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Quivers of acute angle-bracket arrows
torn from lives and shot
to nestle deep in the candyfloss tangle heart.
A pincer movement,
pinch and pull and stab
the twisted black dot that holds the centre in its thrall,
lending wooden support struts
to point and guard and strengthen its impenetrable knots,
twisting always tighter tighter twisting-

until kamikaze pressure punctures
its body's own soul
into glass shards of tension on their tips.
An old poem I wrote one day to try and deal with intense worry for someone. Used to be up on Jottify before the website mysteriously disappeared.
(I'm procrastinating uni work by uploading things... >.>)
Sally knelt in front of the mirror, inspecting the frame with a baffled frown.
“A mirror? This is what all those warnings were about? What’s so dangerous about a mirror?” She sounded almost indignant. Brynn stood a little way back, watching. Her eyes were narrowed in thought, her brow creased with a frown to echo Sally’s. Her fingers tapped absent-mindedly against her gun. There was something about this she didn’t like, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She fixed her eyes on the mirror pane itself, on the reflection copying Sally’s movements.
Brynn’s eyes narrowed further. Had… had the reflection just moved its hand slightly slower than its living counterpart?
With a stab of unease, Brynn ran forwards and pulled Sally to the side, sending the inventor sprawling. Ignoring Sally’s bewildered protests, Brynn faced the mirror, gun in hand. Her reflection did the same.
Just as it should.
Brynn tilted her head, trying to ascertain whether there was anything out of place, but nothing seemed to happen. Sally moved silently up to stand behind her shoulder and spoke- or at least moved her mouth to form words, for there was no sound.
Brynn blinked, glanced behind at Sally with a questioning, irritable expression.
Sally wasn’t there.
She was still out of the way of the mirror, staring at it in disbelief.
Brynn’s frown deepened for an instant as her mind struggled to find a plausible explanation, then her eyes shot wide open and she span back to face the mirror, gun raised and ready to shoot. Reflection Brynn had copied her. Brynn swallowed. This was not right. This was inexplicable and wrong and it shouldn’t be, and she didn’t know what it was or how to deal with it. Her reflection made no move, the only sign something was amiss being Sally behind her, where she most definitely shouldn’t have been.
“Sally,” Brynn grunted. Her voice rough, discomfort making it hoarse. “What is this?”
“I-I have no idea,” Sally admitted. “Some sort of… hologram?” She wandered around the back of the mirror and to the other side, regarding it like nothing more than a frustrating puzzle. Brynn didn’t take her eyes from reflection-Brynn. Nothing seemed to be happening, so as an experiment, she gradually lowered her gun. The reflection’s didn’t move, still pointing directly at her chest through the glass. A shock of fear jolted Brynn, and she hurriedly returned her weapon to mirror the reflection’s.
She muttered a curse.
“Sally. What if I shoot it?”
Sally was quiet a few moments.
“Well,” she replied, “if it’s a mirror, it breaks.”
“And? If it isn’t?” The question was clipped with barely controlled patience.
“If it isn’t a mirror…” Sally said, excruciatingly slowly, “well, if it’s a hologram, it won’t break unless you hit the projector. If it’s some sort of… of… gah!” Sally exclaimed. “I don’t know! What else could it be? Mirror-hologram-screen-deterrent-danger-trap-prison-“ Her verbal mindmap cut off, and she peered more closely at the mirror. “Technically, it’d be possible I think… Difficult though, very difficult-“
“Nothing, maybe. Destruction, perhaps. Or… the release of whatever is trapped inside it.”
Brynn cursed in frustration. The reflection didn’t.
Brynn swallowed.
The reflection winked, and its finger tightened on the trigger. Brynn nearly shot it in reflexive response, but caught herself just in time. The reflection’s mouth twitched, just barely. Most wouldn't have registered it, but this was Brynn’s face. Brynn’s expression. And it looked to her very much like a sign of irritation.
So, that was its game, was it? It wanted her to shoot it? Brynn shifted her feet, taking a steadier position. She didn’t lower her gun, but decided to try talking.
“What are you?” she demanded, taking care to enunciate the words since she had no idea if sound could travel into the mirror any better than it could travel out of it. Reflection-Brynn didn’t reply, but faint amusement hovered around the corner of her mouth.
“You want me to shoot you.”
Still no reaction. Reflection-Brynn was now poker-faced. Yet, had she not wanted to be shot, why would she be threatening them?
Brynn deliberated a minute longer, and slowly lowered her gun. The movement was reluctant, but deliberate.
Reflection-Brynn, after a couple of seconds, followed suit. As far as Brynn could read her expression, she seemed annoyed, yet not beaten. Brynn watched her, suspicious.
“Sally,” she said. “We’re leaving.” Sally was no longer in her line of vision. “… Sally?” she repeated, impatient.
Sally’s voice sounded from behind her right shoulder, and she flinched.
“I think we should break it.”
“I really think we should.”
Stony silence.
Brynn’s head was suddenly tugged backwards and down by the hair, a knife held to her throat.
“We’re going to break it.”
Brynn recovered from the shock quickly. Mind control? It was the first plausible explanation that came to mind and she had no time to look for others, so she went with it. She grabbed the hand holding the knife with one hand and twisted under it as best she could with her hair caught. Her centre of balance regained, she gave a sharp kick to the inside of Sally’s knee. Sally’s leg crumpled under her and she fell, the knife clattering from her grasp. Brynn grappled the spitting and clawing inventor and quickly pinned her down, but the flare of a firing gun sent her spinning to her feet, shooting in reply before she had time to realise that the first shot had never actually left the mirror.

