#or at least the start

[bitchfitch]

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[overcaffeinated-aro]

ok not to be that guy but like. labor rights and working class rights can coexist with 24h services and late amenities. its certainly hard to do so without worker exploitation in this political and social environment, it’s not a conflict likely to resolve overnight. but 24h services are important and especially valuable to those of us that are disabled or are on a different circadian rhythm. in fact more professional, health, and government services should be available or at least possible to work on asynchronously (if applicable) during late or odd hours, while workers also get sufficient pay for their labor and proper consistent scheduling. this would be much easier on the workers with night schedules if the entire professional world didn’t grind to a halt at 5pmEST

[pallettown]

genuinely so scary that you can't access the page on the ssc website that guides you through changing your sex designation. so so fucking scary. they are already making our lives harder. they are already taking what little resources we have.

[thought-begone]

I guess the real glorious evolution was the homoerotic yearning we made along the way

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Another year, another group of my delightful ninth graders trying to spell the word "tragedy" for their Romeo and Juliet assignment.

Last year's collection

[pharmasrightarm]

oops, still feral over pre-war Dead End Dratchet

(drift: you're rusting at every joint gasket: but isn't that doctor chummy with the cops? we're literal thieves??)

started with the headcanon that drift hung around the clinic like a feral wet cat for a while, then halfway through shading these, I started thinking, what if deadlock was an especially reliable assassin because he knew what kind of damage would make sure that even the best of the best couldn't bring you back

[brewing-mischief]

Kansas's grave-(fiction story)

T/w themes of suicide and death

Death is so much different than life. It’s eternal, while life is a temporary state. Kansas had been dead for approximately 8 months. He hadn’t really noticed time passing on earth while he had been dead. Death is…its your conscious existing. Doing things for a moment while time speeds on elsewhere. Perhaps the living being would take offense that the dead are no longer worried about them. But when you’re dead you’re able to see just how fickle everything is. How small. How very…temporary it is. Everyone will be dead soon. Incredibly soon. It’s like walking to the kitchen to grab a snack. You don’t miss those you left sitting on the couch. You see them again so quickly you don’t really have time to miss them.

That’s what death is.

It’s safe. And comforting and gentle.

For someone like Kansas, death was a release of every responsibility. He was still there, still working. But only for himself. No hungry mouths to worry about feeding. No danger on the horizon to fight, No decisions to make to lead everyone everywhere. Finally. Finally quiet.

. . .

It started with a surge in his chest. Which he didn’t even have. Then it spread to his arms, his legs, his head. It burned. His fingers twitched. His jaw unclenched. His eyes glowed as he was dragged and reformed around his own bones.

Pain is a funny thing when you’ve been eternal for eight earth months. It’s a funny thing if you’ve been eternal for a minute. In death you shed your skin and realize you were never temporary at all. That there was so much more to you than you ever even knew. Eternal. Immortal. You spread, explode into a thousand-star clusters, expanding to reach the end of time just because you can.

And now all of that was being callously stuffed back into the smallest little molecule, locked tightly underneath regrowing skin and woven through the chains of muscle.

Kansas breathes. Shallow, impossibly small as his brain begins to slowly return starting his heart, pumping oxygen, sending commands to nerve receptors. Then he hears. It’s so dull. So loud. So quiet from what he heard in death. It’s impossible to control. He’s just an object the universe pushes around now.

There’s people speaking. They start muffled, far away as he comes to before they clear up. Coming in and out.

“I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know! We did everything you said! Are you telling me we went through all that and it didn’t even work!?”

“I-I followed the spell! It should work!”

“It SHOULD?! Well guess what? I don’t see him breathing!”

Theres sounds of shouting, of fabric being grabbed. Possibly a fight ready to break out.

 ‘Don’t open your eyes.’ Kansas thinks. The first thought he officially has after returning to life. ‘Don’t breathe. Don’t let yourself be notice. Just die. Go back to death.’

He wants to. So badly. But he doesn’t.

Kansas in life has never been a quitter. And it seems his weak party learned that from him. He sits up.

The sun is out today. It’s bright.

He’s in the forest it looks like. A stone circle surrounds him. Runes are burned into the grass.

“Kansas?” He  looks to his right. Jessabelle is kneeling next him, her hand outreached, frightened. In his first life he had loved her, she had been his everything. Except now he had been everything. And Jessabelle seemed so…distant now. Her eyes could focus on only what she could see. There was so much out there. So much she didn’t know.

He stands up.

Gravity is weird. So is height. He hadn’t realized how tall he was before. Hadn’t realized the disadvantage of only being able to see things from one angle.

“Kansas? Kansas! You’re alive!” It’s Reed. He’s letting go off Byron’s robes in order to come crashing into Kansas. “Oh man dude is it good to see you! So much has happened, you won’t believe it. I mean-when you died, we-we had to retreat. No one knew what to do without you. So I said to them, I said we had to get you back! And now you’re here! And-“ Reed is squeezing him tightly. He had always been shorter than Kansas. He pushes his head into the crook of his shoulder, and keeps Kansas arms at their side through the embrace.

