im starting therapy next week so i may be a little distracted
sorry!
taylor price
we're not kids anymore.
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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oozey mess
Sweet Seals For You, Always
AnasAbdin
Cosmic Funnies

blake kathryn

tannertan36
cherry valley forever
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
Cosimo Galluzzi
sheepfilms
trying on a metaphor

★
$LAYYYTER
Claire Keane

Love Begins

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@vespxllo-blog
im starting therapy next week so i may be a little distracted
sorry!
❣- A memory that leaves them laughing
In retrospect, absolutely nothing could have busted his gut harder than watching his commander get clotheslined back in Blackwatch. Something about a grown ass man's head bouncing off the ground in 0.2 seconds could have anyone hitting the floor howling just as fast, of that he was certain. It wasn’t his best memory, obviously, but it was sure to cheer him up somewhat when his mood turned grim.
Peer into my muse's memories
❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile
💙- A sad memory that makes them cry
💛- A memory that makes them feel angry
💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty
💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad
💔- A memory that leaves them feeling lonely
❣- A memory that leaves them laughing
💕- A memory about their significant other
💞- A memory about their children
💓- A memory about their friends
💗- A memory about a good deed they did
💖- A memory that made them feel special
💝- A memory that made them feel loved
💘- A memory that gets their heart pounding
💟- Wildcard!!!
betterhealing:
It was a good thing, really. Granted the Kings helped out when they could, out of caps or goodwill depending on which one you managed to hail down, which was always a plausible idea as well. It was… a bit difficult at times to miss the signs however; they certainly did make an impression and stood out against the dilapidated rubble that made up most of Freeside.
The twins would likely be happy for a new customer at that - they had a business to run after all, and new people trickling through meant more caps in their pockets and the likelihood of them meandering back through and stopping by if they found the service adequate enough.
“We must do what we can to assist the people within the wasteland who need our help. Hopefully my own work will bear fruition at some point to assist, but I’m not holding my breath with that.” That self depreciation again, but it was uttered offhandedly - almost as if Arcade himself hadn’t noticed it. As if he simply continued to accept it as blatant fact.
Maybe to him it was.
That puff up hadn’t gone unnoticed and only earned a bemused look from the blond researcher as he snagged over his doctor’s bag, settling it on the small table beside the still wounded man. Now that the issue of the venom was mostly out of the way - without too many hitches with that - he could focus his attention on the injury itself. Another bottle of purified water was snagged up as well, although this one he withheld from his patient - it would be needed to clean out the injury itself.
“You don’t know what a ghoul is- no no, that one’s on me. I should’ve figured as much.” For a moment Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation - though whether it was towards the other man or towards himself was a good question - before he jerked a thumb in the direction out of the tent towards the mercenaries doing guard duty in the little area in front of the gate. “Miss Beatrix Russell out there is a ghoul, if you want an example. She’s one of the good ones, one of the ones who still retains her humanity. There’s ferals out in the desert who are less than friendly - they’ve lost everything that had once made them human.”
A short lesson but one nonetheless, and he hoped that he was paying enough attention that it might keep him alive for just that much longer. “And you are a flatterer, I see.” A half-smile there - he had a weakness towards compliments himself, so it was one that definitely wasn’t lost on him… even when it hadn’t been genuinely completed. Whoops. Still the reaction was amusing enough for all it was equally concerning… but again, what should he expect? This, obviously.
“McCree, hm? I’m Arcade.” Easy enough to remember there. “I do have some free time after this - just have to tell Julie I’m heading out so she doesn’t go looking for me around here in the unlikely chance I might be needed for something.”
A pause. “Stitches, from me… you poor soul. I’ll do my best, but you might find yourself eating those words.” He was chuckling however, as he opened the bag to snag out the few supplies before he motion towards the arm. “Arm out please. I’m going to clean the injury before closing it - there’s little reason not to, and it’s better to prevent infection when the opportunity arises. I feel I can safely assume you’re not likely looking to lose another arm.”
He frowned at the man continuing to put himself down, but the subject was gone with the wind before he could think to reply.
At the mention of the name, he suddenly recalled the honest-to-god zombie that watched him walk through the gates when he arrived at the humble little fort. It had his hackles up the second he strolled in, but seeing her among other human beings had quieted the alarm in his chest quickly. There was a lot he didn’t know now, so it seemed.
“No harm in it, I reckon.” he grinned at the innocuous accusation. “You seem like you could use a little praise there, doc.”
Arcade. He ought to remember that.
