#they have something fast fancy productions will NEVER have

[timeslugarts]

Third Times a Charm

Part 3 of my Vera X Vox story

Part 1 and Part 2 here!

A/N - This is my favorite part so far. It's all fluffy and fun. No NSFW in the chapter either.

CW for Valentino being an asshole 👍

Vox stared at his phone desperately waiting for a reply. The day had been rough thus far, business deals going sour, Val being, well, Val, and Vox was about one more disappointment away from another citywide blackout. 

His phone pinged. Nothing but an address and wink.

He let out a sigh, at least there was one thing he could count on. 

Vox and Vera had been seeing each other for a couple of months now, and by seeing each other he means meeting up at a random location of her choosing and fucking until neither one of them could move. It was the best part of some of Vox's weeks, all the frustration and energy he'd built up could all be released into her body, or on it. She took it in stride too, always matching him tit for tat. She had even stopped stealing from him… most of the time.

And he really needed it today.

The clock slowly ticked down as Vox moved from one project to the next, attending meetings, product reviews, and the odd interview, but finally 8 rolled around. He grabbed his coat and made his way to the door, but something halted him. A large looming figure that made Vox's heart sink.

"Voxxy, darling, my bed's been awfully cold recently." Valentino purred, pressing his back against the door and closing it. 

Vox turned on the charm, wanting to get out of this situation as fast as he could.

"Val! Sorry my sweet! I've just been so busy! You know, work and the regular grind!" He chuckled. "Speaking of," he tried to worm his way around Val, "I have another urgent meeting to get to." Vox had his hand on the handle.

"You're lying." Val's voice sang out, Vox froze. 

Suddenly the moth had gripped Vox's lapels. "What whore are you fucking behind me back Vox!?" Val's saliva was dripping from his mouth in a fluorescent pink stream and getting on to the coat in Vox's hand. He dropped it grimacing at the garment.

"Val I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Vox tried another disarming chuckle, he placed his hand on top of Val's trying to slowly pry it off of him.

"Do you think I'm a fuckin joke? I can smell the bitch on you." Valentino's grip tightened as he pulled Vox closer. He had lifted him to the point Vox couldn't touch the ground anymore. 

"Val please-" Vox tried to choke out, feet grasping for purchase, his hands tightening around Valentino's. 

"You. Are. Mine." Val growled out, "and don't you fucking forget it!" Val's third arm came up and hit Vox in the face, the sickening crunch of his monitor rang in his own ears as he was sent careening backwards onto the floor.

"What the FUCK Val?" Vox gasped pieces of his broken screen falling around him like some macabre glitter. 

"I told you, you're MINE, and who's going to fuck you now with a face like that hmm?" Valentino smirked, shrugging nonchalantly as if he didn't just destroy Vox's face. 

"If you're that desperate for a fuck why don't you just call Angel? Oh wait…" Vox sneered, knowing damn well that would get under his skin. 

Valentino gasped, and Vox was sure there was going to be a lot more after that, but he had already zipped into the nearest camera and far away from the Vee Tower, his jacket forgotten on the floor. 

Before entering the bar that Vera had picked, Vox looked at himself reflected in the glass. He looked like shit, his entire left side was shattered, pieces were static while others were simply black. There was no way she was going to sleep with him now. He let out a low breath before entering the bar anyways.

It was never hard to find her, no matter how dark and filthy the place was. She stood out like a beacon in the mist calling him to shore. He had no patience for games tonight though, there was no time for their usual back and forth. 

"Oh, fancy seeing you here." 

He had no response, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the nearest available room.

"Woah, hey, Vox what are you-" She tugged her wrist away, pulling him to face her. The silence was deafening when she finally saw his shattered face.

"Vox what happened?" She whispered, any playfulness in her eyes was gone immediately. This is what he'd been dreading.

"So are we going to fuck or what? Or am I not to your standards?" He threw up the air quotes at standards. 

He continued to glare down, a little amused to finally see shock pass over her features. Always so calm, even when her life's on the line, but this is what finally gets her to crack?

Vera stared hard at Vox hard, she bit her lip, obviously deep in thought. About what, Vox couldn't be sure, but it was making him nervous. He was starting to feel antsy until Vera grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him to the exit.

"Come on, keep up." She said as she kept pulling.

"What? Where are we going?" He stumbled along, the height difference was enough that being dragged by her made it difficult to move properly.

"My place, now come on." She had glanced back to gauge his reaction, but Vox had shut up at that. Following along like it was his job, a prominent look of confusion plastered on his face. 

The whole way to her building was silent, neither one saying a word, but her hand never left his. 

When they arrived Vox drank it all in. He really wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this looked more like an abandoned office building than a house. Windows were boarded up, trash littered the sidewalks, some homeless bum was asleep in the grass next to the place. 

"Welcome to the Palace of Mischief." She used her free hand to gesture towards the derelict building. 

Vox could only stare back, eye squinted in uncertainty. Vera giggled and pulled him up to the door. 

She pushed inside and the change felt dramatic. Dim lights illuminated the area, showing a space that seemed to have been decorated by an interior designer with severe decision paralysis. Statuary pieces littered the cabinets, floor, and desks, as well as a variety of plants. Near the entrance a Roman column stood by itself, taller than Vox, with an empty fish bowl at the top. A worn looking couch sat in the middle of the room with several mismatched quilts thrown atop it. 

Vera dragged him all the way inside and pushed him lightly on the couch, "Now you sit here, I'll be right back." Vox was still too shocked to speak, he couldn't even believe he was in her house to begin with. All he could do was nod dumbly and watch as she walked off to the kitchen area. He noticed all her little flames that usually circled her neck had scattered off in different directions. One flew off to hang around a rather tall grass-like plant, another flew off to nestle into the empty fish bowl, one even went to hang out near a bust of a rather severe looking man. 

