#more then a simple headache

[timethehobo]

Late night scribbly. Rook took Emmrich on one too many missions.

[wanderingmind867]

(Batman Adventures #10): Poor Riddler. He just wants to beat Batman once. Just once. But no! He always fails! He's depressed. I feel so bad for him. I never loved the btas version of riddler (as a kid, i don't know if i even watched his episodes), but riddler is still one of my favourite villains. Mostly because of how relatable he is. And also because of frank gorshin's wonderful 60s performance. So to read a story focusing on Riddler is nice. But i do still have a headache from that college visit earlier, so it might take me a little while to read all of it.

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

sort of a followup to my last life designs but i was thinking what would gem be if she was in this what would i do with her since shes the only one not there.......... so yeah. deer equivalent of like a satyr/faun i guess?

[smile-files]

my 5-course meal

the skin around my nails

3 ibuprofens

2 prozacs

cereal i'm already tired of

lukewarm milk

[the-arisen]

What's Violet's relationship with Boone like? :3c

WELL. it's good at the beginning until they get married, i think.

their friendship starts distant, and there's a lot of mutual respect going on there. she's not a chatty person, and he isn't as well so that works. violet trusts him, and she doesn't trust easily. but boone never gave her a reason to not trust her. as someone who has lost a fiancé who has once a ncr soldier and fought at the first battle of hoover dam, she can understand boone better than someone who isn't experienced with the ncr does. he also lost carla, and the grief is something that she also relates to. she KNOWS so well how much it can change someone to lose the light of their life, because she herself was affected by her fiancé's death. just like boone, violet is stoic during fnv, doesn't smile or laugh much. the bullets messed that further. the thing about being shot and waking up alive, was that she was disappointed. violet did expect to die, and to join her fiancé, her father she lost, probably her mom too. just like boone, violet thought she was being punished for all she has done, both driven by a duty that made them hurt other people.

violet warms up eventually, though. veronica, arcade, lily, all of those people make her smile a bit more often. she is comfortable with boone's presence, a rare thing. the only place she feels comfortable is at home, in new reno, or alone. when they start talking and opening up more, they see how much alike they are, and it builds that bond of trust not only in a fight but personally as well. boone starts to like her, notice her more, and she does the same, but that's still friendship. they did overtime started to have some lingering looks and touches on each other, some butterflies in their bellies, smiles over simple stuff the other did, but as long as both saw it: "hey! we're such good friends"

at his personal quest, she was brutally honest with him. he could improve, learn from everything that has happened, and just move on. but he also needed to accept that war never changes, and whether he killed those people or not, doesn't change that someone else would. she also suggested that he should drop his past as part of the ncr, in which he sorta did. boone listened to her because he respected violet, plus she wasn't rude about it. he could find his happiness elsewhere.

post fnv vegas is now the ncr's and violet took over the lucky 38 and securitrons (she's actually experienced with robots and pre-war stuff). so she expanded her family business and got responsible for the vegas branch. she offered the job for boone to work as her "bodyguard" and she'd pay him, more than he could ever make in the ncr.

idk i haven't elaborated much to how their relationship starts, but violet had something with the king🕺 beforehand. she obviously drops it to be with boone the moment she realizes that she's actually in love with him, not with dear king (not like it was a romantic relationship anyway! it was mostly intimate, maybe some dates. ummm. unlabeled.)

their marriage happened in 2282 too though lmao because i know those two had such a good amount of trust and companionship that they knew it was for life, as scary as it was after everything both had been through. they had three children across the years heh. two girls, one boy.

i think all is fine but like i said, violet tends to manipulate without realizing. boone has different values than she does, so i don't think the thought of "crime family" was something he'd embrace at first, with her being an underboss and all. but love is one hell of a thing. her view of her own family is beautiful when she speaks, and he could see the loyalty they had, the idea of not being so violent (publicly) and always caring for presenting themselves as respectable fellas. but her family ISN'T fully good, which naturally extends to her. she was a charmer, had that silver tongue, could do it without an effort. and it slipped through his mind.

