squinnchy

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the wonderful @stardewfanficwritersguild is running oc week, so here is my main girl, juniper!

i'm gonna be honest i totally forgot her kids so let's just say this is from before they had them. design is year one juni even though she doesn't get married until year three but that's just me being fussy 🥲

i'll probably do nimue next, given she's my next focus story-wise.

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Do you look younger than you are?

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Fan art

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donald trump will die on july 20th 2025 at 1pm pacific standard time

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@orbduck me with literally all of them

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Doctor Who text posts: Missy edition – pt. 23

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I've rarely seen a more validating sentence in my entire life.

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You fucking wish the author was dead. The author is on twitter

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it begins.

northern attitude. my sweet, beautiful firstborn. desperately needed a face-lift.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67169176/chapters/173459683

so, we're doing a redo! complete with updated lore, ranging from:

duck has paralysis in her right hand!

to

haley the closet is glass!

teaser below (prologue):

' "Juni, you sure you don't feel well enough to go out?" Duck says, leaning over her sister's bed. She's met with a response of grunting, and sheets being pulled over a head.

"Well, sucks to be you. Mum's giving me the Joja gift card."

She waves it around as if it were all the money in the world, when in reality it was only 20g. But it was enough for a small thing--a something. She walks out of their room, closing the door roughly behind her. '

juni belongs to @squinnchy , check out their fic here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67086880/chapters/173213905

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the alarm buzzes at five in the morning. too early, much too early. elise—juniper, even if that was a name for a softer girl—turns it off and stares blankly at her ceiling for just a moment more. her muscles scream in protest, fire laces through her shoulders and spine. a flare. again. she forces herself from the bed, every joint cracking as if she was made of glass. the cold zuzu city air cuts through the windows of her tiny, mouldy apartment, cutting into her skin.

she’d lived amongst wildflowers and birdsong, once. now it was just concrete and lampposts that flickered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67086880/chapters/173213905

i finally decided i was happy with the rewrite, so here is chapter one! kinda want to get into a regular posting schedule but that does actually mean yknow... writing. regularly. we'll see.

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the bar is tucked in some back alley in a quieter part of dublin. angela doesn't know its name, no sign hung above the door, and yet her feet carry her towards it like they've been waiting to come back. the door is a dark red, paint flaking, and angela swears the handle is warm in her hand. the bartender smiles like she remembers angela and asks if she wants the usual. she agrees, functioning on autopilot, and only realises her error when the bartender places two drinks in front of her.

the house wine, and that stupid whiskey. the one moira always pretended she didn't like, even though the taste of it lingered on her lips more often than not. angela stares at it like the tumbler has personally offended her. she wants to send it back, to say there's been a mistake. instead she picks it up the way moira had taught her, brings it to her lips.

a little moicy piece for our souls because i love them and you can pry them from my cold dead hands

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Calvin and Hobbes - It’s July Already

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Brought to you by my intense love of k.d. lang's version of Hallelujah (originally by Leonard Cohen).