#like a bad one. oof

[painedprince]

((my daddd probably has cancerrr

super cool and fun ;v;))

[randomsufff]

Wake up QSMP enjoyers- new funny haha just dropped

W/ bonus post dryer Pepito b/c I felt bad they were the only one I didn’t get to draw

Originals under the cut

[allegorism]

good for them.

[spicyvampire]

PRIDE MONTH WITH : THE SIGN (2023 - 2024)

Falling in love brings a lot of grief to Tharn [insp. x x x x]

[sweeteastart]

Third @bonus-links Fanart >:) !!

I had to honour my love of Warrior in Bonus link and wouldn't you know, I ended up doing two versions. I juste couldn't help but draw him being all fancy...

As always pretty face under the cut

Tried to do a heavier makeup look on the party fit but eh... The light is too strong on his face, can't really see it well

[2aceofspades]

(rewording my thing cause I think it came out bad, you can delete the last one, I apologize). *gives Raph Christmas stickers and hot cocoa cause he’s earned it after all lol

RAAAH-

I forgot the hot cocoa wah oof-

[volivolition]

DAY 4: DRAMA - Put on your prettiest face for the masses!

gonna start adding silly captions actually. [POINTS ACCUSINGLY] MELTY FUCK (AFFECTIONATE)!!

[itwoodbeprefect]

the great thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things. the terrible thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things

[crazymecjc]

a modern prometheus.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Long Live Evil

a young woman dying from cancer is offered the chance to enter the world of her & her sister’s favourite book series, to steal a magical flower that could save her in the real world

when she finds herself in the body of the villainess who’s about to be executed, she befriends and manipulates her way through the story to reach her goals (and have some fun along the way), but quickly learns that things might not go the way she expects

[lullabyshark]

hi can i talk about shinooka "has a crush on a guy specifically bc he will never ever like her back" chiyo is so real and relatable to me a lesbian who did the exact same thing in high school. and can i talk about "abe will never look at me as a romantic partner" while the panel is him looking at mihashi. this page is too much. gayest page in the manga because its mlm/wlw solidarity multiple colors of the rainbow etc can we talk about chiyo PLEASE!!!!!!!

[trensu]

do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: technical child endangerment / ]

Y’know every time I see the turtle tots playing with their original weapons I’m always flabbergasted that Splinter let Leo have a literal sword as a small child.

And then left him unsupervised with it.

Like, at least the others had blunt weapons (though still dangerous in their own right, especially Raph’s blunt tipped sais) but Leo’s katana are so easily lethal that it’s a miracle he seemed to be a natural with them. Because, if he wasn’t a natural then…oof.

It’s at least a good thing he only got one sword at first and not his usual two. Splinter would’ve needed to count his lucky days because OOF.

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 6 - Not Realizing They're Injured

title: exit 73

fandom: limited life smp

cw: blood and injury

~

Jimmy whoops, high-pitched and birdlike, as they run, their feet pounding against the asphalt. “We killed that one! Those Clockers didn’t know what hit ‘em!”

“Stop talking and just run,” Grian hisses, his words choppy. “We’re not out yet.”

They'd parked the van another block down, cleverly disguised as a plumber’s van—and if anyone opened it up, a plumber’s van is all they’d find. They’d spent a good bit of money outfitting it with drain snakes and wrenches and other tools, just in case anyone decided to find their van suspicious.

Right now, they’ve just got to make it there without getting caught.

Are they being followed? Probably not, they wove through some confusing alleys that Grian had somehow known his way through, they should be in the clear. Joel doesn’t look behind himself. He just keeps running.

They round another bend, and another, and Joel tries to keep himself pretty fit, but the stitch in his side is already burning and shouldn’t they have found the van yet?

“Where is that plumbing van?” he mutters angrily. Grian shushes him; Joel scoffs. “We lost ‘em ages ago, calm down,” he tells Grian, slowing just a bit to try and relax the stitch’s pain. “Where’d we park it?”

“Two more streets down,” Jimmy calls back—because of course he’s taken the lead, with his stupidly long legs. “I can see it, just over the hill.”

Great. Two more streets.

It’s kind of embarrassing that he’s already so out of breath. He swears he works out—it’s just been a long hit. He’s been hiding out at the cargo bay for hours, wedged behind some boxes, waiting for the moment that the Clockers showed up to sign for their contraband. Then it had been some quick moments of adrenaline—a fight, flashes of knives and fists—before Grian had the papers and they ran, the sudden energy still pumping through Joel’s veins.

He’d managed to grab Bdubs’s (one of the top Clockers that was overseeing the operation) famed pocket watch off the man himself, and that should sell for a pretty penny. It was plated gold with crystal glass, so the rumor went, and Joel couldn’t wait to have a jeweler test it.

