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#well...i'm still learning that
mrbexwrites · 7 months
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Writing Whispers
Accepting @sarahlizziewrites open tag for this, as an excuse to dive into the archives and see how far I've come.
Rules: find a few paragraphs of writing from as long ago as you can. Re-write them how you would now.
Gently tagging @words-after-midnight @queen-tashie @deanwax @cee-grice and offering up an open invite to balance out the one I took! ;)
I actually have a good comparison project from my very first attempt at writing (and finishing) a novel!) It's from an old high fantasy project that I never did quite get round to finishing, but did attempt to re-write one NaNo a few years back.
2003
From where she crouched on her vantage point, Ylarae could survey the entire grounds of the townhouse she now perched upon. Hidden in the shadows of the stone gargoyles that stood as silent protectors against evil, she watched the Numen Warriors make their rounds as guests at the party stepped outside and mingled with one another, quickly heading back indoors when the colder weather forced them back.  Gaining entry to the townhouse had been surprising easy, despite the many guards that patrolled the perimeter. She had, with ease, scaled the wall that lead into a voluptuous rose garden, a skeletal twining of branches in the dead of winter. Keeping to the shadows, she had slipped silently past two of the Numen guards who stood shivering in their boots, trying to pull their thick woolen cloaks tighter about them. Once past the guards, she grabbed hold of the iron cast gutters and used them to scale the thick grey stone walls of the house.  Inside the house, she could hear the soft cadence of the music intermingled with laughter as it filtered through the open windows. The lady of the house was holding a party and Ylarae was using the distraction of the multitude of guests as a disguise to hide her presence within the grounds. Her footprints in the snow were lost within the steps of the partygoers as some sought nightly congress with masked strangers. The suspicion of who stole the necklace would fall on one of the guests, rather than looking outside.  Ylarae smiled despite herself; this was easier than she thought. All she had to do was break in, steal the necklace and then leave it in the hollow of the Hanging Tree in Byre’s Wood where she would find her fee. Ylarae disliked being used in such a menial task and had asked why Gristle could not do it himself. Each time, he merely laughed, a sound almost akin to a bear’s, and told her that she was the one to retrieve it. Despite her loathing of being used as a common thief, Ylarae found it impossible to refuse Gristle’s orders. Just thinking of the necklace caused her to shift with impatience, longing to get her hands on it, and have this menial task completed.   Shifting her weight to ease the cramp on her legs, Ylarae’s crossbow dug into her back. This once again ignited her ire at being used as a mere burglar. She was a highly skilled assassin, one of the best. She was trained in the shadow arts and the secrets of covert killing. But her most valuable abilities she had inherited from her mother.
2021
Her fingers tingled as she knelt atop one of the stone gargoyles that protected the perimeter wall. Carved out of granite, the stonemasons had imbued the stone with magic to ward off evil and protect those who lived inside.  It was an old magic, and ironic that these sentinels were being used to guard the very people who had scorched the earth and were trying to wipe magic from it.  Ylarae ran a gloved hand over the glyph-marks that had been etched into the creature’s head, rendering it nothing more than stone; the magic dissipated.  “What a shame,” she whispered to herself. “You would have stopped me, there is no doubt.”  She slid to a crouch beside the stone beast, hidden in its shadow as she watched the guards make another loop of the skeletal rose garden. In the summer, it would be a sight to behold; a manicured lawn with knee-height hedge mazes, flower beds and the roses that climbed to reach one another across the gravel path, forming an arch.  Light spilled out of the manor house, casting long shadows across the garden. Laughter, music and the sounds of glasses clinking filled the night air.  Gristle had told her to expect a heavily fortified home, given who lived here, but the party had been unexpected. Normally, she would have slunk back into the shadows, and returned later, but an urge, a need, pushed her onwards.  She surveyed the garden once more; she could balance her way along the wall and climb up into the house, but risk being seen by one of the guards. Or she could loop round the garden, which appeared to be the safer option, despite losing her vantage point.  A few guests would come out of the manor to mingle, have a quick stroll or to seek a quiet corner for congress in the shadows. But they never stayed out long, the cold pulling them back inside the house. A light dusting of snow covered the garden, but with wandering couples and the patrolling guards, any footsteps she left behind would be quickly lost amongst others.  As the guards passed once more, she tried to still her heart that was racing in her chest. Her hands trembled at the urgency to get going. Normally on a night like this, when she would be hunting, a placid calm fell upon her, but not tonight; tonight she was filled with electricity and need.  She dropped from the wall, landing silently on the lawn, only a few snowflakes drifting down behind her. On cat-like reflexes, she ran in a low crouch along the perimeter wall, staying to the shadows.  The shutters that hung from the wall, along with the iron-cast gutters made a simple ladder she used to scale the building.  Balancing on a third floor window ledge, she drew one of her twin blades that she kept in her sleeves, and popped the latch open. Her fingertips burned as she wriggled them under the window frame and slid it open enough for her to climb inside.  The third floor of the manor  was dark, and most likely off limits to the guests downstairs.  She stepped hastily away from the window, pressing her back against the wall; the last thing she wanted was to be outlined in the moonlight and easily visible. She knelt behind a dresser and waited for her eyes to adjust. She slipped off her gloves, feeling her heart pound. A cold sweat formed on her brow, which she wiped away, frowning at the perspiration.  The burning sensation in her fingers traveled further up towards her hands, and she balled them into fists trying to stop the feeling. 
