted sweet. It fits his taste.
He look at his once white shirt now bloodstained. Clicking his tongue, he muttered under his breath;
“How inconvenient.”
••••••••••
Question.
Is he human?
Be With Me
Inspired by, Yandere Simulator.
••••••••••
As the sun took a peek, it's rays shine down upon the busy roads. A young man with short chestnut hair, with school uniform on was seen as one of the crowds.
Many people bypass him, walking and bumping along without even a mutter of an apology (Not like he can say anything, after all, he's the same). As he goes with the flow to his destination, a shiver went up his spine.
He turns slightly, found nothing out place. He waited for a bit. Then faces back to the front, continuing at a faster pace when he took a peek on his phone(?).
He goes faster.
His heart pounded, eyes dilating as he now took a full blown sprint….
…. Only stopping when he reach the gate for the train station.
He went inside, and took a seat. He felt his ears ringing, feeling more tired than ever. He should've exercised more.
As he started to think more calmly, he felt like he forgot something.
His lunch? He checked, It was here.
His books? Same thing.
His phone? Yup, safe in his body.
What did he forgot?
As he feel in deep thought, he kept glancing around the area. He caught something at his sight.
A minute left, until his train arrived.
… He'll think about it in the train.
As he stands up, he goes close to the yellow line with an appropriate distance.
A phone buzzed on his pocket. He raised a brow. Since, when did they text him at this time of day.
He took it out, and found a message. From an unknown number.
“....?”
He checks the message.
.. Oh?
He clicks down.
Oh!
A few seconds passed as he keeps clicking down.
.. H-huh?
His breath hitched. His grip loosen suddenly. As his phone tumbles down, his colour turned white.
He went to the back, following the letter's words. It says to wait here. Honestly, he didn't want to, but the push and nitpicking from his friends we're getting on his nerves. And they promised to make it worse than it is, if he didn't go.
No choice but to do it, he went. But, he didn't expect a confession.
A love confession at that.
His brain short circuited after, he didn't remember the rest.
He only snap out of it when he heard the announcer of the train. He turns--
--and suddenly felt himself flying. With a person hugging him.
Ah.. now he remembered. He rejected them and took off.
Guess this is -------
All he remember seeing then was a red line speeding down to him, until his sight turned dark.
••••••••••
Question.
Who hugged him?
How Unfortunate
As the man gazes his sight above, he reminisces the sky with It's shades of blues turning dark.
A sigh escapes his lips as he continue forward at a leisure pace, nor fast or slow.
His eyes goes downwards showing eyes from sleepless nights. His back hunched, and the suit hooked on his arm slightly kisses the ground.
He murmured under his breath, you can faintly hear complaints after complaints aimed to possibly the culprit of his disheveled appearance.
Finally finishing his gibberish he turns his head casually, noticing that he's the only one causing the sounds of footsteps.
It registers, he paused at his tracks, but move again as if that stop was just a flick of imagination. His exterior is as usual, tired and impassive, but the same can't be said to the man’s eyes darting frantically on every directions.
The street’s quietness and the man’s state gave a delicate air, that a gentle breeze and a lamps flicker can even make the already anxious (though not obvious) man, show more outside.
Step..
Step.
Step..
His body twitches, pace goes fast to slow constantly. Finally as if the man decided something he closed his eyes, opens them again. Calmer pupils showed and the steps were more close to the original.
The aura became more lazy, less strained. Almost covering from his previous actions.
Almost.
A hooded entity enters, walking oppositely to where it came from. Only the build gave away the entity's gender, a male. He wore a long leathery coat, every outfit were only colored black. His face, or rather his eyes were covered by his hat, shaded just like the rest. It's a wonder how he hasn't even broken a sweat from the warm night.
The man froze, sensing the ominous presence. His breath hitched, eyes widen as he secretly took a glance of the hooded person. His head goes down unnaturally, not even resuming the walk, and reluctant to even take a slide step.
Step..
Step..
Step..
Cold sweat began to form, his breath circulates like heartbeats. Sweat dripping from the forehead to the man's jaws at a fast rate.
The man's eyes were covered by his hair, his hand clutches where the heart is, perhaps an attempt to calm his state.
The hooded man didn't batted an eyelid, walking casually as if a man breaking down was of a normal occurrence.
Step..
Step..
Step..
The man did everything, from trying to raise his head and foot, to coughing out a noise. anything to snap out of his state, his body ignored his commands.
Step..
Step..
Step..
The hooded person was nearing, closer and closer by inch to inch.
The man stopped his attempts, maybe giving up.
Step..
Step..
Step..
The hooded man was now there, side by side with the man and stopped.
He leaned close to the man's face, closing in to his ears.
He spoke at a low pitch, but it was as clear. He whispered;
“My condolences.“
The man's shoulders turned rigid and tensed.
The hooded man left, his steps were more quieter.
A moment passed, he let out a breath, barely acknowledging that he was holding one. The man's legs wiggled. He used the wall right next to him and propped himself with his side, struggling to keep himself steady.
He breathed, in and out continuously.
He spoke under his breath, none of the words were understandable. His eyes morphed slowly, the already open wide turned impossibly big. He turns--
A crack echoed on the street.
The man's body limped, falling like a ragdoll. Bones cracking were heard, loud and clear.
Red liquid came out, oozing smells like coppers.
No one noticed until the next day.
••••••••••
Question.
How did the man died? Why was no one there?
Hint: Superpowers exist.
Ugo Harris - class president
Your teacher paired you up for a school project with THE Ugo Harris. That's good, right? You have a chance to improve your grades by working with the golden boy of your school. If only Ugo didn't hate you with the same passion he loves his role in bramley high school after you found out about his family secret
Ugo's masterlist:
Coming soon! :3
Main masterlist
photography by afton
https://youtu.be/D6JQ8p0dwqM
Oops, I forgot to post this here.
It's just a silly little video that I made.
Fighting the demons (urge to rewrite Topsoil)