#I'm pretty proud of it

[in-art-be-liv]

[geekandanerd]

@lyrker, thank you for the pattern for this lil guy <3 <3 <3

I used 4.5 mm hook and freehanded the cloak, combining it with a hood made from an altered baby bonnet pattern my roommate sent me ^-^

John with hair, courtesy of my roommate.

[7nathanarmy]

Josephine for BunnySaviorArt 🧜🏻‍♀️🐚🌊

[murmurbug]

Somemore flight rising woohoo. :)

I got this new dragon. I'm not normally a very pink person, but I think they are great. :)

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 4: Mystery

*spoilers in the notes; read the story first to remain spoiler-free*

Julieta considered herself an organized person. She didn’t misplace things like Pepa, who was perpetually looking for one thing or another. So, when she couldn’t find her calming tea blend, she worried. It was a remedy she felt very protective of, since she knew how easily it could be abused. Townspeople were constantly asking her for some, citing a laundry list of concerns they wanted to quell. Julieta did her best to help but couldn’t always justify to herself giving them what they sought. Sometimes, she had to diplomatically turn them away. And if it involved bending the truth…well, her intentions were good.

Demand had been so high that even Isabela asked if she could help by growing more of the plants in question. It was a sweet gesture, but ultimately futile; the plants needed her nurture to fully develop their curative properties. Most of the plants she needed, she kept on the windowsill in the kitchen, watering them diligently along with the rest of the medicinal herbs in her garden. The more potent ones she kept in her room. Without them, the tea would be useless, and Julieta couldn’t risk anyone getting their hands on them.

After a few incidents in their youth where Pepa decided to partake in do-it-yourself apothecary, Julieta started guarding her remedies more carefully. Her reference book was rewritten in code to prevent others from reading it. While not a foolproof method (Julieta was pretty sure if they… she, just she- wanted to, Pepa could break the code, but she trusted her to come talk to her if she needed anything now that they were adults), it seemed to have worked out so far.

Where could it be? Her eyes swept around the kitchen. Last night she had brewed some up for herself. Planning Isabela’s quinceañera had taken a lot out of her. Mamá had so many ideas; Julieta was pretty sure she was more excited for Isabela’s quinceañera than for either hers or Pepa’s. But it was a huge success, and Isabela had looked radiant. Just when she thought she could rest, there was a spate of farming-related injuries. Of course, it fell to her to ensure there would be enough healthy men to harvest the crops for the town. It was a lot of pressure, but the tea had helped, as it always did, and Julieta now remembered she had placed it on the windowsill over the sink.

She sighed. How could she have been so careless? She would never do something so irresponsible, under normal circumstances. But the stress was getting to her…

The question was, whom else was it getting to? Julieta racked her brain. Could it be Pepa again? Maybe this crop situation was getting to her too.

Julieta managed to corner Pepa as came into the kitchen to drop off groceries (this was as close as Pepa was allowed to food preparation after a few… incidents). “Pepa,” she greeted her.

“Sorry, hermana, can’t stay. I have to go back to town and help… ay, who was it this time?” Pepa blew an errant strand of hair out of her face. She leaned against the counter, breathing deeply.

Julieta could see the exhaustion on her face. “Feeling stressed?” She ventured.

Pepa glared at her. “Obviously. These people have me running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I swear sometimes, if it wasn’t for us this town would fall apart.”

Secretly, Julieta echoed the sentiment, but never voiced it aloud. Pepa had always been the brave one that way. Julieta relied on subtler methods. “You know, if you want some of the calming tea, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yes, thank you, Julieta, I’m aware.” Pepa’s response was snippy as she got herself a glass of water.

Julieta could see she was getting nowhere. “There’s no need to help yourself.”

Pepa paused her drinking mid-cup, looking at her strangely. “You already said that. What’s going on, Julieta?”

Julieta exhaled. Guess she had to tell someone. “The tea went missing,” she admitted.

Pepa gasped, eyes going wide. “What?”

Julieta nodded. “I had it earlier today and now it’s gone. And-“

“And you thought I took it,” Pepa guessed, nostrils flaring. “You always blame me.”

“I hoped it was you,” Julieta corrected. “You’d be the best-case scenario, seeing as you’ve drank it enough to know how to do it safely.”

Pepa shook her head. “Like you said, I can ask you for some whenever I want. Why would I take some without telling you? It makes no sense.”

Julieta had to agree. “Then who could it be?”

Pepa shrugged. “I don’t know, hermana, but I have to go. I hope you figure it out.” With a hug goodbye, Pepa was out the door again.

And Julieta was left in the kitchen, alone, once again; her only lead disproven. She glanced outside, noting the sun starting to dip in the sky. It wouldn’t be too long before dinner. Sighing, Julieta started working on the food. The whereabouts of her herbs would have to wait until later.

