posted this
Time ago

Guess who got their picrew hyperfixation back!! Me!! It's the Doors kids, Lux, Pike, and Cricket! Here's the picrew I used: https://picrew.me/image_maker/150995


Sometimes u just gotta write that scene that's been in ur head. Don't wait for the story to reach that point, don't wait til u have better writing skills. Don't wait. Just write it.

posted this
Time ago

Woah some OCs! It's my very own children, Amarat, Cat, and Toby!Here's the picrew I used: https://picrew.me/image_maker/150995

a few doodles from the past few months! a few of these never got posted anywhere since they couldn't justify their own post ;w; i'm glad i can slap a bunch of images in WF

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SSing the tags because real talk, I legit wonder whether I made a mistake just making this an open beta instead of at least PRETENDING there was some exclusivity, even if it was giving everyone infinitely regenerating invite codes

Pillowfort has a MASSIVE marketing advantage because of their multiple Kickstarters and the fact they've been around longer, and yes - as Gold said, fake exclusivity.

Waterfall sucks at marketing because none of us want to do it (it's just the language involved, it seems so fucking slimy) so aren't good at it, and even though we have the advantage on features and technical implementation (apparently?), Pillowforts age and the fact they have a budget behind them means that they'll win on stuff like this. Pillowfort also just looks a bit nicer since they focused on the aesthetic earlier than we did, where I focused purely on making stuff WORK before I get it looking nice.

I know I've been a bit memey about it, but seriously. We NEED you guys to advertise for us. Offer cheaper commissions by like a dollar or two if they do it through here, post exclusive content, whatever - but seriously, Pillowfort barely does their own advertising, it's all the users doing it. We need you guys to be as evangelical about Waterfall as their users are about Pillowfort, because their guys hop on Tumblr to make masterlist posts about why it's a great site.

If you guys can think of anything that'd pull more folks in, I'm all ears, but we're at a point now where we can't do it by ourselves anymore. We need you guys to step up to the plate as well.

Time ago

to fly (mahpiohanzia)



n. the disappointment of being unable to fly, unable to stretch out your arms and vault into the air, having finally shrugged off the ballast of your own weight and ignited the fuel tank of unfulfilled desires you’ve been storing up since before you were born. (via the dictionary of obscure sorrows)

There was a girl who was born without wings. This, in it of itself, was not a notable experience, girls without wings are what is to be expected. But this girl was born without wings, and her soul longed to fly. Her father unknowingly aided this fascination and need to fly. It was just the father and the girl in the world, the father was a painter, an illustrator. He painted her nursery to look like the stars above and the clouds below, almost if you were floating on air. As she grew, their library grew with books of fiction and fact about wings and birds and winged beasts. The girl would usually read aloud her books to her father as he worked, and she would often wake to the smell of paint and the sight of a new creature on her walls to join her flock. It was when she found a book about Leonardo when a spark ignited her imagination. Whilst her father was in his studio, she climbed to the window of her attic bedroom, their prized garden below. She took a breath, and she leaped.

With her bedsheet wings she flew, she flew for a moment, and it was a moment she would never forget. She flew before gravity and its cruel fingers brought her crashing down. Her father didn’t know whether to be proud or concerned for his little girls as she smiled and laughed and sang like a bird’s call “I flew daddy! I flew!”, unaware of the arm that was very much now broken and the front tooth that had jettisoned from her mouth.

Her father carefully picked her up, and put her in the front seat and calmly drove her to the hospital. She became the favorite of the nurses with her talk of flying and birds, unaware of her father’s baffled concern for his child. The ladies in town began to gossip about the little family, how he should put her in school so her foolish hopes of flight would be crushed, and replaced by more normal, more practical dreams. ‘If she were mine’ They would titter, 'I would have gotten rid of all those lousy books and sent her to a Governess to learn how to be a lady’. The father did not do this, however, he continued to foster his child’s love of flight and of birds. He continued to add to her flock and let her read books of engineering and myth, although with the express instructions to not attempt to fly again alone. As the girl grew, she never let go of her dream, and she was more than content to spend her days with her father in their library, or in his studio, or on their roof mapping out the constellations.