“Well, Dr. Arcade, you ain’t instillin’ much confidence in your patient.” he chuckled, holding his injured arm out to the side with little more than a wince. “Only way you’re gonna get better is with practice. I’d say I’m the perfect test dummy. But, yeah, if I could keep the arm that would be great.” He grew quiet after a moment, allowing the gravity of his situation to sink itself in. To tally the mess up, not only had he gotten lost out in a radiated wasteland, but he had also managed to somehow get thrown ahead in time some 200 some-odd years. It was a huge pill to swallow, but he didn’t quite have much of a choice now that he had walked so far into the thick of it without his knowledge. The emotional weight of such a complete shift obviously hadn’t hit him yet, but he was sure it’d come on full force sooner than later. Until then, all he could do was roll with the punches.
“Y’know, somethin’ you said earlier is still buggin’ me. Why did you ask if I was from a vault?”
im absolutely exhausted from this week so far
ill be back on tomorrow to get some stuff done or i might do it later tonight
betterhealing:
“You probably missed a good look around coming in here.” Blond brows were raised momentarily, but Arcade decided to allow it to slide, snorting with some bemusement easily enough. “What alcohol we have around here is primarily used for disinfectant. The Followers are not necessarily doing the greatest pertaining to both supplies and manpower, and we have to work with what limited resources we’re able to.”
A pause. “If you’re that desperate for a drink the Atomic Wrangler is only a short distance away, as much as I loathe to suggest it. Just ask one of the Kings to point you the way when you leave here.” Perhaps the grimace was momentary on his face, but he wasn’t so hypocritical to utterly judge the man on wanting some booze. Hell, even he went to have a drink from time to time.. and the acts that the twins managed to hire weren’t necessarily the most awful in the world.
At least they normally legitimately employed and payed their workers, instead of essentially enslaving them as Gomorrah did. Surely that was something. Maybe.
Surely the water was better than nothing, but it was definitely understandable if the taste still lingered. It probably would until the man managed to get his hand on something flavored, or even food. There was some movement, a flick of the researcher’s eyes as he crossed his arms… brow furrowed slightly in contemplation. None of this was making any immediately plausible sense.
“We’re grasping at straws here.” Decisive words. “I am as uncertain as to what is going on as you are, although I’ll admit curiosity to your plight. I never knew the world before, but from what I’ve read it was significantly different then it is now. If you’re telling the truth right now you likely don’t know what you might come across out there - and the wildlife and elements are likely the lesser significant threats, given current Legion occupancy within the Mojave.” Another pause, this one briefer. “Not that I am saying you are incapable of taking care of yourself, of course.” Simply a warning, not an effort to belittle the other man or what capabilities he carried even remotely.
If anything the date offered by his unwitting patient had Arcade’s lips pursed even more, pressed into a thin line as he moved over to make certain everything necessary was properly secured. “In that case my initial thought would be to live that long you’d have to be a ghoul, but if you’re a ghoul you’re the best looking one I’ve seen yet.” A little mischief there, a little tease. “It’s 2281 last I checked.”
What a bombshell.
It was only after he’d taken the bottled water back into his hands that he snorted in amusement (and very light dismay). While he was glad to hear that there was at least some kind of bar nearby, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t need directions. All the buildings looked like the same poor wrecks when he’d sauntered into town, but he did recall seeing some signs lit up like flickering symbols of the life that must’ve dwelled there.
“Sounds like some awful pinch to be puttin’ good booze to waste. You’ve got my sympathy there, doc.” he assured, pulling his hat off to give his hair a sweep and tuck the article back into place.
He puffed up at the mention of looking after his own hide, simultaneously bristling at the mention of what sounded like a bunch of no good, two-bit trouble brewing in this barren rendition of the Mojave. Still, the good doctor was right; nothing he couldn’t handle.
The way he leaned closer despite the throbbing pain in his arm spoke volumes about his carefully controlled weakness towards flattery. In what he could deem an acceptably safe setting, Jesse McCree would always fall victim to the petting of his pride. How could he not, after all? The man had grown up with little in the way of verbal praise. “Not too sure what a ghoul is, but I’ll take a compliment when I hear it.” he crooned, taking a careful sip from the dirty plastic in his prosthetic hand. “If it’s all the same to you, you’re in close contest with one of the prettiest– 2281?”
He piratically sputtered at what was, yes, quite a bombshell. Just like the man had said, that was about around 200 years difference. Shit.
