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Prosthetic leg massage

finnigankale​:

Well. She certainly had a charming personality.

“And scuffle over the good stuff? What ever happened to a little honor among thieves? First come? First serve? …No?” When she showed no signs of acknowledging the childish rule, Kale huffed and looked around the wreckage. “ ‘Kay. Halfsies it is. You wanna split it top-bottom or back-front?” 

“Who’s a thief?” Well: Her, clear-and-obviously, and him too, but neither of that wasto stop her from playacting some dignity. “No laws ’gainst making good use of whatsists left all’to waste anyhow.” Whole bully playbooks and reams of laws, morelike.

But she let go of a little-a the stress in her stance anyhow, on account of how no strongarm worth his weight would give her neither first serve or halfsies either. Might be this kid wasn’t a threat, a’least.

Gag-Arm gave him an abrupt catmoon like the sucker-up she was, all pie-eyes and smallness. “I o’nt need much, so I’ll be peaceable an’ give ya two-thirds of the lot if y’let me take up front!”

It was a back-hold type, anyway, all the gudge goodies in the back and the carryables and smallsie engine bits she could make any use of ’round the front by the pilot’s seats. All good and fair, huh? Nothin’ to pick a fight over?

       Show me my silver lining                       —  I try to keep on 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛.

skymade​:

   “What if I wanna one-chump it?” She’s opening her maw wide, again, now hooking a finger on one side. C’mon, she can totally get it in… totally, right?

   “Aah oong–” Releases her mouth, wipes her thumb off on her pants, and tries again. “I don’t have a – a cutty-thingie. Y’know? I mean. Sometimes I just use a sharp, like. Corner or something, if I gotta cut something off, but… That’ll probably just…” She mimes squishing the cake, with a hand come hard above it, stopping just before it meets frosting.

Clock’s still tickin’ by, and Gag-Arm’s gathering flies, saucery-round eyes fixated on Willow’s mouth where she’d had her finger in it. “Wh—...” Her face turns a great old cherry-light carmine as her brain turns itself back into working order and she realizes what a zooker she must looklike.

“No reason not’t squash it, I guess,” she mumbles, fumbling likewise in her bindle for the little knife what should be in it. “But y’can use this. Instead. ’F you figure y’don’t wanna waste all the elbow grease I put int’ that frosty.”

misstheground​:

Sometimes, Shoya wondered if the pair of them even spoke the same language at all. She tried to be respectful of other dialects and ways of speaking, but… sometimes trying to parse together Gag-Arm’s speech felt like flying against the wind currents.

“Unfortunately, your concern is my concern,” Shoya explained. “The nearest station is not a station you want to be stuck at without transportation. Unless you want to be stranded there with a group of thugs, I would recommend staying with me.” She sighed. She didn’t like Gag-Arm, not exactly, but she didn’t dislike her enough to subject her to that.

Well, that stopped her up real short.

When was the last time her concern had been somebody’s else’s? Asides from the vague sucky of the floatin’ fraternity. ( Rhetorical ask: She knew god-damned well who was the last person who’d thought she was worth their spit. Diuneilomo, she missed Danny like a hole in her—)

“D’you mean’t’say you’d worry about li’l ole meeee?” she crowed instead of following along after that thought, hands leaping up to cup her cheeks like an excited dolly. “Awwww, Shaya! An’ all this time I reckoned you didn’ care!”

doll of the mun, doll of the muse

stolen from / tagged by: @ltbroccoli & @skymade

tagging: you

My first altar was the night sky—wide and mine and still it belonged to no one at all.

Desireé Dallagiacomo, "My First Altar" (via buttonpoetry)

skymade‌ :

   “Yeah.” A code does mean something. Or it’s supposed to, anyway. Codes can still be broken.

   Promises can still be broken.

   Anything in this realm – of the living and breathing and shit – can and will be broken, and, y’know, she’s not too sure how she feels about all of that. Not great. But not like she can do anything to change it, either. 

