Original Story - Blog Posts

Nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide

🗡️🩸🐍

“Go to the playhouse…

Meet me inside…

I’ll see you soon, Nori…”

An illustration for a story project of mine.

An illustration for one of my projects.

A portal made out of sticks and twigs that is located in several different forests.

Hell yeah, this is fire🔥

HEEEYY GARL, You never showed up on my fy again and I almost went into depression again, until a video of yours finally reappeared for me, and then I caught up on the lore and came to your tumblr♡

Anywaaayyss, Do you have a tag for your characters? Like, I saw that the ship tag is geckorat, but and only for them? You know? For example, someone makes a post about batman and puts the tag DC comics bc batman is from DC? I just tag you if I make a fanart, or something?

Quack, good night☆

I never thought about it.

It has to be something crazy, original, Out of everyone's mind, creative... Something... Something...

#UnderpaidTravelersAtWork

#UTW

(it's actually the name of the comic I want to draw)

Here is the second and last of 2 videos from a year ago that I posted on tiktok and now I'm transferring to tumblr.

At the time, I wanted to do a little bit of Vallety's parents' Lore, but at the time I was too lazy to draw and/or animate even a little, so I did everything in gacha life/club, and this video was no different.

I had come across an audio of the "The Last Unicorn" movie/series(I don't remember) and soon noticed that the audio was about 92% compatible with their Lore so I put 1+1 together

It's kind of bad and the quality may have gotten worse because, TikTok, right, but I still think it's a cool concept :)

The moment Ilara says "I am human" is not, like, her renouncing her origins and accepting that she is now human, or at least partially human.

It's a moment of outburst, of exhaustion, one of those moments where you say things you don't really agree with or think about, a vulnerable moment, caused by the extreme body dysmorphia she felt, which Hansuke helped her overcome, because she is a siren, no matter what her body is, no matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone does/did to her.

And that will never change.

Meet Julie and Vox, the main characters of my comic series The Dead and The Dork! I plan to post the first few comics once they’re finished so be on the lookout for that. If you want this’ll also work as an ask series if you want to ask them questions!

Click on for cleaner image

The Bakery Witch

She doesn’t even know she’s a witch, she just lives her happy life with her three cats and her bakery, selling the best bread and pastries in town.

She loves singing as she works, a bit of rock, a bit of opera and a bit of everything. The music infuses her pastries with power. People know to buy something from her bakery when they need a little nudge in the right direction in their life, they don’t know why but it seems her bread and pastry can boost one’s day.

There’s the anxious student stopping by the morning of an important exam to buy a chocolate croissant, and the witch sends them away with a kind smile and words of encouragement. They have the best grades of the promotion. Today, the witch was singing ‘We are the Champions’ while baking

There’s the lonely old man across the street wishing he could mend his relationship with his family. The witch always takes time to chat with him when he comes to buy bread. One day he comes in accompanied by a younger woman and two children and introduces them as his daughters and grandchildren. When she bakes mixed seeds bread, the old man’s favourite, the witch always hums songs about family and forgiveness.

After she closes her shop for the night, the witch always gives part of the leftovers to the homeless woman across the street and the rest to a shelter for abused women. When they bit into a cream pastry or a bun, they all feel loved and safe, and all of them end up building a new life for themselves quickly, a life full of hope and laughter. One day, the homeless woman across the street enters the bakery with a bright smile and tells the witch she found a job and a home.

The witch’s reputation spreads without her knowing and, one day just before the closure a man in a smart suit comes in and asks if she can help him break the curse on him. He’sHe was a businessman cursed to age thrice as quickly as normal and die if he doesn’t find love. He’s already tried everything and seen more pseudo-wizard and other sorcerers and he’s heard of the witch’s bakery and how her spells really work. Everyone in town assured him of it. Yet, the witch tells him she doesn’t know about breaking curses and isn’t interested in romance either but she could use some help with the bakery.

Having nothing to lose, the man accepts and becomes her apprentice. She teaches him how to make the bread rise to exact fluffiness, and bake pie crusts to perfection. And all along, she keeps humming and singing, telling her apprentice it’s half the fun of making bread. The man isn’t a very good singer but he picks the habit and makes up for his lack of skill by singing with wild enthusiasm. He’s never had so much fun in his life as he had kneading dough while singing cheesy pop songs or icing cinnamon rolls as he tries to keep up with an opera singer on the radio.

