Why can’t snow not sting the eyes...

WOOO - BLOG POST!!

Being a Southerner, the idea of snow is still very bizarre to me. The idea of it usually comes across like this in my head. It’s water, but it doesn’t make my clothes wet? Do I think of it as more forgiving rain, or do I think of it as it’s own entity? Of course, people who are more accustomed to this light powder (or as I have always affectionately called it, God’s Dandruff) will probably laugh at me and ridicule this poor Southerner and his confusion over a concept as simple as snow.

If you think you could explain it to me, feel free to message me and explain to this idiot in the simplest ways you can!

~

This morning, it began to abruptly snow quite heavily at some point during my first class. Since there were no windows to the outside world, I was extremely surprised to see my campus transformed into what was a quintessential winter wonderland (on that note, why couldn’t it snow like this during Christmas or when my family visited me??).

It is my second year at this particular university, but it was my first time seeing such thick, yet light snowfall. Generally, the snowfall would be falling thick and fast, or thin and light. I have been on mountains to go skiing and snowboarding (which are stories that I am fairly ashamed of, since I always end up damaged in some way after every trip), but the snow there was always thick, heavy, and vision-obscuring. In essence, my reaction to this thick, yet light snowfall was “Wow.”

That is of course, I had to start walking in it.

I’m sure I’m not alone in this reaction, but walking into this type of snow is quite terrifying. Seeing these large flakes coming at my face makes me reactively twitch whenever I see one float into my vision, but knowing that they’re basically fluffy water makes me not outright flinch. That being said, when snow hits anyplace near my eyes (or in my eyes), I stiffen ever so slightly in shock.

Basically, thick snow is really, really, annoying to walk through.

I have to say again, that there is definitely an undeniable beauty that exists in this type of snowfall, and I can see why winter and snow is a topic that’s so heavily written about. Walking back to my dorm, there were many buildings that look so much refined while they’re framed by the curtain of dancing snowflakes. Whenever I managed to duck under cover so that my face wasn’t being barraged by these snowflakes, I was able to really admired how mesmerizing the combination of this snow and cityscape was. If I didn’t hate being cold and wet so much, I would have probably spent my time admiring the snow in some random park, rather than sitting in my heated and comfortable room typing this out.

I’m sure my sense of wonderment will quickly melt away (haha!!) into frustration when the snowfall stops and the temperature rises just enough to have it turn into the black slush that I am now accustomed to. However, being able to write my feelings down in this snapshot in time will remind me that at some point in time, the black sludge that I detest so much was once an object of awe and beauty to me.

Thanks for reading my first blogpost!  I have no idea if this will become a regular thing. Feedback is always a motivating factor, so if you enjoyed it, feel free to drop a heart, reblog, or send me a message. I want to say that a snow-related story will be posted soon after this blogpost, so keep posted for that.

Once again, thank you for still following this sorry excuse for a writing page!

Miraculous AU Week Day 3- Technology AU - Part 2!

This is part 2 of the Steampunk AU that I posted on Wednesday! Sorry for being a bit late, but I hope that you still enjoy the ride!

I have finally signed up for an actual story-sharing site, so you guys won’t have to look at the tragedy that is Google Docs. Thank you for your patience with me!

Post to part two is here!

Miraculous AU Week Day 3- Technology AU

This is a steampunk AU attempt at a oneshot. This is part 1. Part 2 will be on Sunday. There are pictures (courtesy of @baraschino!!!). Please enjoy!!

[READ MORE HERE] (sorry it’s on a Google Doc for now, will attach alternate link later!)

Updated link to AO3 here! Thank you for your patience!

How on earth does this site work… -slapskeyboardinfrustration-

Oh hi! Didn’t see you there.

I’m Brian! University student. Potential writer/blogger. Also a bum.

I love to generate ideas in my head, and think about writing stories, but those stories never get written.

My friend, Melissa (otherwise known as @baraschino), is extremely frustrated with me. SO in order to satisfy her never ending rage and complaints about me never writing, I’ll start by writing a blog post!

Hopefully I’ll be posting a few short stories here and there soon, and hopefully I will be participating in the Miraculous Ladybug AU week.

If I don’t, I may never appear again because I’ll most have been killed by Melissa I’m an unmotivated blob of meat.

I hope you enjoy my future works to come!

Quality dropped because I ripped these through puush. //cries

I was catching up on @baraschino‘s blog when I realized how much I appreciated these faces, so of course, my natural reaction was to compile them so I could admire them later.

