sheepfilms
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
$LAYYYTER
Stranger Things
JVL
No title available
tannertan36
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
#extradirty
d e v o n
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Mike Driver
No title available
Janaina Medeiros
cherry valley forever
roma★
Origami Around
titsay
h
will byers stan first human second
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
@underblackwings
my ideal existence is not knowing about the oscars or the super bowl or any of that horseshit...I jerk off to clear running water and live off whatever wanders into my open mouth
you people are turning me into pjackk. can I have a win for the first time in my entire life
Ernst Ferdinand Oehme (1797-1855)
a little late...! but here is my catalog for anime expo this year!! i'll be at table h2~!💫 i'll have merch from: love and deepspace, resident evil, call of duty, ffxiv, deadlock, project hail mary, iron lung, devil may cry, one piece, gachiakuta, mha, jjk, my s-class hunters, lout of count's family, and gsgw!
Alfonso Simonetti (1840–1892), “And She Never Returned”
oil on canvas, n.d.
source
Henri Biva (1848 - 1928)
Villeneuve-l'Étang embrumé
Alfred Wierusz-Kowalski (1849–1915)
“Wolf,” oil on cardboard, 1880s, “A Pack of Wolves,” oil on canvas, 19th century, and “Lone wolf,” oil on canvas, 1910
Albert Square, Manchester (1910) by Adolphe Valette | Contemporary Art (2015) by Emily Allchurch
Landscape at Dusk by Ludwig Munthe
@importantcatpics
In-between feedback and client work, I'm picking away at my WIP pile just to try and get some personal work over the line and out of limbo. This beast has had many forms but I think it's time to open the gates and release it.
Brandon Lee as Eric Draven THE CROW [1994]
You know technology literacy is dying because I saw this meme with 76k likes
F11 the full screen button? You’re scared of the full screen button? F10?? It opens the menu bar???
Computers are so scary what if I accidentally hit F12 in a steam game and it takes a screenshot. What if I press shift + F12 while in word and accidentally save my document 😖
If you had to learn what the F keys on your computer do through me reblogging this post, then I'm glad you did. Computer literacy is not a skill that gets taught anymore, and it is absolutely one that needs to be taught in order to be learned. Don't ever feel bad for not knowing something, but ☝️ don't ever stop learning learning about your environment, the tools you use, and especially the people around you
you are like an empty tip jar
Ready to be filled!
BECAUSE YOU DONT HAVE ANY CENTS!!!
The room smells like disinfectant, warm blankets, and that weird hospital air that feels too clean to be real. You’re half propped up in bed, exhausted in that bone-deep, cosmic way, staring at the absolute UNIT swaddled against your chest.
Your baby is… enormous. Respectfully. A marvel of biology. The nurses kept saying things like “wow” and “that’s a strong baby” with the same tone people use when they see a truck doing something illegal.
And Simon?
Simon is unwell.
He’s standing too close to the bed. Too stiff. Like if he locks his knees he’ll pass out. His skull mask is gone, because apparently hospital staff draw the line there and without it, he looks wrecked. Red-eyed. Hair a mess. Hands shaking like he’s about to diffuse a bomb using chopsticks.
Soap walks in first and immediately stops dead.
“…Jesus Christ.”
Price follows. Gaz behind him. All three of them stare.
Soap points. “Is that— is that the baby?”
Gaz squints. “That’s not a baby. That’s a loaf.”
Price clears his throat, deeply impressed. “Strong start. Good head on ‘em.”
Simon makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Shes breathing,” he says urgently, like this is breaking news. “She just— she breathes and then she sighs.”
Soap grins. “Yeah mate. That’s what babies do.”
“No,” Simon insists. “This one does it… meaningfully.”
You adjust the baby slightly and Simon flinches like you just tossed a live grenade.
“Careful!” he blurts, then clamps his mouth shut, horrified. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re doing perfect. I just”
The baby lets out a tiny grunt. A chunky, offended little noise.
Simon’s entire soul leaves his body.
“She’s mad,” he whispers. “I’ve upset her.”
Gaz is already losing it. “Lt, you look like you’re about to apologize to the Prime Minister.”
Soap leans over the crib. “Blimey. Look at those cheeks. You could lose a man in there.”