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purarupu · 2 months
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mashle rkgk
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Twin polar bear cubs Kallik and Kallu from the Toledo Zoo.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months
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A-Qing, the little fox.
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sensitiveheartless · 5 months
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It's now been two years since I began drawing BSD fanart, and I recently went back and discovered that the very first sketch I ever did was of Chuuya! So I thought it would be fun to go through and line up a bunch of my attempts at drawing him — progress over time, and all that :0
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kindledrose · 9 months
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goofy hermit doodles!! because uhh why not!!
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little-pup-pip · 5 months
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Hi, I just found your blog and it's really cool! Would you be able to do a middlespace moodboard that's emo/scene themed? I also like Hello Kitty! It can be feminine or gender neutral! :)
Sure!!
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cockworkangels · 2 months
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frodo painting practice...
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typho-draws · 9 months
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oh god he can jog now
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camellcat · 8 months
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hello timepetals people!! I was curious if doctor who has, like, The definitive "if you like timepetals you are practically obligated to read" tenrose/ninerose/whichever doctor timepetals fic(s)
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the thing about being a disabled grad student is that if you want even half a chance you constantly have to not only reveal but interrogate and explain your softest most vulnerable parts. while people around you act like this is just completely normal and actually that is not the softest most vulnerable part of you and actually you are exactly the same as all of them. so you feel like you are in disguise as exactlythesame while also completely exposed. and you just have to live like that. absolutely insane
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months
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Culture Shock
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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aromantic-diaries · 6 months
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On one hand it's only been one whole year since I've started actively identifying as aromantic which is relatively recent but somehow it feels like I've just known my entire life.
To be fair I have always been aromantic considering my lack of crushes or generally being an outsider to romance and I just didn't always have the right words to describe how I felt or when I did I was deep in denial but the feelings were still there. I was aromantic then just as much as I am now, I just actually acknowledge it these days and I talk about it rather than telling myself I just haven't met the right person yet
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sonictoaster · 1 year
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The messenger bag I made in 2019 finally started to wear to pieces after four years of faithful service. Time for a new one!
I made the original bag without a pattern, but this time I had something to work with. I took the old bag apart and made a pattern from the pieces.
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It took me a while to find the right material. I wasn’t sure what it would look like, I just knew I’d know it when I saw it. I finally found this double-sided Japanese cloth in a shop in Portland.
Once I had the right cloth for the exterior, I found a fun pattern for the interior bag in a local shop. (I always use a lighter material for the interior so it's easier to find things).
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The first bag was a struggle—I had no idea what I was doing! I expected the second bag to be difficult as well, but the process went surprisingly smoothly. I got stuck a few times and had to take a day or two to figure out a solution, but the solutions always worked better than I expected!
For instance—in spite of carefully measuring each piece, the outer flap ended up being too small. I ended up constructing a border to extend the edges.
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With heavy interfacing and waterproof lining, the walls were very thick and tricky to work with. Having a better sewing machine than last time helped!
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Lots of pockets and hooks on the inside—essential.
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I found a leather camera strap I haven't used since college and added a couple of decorative wooden buttons a friend gave me and I'd been saving for the right moment. The blue webbing along the sides that support the leather strap are repurposed from the original bag. I like that a little bit of the old bag is worked into the new.
The whole process took... weeks—but I’m so happy with how it all came together!
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paperstarbot · 10 months
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