And as she grew, her father began to plan, plan on how to let her fly. He had a set of paints, created by the girl’s late mother, to use for the girl’s 16th birthday present. He began to paint, and paint and paint, never letting the girl see his secret project. He worked near day and night for three years, the girl taking over some of his jobs illustrating so he could work. She never asked what he was creating, though she wondered, as all children are want to do.

And with her wings painted with the love of her father, she flew. She flew and flew and did not crash. She flew and flew the currents caressing and launching her into the clouds and the stars above. And as she flew, her father smiled from the ground. He did not expect her return, he expected her to fly to the nearest star and forget about her room with fake clouds and fake birds.

She returned as the sun began to dip below the sky, her hair wild, and her smile free. And embraced her father, before returning to her bed, feathers and all. Each day she would fly, bringing gifts and stories from lands and worlds across the stars and the seas, and each night she would return. Her father never asked her to stay, but wings are not home. The sky does not care if she is sick, or if she is sad. The stars cannot read her bedtime stories. The clouds were not her family. The winds were not her home. But her father was, her father cared if she was sick or hurting or upset, her father worked himself to the bone to make her wings. Her father gifted her dream, expecting her to never return. But she did. She always did.

The Forgotten King


Surveying all with weary malaise

An old king far past his ending days

Standing bent beneath his age

His palace vast become his cage

White hair flew in the breeze

As he walked, creaking knees

His life long spent, now all alone

No family left to take the throne

Outside he walks, to the tower

High he climbed, while wind blew sour

Out he looked across the realm

His weighted crown a heavy helm

A chain of duty, bound to rule

The old king now a lonely fool

All in ruin, his kingdom dead

Nothing left but pain and dread

The old king’s war had bleed them dry

No living soul was left to die

All gone, all dead, but that old king

Not even birds remained to sing

The land a grave, an empty tomb

A deal was struck, and caused their doom

Now trapped by curse, a deadly fate

The old king could do naught but wait

Not dead nor living, but in between

Not quite a ghost, he walks unseen

And until the end of time

Up the tower he must climb

Confront again his deadly deed

What he destroyed through selfish greed

His name forgotten, his kingdom lost

His people paid the dire cost

If you wander through his land

Keep your torch flame close at hand

For the old king lingers in the night

And without a guiding light

You too will vanish, no trace or mark

Just a whisper, lost in the dark


I love this!!

trans rights are human rights


to read


There is much comfort in a book. To have an entire universe bound neatly and both heavy and light in your hands. From the very first page, the ink swirls around your hands, your eyes, your soul. Creating sunbursts and galaxies of prose. You become Other, Outside, Infinite and so very small.

A life that is not your own, but belongs to no one but you, wraps around you. You see nothing but words, but your mind is a symphony of landscapes, of first love and battlefields. You meet friends that will never see, you hear words that will never be spoken. The perfume of the pages overwhelming any mortal sense.

You understand the allure of Icarus and his sun. You consume page after page, hungry for more knowledge, for more of the warmth of familiar stories. It is human nature, isn’t it? To become enraptured and entangled in tales tall and short? The spark of want hits your core, you try to pry yourself away from its sticky pages but as you turn away the soul-wrenching Need calls you back. Like a siren, it calls, and you answer.

Time means nothing as roads unfurl beneath your fingertips, and you feel yourself falling, or are you rising? Do you crash or do you ascend? Is this the feeling of infiniteness or nothingness? Are you cradled by Creation or swaddled by the void? Does it matter?

The book ends, the pages stop turning. And there is a story sized hole in your heart. You take a breath, then another, and place your hand on another love-bound tome. The cycle started from humanity’s first breath begins anew.

There is much comfort in a book.

