just passed 50k hits on lonely lavender bones which is completely insane to me.
genuinely so grateful for everyone who's ever said anything nice about it. especially a huge thank you to @gohandinhand and @a-contentious-ev-scenario (who both also have fics! go read them!) bc i genuinely would not have finished it if i didn't have them helping me the whole time, and even if i did it wouldn't be half as good
have the first few lines of my new wip in celebration!
Also, the amount of inspiration I got from 5 sentences is criminal
I tried a new way of shading and greatly dislike it but I am my worst critic so ヽ(ヅ)ノ
Adding the original sketch because the Mira in the top left might be one of my favorite little doodles and I figure if I’m amused maybe someone else will be too.
“That was pretty good,” Mira says, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Zoey glances over, startled enough that she almost misses the compliment. She pushes herself upright, dragging the back of her wrist across her damp forehead. Sweat clings to the fine hairs at her temples, stinging her eyes.
“Thanks,” she mutters.
She drifts back to her spot at the back of the court, forcing her legs to cooperate. Her thighs tremble with every step. Her calves burn, tight enough to snap. A dull ache has settled deep in her shoulders, and the pulse pounding behind her eyes makes the fluorescent lights smear at the edges until the whole gym seems to sway with her heartbeat.
She swallows. “Again?”
For a long moment, Mira doesn't answer. She just looks at her. Then her gaze lifts. Zoey doesn't have to follow it to know she's checking the clock. She doesn't have to glance through the high windows to know the warm gold spilling across the polished floor has deepened into the amber light of sunset. Their quick twenty-minute practice had quietly unraveled into two hours.
“Are you sure?” Mira asks.
Zoey draws in a careful breath that catches somewhere in her lungs. “One more,” she says, attempting a smile. “I promise.”
Mira's eyebrows pinch together, concern slipping through the easy confidence she usually wears.
“I promise,” Zoey repeats.
A sigh escapes Mira. It’s not impatient, just resigned. She bends to retrieve the ball, her fingers brushing over the polished wood before she straightens and walks back into position.
“Okay,” she says. “Last one.”
She spins the ball once against her palm. “Remember, you have to—”
“Kick off the floor,” Zoey finishes automatically. “Yeah.”
Mira studies her for a beat longer than necessary. There's something in her expression — hesitation, maybe worry, maybe the feeling that she's about to say something she isn't sure Zoey wants to hear.
Zoey looks away first.
Some things are easier not to understand.
Mira sends the ball toward her. Zoey receives it against her platform, the impact rattling through tired arms as it’s passed back. The familiar rhythm settles over them without another word. Mira steps beneath the ball, feet planting, knees soft, hands raised. Ready.
Zoey inhales and starts her approach. One step. Two. Three. The squeak of her shoes skids across the polished floors as the court rushes beneath her feet. Her pulse drums in her ears, blurring everything except the spinning ball hanging above Mira's head.
It drops. Mira meets it cleanly, fingertips cushioning it for the briefest heartbeat before sending it soaring upward in an arc.
Zoey is already by the net. Her arms draws back. Her body coils. Jump.
The instant she drives off the floor, something gives.
Not a tear. Not a snap.
Just... nothing left.
It feels as though someone has reached inside her leg and pulled the wires loose. A violent cramp seizes her ankle, surges up her calf, then rips through her thigh in a wave of white-hot agony so fierce it steals the air from her lungs.
The ball sails overhead.
Zoey crumples before she ever reaches it, crashing onto the hardwood with a sharp cry. The impact jars through her hip and shoulder, but it's barely a whisper beneath the fire flooding her leg.
It won't stop.
Every tiny movement makes it seize harder.
She curls instinctively, dragging her knee toward her chest with shaking hands as another spasm wrings through the muscles, forcing a string of ragged curses through clenched teeth.
Somewhere nearby, shoes slap against the floor. “Zoey!”
Mira drops beside her so fast her knees crack against the floorboards. Her hands hover helplessly over Zoey's leg, her shoulder, her arm — wanting to help but afraid to touch. “Are you okay? What happened?!”
Zoey can't answer. She squeezes her eyes shut and rolls onto her side instead, trying to breathe through it.
In.
Out.
The breaths come shallow, stuttering, each one snagging on the next spasm before she can fill her lungs.
“What’s wrong? What do I—“
“Shut up!” The words explode out of Zoey before she can catch them, sharp enough to cut.