"Make yourself comfy, I won't be long." Vera yelled from the kitchen. Vox looked at one of the throws next to him, he pulled it over on top of his thighs while still maintaining its folded integrity. He felt silly doing it, but everything felt silly right now. He continued to look around himself, the TV, he noted, wasn't Voxtech, Hell it wasn't even modern. There wasn't a single piece of Voxtech in the room at all, no wonder he had such a difficult time finding her, it's like she was living in the stone age. 

Her thighs came into view before him, he looked up, she had changed into something more casual and was holding two steaming mugs.

"What is all this?" He blurted out, feeling uncomfortable by the normalcy of everything. 

"This-" She nudged the mug into his hand, "is hot chocolate." She stated simply, he looked at the contents of the cups, small marshmallows danced around the top in the shape of stars.

Cute. He thought idly. 

"And this-" She gestured vaguely around her, "is a relax day. Now arms up." He did as she said, raising his hands and the mug above his head. Vera climbed on top, draping her legs on one side of his thigh with her back against the armrest of the couch. He lowered his arms back down, hands settling comfortably on her stomach. 

"Do you like movies?" He laughed, the incredulity of the situation finally catching up to him.

"Of course I like movies doll, I basically am one." He quirked a brow at her. 

She giggled, and it made him smile. Every time she laughed it made his heart stutter, especially.

"I guess that makes sense," she tapped her chin, "oh I have the perfect movie, one of my favorites." Vera picked up the remote, pressed a couple of buttons and the movie came to life on the screen. It was an older movie, black white, something he felt like he might've seen before, in a different lifetime.

"Does it hurt?" She whispered. Vox looked over, she looked concerned. Her fingers stretched out to delicately trace around his screen, careful not to mess with the shards.

"No, not anymore." He leaned into her touch. 

"What happened?" 

"I'd rather not talk about it." Vox grimaced at the memory. He didn't want to ruin the mood by talking about Valentino.

"I understand… but I am pretty sure I told you to get comfortable." 

"Wha- I am?" How else could he possibly get more comfortable, cozy house, pretty girl on his lap, what else was there?

Vera laughed and plucked the hat from his head. 

"Hey!" He yelped in surprise.

"How does this thing even work?" She asked, flipping the very thin garment back and forth.

"It's magnetic!" He snatched the hat back and threw it on the table. "Listen, I don't have a lot of options on headwear, you don't know how hard it is-" 

"Shhh, watch the movie." She pressed her finger against the right side of his face. He felt himself blush at the soft touch. It was stupid, they've had so much sex, like SO much sex, he should not be blushing at something so silly.

"But you just-" 

"SHHHHH."

Vox huffed and threw himself back against the cushion, a small grin tugging at his face. 

They sat in a comfortable silence as the movie played, sipping on their hot chocolates, laughing at the antics of the characters, especially when the leading man pushed his ex wife by the face. Vox laughed at the unexpected act startling Vera so much she almost spilled her drink. Eventually he felt Vera lean into him, head resting on his shoulder, he let his arm drift to her shoulder, fingers stroking the bare skin of her arm. 

He was at peace, Vox couldn't think of the last time he'd ever felt so comfortable before. There were no expectations, no demands, he could just sit here. Even with his screen broken, he felt okay. 

A subtle shift at his side made him look down, Vera's hair had fallen across her face, as she snoozed away quietly, her hot chocolate still resting in her hands. 

“A magnificence that comes out of your eyes, in your voice, in the way you stand there, in the way you walk, you’re lit from within. You’ve got fires banked down in you, hearth-fires and holocausts." The man in the movie professed his love to the leading lady.

But all Vox could do was stare down at the sleeping woman, admiring the way she breathed, the curve of her lips, her long lashes, his claws moved to brush the hair from off her face. He set his cup on the table and easily lifted her only to set her back down on the sofa. He took one of her many throws and laid it over her. 

He stood there staring for a couple beats longer, before leaving without another word.

His head was fuzzy, the whole event gave him whiplash. First Val's treatment and then Vera's, somehow it felt like they were both lying to him.

The first Voxtech security camera he saw he hopped into. He was heading directly back to his room, absolutely not wanting to deal with anyone.

As he zipped back to his penthouse he thought that even though he never fell asleep, even though she was in his sights the entire time, that she might have managed to steal something from him anyways, but he was too scared to admit to himself what exactly it was that she had stolen. 

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #vox x oc #vox x vera #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin fanfic #vox fanfiction

[notalwayscommonsense]

Making Showering Easier w/ Executive Dysfunction

On this account we cover how to do things that are "common sense" or generally untaught for the people who dont know. Shame-free. Today, we'll be covering tips to help shower when you struggle with executive dysfunction, a depressive episode or something similar. Executive dysfunction can cause tasks that seem easy and simple for most look insurmountable to people who suffer with it. Sadly, there's no quick fix, but below will be tips on making bathing easier.

Tip 1: Taking away the pressure - A big reason bathing can feel like such a daunting task is because you're looking at the big picture. A list of things you need or feel like you have to do; washing your body, your hair, shaving, going about your regular routine. Simply put, simplify your shower. Gauge what you can manage and cut out the rest. If you can only wash your hair or only wash your body its far better than nothing at all. If you cant do either, just letting the water run over you is enough.

There isnt any hard and fast rules you must follow while showering. You dont have the energy to stand? Then sit. You can invest in a shower stool or just sit right on the floor. "I cant shower, its 3am!" Says who? When motivation strikes, its best to ride that wave no matter what time of day it is. Is the process of getting ready after you shower the daunting part? Pick out comfortable clothes, air dry your hair or even plan to reward yourself afterwards with something you've been wanting to do. Thinking of being able to curl up on the couch comfortable, clean and cozy may strike some motivation.