There was an instant, frozen in dread, before the mirror smashed in a flash of fractal light. An instant to stare in horror, to curse herself- then the world was whirling glass and insubstantial cackling shapes and Brynn was curled over Sally, buffeted by raw magic, covering both their heads as best she could whilst firing blind into the bright whirring chaos, spitting curses that were instantly whisked away as glass shards sliced her skin and sudden ice stabbed into her abdomen. When bullets ran out, Brynn dropped the gun and shot electricity from her hand. It crackled into the air, blue lightning that reflected all around into a blinding cage throughout the room, and the laughter turned to howls of pain. The flurrying gale of opaque light and translucent brown streaks flooded out of the door like muddied water breaking through a dam. Brynn held tight to Sally, gasping as she struggled against the current of power tugging at her very blood…
And it was gone. The air seemed to reel in the still silence of its wake. Brynn lay still at first, panting. A strange cold burning was growing in her side. She dared lift her head after a few moments, straining her eyes to pick anything out in the relative darkness. Sally’s torch lay on its side at the far side of the room, flickering. Gritting her teeth and trying to steady her breathing, Brynn tried to push herself up, but with a barely stifled groan of pain she fell and curled tight, hands pressed to her side. Her fingers found wetness there, and she squinted at her hand. Dark blood was smeared across it. She muttered weak curses as she saw that the knife was lying in Sally’s hand, glistening red. Her voice shook with the effort not to whimper.

