#take my fuckin hand
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applesauce
#applesauce#dave#dave strider#div#stop sittin#ima start spittin#if ya dont start shttin#all u do is stand#take my fuckin hand
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The ages in this show!! I have made some jokes about this before, but it gets me - with aging Ciri up and bringing her closer to Jaskiers age when they meet I can not help but draw parallels. Like Geralt bonded way differently with both of them (which makes sense because Ciri has been his Child surprise since birth and Jaskier just randomly turned up one day and followed him like a puppy) but it's so funny to me. also I'm 100% sure Jaskier was horny as fuck from the beginning so there was a whole different vibe from the get go
#the witcher#the witcher netflix#jaskier#geraskier#geralt of rivia#yennefer of vengerberg#I wanted to draw Geralt being maximum tired by remembering that#and also#ALSO#one thing I still don't forgive them from S2! (or like one of many many things#it wasn't just Yennefer who changed Geralt#it was 100% Jaskier first#if Geralt had been in the 'butcher' mindset of 'I need nobody' when meeting Ciri#if he hadn't met Jaskier before and had been friends with him for TWENTY FUCKIN YEARS#if Jaskier hadn't worn him down a bit - make him less guarded and more open#Geralt meeting Ciri would not have gone as well as it did#It's my firm believe that Jaskier is Geralts first deep relationship outside of his brothers were he truly bonds and learns to trust again#you can take that from my cold dead hands#and not because Geralt is a loner who doesn't talk to people - we see he has a lot acquaintances#but nothing is ever permanent there#no one who stays#I want to draw something funny but in my mind!!#I want a fic were Ciri and Jaskier talk about this and Geralt acknowledges that too#also a fun version#ciri and jaskier shenanigans
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clean hands
#dishonored#ert#corvo attano#emily kaldwin#dishonored 2#finished the game last week as many of you mightve noticed with my cryposting about the game#finally got my clean hands achievement all while on the highest difficulty lets go#also this is a lie its a fuckin lie she stabbed at least 20 clockwork soldiers with that baby#never over how the sword is called pathmaker#anyways take this from me#comic#dh#someone give emily a hug now
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underrated doctor donna scene
#doctor who#donna noble#10th doctor#tenth doctor#catherine tate#david tennant#doctor donna#them: *makes it explicitly clear that it's not going to be a romantic relationship*#me: good cuz im not over rose and he isn't either#them: *does shit like this*#me: ..........FUCK#my favorite parts of this scene are#1) the TINIEST LITTLE ''really? :('' he does#2) the fucking EYE CONTACT#3) the ''laugh'' he does when he says ''so many places i wanted to take you'' is so fucking real. i felt that#4) the way he holds his face out of embarrassment at the end#mine#edit: how could i fuckin forget. the way he RUNS UP and GRABS HER HAND???????? LIKE A LIL KID
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had this thought rotating in my mind since arthur had to wear that Anti-Sun disguise. and well. now u see it too
#OH might aswell put this here too#this time CROPPED CORREECFTLLYYYYYYY#ANYWAy i have a whole doodlepage made up of just stupid fuckin arthur comics like this. i just really love him so so so much#HES SO TRAGIC AND SAD AND ROMANTIC but also hes ridiculous. hes so funny. ouh my god.#will today be a 'ramble abt arthur bennet' day. im not sure yet. if it is ill come back to these tags and gut myself#ALSO MY LAST POST STIll stands if u wander into my askbox w a jrwi series n a dream i may share w u a WIP ill never fucken poast#ooouuhooohhh i also take Gentle Requests w a firm NO PROMISES promise. u may influence my actions vaguely#and that is a DIVINE POWER IN YOUR HANDS BOOYYYYYY. TO CHANGE THE WORLD IN SUCH GRAND WAYS.#HAHA HEY IM BACK TO RAMBLE. just a little. anwyay remember when arthur was looking for a hat to wear and chose a cowboy hat#for some reason. hey remember when they were sayin somethin abt how a blood bond makes u think abt the bonder alot.#i had a point here but then my brain went 'the bonderrrrr' and now ive lost my trrain of thought. anyway i hope deacon and arthur f#ight again i hope they fight eachother again. and then mack on eachother crazy style. hey what was that thing deacon was hiding in th cabin#remember that guy he had locked up in there. the guy that said 'help me'. what was that about
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silly guyz
#its been a million years since ive drawn them. i like the trend ive been seeing of giving stan trey’s old bleached hair#and wanted to take a stab at it teeheeeeee#south park#south park style#sp style#stankyle#sp stanky#style sp#<- wtf tag are people even using these days#mine#based on an old matt n trey pic lmao#stan marsh#kyle broflovski#<- just realized i forgot to fuckin. tag them. god my brain is MUSh#btw if u manage to recognize my art style (heh style) power to ya but im gonna be keeping this sideblog p separate from my main#and in general dont expect uhhh a consistent art style. im maybe gonna post a handful of things but its gonna be doing some art style#expirementing rather than even trying to do consistent stuff. for funsies.#also fun fact:#ive been sitting on this url since leslie's full name was given back in what. 2015? jesus christ that was nearly a decade ago huh
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...so im writing up a little guide for how to learn to spin on a drop spindle, bc my friend wants to learn and physical distance means i can’t teach it in person -_-
my little guide has somehow already gone over 4000 words and has 5 mspaint diagrams, most of them quite detailed
#how does this ALWAYS happen ???#also unfortunately i am like. so fucking pressed for time rn and this is not a good use of my time#yet i am doing it instead of packing anyway bc its much more fun#man.....i bet writing a thesis on spinning would be fun#except for the bibliography xD#spinning#drop spindles#side note i love mspaint so fuckin much#being able to move thing around so easily.....my beloved#they look like shit though. i am embarrassed. i guess i should probably hand draw them and take pictures and paste that in
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fucking honestly~🎃
#i mean cmon#how can anyone NOT fall in love with that smile#it’s literally perfect#and his cute little curls#like#he’s the epitome of when writers describe wavy hair that curls up at the ends#i just wanna get my hands in his hair#just fucking play with it#give him head scritches#do cute shitty little braids in his hair just to take them back out#just fuckin#i wanna play with his hair man#frnkiebby#frank iero#mcr#frnkiero#mcrmy#frnkie#mcr5#my chemical romance#my chem#ilhsm
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hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.
in short, my writing comfort zone <3
~
The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.
“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”
“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”
“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”
Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.
“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”
“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”
Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”
It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe.