   “Oh. Mitt. Okay. But no. It’s – Gag-Arm.” The words mean something that doesn’t quite make sense, but isn’t that all names? Isn’t that just the way they fucking go? “Gag-Arm. Gag-Arm. Wow! I got it first try! Are you proud of me? You totally should be proud of me. That’s usually, like, last try stuff, y’know? Super last, bottom try.” 

“Gag-Arm,” she says back again and gives her head a bob, t’show they have the works. “It ain’t true,” —waggles her fingers, snickering through her nose,— “but it’s funny, hey?”

Funny largely on account a’ the leg, which Willow won’t be able’t make sight of under her snapper shroud, she reconnoiters anomolater. Ah well.

“Works out there’s a certain kind’a style in only learnin’ names when you’re on  guh-bye.” That makes her laugh, too. Can’t say how serious Willow is or ain’t, like whether she’s joshin’ on her, but mightbe it doesn’t matter.

“So, you been...”  ( It takes her a mo to work out how to say it clear, but she hits on a word she figures lilac will get the measure of: )  “ free  f’r long, then, Willow?”

Chop and Change - The Black Keys

misstheground‌ :

Shoya simply grumbled back for a moment, forcing out some mocking noises in an imitation of Gag-Arm’s tone, then finally, “Fiiiiiiiiine.” She did her best to hold still, though she still had a death grip on the other’s shirt. (There weren’t many people she trusted to carry her. Gag-Arm was decidedly not one of them.)

“I might throw up on you. Especially if you are not gentle,” she warned.

“An’ you won’t be the fifth-worse thing to git grody on me today,” she answered, smirking around the little corners of her mouth, smug like that was a badge-of-honor. ( Or mightbe there was a chance she was glad not to have’t sit on and useless about while Shoya went an’ ... kissed off.

Not as though they were chummy, or any’it, not friends, but like she had enough holes already in her life where people used-t’-be —

Like if she was gonna be anything but bottle right now, she hadda slam  t h a t  barrel’a thoughts closed. )

"’S plain-eyed insultin’ you think I cain’t carry some’n as light as you ‘gentle.’” Her stomach still felt heavy but she forced her face to lighten up and grin again.

“Not half far, any’ow. What’ve you got f’r a meddy kitch?”

        We are the reckless.                 We are the ᴡɪʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ.

    Chasing 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 of our futures,                       One day we’ll 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 the truth.

           (  That one will die before he 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.  )

Everyday is leg day when you’re running from your problems

Thinking with my mind… I don’t do that a lot.

[Image description: in the center of the image, there is large hand-lettered text “All bodies and assistive devices are normal.” Around the text are several stick figures with different body configurations and mobility aids. In each case, the stick figure is in blue, while assistive devices are shown in red. Approximately clockwise from the upper right-hand corner, we have: stick finger on a mobility scooter stick figure sitting upright in a power wheelchair stick figure with a long cane stick figure with a prosthetic leg stick figure with only one arm stick figure with a prosthetic arm stick figure with a walking cane stick figure lying on a wheeled bed stick figure reclining in a power wheelchair with headrest stick figure sitting upright in a manual wheelchair stick figure with two prosthetic arms stick figure with only one leg and a pair of crutches stick figure with a walker stick figure sitting upright in power wheelchair with headrest stick figure with to walking canes typical stick figure with no visible disability. (This is the end of image description.)]

I’ve been experimenting a little with acrylic paints, as brushes seem to be way easier for me to use than pens or pencils, pain wise. Unfortunately, I’m also not very good at controlling where the paint goes. So let’s just say that there is a reason these are stick figures, and that you should be kind when critiquing my depiction of the disabilities and assistive technology in this image.

  i got no roots ,   i got no roots ,   my  h o m e  was

never  on the  g r o u n d .

listen on spotify

Now that she had nothing to lose, she was free.

Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes (via goodreadss)

moodboard meme (accepting!) // I’d love to see Shoya and Gag-Arm tbh, for @misstheground

That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest.

Henry David Thoreau (via gnngoodquotes)

Drops of Jupiter by Train but it’s playing over the blown-out intercom on a space station