#practical blog

[bonehearts]

if you come around, i think you'd want something

[fruity-blogs]

Sometimes...

Taking a leap forward means...

Leaving a few things behind.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

For moment, you are home.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[shripscapi]

Jon Snow with the letter from Ramsay. This was the second half of a commission, done to match Dany!

[yakny]

WILDFLOWERS

[3liza]

House MD depicts an autistic who has gotten insanely good at reading people and is just in too much pain to use it for social engineering much beyond his weird little pranks and machinations. my dad is this type of autist, i think of it as the Frasier Crane type as opposed to the Star Trek type. you know. capable of being jocular, jovial, charming, even seductive, but it requires so much bandwidth its still extremely taxing. i have been telling you on this blog for ten years that it is in your best interests to become jocular. it will stun you how much better you are at reading people than the majority of neurotypicals. there's no reason for them to get good at it when they dont even know what there is to get good at. microexpressions are real and i can see them

[gatoburr0]

this turned out too good I just had to post it so pls read the gray text thank you

[meli-mouse]

sleepy movie night

redraw of @taldigi’s low poly art!

[sami--onley]

You know what's disgusting? It's when you have to remove insects from the only loaf of bread you're allowed to eat every day, when you're hungry. Your mind shuts down. I cover my nose when eating a loaf of bread so I don't smell it, and I avoid looking at it so I don't see the insects... But that's not important. There's something worse. Malnutrition is starting to affect my three children, all under the age of 8. So, I'm asking you to donate so I can buy a $700 bag of clean flour and provide treatment for them.

[loki-us]

It’s the casual way Mobius sets his chaotic boyfriend The God of Mischief loose on everyone. Mobius is so attuned to Loki, he immediately knows how he’s going to react, offering him a gentle warning or permission to proceed. And Loki carefully waits for that permission before he acts, implying this is a familiar dynamic that’s been established beforehand.

[beemosketches]

literally sleeping together

(coloring studies)

An exercise in exploring relative color and lighting.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Thunderfire NSFW

List of their crimes:

No lab coats

No eye protection

Holding a tube towards yourself

Everything Thundercracker is doing

(Stole @mechncheese ‘s science designs again, sorry couldn’t resist drawing this joke rq)

[writers-potion]

Word Dieting Your First Draft

Here are two phrases you can cut without loss:

begin to (begins to, beginning to, began to, begun to)

start to (starts to, starting to, started to)

She began to run -> She ran. Rain began to fall -> Rain fell.

Should you avoid "begin to" altogether?

Well, no. Sometimes, when an action starts and is abandoned immediately, they clarify what's going on:

She began to walk home, but changed her mind after a few steps. He started to paint the fence, but thought better of it.

Cut "Look"

More often than not, your story will work just as well without telling the reader that the character is looking at something.

Looking at him, she nodded. -> She nodded. He looked at her and poured her a drink. -> He poured her a drink. She looked at the mountain which towered over the valley. -> The mountain towered over the valley.

Cut "See"

If you describe something, it is implied that the POV character sees it.

When she took another galnce at the book in his hand, she saw he was

Cut "Turn"

Do your characters turn towards one another before saying something? Turn before they move? People turn all the time - it's implied without having to describe it.

She changed her mind, turned, and hurried home. -> She changed her mind and hurried home. She turned to him and clasped his hand -> She clasped his hand.

Where turn + look are used:

He turned to look at her and nodded. "I agree that's true." -> He nodded. "That's true." -> "True" [even better!]

When to use "look", "turn" and "see":

when a dialogue scene involves several people

when two of these words are used, try cutting one.

[qsplaylist]

how to build bridges and make meaningful connections ❀•°❀

for the girlies who want more than just superficial relationships

1. be the kind of energy that people want to stay around

be light, not draining. bring warmth, humor, and softness where you can. I always try to smile at people when I talk to them or see them, and people notice how I'm happy to hang out with them. just bringing a positive energy immediately draws people towards you.

try not to complain. everybody has struggles, and while venting can feel natural, it can also quietly drain the energy from conversations and people listening. personally, I struggle with this too. but, when we constantly focus on what's wrong, we unknowingly push people away. no one wants to feel like every conversation is a weight to carry.

instead, try adding something lighter or more meaningful. instead of saying, "I'm so stressed," try "this week is super busy, but I'm making time for a break soon." it's not about pretending that life's perfect, but being mindful of the energy you bring to a space.

show up with consistency. make plans for lunch and actually show up. remember small things that they say in conversations. it's always the greatest feeling when someone remembers that I had an important performance or difficult test and then ask me about it afterwards.

