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fromthehellmouth · 3 years

Text

Red, Hot Skin

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: mentions of a hot-water burn, fluff, a bit of minor tension

Drawing by me inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Overview:

Tension ensues after you and Tom Riddle both attempt to retain your dignity following foolish mistakes. Tom risks breaking curfew to make up for a painful mistake of his.

Tom Riddle stood next to me at the workspace counter in the dim light of the potions classroom. His large pale hands planted firmly on the black counter, his sleeves rolled up below the elbow to reveal his toned forearms twisting slightly as I added the next ingredient to my simmering brew. It was part one of a group test where professor Slughorn would choose one student of a pair to perform the completion of a potion in front of the class. It was a way to test one’s ability to trust their partner, and would assure that both students equally understood the directions of the potion if they happened to be the one called to demonstrate. Professor Slughorn watched intently with a clipboard as I sprinkled the fine dust from my cupped palm into the cauldron. Reaching for the last of the peppermint sprigs, I extended my arm over the bubbling mixture when suddenly, Riddle aggressively grabbed my wrist.

“No!” he exclaimed, but it was too late, the thin leaf had fallen from my grasp into the boiling pot below. Slughorn jotted something on his parchment and looked at me, worry sinking into the lines of his face.

“Now you’ve done it.” Riddle all but growled next to me, taking a step back from the table in dismay. The mixture erupted and thick, red, oozing sludge sprayed from the cauldron, spilling over the pewter rims and onto the work table below. In my embarrassment I stood completely frozen, unable to scoop up the mixture with my hands because of the burns I would face as a result of touching the corrosive slime. So, I just stood helplessly, my eyes fixed on the mess before me.

“Oh dear,” Slughorn muttered, waving his wand and collecting the crimson sludge in a suspended bubble, eventually letting it plop back into the confines of the abused bowl. Slughorn scratched something else on the parchment in his hands and turned sympathetically to me with a soft expression. To my right I felt Riddle’s gaze boring into my face. I could sense the vast disappointment emanating from his glare and I had to force my attention on Slughorn to keep myself from glancing at his clenched fists.

As the students began to trickle from the classroom, I took my time in order to leave a comment with professor Slughorn about my performance for the day. I felt Riddle’s eyes on the back of my neck as he left the room and I was soon alone with Slughorn.

“I’m so sorry professor, I don’t know how the process could have slipped my mind.”

“The potion could have been botched by any student, but for next time I suggest you focus more on the ‘claims and cautions’ portion of the lessons, alright?”

I knew the words held little weight. It was a brew I should have mastered, and demonstrating my incompetence to the class was quite the blow to my psyche.

“Alright, thank you for the advice professor.” He nodded, and we exited the room together. Slughorn turned around, “I will see you next lesson--Oh, and Mr. Riddle, you as well.” Slughorn walked away and I turned around to see Riddle waiting outside the classroom, his eyes in shadow under his defined brows. “Why are you still--” but I was cut off, Riddle cornered me into the wall, glaring at me with piercing eyes. Startled, I felt hot under his gaze, my cheeks blushing bright pink, and my breathing faltered as I felt the pressure radiating from his eyes. “No one spoils my reputation like that, do you hear me?” I nodded, looking at the floor. “Now, go study for the next demonstration.”

***

The next morning I was determined to memorize the next brew by heart, and I decided to get up early and visit the library before breakfast. The hazy purple dawn glowed through the beautiful gothic windows of the library, and streams of sparkling rays danced on the crimson-carpeted floor. There were rarely students in the library so early in the morning, and I was able to swiftly collect the edition of “Deadly Draughts and Elixirs” Slughorn no longer provided in his classroom. Swiping to the chapter on “Uses for Peppermint,” I pulled out my crisp parchment paper and began taking notes on Slughorn’s suggested reading.

***

As students began to slowly appear at nearby study tables I quickly checked the clock, realizing I had completely skipped breakfast and charms was to start in 5 minutes. My heart racing, I quickly gathered my notes and my textbook, all but shoving them into my suddenly-very-small bookbag, and practically running out of the library. Professor Flitwick’s classroom being located on the third floor meant it took at least 7-8 minutes to reach--considering the staircases cooperated and no dreadfully slow first-years were infuriatingly placed in front of me at every turn. Practically sprinting, I exited the library’s massive entrance only to feel a sudden whoosh of air and a loud thud as I slammed into a tall firm body, and steaming hot tea splashed all over my chest. I let out a shriek of pain as the boiling liquid seared into my skin. I felt my eyes automatically welling with panicking tears--my breath coming out in shallow pants, and every nerve in my body tightened. The tears overcoming my stiff face and trickled down my hot cheeks, I pathetically glanced up to see who had collided with me.

Tom Riddle stood before me, mouth gaping, aquamarine eyes timidly glowing with fear and confusion. Immediately thrusting his hand into my shirt, he pulled the stained fabric sticking to my skin toward himself, allowing for a brief moment of alleviated pain as the cool air filtered through my blouse.

“I--” A single syllable escaped his lips before Madam Pince rushed from her desk to tend to my abrupt scream just moments before.

“What in Merlin’s name!” Pince cried out, gaping at my shell shocked expression, and noticing my frozen exterior she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, tightly gripping to my arm, and swinging me from the view of the boy who had spilled his morning tea into my tender skin.

“We’re getting you to Poppy right this minute, Salazar!” The last part she whispered under her breath as she firmly guided me to the hospital wing where Pince exchanged my paralyzed body to Madam Pomfrey’s care. Submitting to the matron’s grasp, I realized I would be missing my charms lecture entirely.

***

After the incident Madam Pomfrey guided me to a private bed where she told me to unbutton my top and drink a glass which she handed to me filled with a sloshing green liquid. She then applied a deep vermilion healing paste to my tender skin, her soft aged hands gently spread the cooling cream across my chest. Handing me a little black jar with the same red paste, she smiled gently.

“Apply this thickly every night, and whenever you feel the skin is unusually hot. Come back and see me in two days, alright dearie? If it starts to hurt badly you may most definitely see me sooner.”

I nodded, gently clutching the black jar in my hands as the paste slowly absorped into my skin revealing the red and irritated burn underneath.