At dinner, Julieta surveyed the table, taking in everyone’s expressions and body language. No one seemed odd. Then again, if they’d drunk the tea, they would be perfectly calm now, wouldn’t they? Or would they? Only one way to find out.

Julieta stood up.

Surprised, the rest of the family stopped what they were doing. Isabela and Dolores had been deep in conversation. Camilo had been constructing some sort of sculpture out of his food. Her sweet Mirabel and Luisa looked up at her attentively. The other adults appeared confused, except for Pepa, who gave her an encouraging smile.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, everyone, it’s just…” she chuckled nervously, “some of my herbs have gone missing, and I was wondering if anyone could help me figure out where they went.”

Confusion rippled over the other family members. They just stared at her blankly.

“I’m not accusing anyone,” Julieta quickly clarified. “I just want to know where they went because they can be dangerous if not used properly and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Still nothing. Julieta sighed. “I promise, I won’t be mad. Just tell me.”

Agustín spoke up. “It would help if you tell us which herbs went missing, mi amor.”

Right. Julieta could have smacked herself. “The calming tea blend herbs. It can be dangerous if you drink too much too often, so please, just speak up, because I don’t want someone to make themselves sick.”

The table was filled with blank expressions.

Julieta let out a frustrated exhale. Clearly this wasn’t working. “If anyone knows something, just tell me after dinner,” she concluded, sitting down defeatedly. Picking up her fork and knife, she cut herself another bite of food. When she looked up, Luisa’s eye was twitching. That was out of the ordinary. Julieta observed her as she kept eating. Although Luisa appeared calm, her eye kept twitching sporadically.

And no one else was acting strangely. Isabela was the picture of serenity, having returned to her conversation with Dolores. Camilo had finished his tower, which had toppled over onto Mirabel’s plate. And the adults were acting normal too. Honestly, Julieta thought it would be any of them before Luisa, with their adulthood worries, but she had to go with the information she had.

Figuring she’d wait until bedtime so as not to embarrass her daughter, she finished her dinner without any more commotion and carried out the rest of her evening routine. Dishes were washed, preparations were made for tomorrow, another round of ointment was administered to her husband (ay, Agustín…), and soon enough, they were off to bed.

Julieta made her rounds, wishing everyone a good night. She tucked in Mirabel and said good night to Isabela, who was snuggled angelically into her bed. Just seeing how peaceful she looked made Julieta feel better. At least she only had to worry about one of her daughters.

Reaching Luisa’s door, she rapped on it quietly. “Luisa? It’s me.”

There was a brief silence before she responded. “Come in, mamá.”

Julieta entered the room. Luisa’s room was so wonderfully her. Sure, there were weights strewn about and a treadmill built into a corner, but above an indigo trim, the walls were painted periwinkle and had a cloud design. She figured Luisa, with all her focus on being grounded and strong, needed something light to keep her from sinking into the same pragmatism that had gotten her. One of Pepa’s romance novels stuck out under the bed, haphazardly covered so only one corner was visible. She would really have to talk to her sister about not giving her daughters inappropriate reading material. Luisa was nowhere near old enough for that. She shuddered to think what else they had been exposed to.

Julieta sat down on the bed, looking at her daughter. She certainly seemed calmer now. Hopefully she hadn’t drunk too much of the tea. Luisa was her most levelheaded child; if she could count on any of them to be safe with it, it was Luisa. She couldn’t believe Luisa took it, to be honest. Clearly, she was suffering some inner turmoil that drove her to it. “How are you, Luisa?”

Luisa shrugged. “Fine. The steeple fell off the church and they needed my help to hoist it back up, so my shoulder is kind of sore, but otherwise I’m okay, mamá.”

Julieta frowned in concern. “You got hurt?”

“It’s not so bad.” Luisa dismissed her concerns. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Julieta trailed off, unconvinced. “Because if you do need any of my remedies, you know you can ask me,” she added pointedly.

Luisa rolled her eyes. “Is this about what you were saying at dinner? It wasn’t me, mamá. I didn’t take them.”

Well that was uncharacteristic of her. Eyerolls were something she’d expect of Isabela, but sweet Luisa? Was this a preview of teenagerhood to come? She sincerely hoped not.

“Luisa…”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” Luisa shifted back on her pillow, and Julieta heard a familiar rustle.

“Hand them over, Luisa.” Her voice was soft, but she was disappointed. She couldn’t believe Luisa had tried to lie to her. At the same time, what could have driven her to this? Twin pangs shot through her, both for Luisa breaking her trust and for whatever pain she was going through.

