#Quarter House

[rikomoriyama01]

@noomyart + @ca-van = Roadkill on Ao3

Fox!riko propaganda!

[eeverlark]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[st-hedge]

Give the king a moment he just woke up

[gogmstuff]

1908 (September) Les Modes - Robe d'interieur par Paquin - photo by Reutlinger. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1386X2081.

[nataliescatorccio]

RHAENYRA TARGARYEN & ALICENT HIGHTOWER House of the Dragon, Season 2 'A Son for a Son'

[sixofclovers]

progress so far!

[measlyfurball13]

I'm Still Here

Summary: Curly is rescued. He is given a voice. Supposedly.

---

It’s all a blur. Men in suits with helmets. Men in suits without. Any memories Curly might have of the rescue and its aftermath are blurred around the edges. He’s sure he drooled and screamed all through the process.

Funny. He doesn’t remember the pain. It’s as if his mind has painted over it in an easier color on the eyes. 

(He remembers her saying the same thing happens after childbirth-)

It’s only a few hours after the IV is jammed into his arm that reality crisps up again. He’s staring into the face of a nurse. The nurse is a he, and a different skin tone (than him) and utterly unrecognizable. That’s the first clue.

The second is the woman in the crisp suit. A lawyer, supposedly. Civil servant. Looking over him and sighing. Another woman enters and they discuss conservatorship. Curly doesn’t know what this means. He’s never had to worry about it. He grunts, even tries to form his lips into the shape of something, but nothing makes them turn to him and clue him in on anything. 

Next comes someone dressed in a slouched sweater pulling a cart. They’re setting up some sort of device around him. It takes several days though, and in the moments between the lawyer comes back, mutters a few things about an accident investigation, then disappears again.

The nurse usually doesn’t talk when he visits but one time he sits down in the chair across the room and solemnly says that both of Curly’s parents died in the time it took for the rescue team to find him and that his next of kin is a cousin. Cousin Sue, Curly guesses. She lived all the way in New York. 

The machine is completed. A screen hangs above his hospital bed. The person in the slouched sweater instructs him to look at the twenty-six letters on the screen, focus on the one he wants, and blink to select it. 

It takes him three hours to first produce the word “HELLO.” 

“Practice and you’ll get the hang of it.” Slouched sweater says.

Slouched sweater leaves. The nurse comes in. Moves the screen. Changes his bandages. Sets up the screen again. Leaves just before Curly can type “HELLO” to him. 

(A single word. A single word. He would have given anything for just a single word to her.)

Now the lawyer drags the chair beside his bed and sits down. She’s holding a notepad and a pen. 

“Tell me,” she says, slowly, “what happened aboard the Tulpar.” 

He forgets to breathe. 

“What,” she says, “caused,” she says, “the accident?” 

Words pierce his brain like knives, his eye darts around the keyboard and his eyelid can’t keep up and it blinks without his command. Letters spill across the screen and he’s having to backspace them and-

The lawyer has put down the notepad and has opened her phone. She’s texting someone else. Then she takes a call. Then she answers some emails. 

-Curly finally blinks ‘send’ on the console, and a tinny voice reads out “JIMMY.” 

“Hmm?” The lawyer looks up from her phone. “Jimmy? As in, your co-pilot?” 

“Y” Curly sends, hoping that the lawyer can at least wrap her head around something as simple as that.

“Go on.” The lawyer urges.

Curly exhales against his bandages, and types “E” and “S”. 

“What about him?” 

“K”. Then “I”. “L” and “L”, the lawyer is pulling out her phone again. His eye hurts, it’s refusing to move at all now and this dumb bitch isn’t-

He flinches. God, he’s so sorry. He’s so sorry and she deserved none of this and maybe if he’d been a better man and not a goddamned coward and taken some responsibility then maybe she’d be listening to him right now instead.

The lawyer glances up from her phone. “Yes, Jimmy was found deceased. Your cryo pod was the only one functioning. It seems he gave up his spot for you. My condolences for your loss.” 

Something more burning than the fire rips through his stomach and he forces his eye back onto the screen. “E” and “D”, then space, then “E”, then “V”, “E” and “R”, “Y”, his vision is wavering, “O”, “N”, he can practically feel his non-existent hand tapping on the screen to finish the job, “E”. . .