“Now off to your next class.”

My bookbag hung heavy on my shoulder as I walked toward the exit of the hospital wing. I swung my bag in front of me to place the small black jar inside, and as I stepped outside I was met with the tall statuesque figure of Tom. His pristine uniform tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, his shoes sleek black leather, his tie lay cleanly against his fitted white top. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked down at me with his eyes, not his face, so I could see the underside of his chin and the base of his defined jaw.

“I’m sorry, what business do you have by the hospital wing?” I muttered, looking away from his penetrating gaze.

“I have been waiting for you.” Emotionless. Smooth. Thick like the paste Pomfrey spread across my chest.

“And what is it that I can help you with, Riddle?” My voice was stern, my eye darting to meet his, my tongue running along the inside of my lips to keep my voice from exposing my irritation.

“I would like to offer my assistance for Slughorn’s partnered test.”

“We’re not allowed to help one another during the test, you know this.”

“Not during, before.” He finally lowered his face finally, so there could be a line connecting the angles of our jaws.

“You want to study with me?” My eyes narrowed. Yesterday the boy harshly told me to study by myself in the hopes of preserving is already pristine reputation.

“You need my help, and...”

“And what.”

“And I may owe you a new blouse.” He said smoothly, gazing at my brown-stained top where his cup had collided below my collarbone and above my breasts. I realized the top button was unhinged, partially exposing my sensitive pink skin. Quickly buttoning the little ivory disk and returning the eye contact, we were silent for a moment, and he took a step closer to me.

“You will accept my offer.”

“No I will not.” My lips pursed, and I crossed my arms, his sea-green eyes flickered with defiance, his eyebrows slightly furrowing to my nonchalant response.

“I don’t think you understand the situation.”

“I understand the situation perfectly, Riddle. I don’t need your assistance for the test. I... I have someone else.”

“You have someone else.” He repeated coldly.

“That’s correct, I have someone else helping me study, but thank you for such a kind offer.” A small patronizing smile fluttered across my features before I could stop myself, and in an instant, I felt my heart sink. I saw his expression flash with aggression in a blink of unrestraint before quickly resuming to his normal critical glare. It felt almost powerful to have effected such a narcissistic little--

“Very well then,” he turned his head to the side, revealing the muscular tendons in his pale neck, where almost translucent skin lay atop cool blue veins. “I look forward to your... performance.” He cocked a brow and swiftly turned around, briskly leaving me at the entrance of the hospital wing.

***

I had been planning on seeking out the help of professor Slughorn since the disastrous malfunction of my brew on the first day of the test, but after confessing to Riddle of my non-existent study partner, I decided to make my way to the dungeons to ask for his help. Down the stone staircases, the air seemed to dramatically drop in temperature, and the damp chilled corridor made my still-wet shirt stick to my skin with icy closeness. Knocking on the stone doorway to the potions classroom I cleared my throat.

“Excuse me professor?”

“Ah yes? What can I do for you?” Slughorn removed his glasses after placing a small golden stem of some kind into a minuscule vial with a pair of tiny tweezers. He smiled and I approached his desk.

“I was wondering if I could ask for help before the test tomorrow.” I let my eyes stray to the numerous bottles, jars, bowls, and flasks filled with colorful liquids of differing viscosity that scattered the table.

He hummed briefly. “I’m afraid I cannot help with that, it would be unfair to the other students if I offered help before a test to only one group, don’t you think?”

“That’s ok professor, I just thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Of course. Well, if there’s nothing else you need, at the moment I’m in the middle of quite a time-sensitive brew--”

“I understand, I’ll see you Friday professor.”

I stepped out of the classroom, greeted with that all-too-familiar figure I had come to expect outside of doorways.

“Do you follow me, Riddle?” I made no effort to catch his eye as I began to walk back to the Slytherin common room. The heels of my shoes clicked with the sway of my hips as the sound echoed through the stone walls of the dungeons.

“I wanted to see who your previously mentioned partner would be.” A small smile creeped onto his crystalline features slowly and unnaturally as if the sculptor forming his marble face was forcing emotions onto his art-like exterior.

“And you got what you wanted, did you?”

“My offer still stands.” Stopping a moment, I turned to face him. The light from a yellowing lantern glowed out from behind his tall shoulders, creating a blurry halo contrasting with his all-black clothing. The light conformed to the grooves in his face, appearing to drip down his hollowed cheeks and peek from behind his muscular neck. His eyebrows raised in anticipation. I said nothing and stood still when his hand stretched out to grasp the handle of my bookbag, relieving my shoulders of the stress they carried. He silently guided me to the common room, whispering the password and stepping in together, my eyes were met with the familiar glow of the Black Lake glittering in from the skylights above. Still holding my bag, we crossed the near-empty common room to the diverging staircases leading to his dorms and mine. He began up the stairs, looking down at me from an even higher advantage point than his normal towering height. He beckoned me with his eyes to follow.

I am not going with Tom Riddle to his room, now, am I?

My legs obeyed and he led me to his four-poster bed, curtains draped. With a wave of his wand the thick velvety fabric cinched, revealing his bed, perfectly made, textbooks and parchment sat carefully in the center. The room was considerably darker than the common room, which was illuminated by softly glowing emerald lamps and light refractions glinting from the water above us in the Black Lake. The only light from the room came from the slanted skylights leading to the depths of the Lake above, the room coated in a thick pale green haze. It was as if he had been smoking an intoxicating musk, smelling of fresh sea foam and teakwood. He beckoned me to sit on his bed, and unpacking the books inside, he placed them next to his own materials on the cushiony mattress. He pulled up a chair from his desk and told me to pull out my parchment as we would be taking notes. There was something about being so close to him, silently obeying his requests that seemed strange. I felt as if my mind had been blurred, masked, like perhaps the intoxicating aroma wasn’t really a smell but an aura of attachment, and in that moment there was nothing more I wanted to do than to follow his every word.

“What aspect of the test frightens you the most?” His words seemed to spill from his lips like warm sap dripping from the rough bark of a tree, I felt myself sticking to it, caught in its sweet trap, inescapable and cruel. Deadly.

