SEND TRY + A CHARACTER YOU’D LIKE TO SEE ME ( ATTEMPT ) TO WRITE ! // @widowshill
The record player blared loudly and she wondered for half a breath if she'd go deaf; she almost wished to go deaf; maybe then it would finally drown out the incessant pestering of her cousin, of his keeper titled oh so irritatingly as a governess. It was old-fashioned, all of it; some days she could hardly stand it.
Carolyn pouted, leaning more so out her windowsill, trying to perch her hips so she could almost sit at the window's edge. The air of night was crisp and cold, but however much heat she let escape her bedroom, she cared little. She was preoccupied, an unlit cigarette balanced between her lips, her brow scrunched in concentration as she struck match to box again and again until--
Finally.
Cupping her stolen indulgence, trying to mask it from the evening breeze lest the fire blow out, she found her enjoyment squelched as she began choking, the first breath of smoke like a pair of hands clamping around her throat, suffocating her. Sputtering, she coughed dryly into her fist, mindful to keep her balance all the while before she observed the glowing embers at the end of the cigarette.
It was time to grow up, she could all but hear her mother's words echoed in her thoughts, yet Carolyn couldn't help herself from thinking that perhaps she would run away one day her age could be damned only she needed a bit of practice first.
Bringing the cigarette back to her lips, she inhaled.
Can you draw Reigen in that one Saul Goodman pose? The one where he's leaning forward with his hands behind his back like a school girl or something. I think that'd be funny.
"We cut Nettles and gave her plot to Rhaena" Your show fell out of a coconut tree. Your characters do not exist in the context of all in which they live and what came before them
SEND TRY + A CHARACTER YOU’D LIKE TO SEE ME ( ATTEMPT ) TO WRITE ! // @annastrxng
It wasn't fair; the only thoughts to flood her mind as she gawped at her younger sister, at the plea for a delay in matrimony.
That was hours ago, but it mattered little as Becky stood idle with her back pressed back into her chamber door, her voice, her breath caught in her throat as she read over the letters again and again, fingers trembling as she slid the next to the top of the stack she clasped. The anger was like an opened wound as her eyes skimmed the closing to her fiancé's letters over and over: With utmost affection, yours, Charles Barristan.
It was cruel; all of it. Asking her to delay the inevitable with such little inclination, little feeling. She had always known her sister to have a selfish nature, and yet she never took her for one so oblivious to her own weakened nerves.
Becky recognized the look well in her sister's eyes; the near fright, the near panic. She'd never speak so plainly to the familiarity, but it wasn't fair that Margaret be the one to delay her fate, to delay both their fates. She no more wanted to go through with her own betrothal, but marriage was a duty, a consequence, she knew as the fresh heated tears slid from her cheeks, staining the parchment before her. It was not a choice; it would never be her choice.
Starting to realize that in order to be comfy drawing any characters I have to draw a shit ton of meme art for them. Or at the very least, it helps a lot surprisingly. 💀
i 100% support the strange videos my youngest sister enjoys because i loved the same sort of loud memey nonsense at her age and i know this is simply the inherent nature of middle schoolers. on the other hand i really miss pingas