The customers are a bit surprised by the new assistant baker but quickly take a liking to him because if the witch works with him, he can only be a good man, right?

And, two years into his apprenticeship, the cursed man realises he has stopped aging. He’s even starting de-aging now. He doesn’t understand why, he hasn’t found love in all the time he has spent at the witch’s bakery. It’s only when he tells the witch about it that he understand, because she loo at him with raised eyebrows and asks: don’t you love baking? Singing? Making people’s day just a little better with a smile and a kind word?

And the man realises that he has, indeed, found love. He has a job that makes people and himself happy, he knows all regulars of the bakery by name and chats with them, the witch is his dearest friend and he has found a hobby in song (he’s still not great at it but it makes him happy so why stop?) His life is full of love, he just didn’t see it. And maybe, he’s a bit of a witch himself too, because his pastries seem to give people just what they need that day.

Years passes for the witch and her assistant, and their bakery is as popular as always. The anxious student graduated and is in a PhD program (they come before each important milestone to buy a chocolate croissant for the confidence boost), the old man from across the street comes once a week with his daughter and grandchildren, the formerly homeless woman comes to introduce her wife to the witch.

And maybe, one day, the man will meet someone and fall head over heels for them. And they will marry and have children or cats or even a lizard pet because why not. But in the meanwhile he’s in love with his job and lives with his best friend and her cats and, together, they are the bakery’s witches.

It's me again! I got some actual designs down for my hybrid story!

The Lion is Preston

The frog is Neil

The chameleon is Nerris

The snake is Max

and the mouse is David

These characters are all posted on my Unvale page, you should check it out!

for the last prompt:

“Don’t touch those books, sweetie. They have souls.”

Miranda hesitated with her fingers poised over a golden spine. 

“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful. 

The librarian simply rolled her eyes, adjusting the hem of her coffee-colored sweater. “Did you not read the danger signs we passed?” 

Slowly, Miranda lowered her hands and laced them behind her back. “Thought that was another of Dougie’s pranks,” she murmured quietly. 

The librarian sighed.

“Miss Pickery-"

“I still don’t know why you hired my brother,” Miranda interrupted, eyes slipping back to the shiny, golden book she had been tempted to pull off the shelf. “He’s not exactly…bookish. Or terribly employable.”

“Well, he doesn’t attempt to touch the books with souls, for one,” the librarian replied. 

Miranda pressed her lips together firmly, attention slipping guiltily to the carpeted floor and catching on an oblong stain that the librarian gestured to with the toe of her heeled boot.

“And he doesn’t suffer the consequences of such misbehavior like my previous apprentice, Ronald.”

Miranda couldn’t help the startled gasp that left her as she drew her arms closer to the center of her body, head whipping back and forth in the narrow aisle to ensure no part of her was near any part of these…these murdering, soul-having books.  

Seriously, if Miranda had known about Ronald the Oblong Stain when she’d received her brother’s stupid email about checking out his “cool new job”, Miranda would have deleted it without a second thought. Unread, unreplied to, and un…un-in danger, Miranda thought sternly. 

The librarian frowned back at her, all sharp featured and unimpressed, like she was privy to Miranda’s imaginary word making.  

“U-um, so where is Dougie, anyway, Miss?”

“Late,” the librarian replied. She raised her right wrist to peer at a square watch wrapped over her sweater sleeve, the arms curved like octopus tentacles and spinning far faster than the plain, round one on Miranda’s own wrist. “Or perhaps early, depending.”

“Depending on what?”

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be conversing with Ronald, instead,” the librarian murmured to herself, causing a deep frown to appear over Miranda’s face. 

Oblong Stain-Man, one. Miranda, zero. 

“Well, he invited me here,” Miranda petulantly reminded the woman. “I’m still not sure why, but I doubt it was to kill me so is it possible for us to wait for him in a different section of the library? Maybe one without, you know, danger signs?”

The librarian gave Miranda a swift once-over, then peered up at the ceiling, expression unchanging. 

“No. Here will do.”

“Oh, okay,” Miranda whispered shakily. “I’ll just stay here and try not to turn into goo, then.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the librarian dismissed, waving her hand in the air. “That Evelyn has much more flare than that. She would have ignited you, most definitely.”