“Perhaps the timing of when to stir after the specific steps--and also how much of each ingredient... and maybe the order of when to stir versus when to add?” I felt my face growing hot.

“You need help with the entire potion, then.” His voice was icy, hinting at superiority and criticism.

“No, just those few parts.”

“You just described the art of potion making in its entirety.” A small half-smile slithered across his cold features. I said nothing, looking down at the spread of studying materials, feeling overwhelmed and perhaps a bit ashamed that I had gone completely against my conscience and followed the boy to his room and sat atop his bed and--

“Firstly, I’d like to give you this,” he pulled from his pocket a small red square of paper, placing it in my hand. “It’s enchanted to find me once you write on it. If ever you have a question or need anything, I’ll know.”

I stared at the unassuming gift in my hands, wordless.

“It can’t be used during the test, or that would be cheating.” He added slyly, and I let out a small puff of air in response.

“Thank you.”

“Well then, back to the business at hand. Is there somewhere you would prefer to start?” He resumed his unnaturally rigid gaze, and gripped the sides of his chair firmly, he lifted and pulled the chair closer to my position on his bed, which caused the muscles in his toned arms to twist and pull and expose the sapphire veins which coiled across them like serpents. Transfixed still on the tiny red paper, I didn’t answer. In my silence he reached out, and touched my chin, cupping my jaw slightly in his hand. He slowly pulled my face up to his view.

“No getting distracted, do I make myself clear?” His lips barely moved, but I felt weak to my stomach. My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my face from his touch.

“Don’t do that.” I focused my gaze on his nightstand, forcing my attention on his little reading lamp which had rusted embellishments of snakes resembling vines curling along the base of the lamp.

“Why not?”

“It’s distracting.”

Silence.

“Lets start with the ingredients.”

I wordlessly nodded, fumbling with the books until I found the one I had begun to take notes on before I left the library this morning. I handed him my notes, which he gracefully pulled from my hand, and eyed quickly.

1. Shrivelfig

2. Porcupine quills, (as many as needed)

3. Peppermint sprig

“Your first mistake was when you added the peppermint sprig too early. This step comes after you stir four times counter-clockwise,” he looked down at my notes again. “I see you corrected this by noting that the mixture usually must be prepped before the leaves are added, very good.” I forced back a smile. “The peppermint is quite important to this particular brew, can you tell me why?” Lowering the notes, he stared at my nervous expression.

“They balance out the intense feelings of...” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Euphoria.”

“...which are induced as the wizard drinks the potion.” I finished, my breathing was shaky, and I felt uncontrollably nervous as he slowly shifted in his seat, leaning closer to me, I felt his hot breath on my neck as he silently exhaled.

Pulling away from his intimate stance, I stepped off the bed.

“Tom, I don’t think...” He mimicked my movements, also standing from the chair, his bed now lying between us, he put his knee and hands on the bed, and looked up at me from his lowered position.

“What is the matter?”

“I shouldn’t be here...” I walked backwards, finding the door with my hands, and hurriedly making my way down the stairs, completely ignoring all my books still on his bed as I rushed through the common room and out into the cool dungeons outside. My heart beat a thousand times a minute, and my breathing was coarse and shaky, I stood with my back to the icy dungeon wall, my hands traveled to my chest in an attempt to force my erratic breathing to slow. Feeling the hot flesh below my touch, the slight pain flowing back into my consciousness, I remembered I needed to apply my burn cream. Realizing I had utterly missed supper, I decided it would be best to have Madam Pomfrey take a look at my skin.

***

There was no chance I would be back in the common room tonight after what had just happened. I thought, as I swiftly walked up the dungeon staircase to the main floor where I would find the hospital wing of the castle. Following supper, the castle was quiet. Most students had gone up to their house’s tower or down to the dungeons if you belonged to Slytherin or Hufflepuff. The corridors were nearly silent except for a few students quietly walking up the grand staircase or whispering respectfully due to the general understanding that students shouldn’t loiter in the corridors approaching curfew. Still, I silently walked to the hospital wing, hoping Pomfrey would allow me to rest there for the night if there was room for me. Nearing the door, I caught her eye, and she motioned for me to come into the room. To my relief, the lines of beds flanking the central walkway were nearly empty, and Pomfrey led me to a private bed toward the back where a privacy guard had been placed to shelter the injured student.

“How are you healing dear?” She smiled softly and my hand went to feel the hot skin, causing me to squint with a twinge of pain.

“Still painful I see...” her eyes wandered, looking at the floor near me, and suddenly it occurred to me what she was looking for

“My bag! I completely forgot to bring it!” My hand flew to my face, a wave of worry overcame me as I wondered if I would need to go back to his room to get my jar.

Madam Pomfrey’s expression was calm, and as the soft clicking of footsteps drew nearer, the both of us averted our eyes to the figure who approached the guarded stall.

Tom stood at the foot of my bed, and smiled weakly as he pulled the familiar black jar from his pocket. His sea-green eyes glittered faintly in the dimness of the hospital wing.

“I thought you might need this.” He handed me the jar, and underneath the glass bottom I felt something soft and crisp, looking down I saw the little red paper fall from the jar and into my lap, slipping it into the pocket of my uniform, our eyes connected and he opened his mouth as if to inquire something, but ultimately made no sound and exited the hospital wing. I was now alone with the matron, who noted at how lucky I was to have such an intuitive friend as she watched me apply the paste, critiquing my techniques, and explaining I should always go thicker if I’d like to be safe.

“Do you plan on making your way back to the dormitories or were you planning on spending the night here since it’s already...” she checked the clock “Well it’s already 10:10, but if you’d like to hurry back to your dorm I can inform Mr. Filch you’ll be--”

“If you don’t mind Miss, I’d like to stay here if that’s okay.”

“That’s certainly fine with me. I’ll be out, but if there’s anything you need, just ring and I’ll be back as quickly as possible. Sleep well, dear.” I watched her figure leave the hospital wing, and the dim lights overhead faded off, leaving only the faint glow of the moon filtering through the windows above the beds to shine geometrical patterns on the stone floor. I removed my shoes and socks, resting them at the foot of my bed, and undid my hair, feeling it coil around my shoulders. I placed the red parchment on the stand next to my bed, and slid my legs under the covers of the blankets.