“B… Brynn…?” Sally blinked, the world coming suddenly into focus from a haze of fog. Her head… ached. No, her mind ached. Slowly, she brought a hand up to press against her temple, grimacing. Pushing herself upright, she squinted blearily at the smashed mirror, the glass scattered across the floor, the cuts on her body, the blood-stained knife lying loose in her hand…
Her gaze fell upon Brynn, flickering over the blood seeping from her cuts and dripping from between the hands pressed to her side.
“Brynn!” Sally's mind sharpened with alarm, and she jumped into a crouch to lean over her friend. She shook Brynn’s shoulder. “Brynn, I- let me see. Let me see, Brynn!”
Brynn didn’t move, and Sally had to forcibly pull her hands away. Sally examined it a moment, before pushing Brynn onto her back to look closer. Brynn grunted in protest and clenched her teeth tight. Sally could feel her trembling. Her own head span as she pulled her friend’s shirt aside and saw the blood welling to the surface. She hurriedly pressed Brynn’s hands back over the wound.
“H-hold, Brynn. Tight.”
Exhaling a slow, careful breath, Sally climbed to her feet. She strode to fetch her bag and knelt back beside Brynn, fishing in it for first aid equipment.
“It’s ok, Brynn,” she said in a carefully expressionless voice as she drizzled water over the wound to try and wash away some of the blood and see it better. It looked deep, and a glance back at the knife confirmed it was probably a good four inches. Fear for her friend threatened to paralyse her, but she gave her head a sharp shake and concentrated staying calm. With one hand she reached over to stroke sweat-drenched hair back from Brynn’s forehead. Brynn shifted her head just barely to press closer to it as though seeking comfort, her eyes clenched tight and her face pale.
“S-S- Sally-“ Brynn struggled to force the word out. Her voice shuddered, her breath came in rough ragged gasps, too fast, uncontrollable.
With the other hand and her teeth, Sally tore open a packet of greyish powder that would encourage healing, and poured it into the wound. She packed it in with mossing to keep the wound clean and soak up the blood.
“Brynn, I need to sit you up.” She pressed a wad of bandage against the wound to maintain pressure and hold the mossing in place. The other arm she slid beneath Brynn’s shoulders to heave her upright. Brynn swayed and her head lolled back into unconsciousness. Sally shuffled so that she could kneel behind. Cradling Brynn’s head against her shoulder, she began to wrap bandages tight around Brynn’s stomach.
“Brynn, there now, it’s alright, I’ve got you…” she murmured while she worked. Regardless of whether Brynn could hear, it soothed her own nerves. When the bandage had been tied off she laid Brynn back down with the bag as a pillow, and dribbled water between her lips. Her fingers trailed through Brynn’s hair, prickling with little static shocks. She gave a faint, fond smile, although her eyes remained anxious, and settled down cross-legged to keep watch. The smashed mirror and knowledge that she had no idea what had happened whilst she’d been… unconscious?... left her uneasy, but for now she decided it more important to ensure Brynn was safe. She didn’t much like the thought of leaving her here alone to go and investigate. And besides, Brynn would surely know what had happened. How the mirror had broken.
How the glass had scattered so far.
How the knife had ended up in Sally’s hand.
She knew for a fact she’d last seen it safe in her bag, and yet there it had been. Covered in Brynn’s blood.
A sickly sensation stirred in Sally’s chest and she averted her eyes from it, unwilling to acknowledge the suspicion blossoming creeping tendrils into her mind. Lack of memory, strange inexplicable circumstances that made it look very much as though it was by her own hand that Brynn had been stabbed……
Well. It didn’t matter now anyway, did it? There wasn’t anything she could do, other than look after Brynn as best she could, and wait.
Edited: Sally and Brynn- Mirror
Edit 1/10/15: I've been editing this with wonderful help from :iconladyriverwolf: and also There are still some changes I haven't made/ decided on/ found alternatives for, but I thought I'd put it up as it is so far. I'd welcome constructive criticism :) Are there any sentences that do/ don't work well? Or parts that are difficult to understand?  Words that have more effective alternatives (the hemingway app thing thinks I use too many adverbs, though I think aiming for only one as it suggests is a bit much.)? 

Also, I'm not really sure why Brynn has a gun. She kind of just wanted one for this scene and since it's only written as character exploration I let her have it. But I may decide to get rid of it and have her just use her usual electrical magic thing. It would possibly make more sense and remove a plot hole or two...


I'm going to try to maintain my concentration for finishing scenes by uploading some of the things I've been writing.  I'm writing a whole load of completely random unconnected scenes to try and get to know my characters/ their world better. They wont necessarily be finished when I upload them- there may be things left unexplained cos I just wanted to write a scene without going into the lead-up to it/ the aftermath. For example, the assumed mind control in this- Sally's a total pacifist, and would never ever threaten Brynn with a knife. As for WHY Sally was being controlled and not Brynn...  because they're different species, perhaps? There are several potential reasons, some which would require a lot of currently under-developed backstory from this scene, and I haven't decided on one yet :P So yes. Unfinished stuff. This is basically my way of mindmapping potential situations and plots and character interactions, and I find it helpful to let other people see them. 

Basic background- Sally and Brynn live in a world in which there are multiple sentient species. All, except for humans, are naturally capable of harnessing different aspects of magic. Humans use technology to harness it instead, and tend to consider other species somewhat "backwards" for not doing so. Sally is human, Brynn is the last of a (currently unnamed) species who had power over electricity.

