Nobara

Scaramouche: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my flaws! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Ezra Miller with long hair and facial hair is hot (like, in The Flash 2023 and Fantastic Beasts but also during The Flash premiere). Like, I'm not pro-Ezra, but he does look attractive with long hair and facial hair. But he also needs therapy, badly. He's a good actor, imo, but he needs to face consequences. He's mad. Anyways, I need someone to draw art of characters that has Ezra's fashion and his hairstyle. I need to do that, actually. Still, someone get Ezra arrested, please

Got Krita and decided to draw one of my previous art but decided to change the whole color scheme. The lines are awful and terrible, I'm not used to not having full control of where my pen lands on the screen. I usually just move the screen and not really my hand but that's hard with a PC and a tablet that has points to mark the location on the screen. But I'm figuring it out.

How’d I go from “It trickled down his side like thin, glistening sauce trickling down the side of steak, collecting under the squishy flesh” to “he holds out for the one who made him this foolishly sanguine, even as they carve out his heart from its vermeil abode”?

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

Also, reading HP fanfics made me find out that....damn. Fanfics from, like, 2004 or something are so fucking awesome. Like, like, I love them. And reading fics from that far back makes you see the progression of fanfiction in AO3, but, main point is, they were going hard back then.

Mirror-Me

My distorted reflection stares into my soul.

Does it see how it breaks me apart?

Does it see how cracked I am,

Chipped with crumbs of myself falling out?

A brewing abyss settles deep into my chest;

It swirls with loathing and malice,

Darker, more malevolent than a lonely night sky.

I stare into my reflection, despairing.

What are those? I ask,

Staring onto the lines that crease my skin,

The too big limbs I possess,

The slight fat I see under my chin.

I stretch my skin, smiling.

The creases smoothen,

I smile and it returns.

I frown.

I stretch my skin,

Adoring the way my limbs become slimmer.

My reflection stares, almost approving.

Until it all returns and it looks at me with disgust.

I turn away,

I grab pieces of cloth,

I pull it over my blemished skin.

I must cover up.

It's the only way.

MJ: Do you ever sleep? Peter: Define ‘sleep.’ MJ: Not texting me at 3 a.m. asking if grilled cheese counts as a personality trait. Peter: I stand by that question, by the way.

Contradictions

I'm the very embodiment of contradictions. The physical manifestation of duality molded into a body. I am the adjective of two extremes. To describe me is to confuse oneself, to describe me is to describe everything and nothing. I feel inferiority just as I feel superiority. I'm the most evil nice person to exist for there are equal amounts of nicety than there is evil in me. I am sinful saint. I utter the words of a god that my heart oozes no faith for, yet any arguments of my god's existence fills me with a rage like a devout.

I grieve no one and everyone. My heart beats no care or love for any entity be it my family or my friends or a lover that never will exist for my heart will hold nothing but apathy. Yet. My words and my actions are devotions of a semblance of a love that I do not feel. My thoughts are dedicated for them as if I am driven by love—yet my heart beats nothing but pumped blood.

I understand myself very well, the only person to ever understand me. Though I confuse myself all the time. I am so inexplicable that I am only explained by my name. My name is all the explanations one needs, every nuances of my being—blurred and confusing it may be for anyone but me. They explain me by uttering my name, chalk it up to [—] being [—] as if that's the only explanation for my behavior and my words and my expressions.

People talk about me as if they can understand me, as if their words are true. It is not. Even those that hold the title of my closest friend always gets it wrong. They say my name as if it explains it all despite them not knowing what it is that's actually being explained by the simple whisper of my name.

What's in a name, I wonder?

Because it definitely is not understanding.