so eventually he actually thought her fam wasn't that bad, and while he worked for her, violet took him to more tasks. she was making him a lieutenant of the family discreetly, and no, she didn't notice much. anyway so flaws come and she's very business focused, doesn't always have time for her children (though she's a loving mother). boone starts to see that she's ruthless when she had to be, the kind of business and deals she works with, that everything she does no matter how good it may seem does has a hidden intention. not the same woman in the wasteland because business is her main domain, and that's a different beast. violet is a woman who's DEEP into family legacy, family business, making it work. and she loses herself in it often. good thing he was around her almost all the time, though. but their marriage had much problems because of all of that, maybe he was a bit unhappy at times, but he loved her and their children a lot.

don't get me wrong, violet cares and loves for him, but that's how she is. flawed, difficult. she's capable of genuine love, genuine actions, and she does it, of course. she did it for him, for many others. but her mind is "this is good for family reputation" naturally at almost everything she does since she's a child, because that's something her family LIVES FOR. an honorable member of her family is good, and they must follow that one rule: be honorable and never disgrace the family.

violet always wanted to be like her father, and she grew up as his perfect girl, even if he died when she was a kid. i could even dare to say her parents marriage and her own are similar: father and daughter who work too hard in the name of making sure your family are well taken care of, have issues with their partner, and sometimes are bad parents. all in hopes they'll be fine in life when they die, but focus so much on the future that they about the present.

aside from all of that, still a lot of companionship, comfort, a love that endures despite how hard it may seem at times. i guess i haven't elaborated much as detailed as i do anything else but yeah. that's how their relationship is like ❤️

[phainonn]

i was doing a little quest on star rail, as one does, and I somehow ended up following the flame reaver in the grove during a memory bit. all good, all fun. what was interesting to see though is that he was followed by monsters from the black tide:

you can kind of see them to the right, but rest assured they follow him everywhere!

i also really love the theme of destruction that follows him:

and its emphasised again that he was already familiar with the grove, which shouldn't be possible, and there's also a moment in which they question how could the black tide have intelligence. which reminds me a lot of the abyss in genshin.

i wonder why it is a question of "does the black tide possess such intelligence" and not so much as.. thinking that he, the flame reaver, controls the black tide. it follows him. it bows down to his power of destruction.

and then there's this lovely achievement after you finish this quest. i feel like this could either be interpreted as a very obvious nod to kevin kaslana from honkai impact 3rd, OR -- the flame reaver is not from the game that is amphoreus.

[frozenambiguity]

Anonymous asked:

Does he believe that he would be spurned by the archon if his heritage came out?

Ask me anything and I’ll answer honestly, but only with yes and no.

«No».

[radiaking]

//I'm that anon from before and promise I wasn't throwing any shade I'm just v v nervous rhfeikguheighikguhdig

no worries at all, my friend! truly, i didn't think u meant anything shady by it (not until after i answered and a few ppl mentioned they thought it was odd but). we all know tone/meaning can be hard to convey in writing so i always try to give folks on anon the benefit of the doubt and give ppl like urself a space to reach out if they're nervous.

but really, u don't have to be shy or nervous approaching. if we're mutuals, that means i'm interested in something you've got going on already. and even if we're not mutuals my IMs and ask are still always open and i welcome plot ideas at all times. i am more selective and there is no guarantee if we're not mutuals but if a plot idea tickles the pickle, then i won't write it off completely.

i do suggest u peruse my rules and pages/pinned, etc. tho as all the info u need ought to be there. if u still have questions after that, my IMs and askbox are always open.

special note: one last parting message, not just for you personally but other concerned/interested parties as well: lucy is as massive and integral part of cooper's story completely regardless of the fact that i ship v.aultghoul. i am canon compliant as of right now re: the show and lucy is traveling w/cooper. she is a vital part of his story and his development and as such, she will feature prominently on this blog both in having dozens of threads w/my affiliated lucy, exploring other non-ship dynamics w/other lucy blogs (potentially at least tho i can't say i'm actively looking for other lucy blogs currently), and being mentioned in other threads w/other characters and on the dash often. that's just...part of his character, i fear. i'm not saying you have an issue w/that, but should anyone else reading have an issue w/that....i'm afraid perhaps this isn't the blog for u.