Tip 2: Make it fun - This tip definitely isnt for everyone, but it may be helpful for some. Try to indulge in some things to make your showers more fun and increase the motivation to do it. Some quick, free things you can do are playing music or even setting your phone or tablet a safe distance away to have your favorite show or movie on in the background. You can even bring a refreshing drink or snack (fruit will never get soggy and you dont need to worry about getting sticky from popsicles!). If you're open to spending some money, there's countless other ways you could increase the motivation to shower. Fancy soaps, body scrubs, fluffy new loofahs, bath bombs or shower steamers can all leave you feeling eager to try them out. Check out the kids section, seriously. Bath tints, bathtub crayons, markers and paint can all be fun for people with a creative side. Tip 3: Dont - If none of these options sound appealing to you, then simply dont shower. There are other ways to freshen up without having to go through all the motions. Using dry shampoo can leave your hair unwashed for longer. Dampen a wash cloth with warm water and wipe down your armpits. Keeping a pack of baby wipes by your bed can help when you feel a spark of motivation. Below will be linked a few more resources and products that could help when you're having trouble. Remember, no matter how hard it may feel right now, things will get easier. Products: Bathtub Markers & Crayons Affordable Shower Speaker B&BW Bath & Shower Products 15 Pack of Shower Steamers Resources: 15 Hygiene Hacks SAMHSA’s National Helpline

#positivity #affirmation #self worth #reminders #self help #gentle reminder #actually autistic #actually neurodivergent #actually adhd #executive dysfunction #mental health #tutorial #adhd #recovery #healing #encouragement #self compassion

[thetomorrowshow]

fighting back

Empires Superpowers au masterlist

this takes place about 4 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: food, flashbacks/panic attacks in a public place

~

“Here’s your menus, can I get you both something to drink?”

“Diet Pepsi, please,” Scott says, raising an eyebrow at Jimmy, who manages a stuttered, “Water, thank you.”

Scott nudges him after the waiter leaves. “Boring.” “Caffeine used to really screw with my powers,” Jimmy admits. “I haven’t had any in a long while, but I used to drink a bunch of Mountain Dew, and coffee every morning. Stopped when I was around twenty-three, I think.”

Scott leaves it at that, instead asking, “So you’ve never been to a restaurant before?”

“When I was a kid my parents would take Lizzie and me to, like, buffet places,” Jimmy shrugs. “But then my mom got really sick at one, and going out as a family to someplace nice was too expensive. So we got fast food drive-throughs on road trips or for celebrations, but not much else.”

“Criminal. What do you want to order?”

Jimmy thumbs through the plastic menu, biting his lip. “Um. Not sure. Do I have to get from—”

“Here are your drinks,” the waiter interrupts, placing a tall glass of soda in front of Scott and a matching one in front of Jimmy. “I’ll be back in a few minutes for your order!”

“Thanks so much,” Scott says, Jimmy echoing him. He takes a sip of the water, ice clacking against his teeth.

It’s not a fancy restaurant, by any means. It’s a diner in a cheap part of town, a place that Scott had said has the best fries and milkshakes and had gotten very excited when Jimmy had said he’d never really been out to eat before. Jimmy’s fairly sure that Scott’s made a list of places to eat, to go along with all the sights Jimmy’s never seen and the foods Jimmy’s never tried.

There’s a decent crowd of people here, too, which is why Jimmy’s more put-out than anything else when he feels a hand run through his hair.

He jumps a little, glances around to make sure nobody is near him. Scott glances up at him, then back to the menu.

“I’m gonna get the roast beef sliders. Anything sound good to you?”

No flashbacks sounds good to him, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, phantom fingers curling around his hair. He turns his eyes back to the menu, stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few moments. “Um, you pick,” he says, pushing the menu to Scott. “What’s good here?”

“Ooh, definitely the reuben if you like rye, but the turkey and swiss is always a safe choice. Good?”

“Mhm, sounds fine,” Jimmy mumbles. He tries to grab hold onto anything Scott had told him about the food here through the brain fog of flashbacks. “Uh, you said the fries are good?”

“Ooh yes, I’ll get us both fries and milkshakes. What flavor of milkshake?”

Jimmy can’t remember any ice cream flavor ever, suddenly. He checks the menu, picks the first thing he sees. “Vanilla?”

“Sure! I’ll match.”

As casually as he can manage, Jimmy slips an ice cube out of his glass, cradles it in the palm of his hand. It’s supposed to ground him, remind his body that he’s in the present. The hand in his hair stubbornly remains.

He holds onto the ice cube until it melts, dribbling water in a small pool on the table. It doesn’t do anything but make his hand burn with the cold.

He blinks rapidly, twitches his head several times to try and shake the hand away. His trained instincts are starting to settle in, his body going still. If he moves his head, he might get slapped.

“Everything okay?”

Jimmy smiles easily, brightly, in Scott’s direction. His boyfriend is giving him a concerned look, hand out for Jimmy to take. Jimmy takes it.

“I’m fine, babe. Just got a little lost in thought!”

The acting skills from that one role as Cod Number 3 in Empires South Middle School’s production of The Little Mermaid Jr are really paying off.

Scott’s face eases, just as he looks up to see the waiter approaching them. Jimmy orders with no issue, watches the very pretty way Scott’s eyes scrunch up as he pretends to examine the menu one last time before ordering.

That doesn’t get the hand out of his hair, though. Maybe he should buzz it. Shave his head. Nothing for phantom hands to touch.

