#we'll see how well that goes but

[stoneheart-paramour]

research topic of the day: boats

honestly should have done this sooner, considering Telestrata's skies are navigated but sun-ships, but i suppose prioritizing getting the broad strokes down for the story itself also makes sense.

however, it's time to describe some of those sun-ships, and thus... research time!

boats are more complicated than expected ajlfkafja

well i figured they'd have layers of complexity, but i didn't really consider that the names of types of boats wasn't so straightforward as just being, "this is a [x] boat". it depends on a combination of facts like hulls, keels, and masts and there's all sorts of different configurations of those things. i will definitely NOT be getting into the little details in the text, especially considering sun-ships aren't even normal boats anyway, but also bc i just know a boat enthusiast will see through me in half a second lol. better to stick with the basics and hope i haven't screwed those up!

at least i'm mainly sticking to sailboats/boats with sails, so i can narrow my research focus to just those. still plenty of material to go through of course, but it helps!

in other news, i've gotten 2 nice comments since posting the fic to ao3, and they really are such great motivation TcT i hope to get the next chapter out this saturday, so i need to really get my ass in gear and knuckle down and just DO IT. not that the stuff i've been working on isn't important, but it's also not contributing to what i need to write at this moment. helpful for the futures, and it should streamline my progress through future chapters, buuut i'm not writing those future chapters yet now am i?

it's been very fun and exciting though! things are coalescing nicely... there are now 142 separate scenes lined up, and at least up through chapter 5, they've got well defined summaries (and some have rough outlines even) + attached notes i can use to keep me on track with various little things. even just going through the scenes and writing out these note has helped me identify places where i need to make minor changes or additions, and that's great too.

hiveword is so fucking good man.

[bluewolfangel01]

I love the unhinged idea that if Mc is angry or dissapointed with the demons, that they would create a circle of salt around themselves and just stay in it

And no matter the immense combined powers that Diavolo, Barbatos, and the Brothers hold, they ain't getting past the salt circle no matter what they do

Salt is the most powerful thing in the Devildom, confirmed

[belfry-ghost]

gonna post some doodle dumps bc most of my bigger projects are unfinished or for an event lol

t4t DannyTim (at pride)

Red Hood and Little Baby Man

Danny wearing Superboy merch

halfa!tim sketch

bart + a big teddy bear

dick + tim eating burgers after patrol

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

oopsie forgor to post this!!

part 4 of my little debut to carrot soup :] !!

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | ..? |

this is all i've got for now! ive been low on motivation recently so im just kinda. trying to find something that sparks anything in me,, but i may draw more panels for this, who knows! my carrot soup appreciation days certainly aren't done soooooooo

(pssst. in case u forgor or didn't know. carrot soup is this really nice really sweet good nice fic series on ao3. by @crowned-ladybug. here it is pls check it out if u liked my little visual interpretation !! )

oh yea btw i hid an amogus in this one heheee ඞ

[toofypigeon]

heyheyhey making some re-animator earrings out of foam clay YAYYY so fun

[kingleedo]

favorite ONEUS stages || Now (Original by Fin.K.L) [240526] - Leedo

bonus:

[firenati0n]

people ruin people, i don't wanna ruin you // i am just a sickness and you seem to be the cure

by firenati0n on ao3

M | 4/9 | current wc: 6.9k

tags: musician au, orpheus & eurydice references, a star is born au (very loose), angst with a happy ending, icarus references, alex pov, singer!alex, singer!henry

No one could resist his soulful brown eyes, framed by doe lashes, sitting pretty on a face one could only describe as biblically gorgeous. Dark curls, a chin dimple, the cheekiest smile—Alex was marketable perfection in the sweetest package. But fame comes at a heavy cost.

Or, Alex is a washed-up singer who finds salvation in Henry, and Henry is both his loving disciple and his greatest punishment.

xoxo roop

[apricote]

adan asked toni out on a date! eyes

[prince-liest]

I have officially seen my own patients for the first time! :D

I saw inpatient patients and street medicine patients yesterday, and today I got to see my own clinic patients! It feels like a milestone because the clinic patients in particular are the ones who are now establishing with me as their primary care doctor.

Anyway, that's the last day of residency orientation done with! This weekend is my last weekend as a free person and starting on Monday I'll be doing EM-peds for four weeks. We did a cute little last-day team bonding thing this afternoon and got to make our own succulent gardens, which was incredibly up my alley:

This has prompted me to finally look into proper succulent care, set up my remaining grow lights on a bookshelf, and repot my poor long-suffering jade plant to life alongside this little plant garden. And now I have a suitable place for, uh. Any more succulents I impulse purchase. :'D

[sunnyashe]

A prequel to this: we might get there. maybe. just setup for now

next scene under cut!

Rumble and Frenzy both stiffened instantly. Scrap. 

Rumble side-eyed his twin, watching shock dawn to horror on Frenzy’s faceplate.

Jazz.

“Seems the terrible two are taking the party outside!” Jazz was still standing directly behind them, his grin practically audible. Fragger fed off Cassetticon fear. “‘s there a reason you didn’t pay for that engex?”

“Nope,” Rumble responded immediately, turning to face Jazz. The word dragged out, ending with a lilt, as if he was unsure.

Simultaneously, Frenzy launched into a ramble on the spot. “We have special instruction, clearance, from the Prime! He wants energon samples from across the undercity for…”

Rumble picked up the thread as Frenzy trailed off. “Because he wants to try out the local culture! The Op’s so bored of the fancy shmancy energon they keep serve’n him in that palace, so he asked us to bring him some of these commoner…delicacies!”