Silence.
If the pain weren't swallowing every scrap of her attention, she'd probably regret it the moment it left her mouth. Instead, she only hears Mira stop breathing for a second. The hovering warmth disappears. A moment later comes the quiet scrape of sneakers against the floor as Mira stands. Zoey keeps her face buried against the court.
Distantly, she wonders if Mira has walked away. If this is finally the point where she's had enough.
The pain doesn't disappear. It simply loosens its grip. The sharp, blinding agony ebbs into a heavy throb that settles deep beneath the muscle, quiet until she so much as twitches her foot. Every movement threatens to wake it again. It’s still enough for the rest of the world to filter back in. The buzz of the fluorescent lights. The faint echo of a basketball bouncing somewhere in another court. The smell of varnished wood and sweat. Her own breathing, no longer frantic.
Zoey lets her hands fall away from her leg. She braces a palm against the floor and tries to sit up. A hiss escapes through her teeth as pain shoots through her again. Before she can lose her balance, something firm meets her back.
She stills. Then, cautiously, she lets herself lean into it. When she tilts her head, Mira is standing directly behind her, legs planted on either side of Zoey's shoulders, letting her use them as a backrest without a word.
In one hand she holds a water bottle. In the other, two blister packs and a protein bar.
She gives the bottle a small shake in front of Zoey's face. An unspoken instruction. Zoey reaches for it, but even that feels strangely difficult. Her arm moves through syrup, every muscle weighed down by exhaustion. The bottle nearly slips from her fingers before she gets a proper grip on it.
“Electrolytes,” Mira says. She waits until she's sure Zoey has it before placing the rest into her lap. “Magnesium. Food. Painkillers.” A pause. “Not all at once.”
A tired smile tugs at Zoey's mouth. “Thanks, nurse.” It earns her nothing. Not even the ghost of a smile.
The bottle is cool against her lips. She takes a slow drink, it’s sweet. When she lowers it again, the room tilts just enough to make her stomach dip. Whether the dizziness comes from the pain or the sheer exhaustion, she can't tell anymore. She sinks back against Mira's legs. They don't move.
“Sorry I snapped at you.”
Behind her, Mira only hums. The quiet sound lands heavier than any lecture could have.
Zoey squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m really s—“
“Once is enough, Zoey.” Mira's voice isn't cold, exactly. If anything, it's level, every emotion pressed flat beneath careful control.
Zoey swallows. “Right.” The apology should shrivel before it reaches her lips. “Sorry,” she murmurs anyway.
A shiver slips through her, sudden enough to make her shoulders tense. She barely has time to register the chill before something warm settles over them. Mira's jacket. The fabric still carries the lingering warmth of her body. Zoey's fingers curl instinctively around the sleeves. The knot in her chest tightens. Guilt winds itself around her throat, slow and inexorable, until every breath feels just a little smaller than the last.
Mira breaks the silence. “I asked you—“
“I know.”
“Seven times—“
“I know.” The words come smaller now. “I'm sor—“ Zoey bites the apology off before it can fully escape. She shakes her head instead, peeling back the wrapper of the protein bar with clumsy fingers. “It didn't feel that bad.”
Silence. Again.
She doesn't have to look to know Mira is staring at her. She can feel it, sharp and unwavering, settling between her shoulder blades. She doesn’t want to meet eyes. Doesn’t want to see how they look at her.
Zoey takes another drink instead, buying herself a few more seconds.
“I thought we agreed,” Mira says at last, her voice calm in that way that somehow feels worse than anger, “that you'd tell me if it started hurting.”
Zoey lets out a quiet breath through her nose. “I always hurt.” The words are matter-of-fact. Not defensive. Just true. “You know that.”
A beat passes.
“Zoey...” The click of Mira's tongue fills the gym. Exasperation. Or maybe disbelief. Probably both.
Another apology rises instinctively to the back of Zoey's throat. She swallows it down. “Can we go?” she asks instead.
A pause.
Then, “can you walk?”
“I think so.” She plants a hand against the floor and shifts her weight beneath herself. For a fraction of a second, it works. Then her leg buckles. The strength disappears so suddenly it’s as though something scooped her bones hollow that instant. The room lurches sideways.
She barely has time to think oh before the floor rushes toward her.
Mira catches her. One hand around her forearm. The other steady against her side. She eases Zoey back down before she can hit the hardwood.