2. connect through conversation

make eye contact. it's uncomfortable, I get it. but, when you look someone in the eye while they're talking to you, it makes you look 1) more engaged about what they're saying, and 2) more genuinely appreciative of their presence. practice doing it little by little every day, and soon, it will become like second-nature.

share stories, not just facts. I think that conversations come alive with small stories with details that make moments memorable. for example, instead of just saying “I had a phone as a kid because I was on the soccer team” (fact), i added layers: “I got a phone because I went to soccer matches as a kid! I was terrible at soccer, but I helped the team by tricking opponents into thinking I’d get the ball. basically, I was a glorified decoy” (story). true story, by the way.

3. acknowledge them, even if you are not actively hanging out.

greet them by name. when you see them while walking, make an effort to remember their name and say hi. I feel that greetings come off as much more genuine when I address them personally.

if you don't know their name, still make an effort to smile and wave. I would still appreciate it if someone takes the time to acknowledge me, even for a little moment, because it shows that they care.

4. embrace compliments and connection

take compliments. I'll be the first to admit, I struggle with this too. but, isn't it a bit awkward when you give someone a compliment and they instantly deflect it with "oh but I look so ugly today like my hair is whack and my eyeliner is uneven" (calling myself out...)? instead, I think it's best to thank them genuinely for noticing you, even if you don't fully agree with their compliment. receive it with gratitude, not self-criticism. it's not about actually being perfect, but appreciating the kindness behind their words.

compliment them back, and be observant about it. you could just say, "you look amazing too" (though that's still nice). but, the next step could be noticing something specific, like their earrings or the way they carry themselves. or, share what you actually admire about them, like their kindness or determination. it's about making your compliment feel personal and thoughtful.

if you admire someone, tell them. it only sounds fake if you make it fake.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

remember, real connections are built on authenticity and kindness. it's not about being perfect. it's about being genuine, showing up, and appreciating the people around you. now, you just have a few more tools on how to make these connections and be the friend that you would appreciate in your own life.

thank you for reading all the way through as always. wishing everybody all the good things in the world and a blessed rest of your day <3

sending lots of love, q's playlist

[buckevantommy]

From the prompt list: “Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?”, please? Thanks in advance!

👀 it's gotta be injured Tommy + worried Buck to the rescue.. send me a prompt or two..

Tommy's awoken by turbulance, jostled in his seat from external forces, except..

It can't be turbulance. He can't be in the air. He's a decent pilot but he can't sleep and fly at the same time. The last thing he remembers was flying over downtown L.A, Lucy saying something about windsurfing, before—

A metallic banging snags his attention, his head throbbing and neck protesting as he tries to turn towards the sound.

The whir and grind of tools, muffled voices yelling— and then a great groaning sound and— bright lights blind his already poor vision, the voices are louder. There's a flurry of activity around him, the hurried capability of professionals doing their job, cautious touches to his body, inspection of his seat. Someone moves behind him, probably to get to Lucy—

"—Tommy?"

"..'van?.." His eyes are screwed shut against the torchlight but he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Tommy!"

"..Y're here.."

"Yeah, yeah I-I'm here— we're here, we got you— we're gonna get you out, okay? Just— just stay with me."

The other voices filter in and out of his awareness. He zeroes in on Evan: he's close, right by Tommy's ear, voice strained but beautiful. He hasn't heard that voice since..

Since Bobby's funeral. Since that night everything went to hell. Since the morning after they..

It's been too long. There's been too much complication and hurt. He misses hearing Evan's voice happy and unburdened. He doesn't want to add to his worry or stress.

As he shifts to try to move— pain lances through his side.