[mpregspn]

no longer evil this time for real

[lovinglin]

Cleaned up my carrd... kinda HRJEHFDJH I feel like my head hurts 🫠

[simptasia]

i can understand the basics of time travel and appreciate physical beauty. at the same time! according to the lost writers, this makes me a genius

[dustyzoiveon]

ouuuuu the hubris of wanting tasty soda before bed ... My caffeine tolerance has so gone to shit, i cant sleep x-x

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

in terms of commissions updates, im gonna use my next few artfight attacks to practice consistency [or even just time myself so i can roughly base my price off that] for fullbody drawings [sketchy or lined] but until i do that i still haven't filled either of my two slots for my £5 for two character in outfit sketches

[this is all sped up bc ive finally caved and got an appointment for an eye test and a new pair of glasses bc my current pair are giving me headaches and have mutiple reasons why is should have replaced them anyway. I do have money that can go towards this from a comm for family but even just those two £5 slots getting filled would help me, mainly so i don't have to settle for the cheapest pair in the shop- the exact reason why i need a new pair now. i also have coffees on kofi set as £3 if that's more manageable. i can do like just one drawing for that?]

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Part One + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, sexual content, dacryphilia, daddy kink. Reader is neurodivergent.

Simon Riley is a simple man. 

Now. 

Cobwebs cleared, shattered shards of glass painstakingly swept away, lacerations stitched and glued back together. He's climbed the mountain of his mind and descended down the other side. Hurdles jumped, skeletons dragged into the light and then cut down. 

Guess that's what happens when you finally decide you want to live, instead of exist. 

At least he figured it out before he died. 

He's old now, older, signature sore back and creaky knees worse then they were ten years ago, sciatica pain when it rains, headaches whenever he's spent too long looking at paperwork (should be wearing his glasses, but can only bring himself to do it at home.) He's even soft around the middle a bit. 

Still, there are some things that never change, some things that are amplified by time. Skill, focus, dedication. Thirst. 

The thirst is what keeps everyone in line, keeps everyone's head down after a salute, eyes shifty and hands clenched. He still strikes fear. He doesn't mind. 

It's how he got here. How he ended up standing in front of a team, his team, tackling a debrief. It's only given him more of what he know nows he craves, the aspect of control that was so long missing from his life, taken from him by others, by their actions, their decisions. Now he has it in spades. He learned to indulge it, practice it, hone it, and when it reared its head in other aspects of his life, he didn't shy away. He embraced it, experimented with it, figured out what he liked, what he didn't, what he truly needed. Chewed on it, for a while. 

A casual fuck here and there, fine, but not enough, not nearly. 

He's built a house after all. 

It's all spilled over though. Run away from him and out of the base, infiltrated his home, crawled across town- 

and set it's sights on something it can sink it's teeth into. Something it won't let go of. 

Daddy's girl. 

"C-captain Riley." Your hands press to your stomach, anxiously wiping away smatterings of batter and flour, and he tries to screw his mouth into a flat line to hide his smile at the hitch in your breath. 

"Hi sweetheart." 

"What can I... what can I get for you?" He sweeps over the case, eyeing the piled high pastries and bagels, muffins and quiches still warm. 

"Just a coffee today." You nod, lip tugged between your teeth, hand practically shaking as you reach for the stack of cups. When he was a younger man, he wouldn't have patience for this, or you. Wouldn't see the bright side to this, these moments he shares with his girl at the bakery, his nervous little fawn he's finally coaxed to look him in the eye for more than ten seconds at a time. Being in your forties will do that to you, he guesses. 

Time heals more than he ever thought possible. 

"Black?" 

"That's right." He indulges himself as you turn around, tracing your curves, the swell of your ass in your leggings. You wear an apron at your waist religiously, cinching it tight, hips and thighs and everything else perfectly framed. He loves those leggings, and hates them every time he catches an overzealous prick leering at you over the counter. 

"Do you um, do you want room for cream?"  The answer is always the same, but you still ask, and he doesn't mind. 

"No, I'll just take it as is." He eyes the pan of raspberry sweet rolls sitting on the counter, cream cheese icing slowly melting across the top. They're his favorite, but he's putting on too much weight, and with the next mission around the corner, he can't afford to be too soft. You look up at him shyly, gesturing to the giant buns. 

