Even More Fun In The Dark!

I posted 2,148 times in 2021

78 posts created (4%)

2070 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 26.5 posts.

I added 242 tags in 2021

#my art - 44 posts

#art - 43 posts

#drawing - 42 posts

#traditional art - 21 posts

#oc - 20 posts

#original character - 20 posts

#my oc - 20 posts

#fanart - 16 posts

#harry potter - 10 posts

#dc - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#currently drawing my boys tm and like legitimately i dont think my brain has been actively thinking this happily about something in weeks

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

So utica lost... becouse she had too much personality???

59 notes • Posted 2021-01-30 02:51:11 GMT

#4

Some drarry, for 12 year old me

82 notes • Posted 2021-07-02 02:34:58 GMT

#3

What if i did dramatic shading... on litteraly everything i draw... haha just kidding... unless???

111 notes • Posted 2021-09-29 19:09:26 GMT

#2

what if star fire was like really tall

235 notes • Posted 2021-09-17 09:11:17 GMT

#1

See the full post

448 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 23:39:00 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

Yeah. If someone gives me a compliment I basicly stand their awkwardly not knowing what to say.

does anyone else not know how to handle praise at all? like i love it on one hand, but i dont deserve it and now a standard has been set that i may not reach in the future which is very stressful

Girl scouts these days selling cookies in the good for nothing mall back in my day we sat in the cold for hours and only sold four boxes becouse people felt bad for us.

Kids these days have it easy, what happened to the good old days where our negligent parents would go on a trip to Florida over the chirstmas holidays and due to a power outage the night before leaving, arrive late and unorganized to the air port, leaving me, Kevin Mccallister behind at the house, alone, home, defending myself against 2 robbers trying to murder me. Kids these days can’t just “mindcraft” their way out of attempted murder and home invasion, they barely know how to set up booby traps and hit people with paint cans. 

Oh my god! thank you!!!

From: @headfrst4halos

This is a gift for @lex-dermain who requested something with Nicolas. Happy holidays! 

The playlist to go with the story can be found here:

December 24th, 2019

Dear Nicki,

I don't write as much as I should, but can you really blame me when our conversation has become so one-sided? I hope you can. I do. 

Sometimes the words escape me as do the years, fleeting and yet oppressive all the same. I don't know if you would like me now. I have become both more and less myself. Sometimes the man that sought you out, the one who weeps for the witches, the one that spent all that time in that tiny room in the village, who ran away to Paris- honestly, he feels like a perfect stranger. But he does always return to Paris. 

He also aims to please, even to a fault. Armand certainly sees it as my worst transgression. Vanity, he calls it. Perhaps it is vanity that I even write this letter, that I think my choices and faults impacted you so severely. That I still need to comfort myself with these letters that you'll never read.  

I think you would say that all of this is very "me." 

It is Christmas, and though I have Louis and so many others at my side, I miss you. I'm so rarely alone anymore. It is both a blessing and a curse to have the coven here. To lead. 

Louis will be here soon to collect me. This is a night we keep for ourselves. I wonder if you would have gotten along. You are similar in faith, appearance, cynicism, but that is where the similarities die. He's always believed in good, in the way you were never able to see. 

I have seen many things in the years since we've been together, but most of all I wish that I would have seen you. Just once. You were present in neither heaven nor hell. Perhaps you remain unseen on Earth, like Armand's Riccardo. Nicki, where are you? Would you even tell me if you could?

Whenever you are now, do you remember waking up to the sound of church bells? Our rooms in Paris were so small, but we were so happy to be in them. Can you still recall the gentle flickering light of the candles in our rooms? Do you miss my love for you and your music? Sometimes I wonder if you ever truly felt my love. You always thought us joined in sin. We were yes, but that is not all there was. 

If happiness is a sin I will never repent. 

What wears on me most is the lack of something concrete. I have my memories of you yes, but what else? Sometimes I wish that I had a grave to visit, and on my darker days that we had always been mortal men and nothing more. I'm not entirely sure you would have met a different end, but maybe we could have made it last. Had cheap wine and the magic of our conversation to keep us going and nothing more.

But we were always looking for something better, weren't we? The world could never be enough. We would never find Paris. I still haven't, after all these years. And yet I still fear the meaninglessness darkness that awaits us all. 

"Lestat?" It was Louis, come to take me away to midnight mass. He was dressed for the cold we wouldn't feel, my own coat held against his chest. 

"Coming," I said, rising to my feet. I caught myself feeling grateful that he could not hear my thoughts, and the guilt from this thought set in almost immediately after. " Forgive me, I lost track of the time."

"What were you writing? I hope it is not another one of your books." He was smiling to erase the sting. I took my coat from his arms but did not put it on. 

"You're the one who started it. No, this time it is only a letter." I think I returned his smile. 

"A Christmas miracle." His arms found their way around my neck, but he made no move to read what I had been writing. "What is it that troubles you?"  

The contents of the letter were no secret; we had few, if any. But Louis always wanted to hear things directly from me. "The ghost of Christmas past," I said, only half joking. 

Louis made a contemplative noise and set to dressing me once he realized I was in no state to do it myself. My thoughtful Louis. He slid my coat over my arms, winding a scarf around my neck to keep out the chill I wouldn't feel. The caricature of a winter stroll. I was Lelio again, about to perform for the masses. I shuddered. Louis was silent for a moment, carefully working a pair of leather gloves onto my fingers. 

"Come back to the present with me." He took my gloved hand in his own to lead me from my rooms. No one stopped us as we left, a rare occasion. As we stepped out into the street, the noise of the city was briefly overwhelming. So much so that it filtered out the noise in my head. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Roasting chestnuts, cold air, living people. When I opened them again, Louis was looking at me in the way he did when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Tonight we exist, together, in love, and that is enough for me. 

"I'm here."

• your aloud to be passionate about a dumb story

writers:

break up your paragraphs. big paragraphs are scary, your readers will get scared

fuuuuck epithets. “the other man got up” “the taller woman sat down” “the blonde walked away” nahhh. call them by their names or rework the sentence. you can do so much better than this (exception: if the reader doesn’t know the character(s) you’re referring to yet, it’s a-okay to refer to them by an identifying trait)

blunette is not a thing

new speaker, new paragraph. please.

“said” is such a great word. use it. make sweet love to it. but don’t kill it

use “said” more than you use synonyms for it. that way the use of synonyms gets more exciting. getting a sudden description of how a character is saying something (screaming, mumbling, sighing) is more interesting that way.

if your summary says “I suck at summaries” or “story better than summary” you’re turning off the reader, my dude. your summary is supposed to be your hook. you gotta own it, just like you’re gonna own the story they’re about to read

follow long sentences w short ones and short ones w long ones. same goes for paragraphs

your writing is always better than you think it is. you just think it’s bad because the story’s always gonna be predicable to the one who’s writing it

i love u guys keep on trucking

It's game of thrones for kids and staring cats.

drunk history but it’s just me explaining the entire warrior cats series to people who have never read it

I like the old look more :)

A remarkable Jacobean re-emergence after 200 years of yellowing varnish Courtesy Philip Mould

I love the fact that I'm ace sense nobody in my friend group ever expects me to make a sex joke so when I do they just stare at me with the biggest look of confusion.

Can you please reblog if your blog is a safe place for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, aromantic, pansexual, non binary, demisexual or any other kind of queer or questioning people? Because mine is.