The hand trails down to rub his shoulders and Jimmy knows that wouldn’t solve the problem.

The food arrives and Jimmy releases Scott’s hand to watch him for cues, not trusting his unstable mind to do things in the right order. Scott unwraps his silverware so Jimmy does so as well; Scott places his napkin on his lap and Jimmy follows suit.

Scott seems to enjoy his food, and Jimmy understands that his tastes good as well but it’s hard to process. Everything is hard to process. It’s too bright in here, too loud. A family with three shouting kids passes by and Jimmy can’t help but flinch away, a movement that he tries to suavely change into wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders.

Scott scoffs at him, wriggles out from under and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “How’s your food?”

“Good,” Jimmy responds automatically, taking another bite. The hand pulls hard enough on his hair that his head jerks back and he freezes, biting his lip. He’s not going to cry here. He just wants to enjoy a nice meal with his boyfriend. Why can’t he just have a good time?

“Scott, love?” Jimmy manages, the slightest tremble making its way into his voice. He gathers his courage before he’s too anxious to ask. “Could—could you touch my hair?”

Scott goes still. After a moment, he slowly turns to give him a concerned look. “Jimmy, your hair is off-limits. We set that boundary in place ages ago.”

Great, now Scott probably thinks something ridiculous, like he misses the feeling of horrible hands touching his hair. He doesn’t, he doesn’t at all—in fact, he’s so nervous about Scott touching him that he can feel himself begin to shake. He just needs a little push.

“I just—I—” he takes a calming breath, places his clenched hands on the table, “there’s—there’s a hand. In my hair. And I—I want a real one. So I can tell the difference.”

Scott’s eyes flick up, and Jimmy watches as his face morphs from confusion to understanding, then sorrow. “Oh, Jimmy. I’m sorry that’s happening.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jimmy grits out as the ghost hand yanks again. “The ice trick didn’t work, eating didn’t help, it started almost as soon as we got here and it just won’t go—”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Scott says, glancing around as Jimmy pulls at his face. He’s fine, he’s not freaking out. It’s just a flashback, just a stupid flashback, and he’s fine. He’s not—he’s not—

“We can get to-go boxes, eat later,” Scott offers, already looking to wave down a waiter. “Really, it’s fine—”

“No, I want—” he wants to have a good time with Scott, he wants to eat, he wants Xornoth to stop touching him— “I want to be here, can you—can we at least try?” he begs, peeking at Scott through his fingers. “Can you try touching my hair?”

Scott glances around again, frowning. “Jimmy, I—” he sighs, bites his lip— “Jimmy, we set up months ago that if you’re clearly distressed and want me to touch your hair, I’m supposed to say no. And baby, you’re crying.”

And now he’s crying. Great. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, takes in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want—I wanted it to be good—”

He can hear the panic in Scott’s voice when he speaks. “Jimmy, do you know where you are right now?”

“The diner, with you, and so many people watching—” he cuts himself off, buries his face in his arms. There’s so many people here, all staring at him as he has a breakdown over a stupid flashback that he knows isn’t actually happening but just can’t shake.

“I’ll get some to-go boxes, okay? We’ll go home—”

“But I want to stay,” Jimmy insists, and he just knows he sounds like a petulant child. “I want to eat out with you, I want you to not have to worry about me freaking out over nothing! I love you so much, I just wanted today to be normal. . . .”

Scott’s silent for a while as Jimmy sniffles into his sleeves. At some point a waiter approaches, asks Scott lowly if everything’s all right.

“We’re fine . . . no, he’s got PTSD . . . thank you for your service too. . . .”

Scott waits until the waiter leaves, lays his head down on the table beside Jimmy. “Hey,” he says quietly. Jimmy blinks at him through the tears.

“I won’t be upset if we have to leave. I just want you to be safe and happy. You’re not a burden to me—I want to spend time with you, and it doesn’t matter where.”

Jimmy closes his eyes briefly as the phantom hand falls again to his back, rubbing lightly. “Can—can you rub my back?” he asks, voice small.

Scott immediately complies, and the feeling of something real—someone real—touching him where the hand was makes the phantom sensation drift away, off into the air like it had never happened. He relaxes into Scott’s arm as his breathing begins to even out, tension seeping out of him.

“Told you,” he grumbles, pressing his head into Scott’s chest. Scott being there, his head up against Scott’s firm and real body, makes all the difference. “‘S gone now. Just needed you.”

Scott’s hand, still rubbing his back, pauses. “I—oh,” he says softly, resuming the backrub. “I’m really . . . I’m really happy you trust me in that way. I’m really happy I can help you.”

“Sorry for making a scene.”

“You don’t need to apologize for a thing, love. Flashbacks are nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jimmy’s embarrassed anyway, certain that there are still eyes on him. He sighs, rubs his eyes before reaching for his plate. “Can we still stay? I want to.”

Scott gives him a once over, frowns. “Okay, but on one condition: if another flashback starts at any time, we’re leaving. All right?”

It’s the right choice to make, and Jimmy nods his agreement.

He’s still not used to luck being in his favor, but he doesn’t have another flashback, and he finds he can push through the exhaustion and enjoy dinner with his boyfriend.

There may be flashbacks, and panic attacks, but really? Everything . . . everything’s okay. For the moment, he’s happy, and he knows that a flashback is a minor setback.