***

As I lied curled up, I watched the minutes pass, my body far from sleep. 10:40, 11:15, 11:50... My eyes were wide open, gazing at the ceiling far above me. No one stirred in the hospital wing, and hidden away at the back of the linear room behind the stiff curtain, I sat up, turning my eyes to that small paper Riddle gave me a few hours earlier. Playing with the soft red paper I felt the curiosity bubbling up inside me. I searched for a writing utensil and scratched a quick message neatly into the paper. As I finished the paper thrust itself from my hands and fluttered through the hospital wing like a butterfly, and out the door it went. Now my excitement was nearing the brim as I sat awaiting a response.

15 minutes no answer.

Could he be asleep? I thought as I pulled my legs up to an angle, causing my blankets to tent with the movement.

15 more minutes.

I began to assume he had gone to sleep for the night, and just as I lowered my legs and began to relax my position I heard the faintest sound of someone walking the corridors outside the open door to the hospital wing. My eyes flew open and I felt my heat pounding in my chest.

Was he coming in person?!

The steps became slightly louder, but still effortlessly soft and steady. Soon a shadowy figure met me at the foot of my bed. Stepping into the light, I felt my heart nearly throwing itself from my chest. The soft light of the moon that filtered through the windows above my bed seemed to veil him with its glow. His composure resembled that of a statue of an angel covered with ivy and carved from sparkling ivory that would sit untouched in an overgrown garden. It was delicate and somehow firm.

“You’re lucky I am a prefect.” His whisper was barely audible, and as he again stepped closer to my bed he found his way to the chair next to me, and I could more clearly see his still pristine uniform was on, almost as if he had gotten ready to see me. I said nothing, and my eyes could not leave his face.

“Is your skin feeling any better?” His words were soft and silky, and as he neared my seated position on my bed I realized we had unconsciously copied our exact position when I rushed from his room. “I realize I never apologized for spilling on you... that must have been very painful. I’m sorry.”

“It still hurts...” I didn’t mean it as a way to force guilt into him, I just felt so strange by our hushed and intimate conversation I didn’t know what else to say to him.

“May I help you with it?” Reaching for the black jar I did nothing to stop him, my mind swirled with anticipation and emotion. He delicately unscrewed the cap, his long fingers clutching the jar harshly, and the whites of his knuckles stood like snow-peaked mountaintops on his smooth pale hands.

“Unbutton your blouse.” He softly commanded, and slowly my hands undid the highest three buttons of my top, fully exposing the reddened flesh below my collarbone. He was unexplainably addictive and enticing, and there was no natural reasoning behind the complete trust my body freely gave him. Dipping two fingers deep within the jar, and pulling them out, they were covered in the thick red paste. In a moment of searing eye contact he carefully placed his fingers onto my hot, waiting skin. I let out a soft wince as a spread the mixture across the affected area, a few times submerging back in for more of the wet cream. It was calming and yet exciting to feel him touch me so carefully and full of purpose.

“Your heart is beating so quickly,” he whispered. “Are you nervous?”

“Can I ask you something?” I attempted to dodge his question, but to no avail.

“Answer me first.”

“Yes, very.”

“Go ahead. What did you want to ask me?” I noticed the ghost of a smirk flash across his lips.

“Why did you pull my blouse from my skin when the tea spilled onto me?” I watched his eyes stray and I felt like I could almost see him retracing his steps and accessing the memory.

“I learned if someone has been exposed to a poison spill or a hot liquid the best thing to do is remove the item that the spill happened on. Fabric retains liquid by soaking it up, which would just allow the toxin to sit on your skin...” He caught my eyes. “But since I could not remove your blouse, it seemed the next best thing to get it away from your skin in any other way possible.” I nodded slowly, realizing that his quick thinking saved me from a potentially worse burn. “I learned it from personal experience,” he looked away.

“Someone burned you?”

“No, I spilled a corrosive potion on myself a few years back.” I let out a muffled laugh.

“Then what did you do? take your top off?”

“Is that what you’re thinking about?”

“No! just that you could have done something wrong in potions class...” I let slip a shy smile.

“There are many things you don’t know about me.” A tiny but genuine smile danced on his face for a moment, before he returned his hands to my chest, carefully spreading the soft cream and blowing cool air to speed its absorption. The breath made a small chill run down my spine, and turning my eyes back on his face, I couldn’t help but fixing my gaze on his red lips. Red like my simmering potion, red like his crisp parchment square, and red like the paste he gently danced across my tender, red hot skin.

tags: @tmr-simp-pride

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #harry potter #harry potter fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine

93 notes · View notes

storybookprincess · 3 years

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I'm hoping you can help me with some certified Big Sister Advice™ and someone who has more "real world experience" than I do. Obviously if this makes you uncomfortable or you don't have the mental/emotional capacity to reply, please feel free to ignore!!!

I got my first adult job last year and by all accounts I should really enjoy it. Great people. Great pay. Great benefits. I'm even using my degree. But I'm actually starting to be deeply unhappy with it. I'm either stressed or upset near all the time now, and I constantly feel like I'm failing because I get criticism and negative feedback over my main responsibilities regularly. (I am responsible for a magazine so it's cyclical). I am also responsible for advertising, and I'm constantly playing a numbers game that always leaves me losing (re: pandemic + other issues) and it's incredibly stressful as well.

All of this has me on the verge of wanting to quit, but when you remove the emotions, it makes no logical sense. I can save thousands more dollars for grad school by staying at this job for another year. But I'm so miserable that doing this for another year sends me near tears.

I guess at what point do I value the rest of my life and mental health over this job? I'm constantly thinking about work when I'm not clocked in, before I go to sleep, when I'm with friends, in the middle of the night, weekends. The wall of text emails with improvements I need to make ruin my day and I spend my evenings mentally recovering. And I procrastinate everything now.

When is it worth sticking out? Is saving the extra money worth it for grad school which I havent even applied to yet? I could be thousands less dollars in debt if I stay for another year.

And how do I bring all of this up with management?? Preferably without bursting into tears or accidently accusing them of anything. I would stay if things change.

