Fake-screenshot på spelprototyp som var min första uppgift i kursen i stort sätt. e_e Får se om jag någon dag när man lärt sig lite kodning färdigställer det med.

Håller på och arbetar med en analys av ett tema i olika medier med en grupp, samtidigt som jag i en grupp (med samma pers förutom en) jobbar på ett analogt spel... Inlämningar i massoooorrrr, hade en inlämning igår och blurftufyugj jag är trött.

Man kan verkligen säga att denna kurs går på 100%, plötsligt känns allt från före sommarlovet så mycket mer... Slappt.

Å andra sidan har jag roligare och känner mig mer motiverad till att försöka nu. Och ja... Det är ju riktigt bra, right? Även om jag är trött och så... :I

Saknar rollspel och sådant though. :T

Taaaack, inte det jag arbetar med nu dock. c:

((Aaaaah, Oprah<3 ;; Clyhill-nostalgiiii... ffff. Om jag hade haft tiden till det... D: En dag måste jag starta den sidan igen..
Beware of WALL OF TEXT för jag behövde ordbajsa))

It was starting to get cold again, cold in the air, the kind of cold that pushed its way through the clothes and grasped your skin. The summer was over, even if the sun was shining down through the buildings, reminding about the warm days that felt so very distant now.

It was getting too cold to sleep out at night.

Angel walked up the sidewalk, not really looking at anything special. Her dark, black hair was slightly dirty and she felt unfresh. Not that anything else was expected from a so called "crow", someone like her. She was wearing a black pullover, or at least it used to be, now it had a slightly grey and dirty color. A shade of what it once were. Her jeans were slightly too big as well, even if they were supposed to be tight fit. She supposed she had lost some weight over the summer.

Thinking about the incoming cold she frowned slightly. Too cold. It meant she would have to confront her mother more, sleep home in the dirty apartment where different boyfriends of her mum came and left, most disgusting, drug-addicts, bad men. Abusive men. She didn't understand her mother at all, why she choose to put herself in those situations.

In the corner of her eye she saw another girl, sitting on the sidewalk with the expression of a lonely dog on her face. Oprah. Of course. She had not seen her for long, but she could recognize her anywhere. Her and her puppylike expressions, no matter if she was excited or sad.

Her energy tended to annoy Angel quite a bit though, and she was very close to just keep on walking before something made her stay anyway and drop down on the sidewalk beside her.

"Hey"

Oprah looked up at the girl. She looked so small, but it was still the same girl who she considered her best friend. Her only friend. Her poor, fragile Cinderella friend. Just by seeing her she felt inspired to try harder at everything.

Her eyes teared up and the pout got bigger. It was so sad to see her so strong when she should be so weak. She really deserved something better. She deserved a hug.

A small whine escaped her throat and she threw her arms around the other girl.

Somehow Oprah always managed to surprise her. When she sat down on the sidewalk she had expected a hi, maybe a smile or something. But in stead the girl beside her went into one of her dramatic moods and her eyes got all teared up making her look like the saddest puppy.

Oprah wasn't even younger than Angel, yet she so often switched and acted like a kid. And now she was suddenly hanging over Angel's shoulder with her arms wrapped all around her.

She tensed up a bit at first, frowning as she glanced at the other, then she sighed and gave her some simple pats on the back.

"What's the crying about? You look like a kid who just got her candy stolen."

She was so brave. Oprah sniffled and wiped her nose. She shouldn't worry Angel like this. As nice as she were she'd only get sad and feel bad for her, and that would just make Oprah evil.

"Sorry... I really missed you!"

tack<3