This has had very little editing. Let me know if anything needs fixing or doesn't make sense :)
Why is it so difficult to stay focussed on writing? I manage a paragraph or so, then my concentration wavers and while I really want to write it, even more than that I want to READ it. I can't write at the speed I want to experience it, or something like that, so I end up tripping over my own thoughts and just wanting to watch it in my head rather than writing it, and once I've done that I just want to daydream the whole thing cos I'm enjoying the story too much myself... Who knew that too much enthusiasm to write could be just as bad as too little?
Any advice for focussing better would be greatly appreciated...
Inspired by a conversation with my brother about someone with a house so big it had its own bowling alley and cinema complex. The conversation went something like:
"But those are things you go out to do, as a treat with friends!"
"But, think about it, a house that size you could invite, like, five hundred friends over, and- and-"
"-And they'd never even have to meet each other..."

Day seven
It's been seven days since the host left me alone, and I’ve decided to keep a diary to track my progress- or lack thereof. I haven’t seen another living person for three days, and food supplies are running low. Luckily the plentiful bathrooms have meant I have not suffered water shortages so far, however they now seem to be dwindling in frequency as I head in what I desperately hope to be the direction of the front door. I can only pray that they don’t peter out completely.
Judging by the faint smell of pizza from the north-east, I’d say that the kitchen is only another three day’s trek. If I can just make it that far, I can stock up on food, and rest up for a while before setting out again. Perhaps I’ll find another lost soul there with whom I can swap information on the layout of the house. Or perhaps the host will be there, and after blackmailing him into showing me the way out, I can punch him in the face for what he’s put me through. Yes, that would be very satisfying.
Then again, I may have to be cautious if- when- I reach the kitchen. I know I am not alone in this building, although I do not know whether the number of other captives can be counted in handfuls or thousands. Some may have been trapped here even longer than me. The scent of pizza gives me hope that they have not yet resorted to cannibalism, (I assume the faint aroma of meat is merely ham or pepperoni) however I cannot be certain that any who have found their way to the sanctuary of the kitchen will be happy to share vital resources with a newcomer.

Day Eight
Good news is I found another bathroom and a broken vending machine, from which I was able to stock up. Bad news is I have just passed them for the third time in five hours. I must have been travelling in circles all day, and in this area of the house the scent of the kitchen has been entirely drowned out by chlorine. I believe there to be a swimming pool nearby, possibly a large one. By the prevalence of the smell and the faint sound of ocean waves, I estimate it to be at least four miles long. Not that I’m planning on going swimming any time soon- the host took my spare clothes and valuables to put them in a secure locker for the duration of my stay. Very kind of him, I’m sure- or it would have been, if he’d ever returned. I have little hope of ever seeing my belongings again.
All I have is a makeshift backpack I fashioned from a shower curtain, this notebook I found on a coffee table, and three plastic bottles. Two I took from that vending machine, but one I brought with me from home, and it therefore currently has great sentimental value. The supermarket brand printed on the side serves as a reminder of life outside these endless corridors. It is far more than a humble carrier of water. It is a symbol of hope.
I’m going to set up camp for the night in this abandoned bedroom. It doesn’t appear to have been inhabited for years, if the size and number of spider webs is anything to go by.  I could keep wandering for longer, but if I ended up back here one more time I don’t think I could take it. Maybe I’ll have greater luck in the morning.

Day nine
By unravelling the bedclothes I have gained a great quantity of thread which I am now using to mark my trail, ensuring that I don’t have a repeat of yesterday’s pointless circular ramblings.
I have been joined on my journey by a small clump of matted fur. I found it shut in a bathroom, and I believe that the half-starved remains of a Persian cat may lie somewhere underneath. Clumps of a substance suspiciously similar to old, dry toothpaste cling to the fur around its face. Or rather, to the tangled blanket of off-white hair where I assume its face should be. The poor creature must have resorted to consuming bathroom condiments in order to survive- a terrible ignominy for a once proud member of a dignified feline breed.
Although it is impossible to tell either way, I have decided to call it a “him” for convenience. I have shared with him some of my meagre rations, and I have hope that he will repay me by leading the way to either food or his owner. Even if he doesn’t, he may still be of some use. Currently the thought of cat meat is abhorrent, but if my situation becomes desperate I’m afraid I will be forced to put such luxuries as ethics behind me. If I was bit smaller and had a tail, I’d expect him to do the same to me. In conditions such as these, the concept of “survival of the fittest” suddenly becomes all too relevant.
Besides, sustaining an unfortunate traveller on his quest for justice and a front door/ window/ chimney (at this stage, I can’t afford to be picky) is surely a nobler fate than being accidentally starved to death in a bathroom.
For the time being, however, he sits on my shoulder- far too weak to walk- and is a very welcome companion on this hellish pilgrimage. I have named him Theseus. A tad optimistic, perhaps, but what else do I have left, other than hope and the slightly desperate amusement of ironic mythology references?