I've never had to make any decisions like this before. Any insight you have would be greatly appreciated.

I love your blog and the positivity you put into the world. Belated Happy Birthday by the way!!!! Thank you for enriching my internet life.

first, my dear anonymous friend, i just want to give you a big virtual hug. it sounds like you're incredibly stressed & really at the end of your rope, and i'm so sorry to hear how hard things are right now.

given that this particular dilemma is a lot bigger than the usual fandom struggles people come to me with, i want to change my approach a little. rather than giving you specific advice about what to do, i'm going to pose a few questions for you to ask yourself so you can come to your own decision. ideally, you'd find some time when you're not feeling extremely overwhelmed & stressed & can think (or write or talk) through these things with yourself with a level head. and hopefully answering them will help you decide what's best for you.

first, what, if anything, is going to change about your current situation?

if your current situation isn't feeling sustainable, do you foresee anything changing that will make it so that it's sustainable? for example, the past two weeks at my new job have been invigorating & fun, but they also haven't felt sustainable. but i know why that is--i've just started & there's a ton i don't know, which is stressful, my commute is eating a total of 1.5-2 hours of my day every day, and my sleep schedule is still getting back on track. but i know all of those things are going to change--i'll learn the ropes, i'm moving this weekend & will cut my commute by 75-80%, and i'll get my sleep schedule fixed with time. given that example, is there anything about your current situation that might change? if there is, what is it & how will it affect your quality of life? if there isn't anything you foresee changing, that's valuable information to have, too.

what non-monetary value are you getting out of this position? and is it worth the hardship?

most of the pithy life advice i see circulated online falls into two categories: 1. "if something is hard & stressful, just stick with it!!!!" or 2. "if something is hard & stressful, just quit!!!!" but both of these philosophies are vast oversimplifications, and the actual answer is far more nuanced & unique to each individual.

instead, imagine that you have a balance scale. on one side is the hardship you'll endure my sticking with something. on the other side is the personal value you'll get out of it. for something to be worthwhile, the value needs to outweigh the hardship. a prime example of this would be a person's decision to stay in medical school. medical school is incredibly grueling & stressful, but it's also the only path to becoming a physician. if a person values their career as a doctor enough that it outweighs the hardship of their training, it's worth sticking it out. but when the hardship outweighs the value, it might be time to reconsider. the answer to these questions will be different for every person. so in your situation, what personal, non-monetary value are you getting out of this job? and do you think it's worth how stressed you feel?

alright, now onto the money question, because i think that's at the heart of your dilemma. so, quite simply, how much money would you need to make for this position to be worth it?

seriously, put a number on it. how much would they need to pay you for it to feel like the job is worth the stress you're enduring? you might say "if i made 75k a year at this job, i think it'd be worth it." or you might say, "honestly, i think it would take 250k--a quarter of a million dollars--to make this feel worthwhile." or, after a lot of considered thought, you might say, "there is actually no amount of money that would make this job worthwhile."

and now compare that figure to your projected grad school debt. if this job will save you 20k in debt, but you've decided you need to make 100k for it to be worth the stress, that's probably an indication that it's not worth the money. if the numbers are more aligned, then you might consider staying more strongly.

and finally, what are your other options?

i think, especially when we're stressed & overwhelmed & burnt out, it's easy to see things in a strict black/white, either/or dichotomy. but in truth, there are usually more options than that. right now, you might be thinking, "i either stick with this miserable job, or i'm going to be drowning in debt when i finish grad school." but i guarantee you there are more options than just those two. for example, could you find a less stressful job with a different company that still pays decently, even if it's not quite as much as you're making now? are there any fellowships or assistantships that could help fund your education? do you have the option to go to school part time & work part time to make things more affordable? if you really give it some thought, i'm guessing you'll find that there are more options than either staying somewhere you're miserable or drowning in student loans for decades.

goodness, this is getting long & it's nearly 11 pm my time & i have to be at work tomorrow at 9, so i'll wrap things up here. i hope this has given you a little more clarity on what the right choice might be for you. again, i'm sorry you're so miserable right now & i'm hoping things will get better soon. hang in there, my friend. i'll be thinking of you <3 <3 <3

#asked and answered #Anonymous #big sister advice

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hopstepflyzine · 4 years

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Advice for the mod who makes the art— well, there's only one mod right now, so advice for you, i guess lmao— no offense but i think you should do more than the chibi style for hawks and mirko for promo art. I think that it would look like you care more about the project if you did full regular human size drawings instead of the small ones. I mean, I guess that it's for convenience that you make hawks and mirko chibi, but it would probably be more engaging and interesting if you did full drawings

Hello Anon,

Thank you for your feedback!! It’s greatly appreciated to hear any and all criticisms regarding this project, because I want to hear every possible way that I can make this project better and more engaging for everyone.

Firstly, I want to assure you that I wholeheartedly care about the project and I’m sorry if it came off in any way that I was not fully engaged by it. You are correct when you said, “..it’s for convenience..” because truthfully, it is!! Making a lot of original art for the zine is admittedly a lot of work when you’re starting out all on your own, and I found that doing a “chibi” like style for the promotional art helped keep consistency and it was much quicker to do. Especially when animating them frame by frame (even though they’re simple animations).

Rest assured, I will be working on more complex art once the work is able to be divided amongst a team of people!! However, I apologize once again that the promotional art so far has not be to your taste. I’ll keep your feedback in mind as I make more artwork for this project.

Thank you once again,

Mod Tanju

#asks #anon

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wilmakins · 4 years

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Constructive Criticism,

I do accept constructive criticism and discourse on my fics. I accept critical replies to my blog posts.

This is not in any way a judgement of those who don’t. I accept and even ask for this feedback because it best suits my personal needs, that is all. If you’re leaving concrit on the works of those who haven’t specifically asked for it - don’t.

But, if you have been directed to this blog because a note on my fic has assured you I’ll be happy to discuss further on Tumblr - welcome.

However - I would politely request you read the following before you leave that comment, or send that ask

1. RACIST, HOMOPHOBIC, SEXIST, TRANSPHOBIC, ABILIST AND AGEIST LANGUAGE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED, AND WILL BE DELETED IMMEDIATELY - This includes when it’s directed at me, at a fellow commenter or at one of the characters - regardless of whether you are nominally ‘defending’ me. I don’t want to be spoken for in those terms, thank you. I reserve the right to add other variants of arse-holery to this list, as and when I encounter them.

