Happy Christmas you wonderful folks. And if you don't celebrate it, I hope you have a peaceful Monday. And, if you're in a rough spot with people you'd rather not be with, please take care of yourselves. Your weirdo cousin loves you, okay?
I'm trying to feel better about the art I do, but it's been an ongoing struggle. But, I'm working on it.
I finished one of my last drawing class assignments, and I'm pretty happy with the results. So, tomorrow when I've got better space and light I'll take some pictures of them, and the rest of the stuff I liked this class.
Hey, you playing Animal Crossing? Come poke about my tiny camp.
Hell is a wait at the DMV.
Skipped my typography class, because today's a work day. That works out, since I have an errand to run.
Y'know, I never did finish that tiny story I started on here. Maybe I should do that.
This is probably the first drawing assignment that I like the results of. Took a ton of work, though.
Two hands reached out and hoisted up a lithe figure, clad in a shimmering blue fabric. I knew who it was, even before he turned around. I stepped forward and snaked my arms around his waist, burying my nose in the nape of his neck.
"Hello, dear heart." He murmured.
Ever so gingerly, I placed the bottle on the mantle and returned to my book. Realistically, I knew my attention would linger on the liquid, but I attempted to return to the outlandish plot of the story.
I didn't get the chance.
A low rumbling started under my feet and spread forward to the centre of the room. Cracks formed and a long green tongue lolled out. A hell month.
She pulled a small bottle from her robe pocket. A viscous purple liquid sloshed around inside that made me uneasy. I accepted it with a gracious smile and tucked it into my pocket.
"It's for you-know-who." She said matter-of-factly before turning away. I nodded and fingered the cork absentmindedly before closing and locking the door.
A sharp rap on the door drew my attention away from the book on my lap. I peered through the peephole to find an older woman standing there, running her fingers along the wreath of dried flowers. It was Agatha, the kindly woman I occasionally helped to and from the grocery store. I opened the door and welcomed her in.
"Agatha, how're you today?"
"Oh, just fine dearest. I actually came to give you a little present."
Fic/threading test coming.
My phone yells at me every so often to do an iCloud backup, which is super helpful, because otherwise I'd honestly forget to. But, it's gonna have to wait for a little while.
We're near the end of the semester, and I find myself griping about my drawing professor, mostly for her inability to give useful criticism. I also keep forgetting how much a bad teacher can ruin the learning experience.
The thick and heavy fog that is depression has lifted and now I'm going to a class I enjoy with a professor I loathe. Education, right?
Alright, let's do this:
"Let's play a game, to help some of the newcomers make connections: name 5-7 things that interest you but aren't in your profile, as tags so they are searchable. Then boost this post or repeat its instructions so others know to do the same."
Right, I should use this ill gained day to work on some stuff I have due coming soon.
Queer weirdo. Cereal aficionado. Exuberent sleeper. Living with depression/anxiety. They or He pronouns.
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