thetotomoo

[thetotomoo]

Spoiler alert- cause those who read me know I like to take an eternity before I let my ships set sail. But Legacy Disowned features, or will feature, Pomelda. During the events of 5th year we get to see a side of Poppy that likely nobody else at Hogwarts knows about. I like to think that in time others get to know what an absolute baddie she really is. 😘

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Pic Crew

If someone had told me the author AO3 curse when I started two years ago, I would have shrugged. But now…. 🤣 I’ve been dragged in.

Stay safe, be happy— if you can only be one… stay safe! ❤️

Just dropping by to hope you all are doing well— at the moment I’ve a number of life and work things and health stuffs to get through so will be intermittently dropping by here and there.

Work deadlines, grandma in the hospital, lots of fatigue and doctor appointments so we’ll see how the next author note goes 😵‍💫❤️.

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The Wanderer above the Sea of Fog

I apologize for my silence. I enjoyed a lovely break, traveled and found myself in a marvelous art gallery. Therefore, the following piece is entirely due to the inspiration I drew while wandering around the Hamburger Kunsthalle.

Premise: The relic was secured, not destroyed. However, the price was a high one. Although I had my MC Cassandra in mind while writing this, the f!MC is nameless and is not assigned any physical attributes.

Words: 1k | AO3

Tags: angst | a hint of insanity, perhaps | hurt no comfort | implied character death | inspired by art

And for the vibes: Imminence - Le Noir

A picture must not be invented, but felt. . . -- Caspar David Friedrich

A sea of pale mist. Gently, like flowing water, the oily brushstrokes dissolved into the soft azure of an impending dawn.

The Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. A masterpiece — unequalled and sublime.

She stood motionless, transfigured into a marble effigy, a solitary promontory amidst the floodwaters of her own restless thoughts.

The river of time drifted past the harbour of her awareness, no more than a muted, white murmur. The trickle of passing moments settled upon her skin like a fine drizzle, mingling with the salt of tears she was oblivious of.

“A most fascinating canvas, would you not agree?” came a low, velvety whisper.

Her gaze remained ensnared in the endless whiteness, adrift like a vessel unmoored, lost upon the unfathomable tides.

“It is the uncertainty hidden beneath the veil of mist that so enthrals,” the voice continued unabashed, her silence taken as permission. “The promise of adventure, the jagged crests of distant peaks that beckon the bold-hearted.”

She drew a slow, deliberate breath before rising from the depths of her reverie.

The soft rustle of her fine garments and the measured clicking of shoes upon aged parquet reached her ears like the gentle lap of waves against a forgotten shore.

She stepped closer to the canvas in front of her.

Her brow furrowed faintly, her head inclined ever so slightly as her gaze wandered once more across the hidden peaks and crests, submerged in the tangled brume.

“Longing for adventure — is that truly what you see?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath, steeped in disbelief.

“Are you of another mind, my dear?” His inquiry held the faintest ripple of amusement, like laughter lost upon a still sea.

“Perhaps,” she returned with quiet grace, “as the poets so often remind us, it lies ever in the eye of the beholder.”

“If I may be so bold,” the voice replied, soft and earnest, “I would deem it a privilege to know how you perceive such matters.”

A rare smile ghosted across her lips. Conversation — so be it. Since her journey began, she had spoken to no living soul.

Well, none but herself.

Her gaze settled once more upon the lone wanderer captured in paint before her, and she spoke in a low murmur.

“I concede this much to you; it is the uncertainty that captivates. That which lies unseen. But, if you will pardon my humble opinion, you misapprehend the true perspective.”

A breath. A sigh.

“It is not what lies before him that stirs the heart—it is what lies behind.”

“How do you mean?” 

“He stands upon the summit, his triumph secured, his feet upon solid ground,” she explained, her hand tightening instinctively around the modest pouch she carried. “And yet, his shoulders remain tense, as if haunted still by what lies in his wake. One must wonder — were the obstacles overcome truly worth it, if the reward is but this clouded, joyless view?”

“A most nostalgic, nay, melancholic interpretation,” the voice observed gently. “And yet, may I pose a question? Was the journey itself not the very purpose?”