Day ten
More corridors. More unused lounges, bedrooms, cinema complexes, etc. But nothing even slightly resembling a kitchen, although I can smell cooked food again so there is now a direction to my quest.  By the occasional muffled mewls issuing from his mouth area, I can tell Theseus has perked up a little; I think he scents it too. I did my best to groom him last night, so that he could at least see where he was going. Two large, black eyes now peep out from deep within the shaggy, knotted rug of his coat.
At the moment I am sitting on (or rather, sinking into) an overly squashy leather sofa at a small railway station. This is obviously how the host copes with the practical issues of a house that seems to be the size of a small planet, or at least country. However, like the other stations I have passed, it is utterly deserted. Not a single train has arrived in all the time I have been sat here. The tracks remain silent, empty, gleaming with vindictive laughter- No! No, they don’t. I must not personify objects against myself. That can lead only to insanity. Patience, calm, rational thinking. I must maintain my grasp on reality.
The tracks seem to run in the same direction that I am heading in. It would certainly be easier to walk along a track than to lose myself once again in the maze of hallways. This thought will not leave me alone, although I know it would be foolhardy to give into it. If the train were to come when I was trapped in the long, dark corridors that the tracks run along, I would have no way to escape. The thought of dying in this lonely, forsaken place with only a cat to hear my final breath is not particularly appealing.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but wonder if the railway line would provide a shortcut. Without all of the twists and turns and dead ends that have made my journey so far so frustratingly slow, surely it would greatly reduce the length of my trek to the kitchen? If, that is, it leads to the kitchen at all. To be honest, even if it doesn’t, it couldn’t possibly make me any more lost than I already am.
I cannot decide whether I dare to take the risk. Oh, how I long for a human companion with whom I could discuss the issue! Theseus, when I explained my thoughts, merely yawned and proceeded to ignore me in favour of a nap. I think I will join him, and sleep on it. Perhaps it will be easier to decide on the most prudent course of action in the morning when I am well rested.
Quest for a Front Door
The writing website I use seems to have disappeared forever (I'm heartbroken :'( ) And so I guess I might put more stuff on here.

This is kind of ongoing. Slowly. I have vague ideas of where I want it to go but I'm not sure if it'll ever actually get there...
I have never done a tag thing before but I was tagged by :iconphi921: and the questions were interesting, and so I decided to do this one. Apologies in advance for the longish philosophical rambles that a couple of the questions sparked...

Also, I'm going to tag people BUT I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND IF TAGS ANNOY YOU AND YOU DON'T WANT TO DO IT. I did try to at least think of some interesting and/or ridiculous questions for anyone who does decide to do it...

1) You must post these rules
2) Each person has to share 10 facts about themselves
3) Answer the ten questions asked by the person who tagged you and make up 10 questions for your ten tags
4) Choose ten people and put their icon in your journal (I don't have 10 people TO choose, so I can't really do this)
5) Go to their page and inform them that they have been tagged by you. (Don't people get notifications from being tagged anyway? I SHALL REBEL AGAINST YOUR PECULIAR POINTLESS RULES)
6) NOT something like " you are tagged if you read that"
7) You have to legitimately tag 10 people
8) No tag backs
9) You can't say that you don't do tags
10) You MUST make a journal entry. (Unless you don't want to).

10 Facts

1- Of all the strange and adorable and fascinating animals in the world, my favourite is still the rabbit. Although it’s a close call between them, momongas and mudskippers.