His eyelid slams shut. He can tell, vaguely, that his cheek bandages are damp but whether that’s normal or from anything spilling out of his eye is beyond him. His neck twitches from the strain. 

He coughs. Forces his eye open. The lawyer looks at the screen. Looks back down at her phone. Looks at the screen again. Her eyebrows raise. 

“Are you sure?” She asks.

Of course I’m fucking sure! he could shout and shake her shoulders. 

“This was not the fault of Pony Express or its parent corporation?” 

“N”, then “O”, and now she’s actually paying attention. Something hungry lights up in her eyes, and she takes a picture of the screen and then starts furiously scribbling on her notepad. 

—

“-in this room right here, ma’am.” The nurse opens the door.

Curly looks over. Following the nurse is Cousin Sue, her blond locks he remembers now turned more platinum. She stops in the doorway and covers her mouth with her hands. 

“Were you not warned?” The nurse asks her.

She ignores him, running over by the bedside. “Oh you poor thing!” 

Curly tries to flick his eyes towards the screen, only for liquid lightning to pour into all his senses when she grabs the stump of his left arm. He chokes on air. The burning sensation lingers even as she jerks her hand away. 

“Take it easy, ma’am.” The nurse says.

“Why was it wet?” She mutters and shakes out her hand.

“Some leakage from blisters beneath the bandages. He’s okay. Try to be gentle.” 

“God. It’s horrific. I can hardly. . .”

The nurse drags her over a chair as if she might collapse any minute. Curly’s nerve endings are still on fire. She still hasn’t made eye contact with him. 

“H”, he types. “I”. Blinks to send. “HI.” 

“Hi.” She echoes. “He said hi.”

“The law firm hooked him up. That’s how we know the full story.”

It wasn’t the full story. It was the story told in simple enough words that the lawyer would stay awake while he typed. 

“God. What happened was. . . so terrible.” Sue covers her mouth. “I’m sure he did everything he could.” 

“I’ll leave you two alone now.” The nurse steps back.

The door clicks shut. Sue’s watery eyes rake up and down his frame. 

“It’s all that bastard’s fault, isn’t it? And to think you even invited him to a family reunion or two. I remember that.” 

Curly looks to the “N”. Blinks. Looks to the “O”. Blinks. Erases both. Blinks an “M”. Then a “Y”. Space. “F”. “A-”

“Disgusting man. Letting you get like this. I’m sorry about the rest of the crew as well, of course. At least they got the easy way out of things. . .” 

Curly stares at the wall behind the screen. Something inside his throat trembles. 

“What’s going on? Do you need something? Water? Water perhaps?” 

Sue looks around her before spotting the sink across the room. She grabs a cup from the nearby dispenser and fills it. Then she returns to his bedside, standing over him and then there’s his fingers on his chin opening his mouth and-

He gags. He sobs. Something wet splashes against the inside of his mouth (it’s blood it’s blood it’s blood) and nausea plays a soaring note above the chorus. 

He becomes nothing but a shivering pile of meat for a little. It’s more comfortable that way rather than trying to think. And when he opens his eyes again, Sue is gone. 

��

Curly knows there isn’t much time left. When Sue came back she talked about a private care home, and if there’s even a chance of the screen not coming with then he can’t risk it. He’s started typing only when there’s no one around to read it. It’s easier that way.

Sue and the nurse come in. They’re discussing something but Curly can hardly hear them until the nurse puts his hand on the swivel holding up the screen. Curly’s pulse lights up, and before anyone else can even breathe he blinks “send” on the console. 

The tinny voice reads each syllable as if it were reporting the weather. 

“I’M SORRY SWANSEA.”

“I’M SORRY DAISUKE.”

“ANYA. I’M SORRY. MY FAULT.” 

“I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED. DEAD PIXEL. INSTEAD OF THE BIG PICTURE.” 

Curly lets his eye droop down from the screen. 

“. . . what was all that?” Sue asks. 

The nurse comes over to his bedside. “Are you feeling alright?”

Curly doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t need to. 

All the words he could possibly offer are jammed. Like logs against the rocks beneath the water of the river he grew up by as a kid. Or traffic in the big city he moved to after moving out. Or a key in the wrong keyhole. (Or pills in his throat.)

