Darktober 7

Darktober 7

"... Mz. Collins (she rather coolly corrected me when I called her Mrs. Stoddard-Collins) told me I'd be living up on the third floor, in the "attic room". "I hope that's acceptable," she said, "the name is a bit ominous, I know, but I promise it's comfortable."

"I don't mind! It sounds lovely." I said, very sincerely. After all the shared bedrooms, rundown houses and sketchy, cheap studio apartments I've lived in (and also shared), a spooky attic sounded rather wholesome.

Right then, we all heard the sound of old hinges creaking as the double doors were cracked open.

"Oh, there you are! I was just about to mention you." Mz. Collins said. She was smiling, but there was concern furrowing her brow. "Victoria, this is David. David, this is Victoria Winters, your new tutor. She'll start teaching you on Monday."

I turned, ready to greet the wide-eyed little boy I'd been told I was going to teach (and nanny, but I noticed that Mz. Collins had left that part out). Instead, I met a pair of large, glinting brown eyes that stared at me unblinkingly - not filled with nervousness at meeting a stranger, but genuine, decidedly violent hostility. His wild blonde hair was tangled and full of leaves and twigs, his clothes covered in dust and dirt, torn in a few places. Clearly, he'd been running wild in the woods all day. How appropriate, given how much he reminded me of trickster fairies from European mythology - the ones who are just as likely to stab you as help you.

"Hi, David." I said, pasting a well-trained friendly smile on my face. "It's nice to meet you."

He stayed silent. If anything, his expression became even more hostile.

"David." Mz. Collins spoke quietly behind me. "Say hello, at least."

David's mouth twisted slightly, and he looked down at his shoes. He clearly wasn't happy to meet me, but he wasn't going to say no to his aunt. "Hi." he muttered, word barely perceptible. And with that, he disappeared, running up the stairs in the foyer.

Mz. Collins sighed. "David is a good boy." she said. "I promise."

If you’re an adult, do the stuff you couldn’t as a kid.

Like, me and my sister went to a museum, and they had an extra exhibit of butterflies. But it cost £3. So we sighed, walked past, then stopped. We each had £3. We could see the butterflies. And we did it was great. We followed it up with an ice-cream as well because Mum and Dad weren’t there to say no.

I was driving back from a work trip with 2 other people in their early 20s, and we drove past a MacDonalds. One of the others went “Aww man, I’d love a McFlurry.” And the guy driving pulled in to the drive through. It was wild. But it was great.

I went to a park over the weekend and I was thinking “Man, I’d love to hire one of those bikes and cycle round the park.” It took me a few minutes to go “Wait, I can hire one of those bikes!”

I guess what I’m saying is, those impulsive things you wanted to do as a kid - see the dinosaur exhibit, play in the fountains with the other kids, lie in the shade for 2 hours - you can do when you’re an adult. You have to deal with a whole lot of other bull, but at least you can indulge your inner 8 year-old.

My very favorite Rumiko Takahashi panel.

Darktober 4 (CW: mention of s**cide)

“I met the housekeeper - Bridget - at the train station parking lot. She was a lot nicer and more…well, okay, fine, I’ll say it, *pretty* than I was expecting. Look, I’m a poor college student from Maine raised on Disney movies, what else could I be expecting? Housekeepers aren’t exactly a common sight in the modern American household.

Anyway, she was very very nice - wouldn’t let me touch my lone suitcase after we met in the parking lot and talked the whole way to Collinwood about the family, the town, the weather - absolutely everything about the estate and the land/people around it. And I was happy to listen. It was nice to get a rundown of the place I’ll be living in for the next six months. And she was a really good storyteller to boot. When we finally pulled into the gigantic old driveway of Collinwood, I noticed a particularly prominent hill protruding from the cliffs overlooking the sea - Bridget saw me look, and said, in the most casual way, “That’s Widow’s Hill. Blocked off from the estate long ago, but that doesn’t stop the local daredevils from climbing up there and making a ruckus on Halloween every year.”

“Why’s it called Widow’s Hill?” I asked. Bridget smiled - a small, sad kind of smile. All the humor was suddenly gone.

“Long ago, sailor’s wives would come up to that hill every day to watch for their husbands’ ships. It’s the highest point with a view here. Story goes, some of those poor women threw themselves off the cliff when they found out their husbands had died at sea.” Her expression changed again, as she seemed to shake herself and look at me directly, smile warm and welcoming again. “Lots of people have come and gone here. Doubt I’d like to be remembered that way.”

And with that, she walked towards the house, my suitcase rolling behind her.”

Perryn Rannock, Cleric of Ilmater.

Hello once again, Tumblr! It's been a while! I, like many, am making the exodus from Twitter and Instagram and returning to my ol' stompin' grounds here now that my drawings won't get got by Ye Algorythme. Hopefully.

Anyway, this is (one of) my D&D characters, a very tired but dedicated high elf cleric serving a human God. Love this boy. Hope he lives!

There are a lot of posts about SoCal skater fashion, I figured it would be fun to show some Glasgow skater. Even though I'm from California. But like. I learned to skate in Glasgow. So.

Currently cold, windy, and alternating between wet or icy. Skating is fun, with an added thrill of serious bodily harm.