#head hurts. very tired

[immortalsins]

if someone could hit me round the head and make me unconscious from maybe 23rd december until the 27th or something that would be a huge help

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[tubbytarchia]

Somewhere in the woods, a moth tires of seeking light

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[kermahillway]

This is the same guy who held a grudge for 30 years over a song and turned himself in to a cockroach to fight his rival which is just some bald dude with his wife and 4 kids btw

[zaahvi]

aaand the final two for my DA-themed six fanarts challenge: elgar'nan suggested by @vitaeplaysda & bellara suggested by @the-veil-jumper! 🖤

[walkingstackofbooks]

cw: unreality, hallucinations, threatening a child

Premise: Since the war ended, Julian's been suffering from hallucinations of Sloan. Put on medical leave, he accepts the O'Briens invitation to stay with them for a while, and travels to Earth.

--

It's as pleasant a meal as it can be, given the circumstances. Julian's trying to pay attention to the conversation - and he knows Molly's saying something about whales, at least. And he's managing to load food into his fork and take a bite and count to twenty before allowing himself to glance at Sloan again. That's more than yesterday. Hah. Progress.

For the moment, Sloan doesn't seem to be doing anything more than scowling at him. It's still off-putting. Julian ducks his head, trying not to look towards Miles for reassurance. His friend has been doing enough reassuring as it is, recently - Julian doesn't need to worry him for just the standard Sloan skulking. He can ignore it. He can.

He forces himself to smile, even when Sloan starts tapping against the window in an annoyingly imprecise manner, and tells Keiko how delicious the fish is. He can't taste it, but that's not important. Sometimes, when he's eating alone, Sloan poisons his food, and then he can't eat it at all. He's grateful for the O'Briens, the way their presence seems to trap Sloan in his corner.

The tapping increases, turning into banging, and Julian steels himself, resolving not to flinch. Then, all at once, Sloan's beside him, grabbing at his arms, and Julian realises too late that he'd put his cutlery down, had been holding his hands to his ears, trying to block Sloan out.

"I won't have you ignoring me, Julian," Sloan hisses, and suddenly everything goes very still. The O'Brien's conversation dies dead as Sloan picks up Julian's fish knife, and in one slick move, holds it against Molly's throat. Julian doesn't register the clatter of his chair on the floor as he moves to stand up, staring at Sloan with fearful eyes.

"Get away from her." His voice trembles, so small that it barely belongs to him. His heart is lodged in his throat. He can't breathe.

"You were being very rude, Julian," replies Sloan. "Don't you think you should apologise?"

You're not real, Julian wants to say - but there's a knife at Molly's throat, not yet drawing blood, but Sloan's slowly pressing into her skin, and she's crying, softly - and Sloan's unfaltering, cruel gaze is real, must be real, and Julian doesn't have a doubt that the man will kill Molly, if Julian doesn't give him what he wants--

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Just-- please-- let her go. She's got nothing to do with this."

He shouldn't be panicking. With his training, with his augmentations, he should be able to turn this situation around, think of a way out of it, grab the knife and save Molly and get Sloan away. But he can't think, his mind's blank with terror - Sloan's unpredictable, and if Julian makes one wrong move...

"Nothing to do with this?" Sloan repeats mockingly. "My dear, you've spent all dinnertime lavishing your attention on her, barely sparing me a second thought."

"I'm sorry," Julian says again, and his desperation, at least, is sincere. "I'm sorry, Sloan, but that's my fault, it's not hers, so please--"

"Luther," Sloan says. Julian stares at him, blinking in incomprehension.

"What?"

"Call me Luther," Sloan says, and Julian nods jerkily. Anything to get him away from Molly.

"Luther, please," he begs. The name leaves a sour taste on his tongue. "Put the knife down."

"And what will you give me in return?"

The air is much colder than it was a few minutes ago. Julian shivers. His mouth is dry.

"What do you want?"