The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach.
“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”
“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad.
Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”
“Especially you.”
Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”
“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”
“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.”
Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”
“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed.
That’s not.
That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”
Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what.
Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good.
Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”
Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”
“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”
“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”
“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”
“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”
From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”
“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.
Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?
He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting.
Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation?
Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind.
Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”
“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”
Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes.
The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.
For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left.
He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.
Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense.
Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-
His phone is ringing.
Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-
“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.
“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”
Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler.
“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”
All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.
“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”
Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”
“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.
“B. Beagle, yeah.”
The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.
“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it.
“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”
Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.”
Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.
“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs.
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”
It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot.
The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.
“Are you sure-”
“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.
Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on.
Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway.
“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan.
Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands.
It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”
Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.
“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “
Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-
When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer.
“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”
Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”
“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”
“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.
Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”
Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”
He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”
Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.
Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.
Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal.
Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.
Wally flatlining on a metal table.
Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-
“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway.
Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier.
Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors.
Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare.
That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.
Looks like he doesn’t have a choice.
Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”
“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”
They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones.
Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness.
“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road.
A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting.
The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace.
Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.
[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]
It’s bad.
The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman.
Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.
“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”
Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own.
When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him.
If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it.
For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things.
At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?
Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning.
Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…
What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors?
That he didn’t make it?
The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.
“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”
The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without.
“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”
Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”
“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties.
“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”
“He’ll make it?”
Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”
Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand.
“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks.
“I’m not sure-”
“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.”
Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”
Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.
“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.
Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”
Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time.
“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”
“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”
“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”
Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?
In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves.
“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”
What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet.
Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.
One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time.
Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.
Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.
We’re doing our best.
“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”
Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on.
The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time.
“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”
Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.