Oh, that tiny man has got to be so furious right now. . . .

“There it is!” Jimmy cheers, pointing ahead. Joel still doesn’t see it all that well through the dark, but he trusts that Jimmy knows what’s going on and just focuses on one foot in front of the other, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Grian grabs his hand and pulls him forward, toward the van. He sees it now, with its crooked pipe art on the side, dimly illuminated by the starlight above.

Joel’s the driver, of course. The others poke fun at him for never letting anyone else drive, but he’s not going to go into or out of a mission with intense nausea, so he’s driving. He climbs up into the driver’s seat, shoves the keys in the ignition and starts driving before he even knows that Grian and Jimmy are in.

Judging by an annoyed shout, Jimmy wasn’t all the way in, but the door shuts and Jimmy rolls into the backseat, his annoyance clear in the darkened reflection of the rearview mirror.

Grian immediately reaches for the radio. Joel smacks his hand away. Jimmy leans forward, also reaching for the radio. They both smack his hand.

“No music,” Joel grits out. He’s usually high-strung after a mission like this, no real outlet for the energy flowing through him. Yet, despite knowing that he’ll be quick to anger, the others always manage to provoke him.

The no-music rule has been in place for as long as Joel’s been driver. Can’t the others stop being idiots for two seconds and let him drive in peace?

The van trundles along at thirty-five miles per hour, and Joel turns toward the on-ramp of the freeway, grimacing as that stitch in his side pulls when he presses on the gas. He can’t wait to get home and just sleep, once the adrenaline has run its course.

Grian beside him is shuffling through the pages, making a satisfied noise with every leaf he reads. “Yep. This is exactly what we were after. Good job, team.”

“They had a ton of weapon storage,” Jimmy pipes up. “They must’ve been storing stuff at their port.”

“Maybe we should put up some people to watch, see where they move it to,” muses Grian. “Now that we know it’s there, they’ll be in a hurry to pack it all up.”

“Especially now that we have the blackmail.”

“Mhm. Joel, how’d your side go?”

“Fine,” Joel says shortly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road, even as the white lines in the darkness seem almost to float on water.

Never think that when you’re driving, his mom had told him once, when the eight-year-old Joel had pointed it out. It’ll make you sleepy.

How long was he at his post? Seven hours, maybe? That isn’t too bad. With the adrenaline still jolting through him, he shouldn’t be this tired.

“His seatbelt isn’t on,” Jimmy says, ignoring the fact that Joel is a bear that he shouldn’t be poking with a stick.

Grian clicks his tongue, leans over Joel’s entire body to grapple with his seatbelt. “Safety first,” he reprimands, dragging the belt over him. Joel cranes his neck to see around Grian.

He clicks it into place at Joel’s hip, then sits back, examining his fingers.

Which exit was it, again? 73? Well, that one’s 69. Maybe he should get off the freeway, take some backroads. He doesn’t think they’ve been followed, but there are more cameras on the freeway.

The freeway will get them back quicker, though. And it’s in the plans to go this way, he doesn’t want to change them right as the job’s wrapping up. Sudden changes in plan are the highest cause of casualties in this business.

“Joel,” Grian says slowly. “Is there blood on you?”

Joel glances over at him; Grian’s holding his hand up to the window, something dark shining on his fingers.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “I broke Bdubs’s nose.”

“Did you get injured?”

“Here—I’ve got a flashlight—”

A light clicks on and Joel resists the urge to growl at Jimmy. No lights on in the car, first rule of driving, why is Joel the only one with a bit of sense—

Grian pulls at his shirt, lifting it (Joel tolerates it, as much as he wants to literally bite him).

A moment of tugging his shirt this way and that, of Joel’s teeth grinding as he stares at the road.

Then Grian gasps.

“Joel—shoot—someone got you—”

“Holy moly—that’s a lot of blood—”

It all catches up to Joel at once.

The anger, the exhaustion, the stitch in his side—

And Bdubs had had a knife, hadn’t he? A knife that Joel had lost track of after he’d nicked the watch.

Grian’s hand presses down right on the stitch in his side, and Joel shouts behind his teeth, hands tightening on the wheel. That—that hurts—

“Pull over,” Grian commands. “Timmy can drive. Pull over.”

“Absolutely blummin’ not,” Joel says. His stomach is already roiling, there is no way he’s going to let someone else drive. “I can make it. How bad is it?”

More painful pawing at his side. Joel bites the inside of his cheek.

“It looks deep,” Grian says. “We should call ahead, get them ready for medical attention—Joel, seriously, pull over—”

“I’ll be fine. We’re almost there, anyways.”