The baby’s hand escapes the blanket and immediately grabs Simon’s finger.
Simon freezes. Again.
“…she’s got me,” he says quietly. “I can’t move.”
Price sips his coffee. “You’re a parent now, Simon. Accept your fate.”
Simon looks at you. Completely undone. Voice shaking, eyes soft, like he’s staring at the sun but it’s wrapped in a blanket.
“I don’t know how you did that,” he says, reverent. “You’re incredible. Both of you.”
The baby yawns. Wide. Dramatic. Fat
Soap actually clutches his chest. “I can’t believe this. The scariest man I know just got emotionally KO’d by a newborn.”
Gaz snaps another picture. “This is going on the fridge.”
Simon doesn’t even protest.
He just gently presses his thumb against the baby’s knuckles, whispering like a vow, like a promise, like a man who is absolutely, irrevocably gone.
“Hi, love,” he murmurs. “I’m yer dad. I’ll sort it out. Promise.
Simon Ghost Riley, will not survive becoming a father.
rotting
still rotting
currently rotting
rotting again
#girlrotting
divorced dad!simon being forced to tell you about ghost long before he’s ready to. things have been going so well, you’ve become special to him, and to his baby, and the two of you have been toeing that line between friendship and more for months now, and then lottie shows you that damnable stuffed rabbit and, suddenly, everything is at risk.
munchkin was a gift from johnny during the divorce, and lottie’s been painfully attached to it ever since. the fat, beady-eyed bunny has lost countless chunks of fur, an eye, and whatever dignity that it might’ve had in the first place, but is still the girl’s most prized possession. the kicker, though, is that munchkin ambles around wearing an old mask. specifically, one of simon’s balaclavas, tattered and bloodstained and all.
a few years ago, she went through a phase where she was terrified of everything, all the time, after the sergeants let her watch chucky with them while babysitting. at first, it wasn’t a big deal. simon was upset, sure, but all kids fear the dark at some point, and he knows that soap and gaz didn’t necessarily mean to traumatize his little girl. they were only doing their duties as her uncles, building character. the problem was that this phase went on for weeks. she crawled into his bed more often than she didn’t, and on the rare occasion she slept in her room, it was with all the lights on and every blanket pulled up over her head.
so, in a moment of exhaustion and sheer helplessness, simon did the only thing he could. he improvised.
“no monster’s gonna wanna get near you so long as this guy’s here,” he assured his daughter, after fishing the mask out of a dusty box to don her little friend. it was admittedly rather horrific. one-eyed, ratty munchkin wearing a killer’s statement piece. but, it soothed her well enough.
“s’got magic, daddy?” sure it does. why the fuck not. anything to get her to sleep through the night.
thus, munchkin became her protector as well as her friend. she didn’t go anywhere without it, dragged him with her to the park, and to the bath, and probably would’ve brought him to school, too, if simon had not put his foot down.
he was only slightly bothered by it. he didn’t like the thought of lottie lauding the part of him he loathes the most, not that she knows any better, but it brought her comfort, and that’s all that mattered, in the end. until she decides to introduce the wretched thing to you, during dinner one night, and you’re too perceptive to miss those suspicious stains and the sweat gathering at simon’s brow.
he spills his guts once lottie’s in bed, munchkin tucked in with her, as always. he tells you the nitpicked, watered-down version of the story, the only one he can manage to verbalize without it killing him, and he prays it won’t be the thing to drive you away.
he knows it’s risky. you’re young, pure in this way that confounds the former lieutenant, and the things he’s seen, the things he’s done, will surely rattle you. besides, this whatever it is between you two is all so new still, tentative. one wrong move and it’ll all come crashing down.
he half-expects you to get up and walk out before he gets to the end. but you don’t. you sit with him, attentive and steady, and you listen to everything he has to say without criticism. at some point, without his notice, his hand ended up cradled by both of yours. he doesn’t have it in him to complain.
and, when it’s all out in the open, his mangled bits and pieces laid out before you, you’re still there, and you’re still holding his hand. simon’s not sure how to feel about that, but he certainly doesn’t resent it. not one bit.
“…you washed the mask before you gave it to her, right?”
“of course i fuckin’ washed it, kid, what d’you think i am?”