“How can I help?” he asks instead.
“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes.
“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”
It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.
“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”
He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-
“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts.
Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”
It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing.
Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.
“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”
It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there.
“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”
Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again.
A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.
Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained.
They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-
Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.
#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT#except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages!#ohhhh this was so cozy to write#i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk#its been too fluffy in here.#this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction#WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY#i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!!#this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing#my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on....#but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3#bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other#snippets from the bog#i will repeat what i have said multiple times before#i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character#i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have#but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam#and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3
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smiling serenely as i plan the design and UI elements of a personal interactive website while only thinking of how it operates and looks when navigated and presented on a PC/laptop browsers, and if how i like it on PC/laptop browsers manifests as a total mess on mobile, then it's a total mess on mobile and i do not care, for so many reasons,
the spectrum of which ranges from "4D chess moves in my mind, don't ask, we'll get there, in the meantime, i'm an enigma" to "abstract principles about the nature of medium, and navigation both mechanical and psychological in mediums, especially in this hyperconsumptive Content™ *gag noise* Era" to
" s p i t e "
with oh so many secret spicy skittles in between
#sporadic warbling#something something mmmm nice big chonky Buttons that open a menu when you click and close it when you click it again#not one fuckin vague nebulous hovery drop down that blinks out of existence if mouse doesnt stay in a narrow invisible boundary in sight#like its a game of Operation just to use the fucking thing; the nemesis of my hand tremors#if i get really spicy i want multiple skins for the layout reflecting characters or environments in-universe#fun shit like that#i have to take us back this internet is a disaster#[to the tune of Wannabe] if you wanna get with my wo-ork; ya gotta (literally) sit your ass doooown~
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SHUT THE FUCK UP
#britcedes#lewis hamilton#george russell#gewis#4463#I’m going to talk about lewis’ hands cradling his back till I fuckin die#the way he wraps george up entirely in his arms before he even takes his helmet off#George comes first#FUCK MAN#IM SUPPOSED TO JUST GO ON WITH MY DAY
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I wanted to draw my own take on ART-as-a-presence-in-the-feed but struggled with what path to take for A While bc all I had was that I was adamant about a winding, serpentine body, too large to take in at once and So Good at piling upon your shoulders with weight that's either overwhelming or comforting, take your pick
And then I brought in the hexagons and everything just worked
(They let me give it a face without an actual face, make for a good shorthand to show that it's talking/present in potential future art, and as a bonus serve as an homage to JWST bc hey, science!)
Partially brought to you by a whole lot of listening to Satellite by Starset
#ive hit the 'i just wanna stop looking at it' phase tho so here. take it#digital art#fanart#murderbot#the murderbot diaries#asshole research transport#character design#somehow this is what taught me how to make custom brushes in krita (it was for the face hexagons)#okay i am fuckin Tired but im still reeling from Network Effect and i care these two dipshits so much#i picked orange for ART to contrast Murderbots blue#but unfortunately also bc its been stuck in my brain as orange-aligned from the moment it appeared#bc my first impression was 'oh youre like simaris but not fuckin infuriating'#which is a Very unfair comparison btw bc i cant fuckin stand simaris but i love ART dearly#also a million other reasons but yeah. sorry bud you got assigned orange at introduction#at some point during the desing process it also had a whole bunch of hands since its controlling so many things at once with ease#but i had no way to make that look good and keep with the original vision of 'annoying long weighted blanket'
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Cheaply Starting Seeds
This is my fourth post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps!
Having a high-quality seed-starting setup can feel like an ultimate but distant dream. An entire shelf--an entire room, even, filled with grow lights and plant trays in the optimal setup to make tons of plants? Tons of garden tools, each with a diverse and dedicated purpose? That’s just not an option for some of us. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get started at a low cost!
Seed Starting Set-Ups
Speaking from a somewhat biased Floridian perspective, I’ve had great success starting seeds outside! My usual set-up is on a rarely-used outdoor patio table that’s moved to a sunny spot in the yard, but I’ve even grown seeds in solo cups on sidewalks, or directly in the ground, with great results!