Embarrassment burns hotter than the ache in her leg.
“Give me...” Zoey huffs out a breath that almost becomes a laugh. “Like twenty minutes.” The joke dies the moment it leaves her mouth.
Mira only sighs.
She doesn't say I told you so.
She doesn't say stop pushing yourself.
She doesn't say anything at all.
She simply stays. Zoey knows Mira could carry her to the car without breaking a sweat. Zoey knows she would too. They've already had that argument.
Instead, they stay where they are, side by side on the empty court while the evening settles beyond the windows. Until the bottle is empty. Until the wrapper of the protein bar lies folded neatly beside it.
Until the magnesium is gone. Then the painkillers. Until feeling begins to return to muscles that had forgotten how to hold her upright.
Even then, calling it ‘walking’ is generous. She leans into Mira with every uneven step, letting her shoulder take just enough of the weight to make the journey across the gym manageable. Neither of them speaks. The drive is quieter still. The engine hums softly beneath them, broken only by the rhythmic sweep of the indicators and the occasional hiss of tires over the road.
Apologies gather behind Zoey's teeth. One after another. She swallows every single one.
When they reach her house, Mira parks at the curb. “Get some rest,” she says. Just four words. Measured get gentle.
Zoey nods. When she sees Mira’s eyes flick between herself and the front door, she adds, “I can make it.”
Mira looks unconvinced.
“I can.” Another beat passes before Mira relents. She lifts her hands up in defeat and settles into her seat. She waits as Zoey limps up the short path, one careful step after another, refusing to look back until she reaches the front door. The key catches once before sliding into the lock. She pushes the door open and finally turns.
Mira is still there.
Zoey lifts a hand in wave. Mira returns the gesture. And then she’s driving off.
Only when the door clicks shut behind her does Zoey realize how unbearably quiet the house is. She’s alone.
Been a minute since I’ve done a fic rec, but fear not, I shall rectify this!
Okay, I put way more effort into the background than I usually do. So, um, you should appreciate that. 🙂↕️
Go read Table For Two With Room For Three by remote_ghost!
Rumi’s autistic, oblivious, and loves plants. Zoey and Mira are in an established relationship, they like Rumi but are also socially inept (they make silly assumptions). What follows is greatness and you should go read it!
So, my service dog is convinced that he’s human. I mean, I don’t really mind, he does his job very well. However, he seems to think that he’s not only human but also regal and composed. He’s not. He looks like an adorable idiotic baby. Anyways, this is what he thinks he looks like versus what he actually does.
The brain demons are rude. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Okay, I’m done now. At least until the next time I see one of Yannie’s posts and inevitably get sucked in. (You should go read Yannie’s stories. Do it. Do it now if you haven’t already.)
Been a minute since I’ve drawn any nature, it was really my thing in high school so I tried to mimic the art style I had when I was a teenager. It was a beautiful morning (crew) row on the lake today and I got inspired.
I used to draw lines over everything, I don’t really know if I like it or not.
It honestly feels kind of criminal that this is my first colored fanart of Grim Nostalgia. I mean, it’s just so good.
You should go read it. And write nice comments and leave kudos and interact.
@frohana is an amazing writer. All the loves being thrown that way (0 - 0) /- ❤️ -> ❤️❤️❤️
The drawings are from the latest chapter when there’s some pictures of skull rock brought up. The first is Huntrix and second is the Sunlight sisters. And why yes, I did get lazy on the second one and copy a ton from the first one. I’m just going to say it’s because I thought it would be cute if they ended up mostly mimicking each other.
I’m hoping to do one for each of the girls with something pride/rainbow for pride month. I’ll compile them all together into one post when I finish all of them.
Chapter 10 of Connect is out!! Get excited it’s so so incredible!
I love @isufferfromyd so much. If you haven’t read all of their works then you should because they are AMAZING!
Let’s not talk about it. I don’t know how Zoey ended up looking like that. I tried to follow the description of the outfits in chapter 9 but I garuntee I managed to mess it up so we’re going to call it “artistic liberties.”
Alright I drew a character with wings a bit ago and fell into the trap of being an artist and taking creative liberties. Aka I didn’t follow the science. This is me making up for that.
For clarification bats and birds have a wing length of roughly three times the height of their body (per wing).
This is a human (can they still be human and have wings or are they a new species?) that is following that scale.