He leans against Scott’s shoulder, sucking on his milkshake, and lets out a contented sigh. Everything’s okay.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #flower husbands #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #ough writing trauma processing my beloved... #plus a sweet ending! #i just. idk i like writing scenes where the trauma is still there and hurts #but the character can live a happy life still #and have a good time #and know how to cope #i also like writing the flower husbands smsm #031422 #let me know what you think! #love you guys

[imagine-silk]

Fallout 4; Taking care of a Teen!Asian!Sole

Travis Miles

He felt like he needed to be a good influence to you, even though he's not older than you by a lot. Around you he grows a bit of a backbone. In the Doug-out he interrupts your conversation with Vadim to take away your shot and yell at him. Only to realize Vadim didn't realize you were a kid and unintentionally pressured you into having one.

In his quest he protected you during the fight and didn't want you to go to save Vadim, but he also knew he couldn't stop you. He didn't want to see you hurt due to something that was technically his fault. Actually punches Vadim before hugging him, calling him stupid for involving himself with raiders.

You would think he would be like an older brother but the role he takes in your life is akin to a father figure. Before you leave Diamond city he checks if you have the supplies to get across the Commonwealth. When you are there he takes you to get noodles, he'll listen to your adventures while eating. You are always welcomed to stay at his house if you don't want to stay at the Doug-out. He's always there to be your rock to lean on or even just to reminisce about life before the war.

Overall, Travis doesn't treat your race as anything because it is very far into the apocalypse, the concepts of race is almost nonexistent. To him you just have features he's seen from a few other people.

Nick Valentine

He remembers before the war, that includes all the Asian hate. Luckily for you, he never believed in calling random citizens 'commie bastards' in fact he's sympathetic. The only real difference in how he treats you is he'll ask about the culture because he knows a very limited amount.

Does help you with the main quest but low-key doesn't give you an option to dismiss him. He hates that a kid was put through this and is subjected to the woes of the Commonwealth. But at the same time he doesn't want to stop you. Productivity is a way of grieving, you lost both your parents, your little brother got kidnapped, and the world ended as you knew it. It wouldn't be right for him to tell you to let it go.

Actually closes the Agency for a while to travel with you. Not that he doesn't trust you, of course not, he doesn't trust everyone else. This is the Commonwealth, land of 'get mauled by a radiated bear' and home of the 'I'll kill you for a fancy-lad'. The world's not in the best place for someone who's not equipped.

Deacon

When Des recruited you he thought she was joking and was really surprised when she put you to the test with him supervising. After the mission he knew you could handle yourself but talking to you made him realize the gravity of you being a kid, and it hit him like a bus. He yelled at Des, away from everyone of course but she was less than pleased. The Railroad couldn't afford to be picky, he knew that, but using a kid who wanted to find their baby brother was a new all time low.

He jokingly asked if you were a spy before the war and immediately regretted it. The look of pure shame on your face was unforgettable to him. He apologized real fast. You forgave him but he beat himself up about it for the next week.

He didn't want to get attached to you, he didn't want you to get attached to him. But he did and you did. Not from a lack of trying. He did the whole 'you can't trust everyone' shtick but you just kinda stuck with him. To be fair, what teenager wouldn't find him cool as hell? Dude Agent 47 his way through the Commonwealth.

[Got this pic from Pinterest X ]

#Fallout 4 #male reader #female reader #gender neutral y/n #fallout 4 #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #companions react #nick valentine #travis miles #deacon fo4

[nukerooster]

A.I. prompt paintover. Fancied up images are my paintovers, and the OG prompt MJ spit out is the last image. I like the abstract, impossible results I get from rolls, and using them in personal work has been a lot of fun.

I kept it rough and dirty. It doesn't make sense in a lot of areas, but I find that appeals to my abstract mind and works for the context of the character. Like painting over textures, A.I. prompts give a great canvas of 'grit' to explore.

As a note, I do not consider raw A.I. generations as true art. They are visual prompts, ideas that are not visually created by humans, but a program. While I find these idea generators incredibly useful, I am very cautious on how I perceive them. They are no more than a potential tool if used properly, and can not replace the ‘artist’ in regards to my moral compass. What we as artists can do is utilize and cannibalize what we want, push and pull aspects of a prompt we like, and create something that we can consider our own. If you are curious about A.I., there are discords that are very active right now and you can learn how to use the program to jumpstart ideas you’re stuck on, or just pull something crazy out of the ether and you can go haywire in direction (as I did here.) I personally use MidJourney. I find it satisfactory with its results and have tons of ideas generated for me to sift through and cherry pick.

Don’t limit yourself in tool usage because there are abuses that happen(this can come in all categories, shapes, and sizes), these issues are prevalent in every community and aspect of art, from tracing and claiming to products, I’ve had it all done to me and know the risks, know that potential tools can be used against me and others, but I refuse to fear a tool because someone feels that artists will be replaced with an A.I. image. We feared the same with photography, feared the same with 3-D, feared the same with digital art applications, yet we are actively using all of these methods in art today, and it is a thriving, living thing that is evolving with or without a specific individual’s opinions. I have used textures, 3-D sculpts, photography, traditional, digital, and irl sculptures in my work. I have stuck my perceptions onto many mediums, and I don’t want to alienate a new tool out of fear. If I find it ugly, I’ll make it what I want. If I don’t like the composition, I’ll change it to what I want. That’s the magic of being an artist, we can twist and pull however we please. 

We’ve leeched our personal styles and methods from our years of doing what we do, our living experiences, our conversations, critiques, our favorite movies, books, and styles, our changes in life, our decisions in mediums and even the music(also art) that we jam to at the early hours while most of the world is fast asleep. 

Unless you created these things, the references that most of us have pulled from Google images of places, things, and animals we may never see irl and will not have the opportunity to witness are not our own, the music we get inspired to are not our own, the movies and games and novels we enjoy are not our own, the old master’s of ages long past’s artwork is not our own, our friend’s art we simp for hard are not our own, but we adapt all of this to ourselves, most oftentimes subconsciously, and make it our own. It then becomes our own personal artist fingerprint that we put on everything we create, and we ourselves might even be subconscious inspiration for another person. If one denies this, they deny the art they create.