2. Please ask yourself if this needs to be made personal - There is a big difference between ‘I disagree with every word of this’ and ‘You don’t know anything, and are wrong about everything.’ There is a difference between saying ‘this argument is ignorant’ and ‘you are ignorant’.

Further, my age, gender, sexuality, sexual history, personal preferences in other areas and relationship status are very rarely relevant to the point being discussed. Unless you would like to draw attention to a problem associated with my privilege, or my bias, which I actively encourage - I would prefer you focused on the work, rather than me personally.

3. Constructive Criticism is best when it’s constructive - ‘I hated this part of the story. It made me so angry, because...’ is far more helpful that ‘I hated this part of the story, it made me angry’. But that’s still more helpful than ‘I hated this part of the story’. Which is still more useful than ‘You’re a terrible writer’. As much detail as you can give me is gratefully received.

And, if you do have suggestions for where I could improve, or if you want to include the details you did like, then great - its all valuable information to someone trying to learn. Although that is not a requirement to leave feedback.

4. Please don’t assume other commenters want to engage in discourse with you - even if they’ve engaged in discourse with me - I will delete any comment you leave in response to someone else, if I feel it has crossed the line.

5.Consider whether the story is ongoing - I have a number of long fics in which the characters have substantial changes of heart, or changes of opinion, as the fic progresses. There are also often times when a point seems to have gone unaddressed, or been accepted in one particular way... but it’s going to come back in a big way, a few updates later. Please consider asking first. An ask, ‘So, is this Steve saying he wishes he’d let Bucky rot? is that what you think, or what you think Steve thinks?’ is a better starting place than ‘OMG, here are all the reasons Steve was right to help Bucky, and all the reasons he’d never change his mind about that, and all the ways you think incorrectly’. Because, more often than not, the answer is ‘Ah, but in the next chapter, we find out why Steve had to say that by then - and in the following update, he’ll get to explain that he doesn’t really think any of that’. Or whatever. Not a real example. But hopefully you see what I mean.

6. Unless asked otherwise, I will usually respond - this is not me saying you have to accept a response, actually. The fact that I’m actively requesting this feedback makes the arrangement into a very different thing. Having actually asked people to tell me their honest opinion, I accept their right to respond with ‘Okay, but here are my conditions.’ You can have conditions, when someone else starts the conversation. If you leave unsolicited concrit on anyone’s fic, you lose the right to say that they shouldn’t have replied without your consent, now don’t you? So those writers have a right to reply as they see fit. But, I accept, in my case, I’ve started the conversation, so, you do have a right to say, I’m leaving this advice, but I don’t want to get into a conversation over it. Or, I’d rather you answered this ask privately. Fine, no bother.

But, sans any guidance to the contrary, I will often reply with questions and clarifications, and will usually answer asks on my dash. You’re free to ignore that, obviously - but you’ll have to let me know if you just want me to not.

So, with that in mind - that you so much for taking an interest in my work, and for taking the time to feedback on it. I greatly appreciate it.

#concrit welcome #concrit

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spywismindpalace · 4 years

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5 Easy Steps To Improve Your Art (For Beginners)

I’ve struggled to make my art “look good” for the longest time.

But I just couldn’t match the quality of those artists that I look up to.

However, within the span of 2 years, I leveled up my art from this:

To this:

The question becomes: “How can I improve in such a short amount of time?”

I’ll show you my improvement process in 5 steps right now:

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STEP 1: FIND YOUR FAVORITE MEDIUM

Not everybody works the same. Some people prefer traditional art, others prefer digital. Find what works for you and stick with it

Personally, I’ve been using Clip Studio Paint on the iPad Pro, with the Apple Pencil, and honestly I’m not changing art programs anytime soon.

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STEP 2: COPY, DON’T TRACE! (No, wait, don’t go! Trust me!)

I’m not saying plagiarize. I’m not saying trace. I’m not saying copy other people’s styles exactly down to even where the hair is placed or the hands are posed. I’m saying what LITERALLY everybody in the art tutorial community has said at one point or another: Take inspiration from someone else’s work. Use it as a guide to learn the techniques and create your own style.

AND ABOVE ALL, DO NOT POST ANY TRACED ARTWORK THAT YOU’RE USING AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN. THIS IS JUST FOR PRACTICE!

For example: Say you like how Artist A draws their eyes, and you want to know how it’s done.

Import the art into your art program, go in and break down how they draw the art.

What the form is like? Where do they place the shine or the shadow or the lashes?

(Anime reference is NOT my own. Apparently the character is from Girls Und Panzer but I do not know the original artist or original poster. Please let me know who the OP is or the link to the original. Thanks!!)

Great! Now do that a hundred times. Get it into your muscle memory, and once you do that, start to add your own little flavors. Maybe put in less shine. Maybe make the shape less round, or more round.

At NO POINT did I say to use the exact copy in your own work. Do not post other people’s work, even if it’s just copying the eyes or the head or hand shapes. What you are doing is learning the basics, learning the drawing techniques, learning how the talented people’s brains work, thus giving you more to work with.

(Not perfect, but certainly better than what I would have done without learning the basics first)

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STEP 3: WATCH ALL THE TUTORIALS!

This ties in with step 2. There are hundreds of hours of video tutorial content on the internet, from step-by-step guides to speedpaints to animations or gifs. The entirety of YouTube is at your disposal, so make the most of it and learn from the people who clearly know what they’re doing.

Slow down speedpaints so that you can see what someone’s process looks like. Go back and rewatch step-by-step tutorials until you can recite the steps by heart. Draw alongside someone’s video so that you can clearly see what they’re trying to teach you.

Learning from videos honestly gave me a bunch of little tips and tricks that I was able to integrate into my own workflow, and made me level up my skills super fast.

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STEP 4: SHARE YOUR PROGRESS ONLINE!

There’s nothing that lights a fire under your creative spirit than to post your content online and seeing the progression of your skills as you go!