Subtly, he taps a bit more on the gas. Now that he knows he’s been stabbed, apparently, he can barely think through the pain. It hurts quite a bit more than it did a minute ago—and his head is starting to feel woozy—

Jimmy’s talking on the phone behind him, and Grian is digging through the glovebox—Grian withdraws a bunched-up emergency blanket (it’s not in the little package anymore, he thinks Jimmy opened it up a while back because Joel wouldn’t turn off the air conditioning) and flicks open his pocket knife, cutting a long strip off the blanket.

Grian reaches around Joel, wriggling his arm behind Joel’s back. “This would be easier if you would pull over,” Grian grunts, threading the strip of the blanket between the seat and Joel’s back.

Joel stares ahead, sweat breaking out all over his body. He might be sick, regardless of—

White hot pain bursts through Joel’s side, radiates up and pounds on the confines of his brain, stealing his vision for a brief moment. He cries out, arms jerking without his input.

“Pull over—Joel, hit the brakes and pull over!”

Joel blinks rapidly, the road fuzzing back into sight. He’s driving between two lanes, his arms luckily dragging him more toward the middle of the road rather than the median. He straightens out as best he can with his stiff, lead-like arms.

Which exit are they on? 72. Great, so the next one. The next one, the next one, the next one—

“None of this will be worth it if you crash the van,” Grian’s saying in his ear, his voice echoing around Joel’s staticky brain. “Pull over!”

Next one, next one, next one—

Exit 72 B?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Joel breathes, pressing even harder on the gas. They’re going ninety-five now, definitely too fast for this tired old van.

“They’ll be ready when we get there, I told them it was bad,” Jimmy says. Jimmy’s voice doesn’t echo quite like Grian’s, but it does sound funneled into his ear, almost like through a cardboard tube.

It isn’t bad, he wants to say. He can’t quite get his lips to move.

Exit 73.

He remembers to click on his turning signal, somehow. It seems important.

“Joel, slow down, slow down, brake brake brake—”

“Am braking, calm down,” Joel mumbles. He is, he thinks. He definitely moved his foot to the other pedal, even if he doesn’t dare look down at the odometer. He thinks if he turns his eyes down, they’ll shut.

He knows how to get back to the mansion from here, but Grian gives directions anyways. His hands are still on Joel, holding the strip of blanket tight around his gut. Joel doesn’t have the strength to argue.

Left here. Onto that country lane. Keep driving. Keep driving.

“Talk to me. Say something, Joel, stay awake.”

Joel groans. He doesn’t particularly want to talk to Grian, and right now he’s doing nothing but severely irritating him.

“’m fine,” he manages around his heavy tongue. “Stop worrying. Like my mom.”

Grian laughs, shrill and anxious. “I wouldn’t worry so much if you could put together a whole sentence! Or if you would pull over—”

“Jimmy,” breathe, “can drive—” breathe breathe breathe, “when I’m dead.”

“Might not be too far away, to be fair,” Jimmy says.

Is this what death feels like? Clammy and fuzzy and sweaty?

Joel had better not die, then, because that sounds like it would be downright hellish in more than small doses.

Geez, he’s tired. Can’t he just pass out? Wouldn’t that be nice?

Can’t close his eyes. He has to keep driving. Can’t close his eyes.

“Never been stabbed,” he says through numb lips. “Just got shot. Once.”

“Turn here,” Grian says. Joel blinks. He hadn’t realized they’d already reached another turn.

“There is so much blood we’re going to have to clean up, geez louise. . . .”

“Right, I’ll jus’ . . . stop,” snarks Joel back at Jimmy, “stop . . . bleedin’.”

“Eyes on the road,” says Grian. Joel’s eyes are on the road, though, he’s sure they are. He’s going to great lengths to keep them propped open and staring directly at the road.

“Joel, eyes open. Keep them open.”

“They are,” he insists. Grian squeezes his arm with the hand that isn’t holding the blanket, sticky and warm.

“More open than that. We’re almost there, okay?”

They are almost there. The driveway is just up ahead.

Joel squeezes the steering wheel. He’s got this. It wouldn’t be good to pass out right here, right before they make it.

He isn’t sure how he gets there, but he does. He stares straight ahead, more focusing on keeping his eyes open than he is on the road, and he pulls up in front of the doors, finally letting go of the wheel to shift into park.

It’s silent for a moment as Joel stares straight ahead, at the dark mansion ahead of them.

“Told you,” he manages, shooting what he hopes is a smirk in Grian’s direction.

Then the fuzziness coalesces into darkness entirely, and he slumps forward over the wheel and knows no more.

-

The mansion’s library was converted into something of a hospital, long ago. Joel had always disliked it—they hadn’t bothered to paint it white or anything, left the walls a deep red and surrounded by costly books and polished oak shelves and expensive wood flooring, so it just felt like some rich mad scientist’s pet project every time he walked in.

That was why he didn’t particularly enjoy waking up there.