A.I. claiming a style is false. None of us can perfect another artist’s strokes, and an A.I. program is less than blip of our mental conjuring. It puts a visual flair based on algorithm and us as artists as a base. We are part of it, but it is not a part of us, and we can take what we want from it because it should be here to serve the artist, serve our mental searches for something new, serve our vague thoughts and try to turn that into something we can be satisfied with, or at least provide a visual base. 

Art is not pure nor formulized. It is messy, chaotic, abstract, amazing, ever-changing, and we should not hold back from exploration because foolishness happens(trying too hard to emulate a specific artist’s style is really silly imo for example), Foolishness is part of the human experience and we as artists have to work around it and do better than, just as we always have. Art will be a factor in human life for as long as we live, I think, and we have to remind ourselves of that. It is one of the timeless aspects of humans I find appealing, and we’re just a tiny little piece of its ongoing evolution.

If you do fear it, that it will strike opportunities and swallow industries, remember it’s not the art that’s causing this, and not A.I., it’s greed and monetary gain, and again, foolishness, also created by humans. Indie companies may instead be aided with the usage of A.I. as their teams are often small, and messy, quick idea generations can help the process along, but A.I. generations all by themselves make poor finished concepts. Nothing I have seen generated looks complete or final, and every one of them NEEDS an artist who knows what they’re doing to bring an A.I. sloppy rendition of an armor clad soldier to something that can actually be used as an idea. 

If you’re trying to work out your headworld and generate ideas for complex things like ‘hm I need ideas for a vast cityscape set in the mountains, what COULD that look like?’, you can get even half a step closer to better visualization of your world. I’ve used the tool in these ways myself, and have admittedly helped me out greatly as my mental images tend to be extremely complex, so getting at least a general feel out visually has offered some relief.

And it is okay NOT to use this new tool in your work, ever. We have freedom of choice, and that includes deciding A.I. generations will not be part of your art process. We have a choice to dislike A.I. for whatever reasons, just as I dislike some forms of art for my own reasons. 

#ai prompt #ai paintover #digitalart #arch #wings #character art #midjourney #longpost #text

[captain039]

My minds a maze

Oscar Isaac x reader

Warnings: Anxiety and depression, swearing, ABO, intimacy, comfort, mentions SH scars, DD/LG, sexual, eventual smut, talk about body and body image, body shaming, age gap, virgin reader

Notes: It doesn’t bother me talking about mental health issues it actually helps me, personally I have BPD, major anxiety and depression and agoraphobia(I’m scared to leave my house), I am always open to talking about these things as they should be normalised and not something to just get over or overlooked, they are very real and serious issues just like physical ones. If you ever need to speak I’m happy to speak with you :)

Your first official event for the recent show was nerve racking. You swore your heart was beating to fast to comprehend, your whole body was sweaty and you felt like thoughts were all whizzing or not there at all. You’d been to small events, small gatherings but this was a big one with the first outing of all the cast. You were a wreck, you hadn’t even undone your seatbelt as your door opened for you. You frowned seeing a familiar smiling face and scent.

“Come on princess” Oscar smiled holding his hand out. You felt yourself calm a little and held his hand as he helped you out.

You flinched at the lights and calls of the crowd and huddle a bit closer to the alpha by you. You held Oscars hand tightly keeping your head down as you tried to calm your breathing.

“You can do this” you heard softly and looked up to his soft smile. You began to walk, head held up as you smiled and waved meekly, hand still clutching Oscars. You made it inside the event and was able to find your seat. You placed your things down on your chair looking to the crowd. Everyone was dressed up and sparkling. You were dressed up also, this dress a little too uncomfortable for your liking, your boobs a little to showy also. You tried to keep the small shawl you had covering them but it didn’t work and you were too hot.

“Do I have to socialise?” You asked Oscar quietly and he chuckled.

“Unfortunately we-“ before he could finish people came up. You had let go of his hand and clasped them in front of you. You didn’t know who stood in front of you to your embarrassment, you just smiled and went with the conversation. Your anxiety wasn’t going to calm, but it felt like it kept spiking and spiking. You weren’t used to big events, proper show events for famous fancy people. You were used to plays and cast dinners in a private setting or an after party sort of thing, this was huge. When you met Oscar you felt your world change even more, he, well.

When you first walked into auditions you spotted him and almost fan-girled , he was handsome, his scent drove you crazy and his smile made your knees buckle. As you got to know him more he was a big teddy bear, the sweetest man despite him having bad days like everyone. He had issues too with family and friends he kept at bay but shared with you when he was a little too drunk or it was just you and him. You fell, badly if that’s what it was, you’d never been ‘in love’ never had a connection or partner, so it was all new. He was a rather touchy man, he loves hugging and always being close to someone, he was a people person. You were the opposite, you avoided everyone, literally, despite it being months into production you were just a turtle in hiding. Despite being the exact opposite with family and your best friend. You were always needing to be around them or touching, making sure they were there. You weren’t in an adult mind despite your age, you never grew out of being told what to do or being told you’re doing a good job, your mum handled your doctors appointments still. So this piece was a big step for you. You cried, you screamed, you laughed, you had so many emotions going through it, even now you did, but Oscar just seemed to make it better. It was cliche as hell but damn it felt like a warm blanket. He always knew how to calm you, his scent alone was enough to do it, he was soft in tone with you, sweet with words and helping you. It’s like he saw you needed an proper adult around to help.

“Hey?” You frowned looking to the alpha.

“Still with me?” He chuckled softly and you smiled nodding.