Some seeds grow best when they go through a cold period before germinating, while other seeds aren’t affected much by it and just wait for warm weather. As such, a viable option is to sow your seeds in late fall, let winter roll by, and wait until the seeds sprout on their own come spring! I would try and mark off where you planted said seeds, so you don’t lose track of them and accidentally dig them up.
Alternatively, if you want to get started while it's cold outside, a popular option I've seen is to grow in milk jugs! There's a lot of different ways to do it--everyone has their preference--but if you're already drinking things like milk or juice or sweet tea, and you're going to get jugs at some point in time--why not use them for gardening?
An easy way to clear up a section of lawn to create open gardening space is by using a sheet mulching or lasagna gardening method (though I like to call it the Cardboard Snuff-Out). Place cardboard or newspaper down in fall/winter to mark out where you want to garden. Layer compostable materials like grass clippings and wood chips on top of it, or potting soil/bagged compost. It’ll decompose over Winter into an organically rich bed that’ll have killed the grass and weeds underneath it. You don’t have to break out any tools and sweat over it come spring, and the cardboard itself will slowly decompose as well!
Though it's often recommended to plant things directly into the ground to decrease watering needs and increase nutritional independence, there’s plenty of reasons you may not be able to. Whether you’re renting, living in a place without a yard, or even just can’t or don’t want to break ground in a yard, you can still help biodiversity by growing in pots. Some plants have rather extensive root systems and aren’t well suited for pots, but there are still plenty of options available for plants that’ll boost biodiversity, be beautiful to look at, and grow just fine in pots! A recommendation is to get a larger pot, if you’re able, as it’ll hold onto more water and need watering less often. Not only are potted plants great for providing food for insects, but they can be shelter for other creatures too--there’s been a good few times I’ve moved a pot and found a frog or toad living underneath it.
If you don’t have room for pots on the ground, you could consider using hanging pots or window boxes! These can be great and easily-maintained options to provide food and habitat for insects and birds in an urban living situation like apartments or townhouses, but they can also be a fun way to add even more habitat to an already-robust home garden. You can even make an entire mini habitat in a window box or pot! I can personally say I’ve seen tons of pollinators visit my yearly hanging basket garden that consists of about five to seven plants, and I’ve always loved the idea of having a window box for blooms right out my window. Just make sure that it’s safe--make sure they’re securely fixed, and that whatever they’re hanging from can handle their weight when they’re freshly watered and loaded with plants.
If you want to start indoors, you don’t necessarily need grow lights or heat mats (though it will make things a bit easier.) I’ve successfully grown milkweed, peppers, tomatoes, zucchinis, and even sprouted lemon seeds in college dorm rooms, and kept tomato and pepper plants in a dorm room on a sunny windowsill. For the most part, you need a nice and sunny window, some kind of container, and a source of heat (in my case, I used anything from a space heater to the warmth of my laptop running nearby. If you don’t have any sunny windows, or enough windowsill space to start plants on, its possible to obtain cheaper grow lights. One year, my mom bought me some gooseneck grow lights that could clip onto things for cheap off of Amazon. (Fair warning, though, they did light up my entire room in purple. I lived alone that year (covid year, my roomies bailed), so it was fine, but it was kind of trippy,)
Another year, when I was in an apartment on my own, I bought a grow light modeled like a normal light bulb from the lightbulb aisle in Lowe’s and put it in my desk lamp. Growing seeds indoors can make them grow fast and leggy, so it’ll help if you can keep a desk fan on them so they focus on growing strong instead of tall and fast.
If you’re fortunate enough to have a friend with a nice set up, you could see if they’re willing to let you borrow some of their space to start your own plants as well! My set-up in college was by no means High Class, but I was still more than willing to start seeds for my friends who asked!
Containers for Seed Starting
So now that we’ve talked starting seeds indoors and out, we need to address what to start them in. It’s important that whatever you’re using has drainage holes, and be large enough to support your plant (starting something like milkweed or a squash in a tiny little pot won’t yield great results). Fortunately, there are options here!