"I made your favorite." Fuck. He can't. He shouldn't... but he can't stomach the idea of dimming your glow, killing you excitement, the eager look on your face as you wait for his approval. 

"Y'know what... the boys are always complaining I never bring them anything. I'll take the whole pan." Your eyes turn to saucers. 

"The wh-whole pan? Really?" You brighten into a sun, glowing with pride, and he rewards you with a smile. 

"Is that okay?" 

"Of course!" You blurt, half panicked, "of course I just... okay. Let me-" You go to put the coffee cup down in front of him, but the bottom nicks the edge of the counter and like everything has turned to slow motion, he watches as steaming hot liquid comes flying from the top, half splashing, half spilling all over his uniform. He catches it before it rolls off the end, but the damage has been done, and tears line your lashes. 

The woman waiting in line a few feet behind him snorts. His vision turns red and he whirls on her with a glare, satisfied when the color drains from her face and she runs off. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so s-so-sorry,” you’ve come around the corner with paper towels, trembling like a leaf as you stare at the stain on his jacket, wide eyed and frantic. 

“It’s okay, it was an accident.” 

“N-no, your uniform,” you croak horrified, “I ruined it, I’m so sorry.” You hiccup a little, trying to suck in some air while you succumb to panic, and he takes your hands in his, squeezing gently, trying to ground you. 

“It’s alright baby, it’s okay,” you don’t even notice when he calls you baby, too preoccupied by your rapidly dissipating oxygen. “Hey, look at me,” he soothes, ducking into your line of sight, grabbing your attention. “Good girl, you’re alright.” 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, shrinking in on yourself, curling your shoulders forward. More tears, and the sight of them sends blood rushing through his body, uncomfortable pressure starting to build in his cock. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” The shop is mostly empty, the woman behind him gone, and he takes the opportunity to usher you past the counter and into the kitchen where there’s a stool waiting just inside the door. He guides you up and holds steady. “Everything’s okay, I promise.” The paper towels come free from your tension filled grip, and instead of using them on the stain, he presses them to your wet cheeks, blotting away your tears. You lean into the touch, so trusting, so easily his, and he wonders what else you’d let him do. He’s hard against the teeth of his zipper as he thinks about hoisting you onto the table, spreading your legs to find what you’ve been keeping safe for him there. 

He doesn’t have many things to care for these days, outside the team, his ultimate responsibility. Keeping a special ops unit alive, planning and executing, cutting through political bullshit is more than enough, but it’s all rough and heavy handed. 

He needs something to nurture. 

You blink at him as he finishes and tips your chin back, ignoring the way your lips part in awe. “That’s better.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you breathe in tandem, silenced and walking a tightrope until you cough. “I should uh… I should go, get those rolls packaged?” He nods, and you manage a very small smile before dipping your gaze to the ground and running off to the front. 

“When did you know?” He rolls the cigar smoke around in his mouth and John cocks his head. 

“When did I know what?” 

“That you were ready,” he gestures to the house, where John’s wife Grace sleeps soundly, “for this? For her?” There’s a glint in his Captain’s blue eyes, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“I just did. At some point, life becomes more than the job, but the mission stays the same. Lead, decide, control. Keep them safe, complete your objective, give what’s needed, get it for yourself. It’s no different.” The idea is tar, sticking to every surface in his mind, gumming up his synapses and creating hallucinations so intoxicating they’re hard to believe. 

You, curled up in bed asleep with nothing but a pair of panties, or cradled between his knees in the bath as he works a chunk of batter free from your hair. You with your legs spread, knees pushed towards your ears, pussy ripe and waiting for him, only him, for the rest of his life. Hands and ankles tied together like a pretty little present. You, sitting on the couch with your thighs slung over his lap, nose creased with a little wrinkle as you thumb through a book. 

John chuckles. “Found one then?” 

Simon only nods. 

He slips through the door just before closing, little bell at the top announcing his arrival to an almost empty space. There’s someone at the register, counting cash, and she smiles at him with all her teeth. 