2- I got stuck on top of a Mayan temple in the rainforest once. The rope snapped when someone else was climbing down and the guide had to climb up and rescue the rest of us. It was like being in some sort of adventure book/film. We also visited the Mayan underworld…

3- I became obsessed with the Large Hadron Collider in about Year 9 and briefly wanted to study physics until I realised how much maths was involved and quickly changed my mind back to ecology. But I still know the Large Hadron Collider Rap off by heart…

4- I love having a weird name and I’ll never get bored of the looks of terror on peoples’ faces when I introduce myself to them and they panic about having to remember how to pronounce it, even though it’s only two syllables. Looking at the many inventive attempts to spell it in the greetings cards I receive is also entertaining. (And no, my name isn’t actually Lily, I just like the flower :P)

5- I find it difficult to think of even three things to say about myself, let alone 10.

6- I invented chocolate cous-cous cake. It is a peculiar substance which, according to my flatmates when they tried it, may be an entirely new form of matter. It’s nice though, honestly!

7- I once bribed the toothfairy to visit using a rainbow face-sticker (remember face-stickers?!) because she hadn't collected my tooth for several days.

8- One of the things I’m proudest of was when I was a paired reader at secondary school and I convinced a year seven who struggled with and hated reading that he actually liked it after all. He’d previously said that he hated reading and it was boring and stupid and the other paired reader just let him play computer games instead. I asked what he WAS interested in, if he didn’t like any of the books available, so we ended up reading a website about car engines and at the end of the session he told me that he’d actually enjoyed it more than playing computer games and could we read more of it next week?

9- I enjoy balancing chemical equations. It’s kind of relaxing. It’s the thing I miss most about studying chemistry at school/ AS.

10- Most spiders are horrible and scary, but tarantulas are adorable and fluffy like mutant eight-legged hamsters.

Answers to 10 questions

1. What inspired you to become an artist?
“Become an artist” …I’m not one. I’m a scientist who dabbles :P But I don’t really know. I’ve loved writing and drawing and making things for as long as I can remember. I guess I’ve just always been very imaginative.

2. Why have you chosen the art you have chosen?
Well… I haven’t really chosen any particular art form. If I have access to the equipment I need, then I will try it. I like writing poetry because I can make better sense of my own thoughts and feelings when I’ve condensed them into solid words, even when the poetry itself would seem to anyone else to be completely unrelated to what inspired it, and I love to see how other people interpret it. It’s fascinating to see how the same words can mean such different things to different people, and often I find others point out things- symbolism, word play, meanings- that I hadn’t even noticed myself, which help me to gain a greater understanding both of what I’ve written and of myself. Poetry, I think, is something that needs to be shared in order to ever become complete. It’s unique in its ability to share feelings, change feelings, explore thoughts, make people think, expose controversies and start discussion. I like writing prose too because it gives me something more concrete to focus my imaginings around, which allows me to explore them more solidly than when they’re just floating around as general concepts and ideas in my head. Words are beautiful and powerful, and to be able to wield them is both exciting and inspiring in itself.
Drawing I enjoy I guess as a form of meditation? It’s relaxing. Occasionally I really want to try challenging myself, but for the most part I just like doodling. I also like being able to give my characters a solid form so I can see them more clearly. Or at least, attempting to. They rarely turn out like they’re supposed to XD
And I like crafts because I’ve always found it exciting to be able to create my own things. I’m quite good at picking new crafts and techniques up, and I enjoy making pretty things, and presents for people.

3. What is your greatest interest in life? Is it your major, if you are a student?
It probably is my major, I guess. I study environmental biology. I’ve been fascinated by the environment since before I could talk, apparently. By the age of about three I’d decided that humans were destroying the environment, that I wanted to save it, and that the only way to save it was to learn as much about it as possible. I love nature, I love being out on mountains, in forests, places I can feel entirely surrounded by it. Unfortunately I don’t get to do that very often.
It’s by no means my only interest though. If you want to tell me something, chances are I want to learn it! Science, history, folklore, philosophy, religion, culture… everything except pop culture and sport, pretty much :P And even those, I’ll listen and learn anyway despite having no interest in them.

4. What are your other hobbies, other than art?
Singing! I love singing, particularly folk music and in choirs. I also kind of play violin (badly!) and I’ve taught myself keyboard/piano. I’ve recently joined a living history society called Historia Normannis, so I spend about 8 hours a week now being killed by Norman/ Anglo-Saxon weapons. SO MUCH FUN. We do crafts too, so I’ve been learning to make Anglo-Saxon clothes and leatherwork. But I guess that’s back to art…
I sometimes play tabletop rp campaigns… but even though they’re great fun I find them quite difficult to join/ get into.
I used to do aikido, but I’ve mostly had to give it up since starting uni unfortunately.