“A philosopher’s sentiment,” she replied, her lips curling ever so slightly. “But I confess, I am rather the sort to believe that the destination is the purpose.”

“That much is apparent,” the voice answered with a soft chuckle. “And I would not dream of robbing you of that belief. Yet, if that be the case, should your focus not rest upon the hope of what yet lies ahead, rather than the disappointments left behind? Consider this — the summit was never the true destination, nor the view the final prize. That which you seek remains veiled still, somewhere beyond the mist. This crest is but a single waypoint upon a longer path.”

“An eternal wandering, then?” she scoffed bitterly, no longer bothering to mask her frustration. “Condemned to forever tread the moraines and crumbling ridges between woods and stone in bitter solitude?”

“Is that what you lack?” the voice inquired softly, smooth as still water. “Do you long for company?”

“I do not believe in ghosts,” she answered swiftly — though both knew it to be a lie. Few witches or wizards chose that path, yet… none who bore the face she longed most desperately to see.

“And yet,” the voice persisted gently, “it would seem the past walks ever at your back, a shadow cast upon the very line of your spine.”

A solitary tear gathered at the tip of her nose, poised to fall into the abyss.

“I had not hoped to make this journey alone,” the truth slipped from her lips before she could prevent it. Hastily, she brushed the gathering tears from her eyes.

No arm came to rest upon her shoulder. No hand sought to close gently over hers. Not that she had expected such closeness. Not ever again.

“Some journeys, regardless of whether they were started together, must be conquered alone,” the voice echoed around her, like a current beneath still waters.

“This was never the road meant for us. It should have been another — a shared one,” a sob broke her final word.

“Everything went so dreadfully wrong.” Her fingers tightened fiercely around her pouch, her knuckles blanching white.

“Have you, perhaps, lost sight of what mattered most?”

“I no longer recall what that destination once was,” she lied. “But whatever it became, it is no longer mine. What mattered most to me, was y…“ her voice broke once again.

She stilled for a moment then words found her again, „If the journey was the purpose, it has brought nothing but sorrow and ruin.”

“And yet, you have come here — to cure,” the voice observed gently, like a calm tide lapping at her defences.

“I owe us that much.”

Her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the relic, through the fabric of its confinement. The toll it had exacted from them was far too great for her to abandon the path now. He would have wished her to see it through.

No voice rose to break the silence.

She would find her way through the mist. Find Anne. To finish what they — what he — had begun.

A life restored… for one that had come to its end.

“I owe you that much,” she whispered, before turning at last — her composure a fragile veil, scarcely concealing the tempest raging beneath.

She was alone.

Of course she was.

Sebastian's trusted voice, nothing more than a comforting ghost of her psyche. A mere echo of her loss. Of the price he paid.

[thetotomoo]

Hi, I have a fairly easy time writing all the meat and potato bits of my story but it's the normal everyday stuff I struggle with. A lot of my writing involves the metaphysical which I can do but characters sitting down having dinner together? I just feel I can't make it convincing. how can I improve with this?

I think this is such a great question! So much of the writing advice and education out there focuses on the big plot moments, the characters changes and the story world that it’s so easy to forget the importance of the moments that are simply ordinary.

Writing the extraordinary can so often feel easier than capturing ordinary moments. When you’re writing an epic battle scene or a sweeping romance, our imaginations soar with possibilities. It’s easy to get lost in the moment and let the fantasy carry you. But making a simple dinner conversation engaging? That’s an art in itself. So how do you write the ordinary?

Why ordinary moments matter

Everyday scenes aren’t often spoken of, but they server very important functions in your story. You may not even notice them as a reader, but they’re always there, tying the narrative together. So what do you achieve when you write the ordinary?

You ground your readers in reality, making the extraordinary elements more impactful.

Your characters have natural opportunities for development.

You create contrast and variation in pacing that can make the story more engaging.

You make your characters and story world more relatable and build an emotional connection with your readers.

Making the ordinary extraordinary

Now, just because a moment is ordinary, that doesn’t mean it needs to be boring. Even the ordinary moment need to have plot relevance and serve your story.