“We’re about to close but there are a few things left, or I could make you a tea?” The case is pretty barren, a few bear claws and croissants, a muffin or two. Stragglers. 

Next to it, a bouquet sits in a vase. They’re fresh, healthy, and the hair on the back of his neck stands. 

If someone is buying you flowers, he’ll kill them. Dump their corpse in a pit and piss on it. 

The girl clears her throat, and he shakes his head. “No, but thanks. ‘M here to see…” you push through the kitchen doors with two metal sheet trays in your hands, and freeze.

He knew you’d be surprised, caught off guard. It’s like catching a feral cat. Trying to earn a street dog’s trust. Like he’s crouched on the sidewalk, hand extended, food waiting in his fingertips. 

A fisherman, with bait on the line, patiently waiting to hook his prize. 

The incident last week has thoroughly spooked you, pushed you back inside your shell, eroded a lot of the groundwork he painstakingly laid, the foundation he’s been building, and the only time he’s been in since then, you ran into the kitchen as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

The clock has turned back to the time when you were so gun shy, you’d turn to stone at the first sight of him, hands clasped together so tight he knew they hurt. 

It’s no matter. He’s a patient man now, a far cry from who he used to be, and he’s willing to wait for the things worth it, willing to put in the work to fix it.

His body disagrees. A river of need runs consistently runs through him, wild and turbulent current thrashing in his blood, white water rapids trying to flood his lungs. His cock is heavy at night as he imagines you bent over the butcher’s block, leggings ripped open, gooseflesh cascading from the small of your back down, empty little hole clenching on nothing, begging for a fullness only he can give. He dreams about your tears, salty sweet drops soaking your cheeks as the crown of his cock bulges in your throat, as he takes your air and gives it back, over and over again. 

Ruin you, rearrange you, remold you until you only ever fit him. 

He’ll give you what you need, he’ll take away what you don’t. 

He’ll decide. 

The girl at the counter looks at you, then him, small smile pulling on her lips. “I’m going to get this deposit ready,” she announces to no one since you’re not paying her any attention, barely registering she’s disappeared as you stare at him. 

“Hi… u-um hi, Captain Riley.” You put the pans down onto the counter but miscalculate the distance, and they clatter with a resounding smack, one that makes you wince. Your chest expands with a long, deep breath, and you look away from him to the floor. “Can I get you something?” 

“No, I’m jus’ here to see you.” You jerk, gaze snapping from the floor to his face. 

“Is th-this about your uniform? Did you get it dry-cleaned? I can pay you back for-” You rush out, half panicked and cut off when his hand fits to the space between your shoulder blades with just enough pressure to move you forward. He leads, steering you to one of the little tables by the window, urging you down into the chair before taking his place on the other side. 

“You’re not paying my bloody dry cleaning bill. I’m here to see you, sweetheart.” You’re vibrating, practically rattling in your skin and he wants so badly to soothe you, tuck you into his chest and push the outside world away, but it would be too much, too soon. You’re not ready. 

“See me?” He nods. 

“Why did you run from me the other day?” 

“I didn’t I was just… I was busy.” He didn't expect the truth, not right away. You're always trying to hide your vulnerable spots. 

“Try again. No lying this time.” There’s about one eighth of his usual authority in his voice, the captain’s edge he’s honed over the years, and your lips part with a sharp, small intake of breath. 

“I thought maybe… I thought you might be upset or something and I didn’t want…” you trail off with a shrug, and he’s not surprised. He knows his reassurances from last week weren’t enough. His sweet girl is afraid of her own shadow, you need more than just a few words and your tears wiped. 

“I’m not upset.” He leans back against the rickety wood. There are a million things he could say, do. A million different pieces he could pick apart right here, right now, peel your layers back and put you on your knees with your cheek on his thigh, his hand patting the top of your head. 

“Daddy’s not mad, sweetheart.” 

You’re watching him, waiting, looking for him to give more, heal this wound, but he’s cautious. A gas pedal to the floor will only get him the kind of chase he doesn’t want. Not yet. “You understand me?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. You’re hesitating on something, holding back, but he doesn’t try to drag it out, choosing to wait, to give you the time you need, the space he knows the rest of the world doesn’t allow. “Did um… did they like them?” He cocks his head. 