5. What are your religious or spiritual views, if any?
Ummmm……… Complicated and changeable. Agnostic, I guess? Or perhaps theologically bewildered? XD I was brought up semi-Christian (believing in the Christian God and Jesus, but never really going to church), and I used to believe whole-heartedly as a child but now I don’t know. I want to believe (*cue X-Files theme*)… but I can’t quite. I still pray sometimes, cos I find it helpful. Something I really struggle with in Christianity is the concept that anyone who doesn’t believe in the Christian God will go to hell. What kind of omni-benevolent, omnipotent creator would say “Hm, yes, you’ve been mostly a good person all your life, that’s all fine… oh, but I see you’re muslim/hindu/Buddhist/atheist/etc, because I caused you to be born into a family that brought you up to believe that religion/lack of instead, or because your experience told you it was more logical. Sorry. Nope. You were wrong AND NOW YOU MUST SUFFER.” It doesn’t make any sense!! I think perhaps, if there is a god, that all religions are true in some way. Because God is an entirely unknowable concept, something beyond human understanding, and perhaps all religions are just the same thing viewed from a different perspective. Attempts to put God into terms humans can understand, which necessarily become twisted by human emotions, thoughts, experiences, ambitions because we’re incapable of understanding anything except through our own subjective lenses. And as such, missionary work and trying to force people to believe the same thing, taking away peoples’ cultures and traditional beliefs… it’s pointless and immoral.
Then again, studying evolution and science makes me wonder. How can there be a god? Why should there be one? Where? I hope that there is, I try to believe there’s SOMETHING… but there are so many doubts.

6. What’s your life philosophy or life motto? Why?
I’m not sure, really. It used to be “every little step you take takes you one step closer to your destination”… but in the context of a whole life that’s actually more depressing than motivational. I wish I could answer this question, but my mind-set changes frequently and drastically. It’s difficult to have a particular motto or philosophy with nothing solid within yourself to attach it to…

7. What do you think your purpose in life is, if any? Why?
Um... TW- please don’t read if depressed/ suicidal. This probably won’t help.
This is something I’ve been wondering about a lot recently. I really don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be any point to life. That’s not to say I’m suicidal, but… why does anyone want to live, other than instinct to survive? From an evolutionary perspective, the only point of being alive is to reproduce. And the only point to that is so that your offspring can reproduce, so their offspring can reproduce… ad infinitum. Or at least ad until-the-sun-explodes-and-everyone-dies-anyway. And that seems so empty and cold. There is no real point to it.
So we give life a purpose. We decide on a thing to do with our lives, but whatever it is still just a human construct. Everything in human society is just constructs build on ancestors’ constructs, just created to block out the terror of death and the unknown and the fact that actually there is no reason for us to keep going. To pretend that we know what we’re doing and we’re not all just as confused and frightened as one another. And I guess it’s a good thing, because it allows us to enjoy life… but it’s also absolutely terrifying when everything suddenly turns transparent and you realise that there actually is no base to anything. We’re walking on the tops of ancient towers that don’t actually exist, and the only thing keeping us up there is the fact that most people don’t realise it. Or if they do, they don’t mention it, and so we all keep pretending it’s fine and normal and natural…
Well. This is cheerful. Most the time I don’t think about these things. I generally consider myself to be quite happy ^^;;
But the purpose I’ve chosen for my life is to protect people and the environment as best I can, I suppose. Because that, at least, is something I can believe is solid and worthwhile.

8. What are your political view and why?
Most politicians don’t seem to understand that the point of their job is to do what’s best for the people of their country, not what’s best for themselves and their friends. Too much power has been placed in money and businesses, to the point that we allow them to rule us rather than peoples’ welfare and quality of life. Money has no conscience, businesses have no soul. They don’t care about the future of our species, because they’re just things. They’re not designed to. But so many politicians listen to them instead of the needs of people.
Therefore, I vote Green. I don’t agree with all of their policies, but they seem to be the only ones who aren’t corrupt and actually understand what politics is for.