If you’re looking to buy pots, Dollar Tree will sell some small plastic pots for cheap in the spring! They’re kind of thin, and won’t last forever, but they’re great for a few uses and don’t cost a lot of money. Something that’s a bit more pricey but are longer-lasting, in my experience, are the Burpee SuperSeed trays. They come in different sizes, but I’m fond of the 16-cell trays--they have silicone bottoms and are made of a nice solid plastic with a tray to hold water, so they hold up for a long time and are easy to clean and reuse!
Burpee seed tray, my beloved.
What’s better than a cheap pot? Free ones, and there’s plenty of options there! I’ve seen people use toilet paper or paper towel rolls as pots by folding the bottoms in and have it work well for them! I think this method would work best if you had some kind of tray to keep them moist, because mine dried out fast last time I tried this method. I’ve also seen people make pots out of newspaper with a few different methods, and the people who use this method love it--apparently, the roots pass through the paper easier and it decomposes faster when buried, so you can just transplant the whole pot and avoid any kind of transplanting shock. If you don’t have any newspaper on hand, you can likely ask your friends or neighbors!
I’ve gotten lots of mileage from reusing old containers by poking a few holes in the bottom with knives or scissors--just be careful while you’re doing it! I, personally, am more likely to use an already-used solo cup for it--they’re a nice size, so they hold a good amount of soil and moisture and give the seedling a good amount of root space. I tend to write the plant information on the side of the cup in sharpie marker, or on an index card in pen. I’ve also heard of people making use of egg cartons, fruit containers, yogurt cups, milk cartons, soda bottles--the more you start thinking about what you could easily poke a hole in, the more options start coming around!
This photo may be from 2018, but I'll still regularly reuse cups like this! They're also great for cuttings!
As you start planning to move your seedlings into the ground and preparing planting sites, you’ll likely need a few tools to do it! How do you get these? You may be able to borrow some tools from a neighbor! As long as you make sure to return them in good condition, depending on how friendly your neighbors are, they might be totally fine with you borrowing their tools for awhile. If you don’t want to take that route, there may be a tool library you can borrow from, or a mutual aid group that can loan you tools for awhile. Either way, borrowing tools is cheaper than buying them--though, if you do have to buy tools, cheap hand-tools from Walmart or the dollar store work just fine. They’ll even last a good while if they’re taken care of when not in use! I've even seen places like Ross sell some tools and pots in spring!
Spotted in a Walmart gardening section by the registers, 2023.
Of course, your mileage may vary with these. I genuinely cannot think of the last time my house got a newspaper, and as I've mentioned I don't have to worry about snow. Similarly, maybe you don't use plastic cups when you can help it, or don't have a particular affinity for eggs and yogurt. Maybe there isn't a tool library in your area--I sure don't know if there is in mine--but it could still be worth poking around and asking a neighbor!
That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to support your plants for cheap--we're gonna be talking compost, mulch, and trellises. Until then, I hope this advice was helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, your success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!
#biodiversity#solarpunk#gardening#outdoor gardening#growing from seed#budget gardening#cheap gardening#indoor gardening#ani rambles#out of queue#the biodiversity saga#I can make a post later about how I prepare solo cups for being used as pots if yall want#I've found its safest to just use a nice pair of scissors and keep the cup upside-down on the table while I cut into the bottom#and when i say 'take care of the tools when not in use' i mean 'dont be me and leave a cheap shovel from dollar tree out in the rain'#it had a wooden handle and it basically just like. rotted. fell apart in my hand when I picked it up#generally keeping tools in the garage will also help them not rust as fast too#but if you're gonna leave them outside at least put them in shade#the number of times i have lost feeling in my hands because i picked up a hoe that was laying in the sun and fuckin SCALED my palms#its not fun. dont do it. maybe its a Floridian problem but still#if you read all these tags. uh. shovel emoji. idk. sorry dude.
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Huevember Day 4 (a week late but i wont tattle if you dont...)