All of these pictures he could paint. The only people who would find it worth the wait are all dead. Somehow Jimmy is among them. 

Damn it all. Curly stares at the ceiling. The nurse takes down the screen and then manhandles him into a wheelchair.

[tj-crochets]

So much of this switch to new software at work is me desperately going "let me teach you how to do this. Please. Please I don't want to be the only one who knows how to do this please let me share this knowledge please I don't want to have to fix everything myself" It is only just now occurring to me that the reason I can figure out how to fix a lot of the issues people are running into might be because when we were in the testing phase of the new software I deliberately set out to break it as many ways as I could. Like. I thought that's just what you do when stress-testing new software? You input the wrong data in the wrong places and add dates that don't make sense and you set things to pay without ever putting a name it's paying and anything else you can think of someone accidentally doing so that IT can either fix the holes or tell you how to undo it if you make a mistake. You don't just test how it works when everything is going perfectly, because everything won't go perfectly every time

[dangaer]

i am ... now officially 25! ❤️

[ceaseless-sandwich]

Small Eyepocalypse painting did for art class!

As you can tell I never work with acrylics but it was really fun too experiment with I did this art in within an hour because I was not about to pick this up next block lol -🥀

[do not mind the really terrible effort at covering my original signature as we have mentioned on this account not really a big fan of outing different parts individual names and usually in our class we will sign the art off based on who was fronting and kind of don't want you to know my name :) ]

[royalty-nobility]

Princess Henrietta Anne Stuart, Duchess of Orléans (‘Minette’) (1644–1670) and an Unidentified Enslaved Attendant

Artist: after Jean Charles Nocret, the Younger (French, 1648-1691)

Date: 1700-1799

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Royal Trust Collections, London, United Kingdom

Description

Princess Henrietta was the youngest daughter of Charles I and was affectionately called 'Minette' by her brother. She married Philip, Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV in 1661. This may be a version of the picture in Charles II's collection described as 'Maddam with her husband's picture in her hand and a little dog by her' and another copy version is at Temple Newsam, Leeds. Princess Henrietta had been smuggled to France by her governess after the imprisonment of her father, King Charles I. She grew up at the French court with her mother and became a favourite of the French royal family later facilitating a treaty between Louis XIV and her brother, King Charles II. But her marriage was not a happy one. Philippe, jealous of his flirtatious older brother, deprived his wife of any friends, leaving her isolated and lonely and her untimely death was intially blamed on poison, although autopsies revealed that she died of a punctured ulcer.

[the-owl-house-blorbo-brawl]

Quarter-Final 4: Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Hooty's Door vs Thanks to Them

Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Hooty's Door: Hooty tries to help King, Eda, and Luz with their problems, but it doesn't go as planned.

Propaganda:

Not only is Knock Knock Knocking on Hooty's door the official start of Lumity, but it also introduced King's powers AND harpy eda! It was 3 episodes in one, and all 3 were amazing!

Thanks to Them: Luz and her friends make a daring attempt to return to the Demon Realm.

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

guys... I think agathario could genuinely have the potential to become a hyperfixation for me as intense and as long as rhaenicent has been...

[insanelyadd]

Saw something and was reminded I needed to post the updated version of this image.

[crispyliza]

[myokk]

Hola! Just wanting to drop this!

Hope you're doing okay! I miss you 🥹 but i know ✨LIFE✨

AWWWWWW I MISS YOU TOO DES😭🫂🫂♥️♥️♥️ (& TORI !!!!!!!!!! I’ve been seeing most of your posts and loving them even if I don’t have the time/energy to comment👀♥️♥️♥️)

Im getting adjusted to my new life/schedule & have had some very long days this past month🥲 BUT whenever I have some free time I try to write a bit & there will be some new things I finish hopefully soon🤭♥️ and hopefully I can draw again soon😭♥️

& also at the end of each day I’ve been playing sims 1 since they rereleased it a few days ago, and making some crazy houses😆😆😆 I debated posting some pictures if anyone would be interested in seeing them, and it reminds me of what I used to do before writing in my free time: maintain my super niche sims 1 TikTok account where I would post all of my crazy builds/custom content♥️