There’s nowhere to go except UP in terms of improvement.

Wherever you decide to share your progress, it’s a great practice to go back every now and then and see how far you’ve come since a few years ago, since a few months ago, or even since last week!

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STEP 5: ASK FOR CRITICAL FEEDBACK!

Don’t forget to ask for feedback!

Don’t start spitting fire at those that disagree with your art choices.

Look for the things that people tell you, and learn from the advice.

Make those changes, see how you like it, and you might surprise yourself down the road.

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Let’s review:

- Step 1: Find what type of art you like to create, and go for it!

- Step 2: Copy, Don’t Trace!

- Step 3: Watch All The Tutorials

- Step 4: Share Your Progress Online

- Step 5: Ask for Critical Feedback

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This is by no means the ultimate guide to improving your art. Rather, this is a testament to the fact that improvement does happen, but it just takes longer than you think it will.

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Anything else you’d like to add/discuss? Leave a comment! Share some before/after artwork of yours, let’s see how far you’ve come since you started.

Check out my social media links if you wanna follow along on my art journey, otherwise please share this post. It’s greatly appreciated! Thanks!!

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~ Spywi's Mind Palace

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPwB09DF7a040A4YRkHoERw

Twitter: https://twitter.com/spywimindpalace

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spywismindpalace/

#art #drawing #improvement #tutorial #tips #design #animation #art tutorial #art tips #art improvement #spywi's mind palace #spywi #youtube #instagram #twitter #storytime animation

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allthingsfayz · 5 years

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Acting+Audition Tips #1

In the wake of a possible Gone TV show (fingers crossed once again!), I decided to do some acting/auditioning tips. This strays far from the main theme of my blog (Gone), but because there has been talk of open auditions so as to include fans in a Gone TV series, I’m hoping that this post will help if (and when, hopefully!) there is an opportunity for fans to audition so we can put our best foot forward. I’ve been acting in clubs/after-school programs since about kindergarten, and although it’s difficult to pursue a career in on-screen acting successfully, I do still hope to attend film school for a variety of reasons (I’m aware that there is a difference between acting/film school, so worry not). Please bear in mind that this is all from personal experience, opinions, and just simply what works best for me. If you have anything to add onto this post, or any comments/feedback, please feel free to message me, send an ask, or comment on this post! Lastly, to all of the people reading this, I know that there hasn’t been mention of the Gone TV plans since “The Society” put it on hold, but I would very much appreciate if any of you with a Twitter account could either tweet @MichaelGrantBks or @ajriach with the intention of asking about Gone TV, as I don’t have or plan on making a Twitter anytime soon (an odd favor to ask, but it would be greatly appreciated). Thanks!

The #1 MOST IMPORTANT thing that ANY actor can do is to know the character. If you don’t know the role that you are portraying, then you will most likely be unsuccessful in properly acting as your character. If a book were being adapted to the big screen, it would be more helpful to have a fan of the book than a well-known actor who is not familiar with the novel, because the fan knows and is probably invested in the characters. Without knowledge of the character, you’ll be lost and won’t know what you need to do (this piece of advice is somewhat vague, but that is simply because it is fairly easy to figure out).

Being able to produce tears on command does not make you good at acting, nor does it mean you are crying (this is confusing, but bear with me). While it is a somewhat important skill in the realm of acting (especially in an on-screen format) you can be able to produce tears but not act out other emotions, or even bring much emotional power to your tears. Crying is an expression of pain, sadness, anger, or joy, not simply tears rolling down your face.

Never be afraid to go for it! It might seem frightening to audition for anything, whether it be via digital tape or in person, but the people around you and those reviewing your audition are only there to see you succeed. While casting directors might seem critical at times, they are simply trying to find the most fitting person for a role, and in doing so, they will typically help better your acting.

Much like my advice on theatrical tears, this note is definitely more unconventional to some people. Always be honest with your fellow cast mates, directors, producers, and most importantly, yourself. If you are late to an in-person audition, or have not memorized the material, you need to be honest if, for example, the director asks you why you are late. Don’t make up and excuse about your dog eating your keys (cliche and farfetched, which is a double nope). Tell the truth that you forgot about your audition, even if it may cost you the role (this doesn’t always apply in more professional acting, but in smaller-scale productions it does). It is better to be respected via your honesty than excused via your lies.

Study other actors! If there is an actor that you admire, or an actor who has played a similar role to yours, watch their performances and see how they express their body, words, etc. Sometimes when I can’t figure out what emotion I want a character to portray, or can’t figure out how to show something with my face/body instead of my words, I’ll imagine an actor who is in a similar age group to me acting out the scene. If you’re under 18, teen and child-based casts (such as the cast of Stranger Things) would probably be an ideal example, but if you’re out of your teen years, more adept actors of higher age groups will also do.

#gone #gone series #fayz #gone tv #acting tips #audition tips

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elsaclack · 6 years

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hello I just want to say that 1. I adore all ur writing and i downloaded a fanfic reader app specifically so I could read ur fics while i eat breakfast in the dining hall and they are amazing i just finished ur huge b99 cancer fic and the writing was ///so/// good and I was floored ok which brings me to point 2. which is that u have inspired me to try and get back into writing and write my own b99 fic which brings me to point 3. which is that I am actually really scared to start actually writing

also omg sorry for sending two msgs but i hit limit on the other one, but yeah to continue my point I am really scared to start bc i dont know how to deal w writers block and basically what i am asking is… if u have any advice whatsoever on how I could overcome that and write a decent fic … i would appreciate, i know you are v busy and tunblr isn’t as big a thing for u anymore so if u dont have time it’s alright !!!!! Anyway TLDR; i admire u and ur writing from afar and u inspire me greatly

omg ADRIANA ur so SWEET ADSHFALSDFJK I LOVE U SO MUCH THANK U??? FOR UR UNBELIEVABLY KIND WORDS W O W

okay okay i do!! have some advice for this kind of situation bc i find myself in a similar situation every time i start writing for a new fandom!! don’t u worry pal I Got U

1. understand that you are your own biggest critic. this is probably the most important piece of advice i can give you. it won’t necessarily make it any easier to write, but knowing that your writing is always going to seem worse to you than it actually is makes it easier to differentiate between self-doubt and Bad Writing! in all honesty there are sections of my cancer fic that, when i go back through and reread, i hate. but that’s only because it’s my writing and i can remember exactly how i was feeling and what i was thinking when i wrote those sections, and i can also remember exactly how long i spent struggling to write some of those sections. there’s nothing wrong with being critical of yourself, but you have to be careful to not let that criticism paralyze you before you’ve even put yourself out there publicly.