His question seems to please Sloan, who smiles in response. "Oh, nothing much. Why don't you just promise me that you've learnt your lesson, and we'll leave it there, for today."

For today. If Julian wasn't so scared, he'd have laughed. Tomorrow, of course, this could happen all over again, and he had no way of stopping it.

"I promise," he says, and, "Thank you." Tomorrow aside, that could have been so much worse.

But Sloan tuts, shaking his head. Julian's done something wrong.

"I want to feel that promise," he says, "I'm not quite... convinced. Let's see, now. Promise me with a kiss."

"A--" Julian's voice shakes, and dies away. But the knife is still pressed firmly against Molly's throat. He has to do this. He swallows down the lump that has risen in his throat, and then a second, squeezing his eyes shut tightly against the tears leaking from his eyes - and then realising that Luther might not like that, and opening then again rapidly.

"Drop the knife and-- and come here then," he says. He wishes the others weren't here to watch this, but he doesn't want to push his luck by asking anything more of Sloan. So long as he leaves Molly...

The knife is placed on the table, and Julian lets out a wobbly breath. Still, he has to force himself not to step backwards as Luther comes towards him. It occurs to him to wonder about how strange a request it is, for the agent to want a kiss, rather than information, or help, or--

He's pretty sure he's crying, as Sloan's lips touch his. He couldn't tell you what they felt like, just that they're wrong, wrong, wrong, and he wants to push him away, wants to throw up, wants to run and never stop running--

Sloan caresses his cheek as he leans away. "Not bad," he whispers. "But hey. Practise makes perfect."

"Go away," Julian whispers. "Please?"

"Please, Luther," Sloan corrects, with a hard glare that turns Julian's blood to ice. But then he turns on his heel, and is gone, and Julian stumbles back against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe again.

[fisheito]

my princess nonsense is being encouraged watch ouyt imabout to be eneaabled

OK WHATF ATHAT'S SO CUTE I HAD TO MAKE IT i know realistically there's little to no chance that rei DOESN'T know how to work heels 🤣 BUT IMAGINE.....ING.... YAKUMO GENTLY GUIDING REI IN HEELS, WEEKS BEFORE THE BIG GALA AND HAVING NONE OF HIS NORMAL FEAR OF PHYSICAL TOUCH BC HIS [TEACHER MODE] IS OVERRIDING HIS INSECURITY

[inseparabiles]

google search history:

how do you tell if it's fibromyalgia again, can you die of muscle pain, ms, als, heart attack in women, trapezius pain, why can't I lift my arms, how long does a fibro flare last, how do I stop hurting everywhere, things that aren't drugs that clear your brain fog, what to do when your hands hurt, joint pain that isn't arthritis, ginger health benefits, ginger inflammation, what to do when painkillers don't work, how to sue god

[batbrainrot]

guys please tell me those batman #148 leaks of jason dying again are fake. tell me they're fake right fucking now i can't fucking do this shit right now i'm off my meds

[c-kiddo]

walking around to shops and things and as a treat in my brain imagining tmn being nice and understanding to eachother whenever anyone's having some sort of mental health/neurodivergence moment. theyre rough and tumble and crass and a bit mean but if caleb has to re-count his coins like 10 or more times its ok, nott will wait with him. if beau cant explain why shes so upset and angry but just needs to get the energy out fjord will go running with her. jester will hold onto caduceus' hand if he's feeling particularly not-there and floaty and dizzy, and she'll make sure he eats something with her. maybe they can share some fruit and jam on bread and tea. thats nice.. cad makes sure yasha knows she can always sleep in his room if she's scared too. and etc etc etc for everyone

[pvmpkinzz]

am desperately wanting to lay my head in someone's lap, feel their hand on my head as they pet me

[bilestat]

insane how quickly something small can tank my mood

[akindplace]

woke up feeling like a very confused psyduck again

[apazmackpie]

he's so... silly? sigma? whatever. he thinks he's cool.