9. What’s your favourite song?
No! Don’t make me answer this! It depends entirely on my mood! It used to be Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve, but now I honestly don’t know. I quite like Silver Lining by First Aid Kit at the moment… but I also love songs by Enya and Vienna Teng and John Spillane and Emilie Autumn and Helen Trevillion and Christy Moore and SO MANY OTHERS!!

10. If you could move to any country, which would it be?
IRELAND. Specifically, county Kerry. I’m half Irish and I utterly adore Ireland. Music, folklore, accents, the countryside… it’s all so beautiful. I feel at home when I visit my family over there. I feel a physical pull towards it when I haven’t visited for too long because I miss it so much. It’s a country so full of life.

10 Question for anyone who decides to answer them

1. What feature do you primarily use to identify people? Hair/ eyes/ face shape/ general build/ clothes/ etc.?

2. If you could live healthily for a thousand years, would you? And what would you do with all that time?

3. QUICK, NAME THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES TO MIND. Do you like it and why/ why not?

4. If you had to be transformed into something other than a human, would you choose to be an animal, a plant or a rock? Any particular type? (Oh dear, I’m running out of things to ask already…)

5. How do you prefer to listen to music?

6. Out of anything and everything that could be considered artistic in some way (pictures, literature, dance, music, etc), what is your favourite medium in which to view/experience art?

7. If you have a favourite artist, who is it and why?

8. Pick a superpower out of these two and explain why you chose it- the ability to see with your feet, or the ability to taste with your eyebrows? (Because the last three questions seemed dangerously close to normal and boring).

9. What is sentience, and are humans the only animals to have it?


10. With what fictional character would you most like to run screaming in terror from three angry rhinos, a warren of rabid Rhosgobel rabbits (the ones Radagast uses in The Hobbit films), and a hungry dragon? (No, you can’t set the dragon on the rhinos and rabbits. It’s a very fussy eater :P)

Tags- :iconsepiawren: (Because you made the mistake of explaining to me how tagging works. Sorry :P) :iconsupernova2395: :iconambercatlucky2: :iconrheic-ocean: :iconqueenofcrows1: :iconbryosgirl: :iconspice5400: :icondariyakutepova:

(Again, no pressure to actually do it. Pleasedon'thateme >.>)

Why is it so difficult to stay focussed on writing? I manage a paragraph or so, then my concentration wavers and while I really want to write it, even more than that I want to READ it. I can't write at the speed I want to experience it, or something like that, so I end up tripping over my own thoughts and just wanting to watch it in my head rather than writing it, and once I've done that I just want to daydream the whole thing cos I'm enjoying the story too much myself... Who knew that too much enthusiasm to write could be just as bad as too little?
Any advice for focussing better would be greatly appreciated...


United Kingdom

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BlueCaroline Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
:LongStemRose: :forget-me-not: - NaNoEmo 06 :BlackEyedSusan: - NaNoEmo 09 :LilyoftheValley: :PeaceLily: Thank You Smiley - Girl
Ambercatlucky2 Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2015  Professional General Artist
Hey man are you okay?
You deleted it since it popped up, but I just saw a little bit (just the preview) of a journal you posted, are you okay?
Celtic-Lily Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015
Sorry I finally managed to fall asleep after I'd written everything out of my head. I feel a little better now but basically I'm terrified of my parents moving house in a couple of months.
Could I perhaps send you what I wrote, cos I'm not sure I can properly explain without saying the same stuff anyway? And I think maybe it'd be good to be able to let someone properly see why without forgetting bits or having to filter bits cos they know me irl...
Ambercatlucky2 Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015  Professional General Artist
<3 I'm glad that you were able to sleep

Yes! ;v ; send me a note of what you wrote <3 okay? 

Let's talk it out bby <3
; W; I worry about you!

//Are they planning to move too far away for you to be able to go home to?
Celtic-Lily Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2015
Thanks <3 Comfort me. 
Basically I'll be able to go "home" to them but not the place that's safe and familiar and has all my friends. I'll note you~
(1 Reply)
Rheic-ocean Featured By Owner May 28, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
:hug: :glomp: :wave: Thank you so so much for the watch!!! :D
Celtic-Lily Featured By Owner May 29, 2015
You too! I barely ever get watched back, that made my day ^^ Glomp! 
Rheic-ocean Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Nawwwwww you're welcome! :D :glomp:
pseudozufall Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thank you so much for the watch ! ! i wish you all the best Hug 
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