“The team?” 

“Mhm,” your leg bounces under the table. You’re so fucking cute he could smother you. 

“Yeah baby, they loved them.” You beam, blooming into a pretty, perfect flower, vibrant and colorful, rare as they come. 

“That’s good, I’m so happy.” You wiggle a little bit in the chair, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Fucking hell. He wants you on his lap instead, wiggling around as he slowly sinks you down onto his cock, fingernails biting into his chest as he stretches your pussy, toes curling as you struggle to take him. “D-do you want to take some home?” 

“You have some left over?” You shrug sheepishly. 

“I’ve uh, been making them every day. I thought if you were mad at me, maybe they would… make it better.” Oh baby.

“No. You never have to appease me like that. You never have to appease anyone like that, sweetheart.” 

“Right. Okay.” You look relieved, a little bit of heaviness lifted from your shoulders, and then you give him a small smile. “But do you want to maybe have one… now? W-with me?” His sweet little fawn, navigating the world on new trembling legs, taking chances when she feels brave. 

He pulls your hand into his and strokes his thumb back and forth across your knuckles, setting up a slow, soothing rhythm. “Of course.” 

[troublemakergalaxy]

anyone know how to get transparent pngs to stop copying with a black background on firefox. please.

[salemlunaa]

STOP WITH THE NEEDINESS ❦

wanna shift? let me put you out of your misery

This is the only method you need to induce pure consciousness/ tap into the “I AM”/ tap into the void:

relax, deep breathing

affirm “I AM”

relax some more

detach, get lost in the darkness of your closed eyes

you’re done, you’ve shifted

there are no if ands or buts, there’s no “i was so close”, “it just doesn’t work for me”. this method cannot fail, there is no such thing, at all, it’s you who focuses too much on the symptoms, it’s you gets upset when “nothing happens” before rolling over to go to sleep just to endure another day in your shitty reality. it’s you who fails to see your own potential and it’s only you who can change that

this is the basic method that works for anyone with a conscious and subconscious mind,

it’s not anyone’s fault that you’ve decided to overcomplicate it

that’s the basic fucking template you don’t need shit but yourself

stop with the neediness it’s getting kinda pathetic

You dont need to follow some stupid 10k affirmation challenge

You don’t need to follow any challenges lasting weeks

You don’t need subliminals or waves or a guided meditation

You don’t need to ask bloggers the same shit and vent about how you “just can’t do it”

You don’t need to lucid dream

You don’t need any of this

again the basic template is only difficult to you because of the over-complication of it all

Let me give you an example: Imagine you’re a baker and there’s this iconic legendary baker who has this incredible, world famous cake, they give the world a recipe to it and it’s quite simple. how can such a simple recipe impress the taste buds of so many? it doesn’t matter about the how or why, it just does. But so many bakers around the world, including you, are scared of not impressing their customers so they add all this other shit to the recipe that was perfectly fine. And it just makes everything so complicated, all because they don’t trust that the original recipe will be able to impress and satisfy their customers.

That basic recipe is the “method” that Neville gave to us, he didn’t have tumblr, he didn’t have youtube to binge fucking yoga nidra meditation videos. He didn’t have a phone to inhale subliminal after subliminal like it’s a full time job. He didn’t have bloggers shoving 10k challenges down his throat, and guess what, he was just fine! Stop overcomplicating the recipe, all you need is the mind. You don’t need a fucking routine, all you need is you

But I know there are some people who will look at this, scroll past and still scan their feed, scrambling for an “instant method” like some junky. And to that i say, go ahead, waste your days overcomplicating the act of shifting consciousness, waste your days overconsuming, doomscrolling, complaining. The law and the art of shifting was always real and will continue to be real while you sit there with absolutely nothing, so go ahead. Rack your brain to the point of a headache, to the point of insanity trying to understand what’s right infront of you, you’re only doing yourself harm.

shifting consciousness/ the “I AM” state/ the void is a basic ability, it’s like breathing, just fucking do it

IT’S A BASIC ABILITY, YOU DONT NEED POINTERS 🎀💋