Valerie getting Sound out of the City, 2445, colorized

(he didn't have blue hair back then :(

put your own ocs on a bike here

posted this
Time ago

And Then They Were Dancing

And then they were dancing. He stumbled at first, flailing limbs sending raw, electric panic through his body. But Asa caught his momentum and swung him around, and then they were dancing. He spun, and the word blurred around him, into color and sound, into bright light and soaring emotion. the aching pain he carried inside of him, for once, came off of him in glowing electric sparks, and he was all fire, he was incandescent joy and whirling kinetic motion, something was bubbling up in his chest and he laughed and all around him was warm and safe as he whirled in Catalufa and Asa's arms, safe in the embrace of the tavern and the warm grasp of the dance. He spun through the outer ring of the dance, to come face to face with Toby. Amarat thought the dance would end there, come to a creaking, ungraceful halt, but Toby simply extended his hand, and they danced. Hands on each other's shoulders, they created their own center of gravity, spinning their laughter outwards. They were so close and Amarat could feel something speeding up within his chest as he looked into Toby's eyes. He was so warm, so safe. Then Cata and Asa pulled them back into the twirling circle with them, and they danced and turned until the crickets sang and the cool breath of trees added a chill to the dark skies. He was inside, but he always knew these things now, when the sun was gone, where the moon was, the turning of the stars. When at last the dance came to an end, a cart crash of stumbling into each other and helpless laughter, he took a chance and stepped outside to rest in the air of the quiet outside. He was right, it was dark now. Amarat turned his face upwards to the stars, and breathed. When was the last time he felt like this, joyous and unafraid? He breathed the water-cool air into his lungs, suddenly wildly, intensely glad to be alive. He let out a deep sigh made rough with his roughshod, wild emotions, that only served to stir his feelings up more. That was alright. He wanted to hold onto them anyways. Then he felt a sharp pain drive through the back of his head. Light and ground disappeared from beneath his feet, turned to jet black to wrap around him as his heart choked and his breath stuttered. Not now, not now. The world vanished around him, and he hung in the thick, endless darkness. "So," A voice inquired, echoing all around him, and humming from inside him, "seems like you've finally figured out how to enjoy your life. Now, what would you do to protect it?"

angelicaphelion(they/them, en/end)
Time ago

the venn diagram for pink gems gang and "kinda resolved trauma" gang is a circle


lol I love all this shit it takes Tumblr a decade to make happen, if it ever happens at all, meanwhile Thell's got shit done in less than 2 hours. Waterfall's people know how to get shit done.

posted this
Time ago

holy shit I have a writing blog!

An Anonymous user asked:

Do you know of any good witchy based books that can be accessed online? Such as in PDF form?


Honestly I don't really use a lot of books. Most of my knowledge is from cross referencing several online blog posts (from tumblr and misc other sites) with talking to other witches and magic practitioners as well as my own personal experience. The books I do have that I absolutely love are The Goodly Spellbook: Olde Spells for Modern Problems by Dixie Deerman and Steve Rasmussen and Christopher Penczak's Gay Witchcraft: Empowering the Tribe. Both are written from a Wiccan viewpoint but as long as you read critically you'll be fine. Another great author is Orriculum Rose. She's an amazing witch who also has a blog full of useful information at http://orriculum.tumblr.com

If you're looking for more sources my best advice is follow sources that your favorite sources use. So if a witch you admire uses Scott Cunningham it's probably worth reading his material

Worldbuilding Always Prepared: Festivals through the year


While there are varying holidays in each city-state all over Mitresk there are some festivals that are celebrated everywhere. Let’s start at the beginning of the year.

New Year: Unlike the people of Earth the people of Mitresk don’t celebrate New Year’s Eve. Instead they celebrate New Year’s Day starting at noon because an old belief said you can’t trust the first twelve hours of the first year. It is celebrated at home with friends and family with good food, music, and alcohol for the adults. A special mead is made for this day and it’s been said everyone who shares this mead with a person they like will have a good year. Traditionally this day is also used to make up with friends and family for things you did or say that weren’t nice, so all of you can start the new year on good terms. In the afternoon New Year’s cake will be served that looks like a wheel and has a coin hidden in it. The person who finds the coin is granted a lucky year by superstition. Since the parties are long and jolly no one will go back to work until January 3rd.