No I will literally NEVER shut up about these twins and how they were given one of the most horrific backstories in the entire show and it just. NEVER GETS ADDRESSED. Dang. TFA really has the best fridge horror <3
#my art#huevember#maccadam#tfa#huevember day 4#huevember 2023#jettwins#jetfire#tfa jetfire#fire tw#explosion tw#i- i actually REALLY like how this came out holy heck#i wouldve included jetstorm but he wouldve looked a bit weird being in the orange hue#accidentally put my headmate through a bit of a bad time while making this bUT HES OKAY NOW SORRY J ILY#Youre gonna take this goddamn glow pen out of my cold dead hands i love glow effects SO fuckin much#and hey just beat my 2020 record of only doing 3 huevembers!!#srsly tho 'Find me someone expendable' is deadass a canon line said by ULTRA MAGNUS what the FUCK#love when the autobots arent always 100% good like they do war crimes too damn
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twitter won't get this but i know y'all will
the felis erasure in regards to the concept arts is criminal how dare you
#fu hua#pardofelis#hi3#honkai impact#concept art#IF I SPEAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMFG.#fuki this fuki that#ohh kiana skin has cat ears don't they match??#SHUT UP AHHH!!!! like ok yeag i get it#felis was the first kitty and hua's partner back in the moths era the straight up friendship erasure hurts my soul#lowkey personal cause omgggg i been GOIN thru shit lol#just let me have this one please#my dumb fuckin ass is crying at 6:30 AM over bad tasting toast and these 2 not getting the smidge of recognition they deserve#its whatever i know they are holding hands i know the truth#manifesting either another felis suit OR.#them taking this concept for hua and transferring it to Senti one way or another. kitty / wolf senti idk...#sentifelis will be real one way or another smh#the tags with 'fuki' in it better not show up in the main tag or ill bite someone cause this aint shade on them#but feel free to throw twitter under the bus for it however
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the deweys photos are from this video: https://youtu.be/5xTwJho44ao?si=bPw8MZZ327lCogVZ aren’t they just everything
kissing you and the minnesota wild official media team (with consent) full on the mouth, THANK YOU THIS VIDEO IS EVERYTHING 🥰🥰 i have seen pieces of it before i think (connor petting a shark 🥹) but the entire video start to finish is such a delight, 10/10 would recommend
#i’m so glad i saw this now and not when i was deranged at 2AM last night (i say as if i am not currently deranged)#like i had to physically pause. stop watching the video. to take notes to tell you guys about it i hope you know#holyjost thank u i love u i appreciate u & how u always have the sources 😭#i send out a prayer to the universe (put shit in the tags) & u provide#liv in the replies#holyjost#i love this reaction image btw it is one of my FAVORITES#anyway i was just chilling and then lost it at the ‘brandon just says shit’ part and had to start writing down notes (as follows)#there is SO much. the lore. the fact that brandon lasts two seconds before his shirt comes off everyone else is so bundled#dewey2 immediate “sharks” girl help the two of them on the bean bag together#the boat competition BOLDY’S CONTRACT??? yeah i AM thinking about that in a weird way what kind of contract brandon#also boldy motion sickness girlie he’s so real for that one 😭😭#and brandon talking a big game and then like fuckin. curled into a ball on the beanbag passed out bro i cannot.#LD BONITA? LD BONITA FISH??? So excitedly???? my GOD.#LEAVE THAT POOR FISH ALONE!!!!#oh the shark lore 🥺 dewey baby let me take you to this fantastic thing called an aquarium.#you can pet sharks there!!! i can’t even. i know i’ve seen it and had a breakdown about it before but connor’s hand when he pets the shark#the absolute joy oh my god. connor PLEASE ik u want to touch all the fish… we have sturgeon & sting rays & jellies#brandon praising connor’s attitude 🫡 he is so goal oriented they said the goal is a vibe check and connor studied.#also. save me hot brothers save me#what the fuck is this yeti cup ritual give me a cult au NOW wkdndiwkdi they’re such freaks. i love it. also just drink it bro#VLADDY MENTION THAT’S MY BOY HI BEAUTIFULLLLL#OH THIS WAS THE MIDDSY FIGHT???#awww Freddy (who i never think is a forward??)#connor dewar#brandon duhaime#minnesota wild#for reference!
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