“... Damn. I need a drink.” he sagged his shoulders, crushing the brittle plastic in his hand as quietly as one could. “If you’ll stitch me up, I’ll take you down to that Atomic Whatchamacallit for what I owe ya, and if you’ll care to fill me in a little bit, Doctor... Oh! Where’re my manners; the name’s McCree. Pleasure to be in your care.” He brought his hat politely to his chest, putting on an obviously tired smile for the helpful stranger.
betterhealing:
It definitely was a bit of a stretch when it came doing to it, but even Arcade was grasping at metaphorical straws in the effort to try to rationalize things for the both of them. “Thankfully no… for the both of us with that. Getting a shot from me is probably nearly as bad as my efforts with stitches.”
Self-depreciation, now that was hardly anything new when it came to the blond researcher. He still wasn’t convinced when it came to everything but he figured at the very least once they got rid of the sickness lingering from the radscorpion venom then they could figure out things from there. Not that this was truly any of his business, nor should even be his concern, but even he had to admit to some notable curiosity on the matter.
While the other man downed the antivenom he had already moved, aiming to grab two bottles of purified water to bring over and set by the table next to him. “Here, drink one of these. Slowly, mind, there’s no point in you making yourself sick from too much too fast. It’s purified too, no need to worry over any radiation.” A pause. “I apologize again for the taste - there’s not much that can be done to change that. Anything additional I’ve attempted to add so far only takes away from the potency of it.”
Retrieving the container Arcade turned away with it, intending to move away only to place it someplace secure - there was no point tossing it out, it could be sterilized and reused for another batch of antivenom later on.
“No, I mean New Vegas. It hasn’t been called what… Las Vegas? .. for almost two hundred years. Whenever it was when House took over it.” A pause, the confusion perhaps momentarily readable across the Follower’s face. “Yeah, they did. Is Boulder City the same ruins it had been for a while? I know the NCR and other travelers have been using it as a viable rest stop, but it was severely damage during the First Battle of Hoover Dam. Haven’t been back out that way myself in a while.”
“Look, if you don’t believe me you are welcomed to go outside and take a good look for yourself.”
... Now how could he not crack a grin at that?
“Yer cute, doc,” he replied, although he said it in good humor. “I didn’t mean water, but I guess you medical types all follow the same credo. Can’t spare a weary soul some liquor in these tryin’ times?”
Jokes aside, the matter of just where (and possibly when) he was had become much more pressing. He mulled over what was said to him while he nursed on the water brought to him, although he noted that no purification of whatever radiation these people suffered from could get rid of the rather unpleasant taste. Still, he’d had worse.
“Hey now, I ain’t that old. Boulder City looked right as rain and definitely not bombed or in ruins when I came through.” he assured, setting the bottle he’d cradled back down on the table for the time being. “And I don’t recall any battle at Hoover Dam, or these NCR folks you’re talkin’ about.” At the offer, he straightened his back a bit. Truthfully, yes, it did look like a wasteland out in the Mojave now, but it hadn’t been that way not more than two or three days ago. What the hell had he missed, and how? Wouldn’t he notice nukes being dropped? More pertinent than that, there was no damn way he’d survive another 20 years with his lifestyle, let alone 200.
“... I believe ya. I just don’t understand how I’d miss somethin’ like that, and I ain’t been around no 200 years. Last year I remember is 2076,”
Well, he hadn’t popped that question yet. As much as it would absolutely fuck with him, he supposed he had no other choice at that point.
“You know what year it is, doc?”
they love each other ┐(´ー`)┌
@mayghoul
With little to no explanation received as to how he wound up from his everyday life in some nuclear wasteland, McCree had eventually elected to pull himself up by his boots and figure out just what the hell had happened. While he remained unsure just where to look for answers, his travels eventually landed him across the states over about two months of little to no rest. His first stop had been Washington D.C. to figure out just what the hell had happened in the first place, but after what he’d seen there with the big green meatheads lurking around literally every corner, he decided that was a mystery he could afford to put on hold until he got a better grip on how to handle himself in the new post-apocalyptic world.
Now he’d traveled up to Boston, chasing rumors and finding himself lost yet again. A few days back he’d felt something he could only describe as horrendous jet lag, but the source of that illness would be lost on him for some time. For the time being, it didn’t matter. He’d followed more whispers to a little corner of the world called Goodneighbor, and the route there led him to cast some pretty damn heavy doubt on the nature of the name lit up in bright lights.
With his back to the poorly built wall, he pushed past his gut feeling to pick up his tail and run to knock his metal hand on the door heavily. There was no way he’d waltz right into somewhere in the middle of some raider war grounds and risk getting shot full of holes.
“Anybody home?”
cyborgrightsactivist:
“Hah.”
“I believe it.”
Anybody this ostentatious with their outward appearance has probably been through quite a few phases in life. Besides, who was he to be a judge of character?