Spring Equinox: Since it often falls around the time the farmers are finished to prepare their fields for summer harvest it is a big gathering with parties at the town/village square. It all starts with symbolic suns and wheat sheaves being carried through the streets towards a podium on the town square. Little notes with wishes can be pinned at the symbolic sun and ask for some luck or a good harvest etc. After this, the musicians will start to play and the dances start. It is also often a time where couples announce their engagement and ask for the sun’s good luck for their marriage. There are also games for all ages where you can win prizes from small plush dragons to gift certificates for a nice restaurant. Puppeteers will play well known children stories or the regions favorite stories. The celebration will often last until the next morning.

Kasht’s Awakening: Celebrated during the last Week of May. During this week the people celebrate the birth, life and doing of Kasht who was the first dragon to teach a human more than 3000 years ago. It is counted as the turning point of the relationships between humans and dragons. During the week there will be plays either by puppeteers or theater groups that show Kasht’s life and how he started to teach humans. Children will get dragon lantern that get sent into heaven with their wishes for their future. Dragon shaped filled cakes will be served at every corner. The magic students show what they learned at the academy with little magic shows. There are fireworks at the last day which are always anticipated with huge excitement.

Lover’s Day: Basically the Valentine’s Day in Mitresk which is celebrated at August 1st with candy in a double heart shape that will be given to your partner to symbolize the love for each other. Also common gifts are key pendants, feathers dyed into the partners favorite color or a nice evening at a restaurant/a home cooked meal. It is not uncommon for close friends to exchange self-made gifts that day as well since a close friendship is viewed similar to a romantic relationship.

Harvest festival: Will be celebrated around mid to late October as soon as the last harvest is done. There is a big harvest fair with grilled meat, fresh batches of mead and lots of games and music along with farmer’s markets where the fresh goods are sold along homemade stuff. Aside from the festival place are always secured places where people can give away their unwanted prizes or donate their prizes to the orphanages and children of low income families around the area.

Winter Lights: Three days long festival that starts a day before winter solstice and last until a day after winter solstice. During these three days, all houses are decorated with all kind of lights to remind people that even if winter is still going on will last for some more weeks the sun and the light will come back no matter what happens. It is the time to gather around fire places with hot drinks and tell stories of the past. At winter solstice young women will walk around with candles after sunset to bring the light to every house with the magic academy in the big cities being the last stop. The academies will hold the winter lights dance where everyone is invited to come. The dance is a big ball that is been held at the huge hall of the academy with lights hovering above the participants all night.


About three years ago I got serious with writing original fiction. I mean serious in the "I actively seek writing advice and read everything on writing I can find" way. For some time I tried to follow each and every advice I found.

I went against my pantser nature and tried to do a meticulous outline for a sci-fi novel series which ended in writer's burn out and the circumstance I didn't touch the story since that. I still want to write this someday but I will have to start from zero and redo a lot of stuff to make it work for me again.

It took me almost two years to realize that it is a bad idea to try to follow every writing advice since a lot of them contradict each other. It is actually a trial and error thing with them. Try if it works for you and makes your writing better If not, throw it into the mental trash bin and try the next.

It takes a lot of time to figure out what helps you and what doesn't. It takes even more time to figure out your own writing style. So don't get demotivated when things don't work. It just means you need a different angle or a different way to make it work.

Ok and sometimes a storyline really doesn't work.



I only want a place for my own

I’d plant a tree and call it home

Build a room with four walls

No single curtain ever falls.

It will be safe, be a shelter

As if a fortress made of cover.

And only I will have the key

Everything belongs to me.

I’ll decide about wallpaper

Every stone hearing my whisper.

Then I’m alone I will be free,

Look at my garden, drink my tea.

Once every chair will be a throne

All my plants will be long grown.

Then I will rest my tired bones,

And my rich soul forever roams.

- Rie

posted this
Time ago

writerblr intro!!

Hey everyone! This is my writerblr (techincally). I'm 16, lesbian, with she/her rpronouns. I love the fantasy and sci-fi genres, and i LOVE talking about my characters. Ask me about them anytime!