He groans, blinks several times as the library’s ceiling comes into reluctant focus. His limbs ache, and there’s some kind of pain pulsing from his side, but it isn’t as sharp as he thinks it ought to be. Painkillers, probably.

Joel looks down, sees an IV in his arm. Yep. Painkillers.

“Are you actually awake, or just faking it?”

Joel glances over to his other side.

Grian’s sitting there, arms folded. His leather jacket lies discarded on the floor, the sleeves of his red shirt pushed up to his elbows. His sunglasses are stuck in his greasy hair, doing nothing to hide his disapproving raised eyebrow.

“Hey,” Joel croaks. Then, because his memory is a bit spotty, “We made it, right?”

Grian smacks his shoulder.

“Hey—ow! What—?”

“It’s for being a moron—both Jimmy and I are perfectly capable of driving—and why didn’t you say you were injured?”

Joel’s seen the two of them drive, and he would like to disagree on that point. The him being a moron, though . . . probably justified. “I didn’t know,” he says, in response to Grian’s question. “Really.”

Grian holds his gaze for a moment longer, irritation in every line of his face—and then his face softens, and he rolls his eyes.

“Just try not to die, okay?” he says, smacking his shoulder again (gentler, this time). “I don’t have time for a funeral.”

Joel scoffs. “I wasn’t going to die. I was fine!”

Grian doesn’t speak.

Was he—was he genuinely close?

“Well,” Joel says, deciding not to think about that. His hand not occupied by an IV fumbles into his jeans pocket, and just as he’d hoped, his fingers find cold metal. “I did grab . . . this.”

Grian’s jaw drops as he stares at the golden watch, glinting in the low light. “No way. No—you got a Clocker’s clock?”

“Better. Bdubs’s clock.”

“Oh, dear,” Grian chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be in for a lot more trouble than a pesky stab wound.”

Joel just smiles, drops his hand to his lap.

He could use another nap.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Being the eldest kid is tough. Being the eldest kid of 10-14 ish kids? That's on a whole 'nother level baybee~

Do you know how stressful holidays are????

[asexualbookbird]

Immediately forgets everything that happened in June. Uh. I threw a tea party! Finished a knit hat! Did one (1) queer corvid piece! Started playing baldurs gate! Read some good books! SAW SOME SANDHILL CRANES!!!! Found new enrichment in the form of a new walking route! A busy busy month! Didn't read as much as I intended, but I did get to check off five more books on my Reading Books I Own chart so I call that a win.

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakranorty ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- WHAT A FUN BOOK! "Adventure" is the perfect word for this. Yes, it's a trilogy with only one book out, but this also works so well on its own, as individual books SHOULD! It's its own little thing. Wrapped up neat and tidy with little threads to pick up in the future. I had so much fun and the audiobook was a DELIGHT, I want to read it again immediately.

The Novice by Taran Matharu ⭐- This has been sitting on my shelf since its release. It moved homes with me. It will not be doing so again. Bland, generic, poorly written. Proof just because you were an internet success, doesn't mean you don't need an editor. Also proof that publishing is about Luck and Connections. I know goodreads ratings mean Nothing, but come on. Why is this one so high. Did people really enjoy it that much? HOW??

Translation State by Ann Leckie ⭐⭐⭐⭐- Okay. Look. This was not my favorite Leckie novel. In fact it very well could by me least favorite Leckie novel. HOWEVER. Even then, it was still fun and enjoyable. I wish it ended differently, but I still loved all the characters and how they interact. I do want to reread this as well, because I remember enjoying Ancillary Justice more the second time around and I wonder if the same will happen here.

What Moves The Dead by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - A reread! To get ready for What Feasts At Night! Even knowing all the secrets, it's still a perfectly bite sized creepy read. My favorite thing about Kingfishers writing is how even with the darkest subjects she still manages to add humor. And it never seems out of place! It's a great breather for the reader but doesn't detract from the tension. Do not recommend reading this while walking through a field of bunnies.

What Feasts At Night by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I gave What Moves The Dead four stars at my initial read through, so I wonder if this will ALSO change to five stars upon rereading. I had to read the first few chapters twice for them to stick, and ended up switching to the audiobook which was very well done. I really didn't expect another book about Alex Easton, but I'm hooked now to be honest. I mean, stop putting this soldier in Situations, but also. I want to know what other Situations ka gets into. Angus and Miss Potter are adorable.

The library has a few summer reading games with prizes so my reading in the upcoming months will be influenced by those. Someone said there might even be a local bookstore gift package in the mix and I Want That. I do still want to do the Bone Season updated read, if for no other reason than to get rid of those books so I don't have to pack and move them. Other than that, no reading plans. I've read nearly every book that's on the shelf in my bedroom, which, wow, so it's getting harder to choose what to read. I guess that's a good thing! Leaves more room to reread old favorites.