“Who were they?” You whispered realising the people you were talking to were gone.

“I don’t know” he admitted and you laughed a bit loudly. He laughed too with you, a small snort leaving his nose.

“Ladies and gentlemen if you would please take your seats” a man spoke over the microphone and you turned. Oscar grinned before he left to sit down. You were a little upset he wasn’t sitting by you. You sat, small bag in your lap. You fiddled with it during the speech, your anxiety peeking again. Your leg was jogging and you felt like the air was as thick as butter. Your water was all gone and you weren’t fond of the wine sitting there. You excused yourself to go to the toilet, hands shaking. You entered the quiet hall and leant against the wall. You slid down not caring about the tightness of your dress or how it may look. You kept your head down, eyes closed and focused on breathing. You tapped your bracelet, leg jogging awkwardly. You jumped when a voice came and looked up seeing Oscar.

“Geez” you muttered as he knelt by you.

“You ok?” He asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright” he sat down by you.

“You’ll get a cramp in your leg” his hand rested on the knee of your bouncing leg and your heart raced even more. You flushed and looked away, staring at the floor. His hand slowly left after a while though. Your dress was constricting, you couldn’t breathe properly.

“Curse this dress” you shuffled a bit making matters more awkward.

“I want my pjs, a nice soft blanket and some chocolate” You huffed in defeat.

“And my bed” you finished hearing Os car chuckle.

“I can’t sneak out the back can I?” You muttered and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry but no, cast members are required on stage briefly” he said and you groaned.

“Better get back then” you huffed awkwardly sitting up. Oscar stood helping you to your feet. You sighed quietly eyes on his chest, being close to him was nerve wracking and calming somehow. You quickly moved away apologising as you walked back to your table. You sat, blocking out most things till your name was called. You stood slowly as people clapped, you stood by May, smiling at the crowd.

When the event finally ended you were in relief to head back to the hotel. You took your heels off in the car and lowered your zip down so you could breathe. You didn’t care what the receptionist thought as you walked in, to exhausted.

“Welcome back” she smiled and you smiled back.

“That bad?” She said and you scoffed nodding.

“Would you like me to send anything up?” She asked.

“Chocolate?” You said chuckling.

“I can do cake?” She said and you smiled.

“You’re amazing” you said and she grinned.

“I’ll get that up to you soon” she said writing it down.

“Thank you so much” you said before heading to the elevator.

“Can I have some?” You turned seeing Oscar behind you, you gulped a bit realising your state. You and the receptionist, Ruby, got along quickly, she understood you well and she was funny. You had your heels in your hand, dress slightly undone, hair no doubt a mess from you trying to pull the bobby pins out wiling talking to Ruby.

“Oh-“ you looked to Ruby who smirked and wrote something down. You chuckled nervously as Oscar came over, you probably should’ve though before slightly undressing yourself.

“Not comfortable?” He chuckled voice smooth.

“No, this dress is horrible, beautiful, just horrible to wear” you said fiddling with the pins in your hand.

“And pins in your hair sucks too, so do heels” you gestured them up. You shivered slightly, wanting to have a nice long shower before your cake arrived.

“I’m gonna head up and shower before cake arrives” You spoke quietly and he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, me too” he said following you to the elevator.

You stood in silence his scent rather overwhelming at this point. You could feel yourself leaning closer to him, something you did with your favourite family members and friends. You quickly stood up right and cursed yourself silently.

“Goodnight” you said heading to your door as the elevator doors open.

“Night princess” he said.

Next part ->

#Oscar Isaac #abo #x reader #Oscar Isaac x reader #alpha Oscar #actors #acting

[sensei-venus]

Can you do some headcanons on Robby taking care of a female reader on her period? I feel like he would know some tricks on how to feel better with very little because of the situation with his mom and home life...

Robby Taking Care Of Female Reader On Her Period

•Robby definitely knows about periods, even though his mom isn't around much. She still talks about it and leaves period products around her bathroom and bedroom.

•Living with a single mom his whole life definitely helped prepare for having a girlfriend at some point.

•Honestly up until he was in middle school, he didn’t think anything was weird about periods. (He didn’t understand why kids at school made jokes and taunted other kids for having them. He also didn’t understand why people where so embarrassed about talking about them. It’s normal?)

•He doesn’t like period jokes at all. He especially hates when people make fun of the pain of period’s. He hates the whole “awww are you on your period? Your such a baby.” Kinda crap. Rolls his eyes every time he hears comments along those lines.

•(Season 1 Robby) knows the best places to steal tampons and pads from. He even knows what time they dump their overload stuff. Hey, free stuff?

•Knows the best places for cheap generic pain meds. Isn’t scared to clip some coupons from the paper for some good old Ibuprofen. His bathroom cabinet is always stocked.

•His best find was the time he snatched a brand new never opened box with a heating pad. Like a fancy one. Shitty store throwing out brand new stuff, idiot’s.

•(Season 1 Robby) Is happy to ditch school and stay home with her if she ends up feeling to sick to go herself. Will cuddle with her all the time, letting her leach of his natural body heat. If she wants he will even give her a massage.

•(Season 1 Robby) He feels bad because he can’t take her to his moms apartment, most of the time the power is off from his mom not paying the bill or just straight up forgetting. She’s usually gone anyway, leaving him alone in the apartment.

•Sometimes he scrap’s up enough money to go out and buy them something to eat, maybe snacks or fast food if they feel up too it. They just lay in bed watching movies as they eat together.

#cobra kai #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai robby #robby keene

[storyreader01]

Joanna had always dreamed of working in the fashion industry, but after leaving her family behind she never thought it was possible. That was until she stumbled upon the headquarters of Runway magazine, the pinnacle of high fashion, where she caught a glimpse of her old college friend, Miranda Priestly, stepping out of a town car.