There are many things Kansas wants to do. And also, nothing. He wants to scream, yell. Shove Reed away. He wants to embrace his friend and offer comfort. And he also, doesn’t care at all.

He settles on nothing.

Reed pulls away confused. “Kansas?”

He’d like to know what exactly Byron did to get him there. He pushes past Reed to their wizard. Byron is nearly shaking, but stands firm despite it. A good trait. Bravery. Kansas knows that word. He used to be brave, when he had things to fear.

He holds out his hand. Byron just stares out it.

“Book.” He finally grunts out. Talking is awkward. He hasn’t had to talk in death. Things just knew. His tongue feels too big for his mouth now. His throat is dry. Those use to have an effect on how he spoke, he remembers.

Byron hands him the book.

It’s in old writing. Something he could never had read in his first life. He barley knew how to read common then, even after Jesabelle stayed up at night coaching him through words. Something like this would have been impossible for him to every decipher. Now though, everything in the book was juvenile. A child’s scribbles in an attempt to portray the things he had seen, experienced, been.

Necromancy – Reviving the dead.

Byron’s book had his own ink scribbles in the margins. He had been trying to edit the spell. Which made sense. The original spell would only reanimate corpses. If they had followed it, he would still have been dead. It looks like Byron added his own twist of a growth spell to a healing spell on top of the necromancy spell.

A foolish combination.

Death was inevitable. Immortality didn’t exist in life, only in death. But Byron had unknowingly come close. The spell would most certainly continue to repair his body as he got hurt, continue to push energy into the necromancy spell with each breath he took. They had brought him back to life in a way that relied on him being dead. He wouldn’t be able to die easily now. Would likely outlive them by multiple generations.

Spells were temporary, but they lasted longer than the eyes of the living could perceive.

Perhaps he would be frightened if he didn’t know what he knew now. Waiting for the spell to die would be tedious. But he would face death eventually. Still. It was bothersome. Perhaps he could break the spell first.

After all a tree keeps growing until it is cut. He’d just have to find a sharp knife. Quickly.

Spells were their weakest in their first year and last year. The first year looked strong to many mortals. But it would often grow stronger and more reinforced until it reached its climax. Then it would deteriorate back down to level 1 before dissolving. He’s currently at level 1. If he can find something stronger than Byron’s magic, he should be able to cut it and return to death.

Ok.

Good plan.

“Kansas…buddy? You-You good?” Reed is edging his way towards him. Kansas snaps the book shut making them all jump. He hands it back to Byron. There’s only three of them. They used to be a party of eight. The rest likely left then. Kansas hadn’t meet any of them in death.

The three of them look scared. Tired. Worn out. Hungry.

Those things only affected mortals. But that’s what they were. Kansas feels the weight of responsibility set back on his shoulders. He had been their leader. Bringing them food, directing their path, nursing their sick, soothing their worries. He loved them plenty, which is why he had done it. But it had always been exhausting.

He now knew what rest was.

He wasn’t as interested in being exhausted again. He found their insistence to bring him back over their ability to learn to take care of themselves slightly annoying.

So, new plan. Get them ready. Teach them how to handle themselves first.

Kansas smiled softly at them. They stiffened for a moment. “Let make camp guys” He suggested, and in an instant the air lifted.

Jessabelle’s posture relaxes, and Reed’s smile exploded. To his side Byron knocked their shoulders together. “You really scared us there Kansas. Don’t go sacrificing yourself again, ok?”

He’s talking about Kansas’s death. When he had tried to distract an animated rock monster from their party so the rest could escape. They had already been hurt from their fight with one of the high generals, so the moving mountain had nearly killed them-Or succussed in Kansas’s case.

“Don’t worry,” Kansas found himself saying, thinking of the sleepless nights he spent keeping watch when someone wouldn’t get up for their shift, the ache of his muscles from prepping all firewood, the weight from his pack filled with other’s belongings, the number of his worries gone unspoken in order to stay reliable. “I won’t.”

[archerdepartures116]

if I don't draw him getting his shit rocked am I really a fan

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day

[jojaxcola]

"no one told me back then that i was in the glory days."

[ jojamart mockumentary #14 ]

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[catsharky]

Ember please you're gonna kill him

Rewinding back to the Last Light Inn cause I haven't tormented Rolan enough. Ember's got zero shame and no interest in getting dressed before breakfast (she's worked nights for 2 decades so the fact she's awake before noon is a miracle, honestly)

If Rolan didn't owe her big time she would be getting the dressing down (hah) of her life.

The Rolan Comic Part 1 • Latest part

[chloesimaginationthings]

The secret ending in FNAF into the pit..

[paracosmicka]

have doodle lol

functionally, i am alive, emotionally?? idk about that work has me crying almost everyday now chat idk if i can do this anymore

[makeshiftloops]

Me: dude, I should draw TMA art of Martin in The Lonely and make it look super depressing

Also me: ✨shapes and colors the likes of which I’ve never seen✨ Haha oops

[wormspoodle]

thinking about the "a better world" dimension where stan did take the journal

[zorangezest]

transformers one but it’s in the shattered glass universe so it’s basically just d-16 watching his three best friends descend into madness

had to redraw a few scenes

continued