Closing her eyes, Luisa pulled out the satchel and handed it over. “Don’t be mad, mamá,” she pleaded, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“I’m not mad, Luisa.” She was more disappointed than anything else. “But why, Lu? Why wouldn’t you come to me?” She sighed, tossing the satchel from hand to hand. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

That caught Luisa by surprise. “What?”

Julieta took her hand. “I’ve been so busy lately with all the injuries and before that it was all the preparations for Isabela’s quinceañera. I know we were all excited to see Isabela become a woman, but I probably didn’t pay as much attention to you as I should have. If I did, I’d have noticed that you weren’t doing well.”

Luisa gulped, looking guilty. “It’s okay, mamá. I understand. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“So why did you do it?” She clasped Luisa’s hand tightly between her own. It was already bigger than hers. “You can tell me.”

Luisa looked away, studying her walls. After taking a minute to collect her thoughts, she began. “It’s just…I love my gift, mamá. It’s so useful and I get to help a lot of people. But it can be a lot to carry. Literally. People want me to carry so many things. And sometimes I wonder if there’ll be something I’m not strong enough to carry. And what will I do then? I’m the strongest one here. If I can’t carry it, what will people do? What will they say? I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Julieta’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She had no idea Luisa was hurting this badly. “Oh, Lu…” She hugged her daughter, squeezing her in her arms, then looked her in the eyes. “None of that is true. You don’t have to do any of this alone. If you can’t carry something alone, you can ask for help. It’s allowed. Even if you’re the strongest person around, you can share your burdens. You don’t have to carry this all by yourself. And I’m not talking about physically. This emotional burden you’re carrying…it’s a lot. It’s a lot lighter if you share it with people.”

“I guess you’re right, mamá.” Luisa cracked a smile.

“Did that help?” Julieta wanted to make sure her words had really gotten through to Luisa.

“I think so, mamá. Thanks.” Luisa hugged her gratefully.

Julieta beamed at her softly. “Did you drink any of the tea?”

“No, mamá. Promise.”

Luisa looked so earnest; Julieta had to believe her. “I can make you some, if you want.”

Luisa appeared caught off guard by the offer. “Sure, mamá. That would help. Thanks.”

They went downstairs together, and Julieta fixed her up a mug of tea.

Luisa appeared hesitant to drink it.

“It’s all right, Luisa. Go on,” Julieta encouraged her, figuring the lingering guilt was holding her back.

Luisa took a careful sip. “This is good.” She smiled. “Thanks, mamá.”

“No problem, querida.” Julieta kissed her cheek. “Sleep well.”

With that, she went upstairs, relieved that she’d gotten to the bottom of the situation.

~ ~ ~

As soon as her mother was out of sight, Luisa wiped the rim of the mug and waited a few minutes before heading upstairs. She knocked insistently on Isabela’s door, and when it opened, she held out the mug.

“That’s it?” Isabela sounded disappointed. “What happened to the rest of it?”

“Mamá found it and took it.” At Isabela’s indignant glare, she protested, “You’re lucky I got away with this much!”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.” She grabbed the mug out of Luisa’s hand and started drinking. Seeing Luisa still waiting there expectantly, she said “Thanks, or whatever.”

Luisa smiled sweetly. “You owe me,” she reminded her before walking back to her own room.

[slurpslurpmmmoatmilk]

rainsisn cookers :3 1 cup of flour 3 cups of brown sugar 2 eggs 1 tea spoon of cow milk a singular raisin 2 cups of oat milk 1 tablespoon of your favourite spice :3 preheat the oven to 350 c put on some heavy metal music to set the mood get a new bag of no name (tm) raisins. eat all raisins aside from one. insert said raisin into a large mixing bowl. pour in the flour, sugar, and spice of your choice, then stir them until mixed. crack two eggs and whisk them in a seperate bowl, them mix in the cow and oat milk. pour your wonderful liquid into the bowl containing the raisin, then stir them together. for legal reasons, i must discourage you from eating the cookie dough. get a cookie sheet and parchment paper. rip a sheet of parchment paper (to the best of your ability) and place it on the cookie sheet. remove the cookies and roll them into balls (haha balls) and put them onto the cookie sheet. be sure to space them far apart, unless you want to make a flatbread. put them in the oven for twenty minutes, then leave them too cool for as long as your attention span will let you. they are best served with a cold cup of earth's own (tm) oat milk.

