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yeah well. I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it.

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its unreal how all of my favorite characters have exactly the same traits and hobbies and diagnoses as me

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I waited up until midnight just to be able to post this

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i’m okay with change and i’m fine if things are no longer the same i embrace change

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Scars? Not body horror. Limb differences? Not body horror. Facial differences? Not body horror. Feeding tubes, colostomy bags, etc? Not body horror. Movement disorders? Not body horror. Visibly disabled people just existing is not horror.

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be normal about people who wear diapers. be normal about people who need colostomy/catheter bags. be normal about people who need to wear pads or pad their mattress. be normal about incontinence. it’s not funny or weird or gross, it can happen to anyone of any age, and it’s frankly embarrassing that some of y’all can’t be normal about the aspects of disability that ick you out

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Strange Planet post hit hard today 🙃

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Ellie & Riley concept art - The Last of Us: Left Behind

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It’s just like where is the whimsy

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whump tropes that make it into every single thing i write because i’m unoriginal:

• trauma reveal by bedridden/weakened/recovering character

• blood-loss related collapse

• somebody gets shot/stabbed/impaled in the chest/gut region

• face holding/checking for injuries

• gentle and/or frantic manhandling (bonus points if hurt character is extra floppy lol)

• fading in and out

• A (who’s usually bleeding out) asks B if they’re ok, cue B trying not to burst into tears or getting pissed off

• A returns to work/regular activities/battle too soon after injury and needs to be scraped off the floor and tucked back into bed by B

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join the praxis discord - sign up - github

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Big thank you to @historian-in-pearls for commissioning this & to @wordspinning for creating it 😭 this is truly stunning & should be in a museum somewhere!

Pic taken from a scene from my fic, enough of dying species

He recognizes her. She doesn’t realize she’s crying till she’s hunched over him, back curved, shoulders rattling. She presses her forehead into the mattress where it dips down to cushion his side, butts the top of her head gently against his ribs. He doesn’t speak but he lifts a hand and drops it onto the back of her head, palms her greasy ponytail. His fingers, wide and flat, feel frail, like the delicate bones of a bird; there’s so little of the man he was left, she thinks. He’s been beaten and shrunken and hollowed out but she'll take it, whatever’s been left, whatever’s here.

Tommy comes in after her and he cries too. He stands beside Joel and brushes his fingers gently against his brother’s cheek, careful of the bruises festering there. Joel’s tired; his head lolls and he blinks slower and slower till he nods back off to sleep, and Tommy wipes at his own face with his hands, sniffles wetly into his palms. Ellie slips around the bed and into that space under his arm that she’s found herself fitting in for all these years now. She threads her arms around his chest and cries into his shoulders and lets him rock her like she’s Rafa, like she’s a kid, like she’s a comfort.

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All the promises at sundown, I meant them like the rest 🌅

Illustration from “last of dying species” by @march-flowerr on AO3 💕💕💕

By a large margin the most complex pieces I’ve attempted in years, had to resurrect everything I’ve ever learned about color theory for this one, but so happy with how it turned out 💕