"Woah, woah, easy Tommy," Howie says. He must be the one evaluating Tommy's condition. Which mustn't be great, considering the pain.

"Just hold still," Evan says in his ear, voice wobbly. His hands— they must be Evan's hands— are braced on his shoulders, holding him steady.

He's missed those hands, strong and capable and eager. He'd do a lot to hear that voice again, feel Evan's touch again. Like stealing another helicopter, or..

..crashing one?

"Try not to move, just breathe for me, o-okay?"

Nodding seems like a bad idea and requires too much energy anyway— and he's so very tired —so he settles for humming in the affirmative and focusing on the grounding, heavy warmth of Evan's hands on him.

Lucy groans off to his left, reminding Tommy he's not the only one who's fucked up right now. "..Luce?.."

"..Wha' h'appen'd?.."

Good question.

"Civilian drone," says Howie.

An attack? It's not unheard of, people tend to target police helicopters but from far away it's hard to tell what's LAFD unless you know.

"Dumbass was tryin' to get an aerial shot for his stupid ass zombie movie," says Hen, condescending as hell.

Tommy's missed her, too. And Howie. All of them. He misses Evan's people, his old friends, misses being in their orbit almost as much as he misses Evan.

"Oh m' god— w're gonn' be in a zombie movie, T'mmy!" Lucy snickers as Hen chides her to hold still.

A laugh bubbles out of him, ending on a groan as another flare of pain shoots through him like a lightning bolt. Evan's hands grip him tighter.

"Chim—"

"Buck, just keep him steady— Ravi, get in here with that saw—"

Through slitted eyes, Tommy glimpses a long, metallic shard protruding from his midsection. So that explains the pain. As Ravi takes the saw to the metal, Howie and Evan hold him down.

Just before he blacks out, Tommy could swear he feels lips press to his temple, firm and desperate.

+ + +

There's murmurs and hushed conversation, but it's Hen's voice saying, "He's stable," that are the first clear words Tommy hears as he gradually resurfaces from unconsciousness.

The pain has subsided to a dull ache. He's comfortable, horizontal, and there's the telltale sign of a heart monitor beeping quietly nearby.

He's in a hospital bed. His hand is clasped between two strong, warm hands. Familiar hands. Hands clutching at Tommy like his only tether to this world.

Hen's a great medic, Tommy trusts her assessment, so if Evan was worried about him slipping away it sounds like he doesn't need to anymore. Not that he deserves Evan's concern, but he could probably let go of Tommy's hand now.

Tommy doesn't want Evan to let go. He squeezes Evan's hand.

"'m not a fan of deathbed confessions, j'st for the record," he says, voice low and raw.

"You're not dying," three voices say at once. A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy's mouth. Howie and Hen sound a little exasperated, but fond. A hint of humour colors the latent urgency in Evan's voice.

Tommy blinks his eyes open to find Evan smiling, tentative and gorgeous, blue eyes big and red-rimmed, brow unfurrowing as tension sloughs from his shoulders on a sigh, his messy curls limned by the morning sun. Evan could put the brightness of the sun to shame even when he looks exhausted.

"m' sorry, 'bout us. I shouldn'.. shouldn'..ve.. left." His brain is still a little foggy, words coming a little slow, but he can't wait for it to catch up. He needs to say this now, needs Evan to know.

And he'd forgive Evan for asking: which time? because he'd deserve the jab for being a coward more than once, for not fighting for them.

"No— I'm sorry," Evan says instead. "I didn't mean to push you away, and I-I should've reached out sooner."

Why didn't you? Tommy doesn't say, because he's not sure he wants to know the answer. But he knows for certain that Evan has been grieving Bobby's death and so doesn't blame him for their lack of correspondance following the funeral. It's a two-way street, Tommy could have picked up the phone but he didn't. Maybe he was giving Evan space after everything or maybe he was using circumstance as a scapegoat so he could stay couched in his own fears.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Evan says, eyes shining, brow furrowed.

Tommy squeezes his hand again and manages a small, sad smile. "M' neither." He wants to pull Evan in, hold him close, beg for another chance, promise to never run away again. But he doesn't know if it's welcome, and he doesn't know if he can trust himself anyway. He'd want to, for Evan. He'd do his damndest to not screw this up a third time, to stay despite his fears.