[mispatchedgreens]

the winter here's cold and bitter for WIP Wednesday please

Since I did two for freight train, I'm doing two for winter. The other part I posted can be found here! Thank you for playing and thus urging my writing along

Eddie wraps a hand around the cords of bone and muscle that make the wrists of the minion. He is wild, and he smells underfed, and he looks tired as anything. He is Creel’s work for sure, and the deep smell of moss, wet stone and old blood makes Eddie certain of it. “Does either of you know his name?” Eddie asks, mostly in the direction of who appears to be the Slayer. To his surprise, it’s the guy that answers. “It’s Billy. Hargrove.” He gives his name and surname with a gravitas that’s appropriate to a funeral. At the sound of his voice, Billy freezes, and then fights harder. Eddie understands, and aches a little for Billy. He’s starving and this amateur boy slayer smells insanely good, like his blood is burning hot, like if a vampire drank it they’d become human again. “Okay.” Eddie leans down, almost close enough to get bitten. He lays his palm on Billy’s frigid cheek, and looks into his eyes. There’s blue there, behind the jungle cat yellow, and Eddie’s going to reach it. “Easy there, easy. Billy, hey. Come on, it’s okay.” Billy freezes under him, trembling and terrified. He doesn’t feel new, he feels older than Eddie, and still he’s acting like a fledge, crazed with new power and bloodlust. He’s also not breathing at all. Eddie guesses he’s not around humans a lot. Breathing is a habit, really, and if nobody is about to say ‘oh shit look that dude’s not breathing’ then you kinda forget. He smooths his thumb right over the ridge between Billy’s brows. “There’s no fighting, doll, no need for your fighting face. Be easy, settle.”

[void-king-of-swingttv]

Hey I wrote something I'm really proud of

[mistical52]

My Carl Grimes cosplay and how I made it.

I used cardboard to make a template of the holster and the knife sheath before using that to make the foam version. I then spray painted everything. I also had to cut and readjust straps to the holster, and sheath would be accurate and stay put when I walked. Everything except the knife sheath is reversible or able to be taken apart, reassembled, and used for other cosplays.

I got a hat from a costume shop, scuffed up up a bit and made the gold trim from wooden beads and elastic rope. The elastic rope can't be stretched since I've now sprayed it gold, but it had the right texture so it suits the cosplay just fine.

I also managed to meet Chandler Riggs, the guy who plays Carl! He liked my cosplay and he signed my hat!!! It was super exciting!! Chandler is an absolutely lovely person! Thanks for chatting with me Chandler and thank you for signing my hat!

I had sucg a great time with this cosplay!

[mumble-muse]

congrats on your digital painting (*toot toot*) 🥳 but bed awaits 💛

but what were you doing up at 1am nonny 👀👀👀👀

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

Let me just rant for a moment about solo TTRPGs:

I picked up that charity pack of TTRPG goodies (the Trans Florida pack, I think I posted on here before but I'll see if I can find the link again for y'all), and something in there I found that I hadn't tried before was quite a few little solo RPG experiences, the vast majority of which have you journaling as you go through the game in some way.

Besties, I don't think there's been something better for me as a writer than these little solo games. Holy hell, there's something in the nature of them that shatters my writer's block and throws it against the wall in a million pieces. When I'm done playing the game, I look back and I see that I've accidentally written a story, and to be honest a pretty damn good one as well. The one I just finished a playthrough of (and will definitely play again), Lighthouse at the End of the World, got me to write almost 3000 words in a day--I have never written that much in one sitting before. Ever.

These creators are awesome and I owe them a lot already. I have a feeling I'll owe them a lot more.

[tragedy-of-commons]

the fic i'm proud of!

guys,,, i would like to know,,, yes i am turning this into a tag game

tagging: @aviiarie, @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme, @kazuhaiku, @theother-victoria, @vxnuslogy, @harque, @st6rly, @scribs-dibs

fic writers in the tags tell me the fic you're most proud of writing. any fandom, ship, no ship, any length etc. whatever work makes you go "oh i wrote this" and elaborate why if you want

[trisarahtops-sketches]

Just dragon girl things <3

[thoughting-moments]

For My People

For my people, 

Who are the ones to tell me, ¨That's so good!¨

And the ones who give their pain to the world. 

The ones who create art to prove, 

And the ones who share their tips, so I can improve.

This is for the Artists. 

For my people who show just how real the job is, 

The prices that stay the same, no matter the pressures

By those that only care how it looks. 

The creativity shown in pieces that ¨Could be better,¨

Said by those that really don't care at all. 

The ones who keep going strong, despite it all. 

For my people, 

The ones who paint their souls on canvas, 

In blazing reds, euphoric yellows, and lamenting blues. 

The ones who sculpt their hearts, 

Out of chunks of mouldable clays, beautiful woods, and hard stones. 

The ones who stitch what they wish to tell us, 

On fabrics colored with the rainbow and with so many textures. 

All the Artists, 

The painters and sculptors, 

The quilters and the animators, 

Who have inspired me oh-so-much. 

For my people 

Who are creators of chaos and peace, 

And who are destroyers of peace and chaos. 

This is for the artists.

[xamitras]

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

[todnachmitternacht]

i really love the cd i burned for my friend

the tracklist is actually so good