“E-Evelyn?” Miranda repeated, peering behind herself for other, potentially-murderous library patrons. Perhaps one carrying a blowtorch.

“The book you were going to touch,” the librarian explained. “She has quite a flair for the dramatic, that girl. Your death would have been very phoenix-like.”

Miranda eyed the golden-spined book with far more wariness than before. 

“Phoenix-like…” she echoed. “Like…as in I’d come back to life?”

The librarian’s nose scrunched. “As in you’d go up in a spark of flames and crumble to ash before you could say-”

“Mimi!” Dougie called out happily, appearing in a cart-like contraption over their heads. Dougie tugged gently on a hanging rope within his cart and the whole thing slowed to a squeaky stop.

Miranda eyed the small cylinder of metal attaching the cart to the track embedded in the ceiling with open skepticism. 

“Took ya long enough,” he said, smiling. 

“Took me-?!” Miranda began to sputter, only to be silenced by a hand from the librarian. 

“Douglas,” she greeted calmly. “Anything to report?”

Dougie’s smile turned slightly bashful, and he scratched the back of his head. “Not yes, Miss. But with Mimi here, things should be fixed in a snap!” 

“I fucking hate that name,” Miranda muttered darkly beneath her breath.

“Quit whining, girl,” the librarian said, not unkindly. “It’s time to go.” 

“Please,” Miranda agreed, quickly ascending the thin, metal stairs that had stretched out from Dougie’s cart like a particularly slow accordion. She would happily go anywhere to get away from Evelyn and Ronald and who knows who else. 

The librarian followed quickly after. 

“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, cringing at the grating noise emanating from the ceiling as the cart rocked jerkily back into motion. “To lunch?”

Dougie’s email had promised lunch. 

“Uhhh, not to lunch,” Dougie admitted, ignoring Miranda’s heavily disappointed sigh. “We need you to fix something, actually.”

“And it’s not a sandwich?” Miranda pressed hopefully. 

“Sorry, sis,” Dougie laughed. “It’s…uh, well it’s a little bit bigger than that.”

“These swinging death cages, then?” she tried next. Because they could use some serious oiling, but otherwise seemed mostly stable. Even if the eccentric design didn’t invite anything but distrust. 

Dougie pulled on the rope again as they entered a new room and Miranda brought her hands up to cover her ears while she peered curiously over the edge of the cart, still hoping in vain for a cafe or a bistro. 

What she saw instead was a massive, boiler-looking thing, with moving arms on just about every square inch of its rusting, bronze surface, rounded caps lifting periodically to release hissing trails of white steam. 

What really caught her attention, though, was the small door built into its base, boasting a massive dent and an odd array of talon-like scratches along its surface. And one scrawled out word. 

Miranda Pickery. 

“...well,” Miranda said slowly, hands falling to her hips as she quietly examined the structure. “Surely I’m not the only Miranda Pickery in the area. Total coincidence, really.”

The librarian’s wrinkly hand landed on Miranda’s shoulder, her other pointing towards the far end of the boiler room. 

Miranda followed her gaze to a large, hand-painted mural spanning the entire length of the flaking wall. The figures were all done in black, or perhaps a very deep blue, and nearly impossible to make out in the dim space. The orange light from the boiler only illuminated the lowest section, where there were rows and rows of what looked like people, carrying stacks of what looked like books, and a few, hanging, claw-like feet that suggested an array of birds above their heads. 

The librarian clapped and the space flooded with blue light. Hovering orbs lined the room like street lamps- above the boiler but below the cart- revealing a concerning amount of bookshelves lining this room, too. 

A concerning amount of bookshelves and Miranda’s likeness, that is, painted in the very center of the mural with such detail that any hopes of pawning off this mystery onto some other hapless sod immediately wilted and died within her heart. 

“Oh,” Miranda said dumbly. 

“Oh,” the librarian agreed. 

“So…” Dougie started, awkwardly clapping his hands together. “Lunch, anyone?”

WRITING PROMPTS - Library

A 24/7 library has no staff, but those who enter never think to steal.

"We can't make out! This is a library!"

A magical university has a library that changes its contents entirely whenever it hits midnight.

"Shh! Reading time."

A library is the only building unaffected by a massive earthquake.

"Where did you get that book?"

A group of academics decide they want to be buried alive in the cursed library that the government are burying.

"Don't touch those books, sweetie. They have souls."