Evan adjusts his grip, strokes a thumb reverently over the back of Tommy's hand. "I've missed you."

Tommy's heart flutters. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You were open and honest with me that night, and I-I should've said this then— I wanted to tell you, but I-I needed— and then I—" Evan shakes his head, clearing it to refocus. "In the helicopter, I decided. Afterwards, I was gonna ask if we could talk, but.."

Tommy squeezes his hand.

"Everything's been so messed up, Tommy," he starts again, "for so long—" He pauses to take a steadying breath, "I don't wanna lose you. I wanna fix this— us— because I miss you, and.. I love you." His hands cradle Tommy's. "I love you."

The second I love you — and Tommy's head spins at the words — seems to settle something in Evan. Tommy's heart is soaring. His eyes are welling up, voice cracking as he says, "Yeah?" lips twitching up.

Evan nods. "Yeah."

"Well, then.. y'should know I love you, too."

Evan breaks into a watery grin. "Yeah?"

Tommy blinks, a tear tracking down to his hairline as his own smile breaks free. "Yeah."

It's just the two of them, hand in hand and laying their hearts out on Tommy's hospital bed.

"Thought you weren't one for deathbed confessions," Howie chimes in.

Tommy totally forgot he was there. Hen tsks and half-heartedly whacks his shoulder as she and Evan both say, Evan chuckling now, "He's not dying."

Hen's eyes are glistening and she's trying to hold back a smile. Howie looks touched, too.

"Hey," Tommy tugs on Evan's hand. "What're y'doing Saturday?"

Evan laughs and ducks his head. "Uh. Today is Saturday."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And I, uh." Evan threads their fingers together. "I was hoping to spend the day with my boyfriend."

Tommy beams. "Lucky guy."

"Yeah, I am." Evan's smile turns soft and intimate.

Tommy adores him.

Buck blinks in surprise.

"D'I j'st say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh," Hen and Chim pipe up in unison, but Tommy only has eyes for Evan.

"S'true," he says, knowing he'll say the words again with intention and feel just as content in having them known.

"I'm kinda crazy about you. Hope that's okay?"

Tommy was lucky enough to glimpse a bit of Evan's crazy during their first try at this. The thought of being the focus of that intense emotional spectrum makes him giddy. "I like y'r crazy."

"You two are sickeningly adorable," says Howie.

Tommy lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "Wan' make out in front of th' peanut gall'ry?"

Evan laughs, the sun flaring above the city skyline behind him nothing compared to his light. "Yes, yes I do."

"So this is the thanks I get for saving your life, huh?" Howie balks.

"Ravi handled the saw with expert precision, I gotta say," Evan tells him.

"R'mind me t'.. send him.. muff'n bask't.." The exhaustion is creeping back in, trying to pull him under.

"Buck's got you covered on the baked goods front," Hen adds.

"..Hmh?" His eyelids are heavy as he blinks in slow motion, trying to focus as his brain slows down again, urging him to rest.

"Just, uh. Some of my crazy," Evan admits, a shy note in his voice.

"Hm.. g'd.." Tommy hums happily as his eyes lose the battle to stay open.

There's whispered voices around him as his breathing deepens and evens out.

"Call us if either of you need anything, Buck."

"I will. Thanks, guys."

There's footsteps and rustling. A dip in the bed and a warm solid presence at his hip. Evan takes the hand covering Tommy's to brush back some wayward curls from his forehead.

Evan likes his curls. He said it more than once, but it was his hands and even his eyes more than his words that clued Tommy in.

Plush, bitten lips press a lingering kiss to his brow, Evan's hand cradling Tommy's skull, thumb scritching against his scalp.

"Get some rest," Evan murmurs between them, the gentle pressure and comforting warmth of his forehead pressed to Tommy's.

I love you, Tommy thinks, and a warm puff of air ghosts over his lips.

There's a smile in Evan's voice when he says, "Love you, too."

Tommy surrenders to sleep, his last nebulous thought being that he can't wait to wake up to this.