If a character is sitting down to dinner, then that scene must mean something in the wider context of the narrative. It could be the vehicle for an important conversation that needs to happen, or it could be something as simple as needing to illustrate a family dynamic (meals together is a very popular set up for character development in the found family trope, for instance).

To put it plainly, even though a scene might not contain action, it must contain purpose.

So how can you achieve that?

Focus on character dynamics

Rather than describing the mechanical aspects of a mundane scene, like eating dinner, concentrate on the undercurrents of relationships. What tensions simmer beneath polite conversation? Who’s avoiding eye contact? Who’s hogging the salt shaker and why?

Use sensory details selectively

Don’t catalogue every moment in minute detail. If you highlight a sense or a detail, ask yourself why it’s important and if it elevates the scene.

If a fork clinks against a plate, or you can hear a napkin rustle, why is this important? Does it punctuate the silence, showing that the moment is uncomfortably quiet? Or does it make a sound that sparks a memory for a character?

Create subtle conflict

Every scene needs tension, even quiet ones. This doesn’t mean characters need to argue or fight. Tension can come from unspoken words, differing expectations, or conflicting desires.

Maybe one character wants to discuss something important while another avoids the topic. Perhaps someone’s trying to maintain proper etiquette while secretly dealing with devastating news. These subtle conflicts create engaging dynamics that keep readers invested in ordinary moments while, at the same time, revealing deeper layers of your characters’ personalities.

Layer in subtext

Ordinary moments are the points in your story where you can reveal what characters aren’t saying out loud. Through body language, facial expressions, and carefully chosen words, you can show the deeper meanings beneath surface-level interactions.

A character might say “pass the salt” while a white-knuckled grip on their fork reveals their anger. Another might compliment the meal while pushing food around their plate, suggesting they’re lying, they’re distracted, or have something else going on beneath the surface. These subtle cues create depth and meaning in everyday moments — aka subtext.

Tips to write the ordinary

Observe real life. Take notes on how people actually behave during daily activities. What quirks and patterns emerge?

Find the extraordinary in the ordinary. Look for unique angles or meaningful moments in routine activities. A family dinner isn’t just about eating, it can be about power dynamics, love, tradition, and conflict.

Keep it brief. Don’t linger too long on everyday scenes unless they’re pivotal to your plot. Often, a few well-chosen details work better than a lot of detailed description.

Connect to larger themes. Link ordinary moments to your story’s broader themes and character arcs. How does a morning coffee routine reveal someone’s inner struggle?

Use contrast. Ordinary moments can highlight the extraordinary elements of your story. They give readers a baseline for “normal” that makes the unusual more striking.

Common pitfalls to avoid

Don’t over-describe routine actions.

Don’t include everyday scenes that don’t advance plot or character.

Don’t make dialogue too “on the nose.” Keep it subtle.

Don’t forget to include emotional undercurrents.

Don’t lose story momentum.

Remember, the key to writing the ordinary isn’t to make it more exciting. It’s to reveal its hidden significance. Every shared meal, morning commute, or load of laundry carries the weight of your characters’ hopes, fears, and relationships. When you tap into that emotional current, even the most mundane moment becomes meaningful.

Think of ordinary scenes as the connective tissue of your story. They may not be flashy, but they give your narrative its human pulse. They create a richer, more immersive world for your readers where both the metaphysical and the mundane feel equally real.

[thetotomoo]

Leander Prewett in Ashwinder Outfit All Leander Screens

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Inspired by that Kermit the frog meme (had to look up his name, in Spanish he is la rana Rene)

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Some Harry Potter stuff

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They didn’t make it home.

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Drarry! AU -> Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic; Harry and Draco met at a pre-tournament convention. They didn't get along right away, but Harry was interested in Draco. Draco swore at him in French (Harry didn't understand anything, so he thought Draco was complimenting him). // the effects made the blue color of Draco's form 😭

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My thestral and unicorn babies played together in Hogwarts Legacy so here’s a drawing bc I love them sm

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Holiday in Feldcroft.

Tea time

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Late night cram was a success

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💚メイドの日💚

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Leander Prewett