2. write the kinds of stories you want to read. super DUPER important!! this is honestly advice that can apply to all different areas of life. i understand the desire to want to write the types of stories that seem popular within the fandom setting in order to get as many followers/as much feedback as possible, but (at the risk of sounding like a complete cliche here) the truth is that you have a very specific story to tell, and only you can tell it. people can tell the difference between a story written for the love of the story, and a story written specifically because it’s a popular trope and the writer just wants more attention/feedback.

3. know that just because you’ve written a fic doesn’t mean you have to post it. that’s also really important!! just because you’ve written something doesn’t mean you’re obligated to post it!! i’ve found that when i take the pressure of Posting It off, it becomes easier to focus on the actual writing. if you can go into every story you write with the thought that literally no one ever has to read it if you don’t want them to, it tends to make the process much, much easier!

4. the b99 fandom is one of the Nicest out there. writing fic for b99 is probably one of the easiest and most pleasurable experiences i’ve personally ever had. i’ve yet to come across anyone who is anything less than kind and encouraging and just plain wonderful, meaning that this is a GREAT fandom to grow in as a writer. you won’t have needlessly rude or unhelpful reviews like you might get in bigger fandoms out there. this is an excellent setting to try new things out and to figure out where you’re comfortable as a writer. obviously there isn’t really any one section of the internet that is Purely Safe from flames, but i don’t know of many people who have been flamed for writing b99 fics.

if you have more specific questions i can 100% give you more advice!! just let me know, i’d be happy to help however i can :)

#andysamburgss #writing advice #em answers

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iamcarolinevella · 6 years

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Sometimes the truth helps!

From snarky headline to paying gig. My blog post for Find A Way Media:

It’s been almost a year since I started working with Chris at Find A Way Media and we both still chuckle about how we met. It began with an email with the subject line: Do you want the good news first?

I came across his blog for writers as I was surfing around for articles and work prospects. I’m always interested in writerly advice, which is probably more of a distraction from actually writing but that’s a whole other blog. It led me to his site and I was immediately impressed by the company and the content. And he was hiring.

I admired that he was putting his thoughts and ideas out there. He was making something happen – or as marketing mind and best-selling author Seth Godin puts it, he was ‘shipping.’ He wasn’t just shipping words but he was also making a successful business out of it. As any writer knows, that’s not an easy task. I signed up for his weekly newsletter for writers and perused more of his articles. Then I spotted a typo (or two, or three).

But then I had to break it to him.

Casting judgement aside, I reverted back to the very first words I heard in Marketing 101 many years ago: FIND A NEED AND FILL IT. I thought perhaps he could use another set of eyes to help him carry out his vision.

So I sent the email, which opened with how much I enjoyed his work and looked forward to following his blog. But then I had to break it to him: I did, however, find some typos. As a writer who knows that horror, I’d hate to see something so fixable tarnish the quality of his output. Then back to more good news: I offered my services as a copy editor.

That email got his attention. He says he appreciated my honesty and clever but diplomatic handling of the touchy subject – refreshing in the land of internet trolls. (I only recently discovered just how much he doesn’t love criticism.) From there, we struck up a dialogue, worked on a couple of test runs, and I’ve been Find a Way’s go-to copy editor ever since.

So, what’s the moral of this story? There are actually a few things going on here. First, if you are writing and publishing with any regularity, get yourself a good copy editor or proofreader. It’s not an area to skimp on. Or at the very least, enlist a trusted friend or coworker to give your writing a once-over. Even the best of us miss edits so it’s always best to ask for backup.

Having said that, don’t let the fear of imperfection stop you from shipping. While you should take every precaution to avoid pesky typos, don’t let that paralyze you and keep you from putting your work out there. Even Ann Handley, content expert and author of Everybody Writes recently mused on LinkedIn about “….proofing her work dozens of times only to catch the typo immediately after hitting publish.” Typos happen, even to experts.

Also, if you want to shine as a savvy marketing writer, you have to show, not tell, how your skills will stand out from the crowd. Anyone can say they’re a top-notch writer but actually earning rave reviews and thunderous applause is a skill all its own. The only way you get to that place is through consistent practice. No shortcuts. You wouldn’t call yourself a race car driver if you don’t spend any time behind the wheel. The same goes for writing. You have to take your craft out for a spin. A lot.

And that requires taking some chances. As with any creative endeavor, whenever you put yourself out there, you open the door to feedback. Be it from a client or editor or worse, the internet-at-large, you run the risk of being critiqued. Sure, praise is a possibility but that’s generally not what keeps writers frozen at their keyboard. You’ve put your heart and soul into it and though precious to you, your work may not always be received how you’d like – and that could be scary. (Even right now, I’m sweating it knowing I have to show this to Chris!) But fear is the dragon that all writers slay daily.

“Fear is the dragon that all writers slay daily.”

It’s as prominent researcher, author and wildly popular TED talker Brené Brown extols in her best-selling book Daring Greatly. The book’s title comes from this Teddy Roosevelt quote:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.”

In other words, anyone can sit in the stands and mock the guy in the arena. But until you’re willing to leave your comfort zone, put yourself out there and make something happen, you’ll never experience the exhilaration of daring – and you’ll never get anywhere.

I took a chance reaching out to Chris and he took a chance on a critic. If either of us were on our high horse, it would have never worked. I was careful not to attack him and he responded in kind. We’ve got a system that works for both of us and we learn something from each other with every project. We don’t agree on everything but we won’t let something as contentious, er, minor as an Oxford comma come between us. (He’s for. I’m against.) Because we both know first-hand the great joy that comes from daring to call yourself a writer. Mistakes and all.

#writing #editing #blogging #find a way #i am caroline vella #seth godin #ann handley #brene brown

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