Jazz exaggeratedly brought a digit to his helm, miming a comm exchange. "Wow! I thought you might've been stealing for yourselves, but if you're stealing for the Prime, it must be fine!” After a beat, he sighed theatrically “OP says he didn’t order any engex, you sure you didn’t get the wrong guy?”

Frenzy was still rooted to the spot, facing the street. :Turn around, dumbaft!: Rumble crackled through to him with comms, :Face that slag-head helm first! It’s too late to run.:

:Idiot, it’s called deniability!:

:What, like you talking to him didn’t give up the jig?:

:I was telling the concrete!:

:It’s too late, flickerbrain, grow some self-respect!:

:What, like how you respect Autobots?:

In one swift movement, Rumble dropped all of the stolen engex he was holding. He hopped in front of Frenzy, snarling, with a fisted servo extended to crack his brother’s stupid visor.

A warm, scarred servo yanked Rumble up by his backplate. Frenzy, who had unsheathed a vibroblade from who-knows-where in retribution, was also bodily hoisted up into the unforgiving air of Kaon’s industrial sector. Jazz’s rictus took on an amused tinge, “Woah there, mechs. It’s my job to keep violence off the streets, you know? You’re makin’ it real easy.”

Rumble wiggled in his grasp, limbs flailing ineffectually, “Then be glad about it, turbofox wannabe!”

Frenzy twisted his helm to attempt to bite Jazz’s servo “Yeah, you’re so great at your job! Now let us go!”

Jazz tilted his head, as if considering. As soon as he moved to speak, Frenzy plowed over whatever he was about to say with an interrogation he had little diplomatic power to execute. “Why the frag are you even here? Low-end neutral bar in the sticks? Does your job require engex overcharge or some slag?”

Rumble fought with renewed vigor, as if Jazz was diverting processing power away from his grip to consider his answer the question. “Yeah! Too scared of fighting a little crime without bein’ drunk?”

“As a matter of fact,” Jazz said blithely, ignoring them, “I was considering letting you miscreants off with a warning and a promise that you’ll give that poor bartender a sparkfelt apology.” 

Rumble glared at the underside of Jazz’s helm distrustfully, sending Frenzy a databurst comm, :Liar.:

:No slag.:

Jazz continued on, unruffled, pretending not to be hacking their private comms, “But, y’know…there’s no harm in a little catch-up. I haven’t seen you two since the war!”

“As if it’s over,” Rumble growled. Bitterly.

Jazz’s smile widened, and Rumble realized he kind of fucked up. “Anyway, how’s Sounders doing?”

Frenzy scoffed, crossing his arms while dangling a meter in the air, “Who the frag is Sounders?”

Jazz laughed a little, softly. He lowered Rumble to the ground. The Cassetticon ripped himself out of Jazz’s hold as soon as his pedes hit the cobbled, gritty floor, arm raised defensively. Maybe he was making good on that obvious falsehood from before? It wasn’t like him, at all, there was probably another trick–

Frenzy was still suspended midair. With his now free left servo, Jazz materialized two pairs of miniature stasis cuffs, lightly spinning them between two digits with obscene expertise.

“So, my mechs. Where is Soundwave?”

[freaky-flawless]

I guess I'm glad the Reel Drama dolls are getting a restock. They needed it so bad. I had thought it weird that Cleo was getting one after how bad the first release went, but this makes a lot more sense. (They should release a Ghoulia too...omg the bright red with the grayscale, and her poster would slayyyyyy)

That being said, I still really wish they would release the posters separately. I don't want all the dolls, but I do really want all the posters.

[silluuuu]

six-sentence sunday :)

from absolute obscurity, i offer you several sentences of one for the road in these trying times. i swear i still exist 😆

---

She blinks at him, unsure of why he’s even here, until: “Oh. What time is it?!”

He’s slightly smug, now. “Twelve-thirty.”

She blanches, shutting the book with a snap. “Agh- my bad.”

“You’re good,” he says. “I figur-” He pauses, and then, with a mystified sort of grin, says: “Are you reading Inferno?”

Sometimes nostalgia is more akin to whiplash than it is warm bath - but still, his smile thaws her. “How’d you know where to find me?” she deflects, standing up and moving back towards the shelf.

He follows her to the bookcase, raising an eyebrow. “A place called Bookworm? Figured it’d be a good place to start, at least.”

---

i would absolutely love to read any and all exceprts from the qt pies in the se fandom whom i miss dearly. i know y'all are resbangin' but if you've got anything else hit me with it @toweroftunes @anxietybard @chickycherrycola @blackbloodteeth and anyone else <3

[dustykneed]

poll below!! for funsies:

[loupy-mongoose]

Your brain isn't flip flopping. Loupy Mew is doing cartwheels while chittering at 400 miles per hour, while Loupy Mongoose is just laying on her back, staring at the ceiling in defeat

Honestly, very true. Sometimes I just want to take Loupy Mew and plop her in a Time Out Bubble for a bit. XD

[evenlyevi]

Hello! When your shop opens again, do you print calendars? Like a 2025 regular folding wall calendar, but with your artwork for the different months?

Thanks so much!

I haven't considered making calendars tbh! I won't be able to make it in time for the coming year if I really want to prepare for it (may end up wasting January just to get the artwork/orders ready), so perhaps this would be something I consider for 2026 instead. Thank you for the interest! :D

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.