If a girl could smirk like this to me irl, I would probably fall for them in that moment.

Trying to edit on mobile so I apologize if formatting is shit (￣^￣)ゞ

I got permission from baraschino to post! Sorry for not including that in my initial post!

First attempt at short story!

It was an amazing discovery. A boy with shining crimson eyes and the ability to cast magic. The government took him in, and he became an international phenomenon with perpetual media coverage. As a young girl, I became enraptured by the brilliance and magic, and my parents would often joke about how great it would be if I was married to him.

It was amazing to just sit in front of the television and watch him play with his magic. He would make a newly planted tree grow in an instant. He would duplicate incredibly complicated machinery by just tapping it. He could also make anything disappear by simply touching it. Anything I could imagine, I would eventually see him do it on the television. He would have the most incredible smile on his face whenever he casted magic, and his crimson eyes would flash brilliantly at every successful attempt.

Everything changed on his thirteenth birthday.

On that evening my parents left to go to a party to celebrate his birthday, I was left home alone. I tried to entertain myself by blindfolding myself and feeling my way through my house, and consequently shattered my mother’s favorite cup. The tears immediately flooded my eyes, and I began to wail over the pieces that littered the floor. I finally managed to open my eyes when the hiccups of despair finally subsided and found a miracle. The tears I had shed had become a perfect replica of the cup. I quickly cleaned up the broken shards, quickly realizing I too possessed magical abilities.

When my parents arrived home, their faces were positively elated. They embraced me and told me that the secret of magic could be available to everyone soon. I kept my magical ability a secret, so when they got their own powers, I would be able to surprise them.

I’m glad I did.

He was experimented on. The extent and power of his ability were tested to the limit. The media dedicated a channel to him and praised his bravery and selflessness. When he wasn’t being experimented, he was being force-fed patriotic propaganda. Now when I watched his experiments, his smiles seemed more plastic and his eyes began to dull. His trials became unsatisfying to watch, and I began to experiment with my own magic. Although mine wasn’t as impressive as his, I could still materialize basic objects.

But it all seemed fine until the other countries around us took notice.

The peace talks seemed fine by in themselves. It was always the aftermath that disturbed me.

Stories of the leaders retiring and never resurfacing to the public eye. Stories of the resistance of other countries melting away. Stories of armies freezing in their steps and disappearing.

At first I dismissed these stories, but the more they surfaced, the more I began to realize the literal meaning of them. I began to research the countries that were mentioned in every newscast. The countries that agreed to peace always became tributaries to ours.. The countries that moved to war literally became molten wastelands. The countries that never reached an agreement became frozen tundras.

As these occurrences became more frequent, his eyes became darker and darker.

By the end of the year, over half the countries in the world were slaves to ours.

The rest were inhabitable.

By the end of the year, his smile became twisted.

But it seemed like no one else had noticed the perversion of his personality. The daily parties that were held at his expense masked the darkness that seemed to be overtaking his personality

His eighteenth birthday was when it happened. The scientists had made no progress since his thirteenth birthday, and declared that they would intensify the experiments. At that announcement, his eyes noticeably flashed red and the video feed abruptly cut off, leaving only the screams of the crowd and the sound of flesh being torn apart through the static screen.

I closed the television, the bile threatening to make an exit from my mouth. Was I the only one who could stop him? Where there other people with magic in our country? What could I do? My chest began to feel as though my heart wanted to escape the cage that it was in. I thought about the consequences of letting him rampage as he pleased, and I decided to confront him. I created a wooden bat out of the cold sweat that I had produced, and I pushed the door open, venturing out into the burning city to find him.

It was a little odd. Even as I tracked down the paths of destruction, there was no trace on him. After hours of digging through the rubble of the city, I finally returned home.

I found him sitting at the table with my parent’s corpses propped against the chairs, licking the cup that I had made so long ago with a relish in his eyes.

The unearthly shriek that came from my mouth caught his attention.

He calmly stared at me, his small smile telling me how at ease he was around me

I screamed as I beat his head in his with the bat I had made until my arms went numb. When the bat fell from my hands I was horrified to find his smile even wider underneath his caved in skull, and my blood froze like ice.

My head became swollen with the confused whispers that swirled around. I couldn’t even bother acknowledging the masks of my neighbor’s faces as they hugged me in joy.

That night when I looked at the mirror, the only thing I could see was his deformed figure staring back at me, still smiling.

When I went to bed that night, I decided to continue his legacy to see why he smiled so beautifully at death.