“Don’t really see why that’s keeping you from living your life, though.”
“Not so sure myself.” he hummed thoughtfully, although in the long run he wasn’t sure he had much of a life left to live. “I don’t mean to impose on ya. If it’s all the same, I’ll leave you be if I’m bein’ a bother.”
Maybe he was just struggling not to follow the path of his own life; he recognized the urge to take someone under his wing when he felt it. The kid clearly didn’t need that though, and he was a significant bit older than McCree had been when he’d fallen into someone else’s nest. “I don’t reckon I should be hasslin’ some kid, chasin’ old memories anyway.”
He felt as if he should part on some passed down knowledge, but that was probably just the old man in him pitching in his two cents. What was he now, some empty nested hen?
It was temporarily fortunate that nobody could hear him bouncing his leg a mile away, but he had to get the tension out of his system somehow.
betterhealing:
Blond brows found themselves raised almost immediately, a moment to contemplate the man before it. All of this honestly made very little sense to Arcade in the long run either, but the man was at the very least attempting to keep up with it as much as he plausibly could. Which… probably was saying something. It was still confusing as all hell though.
“No, I’m not messing with you. I’m uncertain as to what might be going on, but it could be side effects from the venom. Perhaps.” That might make some sense, hallucinations and confusion could be prevalent. Fever too, which only fed into the former anyway. Could always be a heat stroke as well, but he was almost certain that he’d have already seen other signs of that as well.
“Maybe a touch green but I would agree, you have a long way to go before you start resembling the Glowing Ones.” A dry chuckle there, but the researcher moved easily enough to fetch a small portion of the antivenom, carefully measured out and store for one dose. Turning back he’d proffer it towards the man, gesture loose. “Here. Drink this - it tastes awful, so brace yourself… but it does the job. You should start feeling better almost immediately.”
Hopefully there was no other problems going on, but this would at the very least give them a platform to judge. “You’re at the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside. Just outside of New Vegas.” New Vegas, not Las Vegas, but with a shrug the man continued. “You can even see some of the casino towers from here.”
That sounded a little too far-fetched to be true; he was certain he’d be aware if his memories weren’t right for such an extensive period of his life. Then again...
“I’m pretty sure I remember what it feels like to hallucinate. I don’t think that’s the problem here, doc.” he concluded to himself, accepting what was offered to him in the meantime. “I reckon I’ve had worse. You don’t gotta inject this stuff, though?” Well, he supposed he wasn’t the doctor in the scenario. Still, McCree was familiar with dealings in poison; he’d never had to drink anything for it before. Must’ve been some kind of new age fancy medical breakthrough. He swirled the vial in his hand experimentally, eventually deciding that whether it worked or not, he’d manage somehow.
After he’d downed it, he realized the doc hadn’t been kidding. He’d rarely tasted anything that vile before, and the antivenom made him more sick to his stomach than the poisoning did before it had a chance to kick in.
“Boy, that’s some nasty stuff.” he winced, though his sickness did let up almost immediately. “You don’t got anything I could wash that down with, do ya?”
Wait. New Vegas?
“You mean Las Vegas? You sure? It looks like a damn bomb went off out there.” he quizzed, although suddenly everything the man had said made much more sense. “You said some nukes dropped, right? Unless that happened while I was asleep, a lot of what you’re sayin’ and what I’m seein’ don’t add up. Everything was fine about a day ago when I passed through Boulder City.”
Starter call!
Give that little heart some sugar or feel free to hit me up if you’d like to plot something out.
Starter call!
Give that little heart some sugar or feel free to hit me up if you’d like to plot something out.
hiitori-de:
Hanzo was tense up until he brought his own drink to his lips. As far as he was concerned, now the ice was broken.
For a beat, he stilled, and finally peered out of his periphery at the other man.
“I understand that the reason you were sent to me was not to be rejected outright.”
The elder Shimada knew he was not friendly. He had no plans to change - moreover, he had never found any reason.
“I am not accustomed to guests.”
“Believe me,” he chuckled, although his words were intentionally gentle. “I noticed.”
He hummed over his drink, admittedly disappointed that there was only little to offer. McCree had never been much for anything that had to be consumed in small amounts; it left him forced to make conversation or sit in silence. Fortunately, though, they definitely had a few things to talk about.
“Consider it forgotten. But, while we’re still on the topic...” he offered, placing the little cup down where it had rested just before. “I appreciate yer little peace offering, but next time we get salty with each other, how about I bring the drinks? No offense; I just like a little more bite.”
young mccree sketch
Maybe he should take a vacation. Las Vegas sounded good to him; it’d been a while since he indulged in real deal gambling.