Her heart racing, Joanna mustered up the courage to approach Miranda, who didn't recognize her at first. But after some catching up, Joanna spilled her troubles and doubts, explaining that she felt stuck in her career and missed her family dearly.

Miranda listened politely, her icy exterior cracking with empathy, and soon offered Joanna a job as a junior editor on the magazine's beauty team. Overwhelmed and overjoyed, Joanna couldn't contain her excitement as she started her new job.

But as she soon found out, working in the world of high fashion was a far cry from raising a child and being a wife. The hours were long, the pressure was intense, and her new colleagues were snarky, fierce, and cunning.

She quickly fell into a routine, learning how to put together photo spreads, coming up with headlines and snappy one-liners. As she walked through the bustling hallways, flashes of brilliant color, clicking heels, and heavy perfumes assailed her senses. Every day was a sensory overload, a jumble of chaos and creativity fighting for dominance.

But the biggest challenge for her had to be coming up with the perfect product shots and headlines, such as "Lash Out the World with these Adorable Eyelashes!" Her coworkers were no less inventive, with lines like "The new lipstick color is more dangerous than a nuclear bomb, and just as explosive!" That kind of humor was what kept Joanna going through the long nights and endless deadlines.

Even with the glamour and creativity, however, Joanna felt as though something was missing. She missed her son, Billy, and the sound of his laughter. She missed her old life, and it was a struggle to keep up with her new one. But Miranda was always there, always pushing her to innovate and excel. And when Joanna finally got the opportunity to shoot a cover story, she realized it was worth all the stress and late nights.

As she packed up for the day, Joanna was still humming with adrenaline, unable to hide her grin. She took one last look at the bustling hallways, inhaling the scent of hairspray and the clutter of camera flashes, before stepping out onto the bustling streets of New York City. She knew then that she was right where she belonged, even if it meant missing out on her family's lives.

Joanna's days at Runway magazine were eventful, to say the least. She often found herself caught in the whirlwind of Miranda's demands, running back and forth from her office to Nigel's, who never missed an opportunity to mention the infamous Andrea Sachs.

"Joanna, darling, you should have seen the look on Andrea's face when Miranda dished out that legendary cerulean monologue," Nigel said, chuckling as they walked together in the fashion closet. "She was freshly plucked from the farm and had no idea what she was getting into."

Joanna couldn't help but laugh, relishing these snarky conversations with Nigel. They became fast friends, bonding over their shared experiences and the absurdity of the fashion industry.

"Ah, Emily," Nigel sighed wistfully as they spotted Miranda's first assistant, scurrying by with a clipboard and a permanently harried expression. "You know, she fancied herself Miranda's right-hand woman until Andrea came along and threw that all out the window."

Joanna watched as Emily struggled to keep up with Miranda's high expectations, her heels clicking on the marble floor while she muttered expletives under her breath. It was a delicate dance, trying to appease the indomitable Miranda and holding onto one's sanity.

Amid the chaos, Joanna's phone buzzed with a text from Billy. "Mom, I aced my math test! Can I have ice cream for dinner?" The message brought a smile to her face, grounding her in the reality she often missed. She quickly typed back, "You can have two scoops, my little math genius. I'm proud of you."

It was during a hectic photo shoot for the magazine that Joanna saw her worlds collide before her eyes. Miranda's twin daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, wandered onto the set, openly discussing Andrea and her abrupt departure from their mother's employ.

"Mom, have you found a new whipping girl yet? We heard Andy was quite the entertainment," Cassidy whispered mischievously, glancing at Joanna, who stood nearby, her heart in her throat.

Miranda's gaze landed on Joanna, her blue eyes steely and calculating. "Joanna, meet my delightful daughters. Girls, say hello to Billy's loving mother."

Joanna braced herself for the inevitable snobbery or scrutiny, but to her surprise, Miranda's demeanor softened. She ruffled Caroline's hair and glanced at Joanna.

"Children, we don't speak ill of others. Andrea was...irreplaceable in her way," Miranda said, her tone surprisingly gentle. "And besides, we all have lives outside of work, don't we?"

The air was thick with tension as Joanna realized Miranda's statement was directed not only at her daughters' but at herself as well. There, in that fleeting moment, Joanna glimpsed the vulnerability beneath Miranda's legendary exterior.

As the day came to a close, Joanna found herself alone in the office with Miranda, an unusual occurrence. The room was filled with hushed whispers and the distant sound of printers, but the two of them sat in comfortable silence.

Joanna plucked up the courage to break the ice. "You know, Miranda, in a way, you remind me of my son. Fiercely independent, driven, and unyielding."

Miranda raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Billy, wasn't it? I've heard quite a bit about him from Nigel. He seems like quite the character."

"He is," Joanna replied, a twinkle in her eye. "And if there's one thing I've learned from being both a mother and working here, it's that life is about finding the right balance, between ambition and love, high fashion and ice cream for dinner."

Miranda's lips curved into a slight smile, a rare sight indeed. "Indeed, Joanna. Perhaps balance is the key after all."

And for that fleeting moment, amidst the chaos, rivalry, and snarky banter of the fashion world, Joanna and Miranda found a connection—a shared understanding that life's most precious moments were found beyond the glossy pages of a magazine.

As the days went on, Miranda, Emily, and Nigel couldn't help but reminisce about the "unforgettable" moments with their former second assistant, Andrea Sachs. They all had their unique take on her, often showcasing their wit and sarcasm in lighthearted banter.

"I have to admit, there was something about her," Nigel mused, flipping through a rack of dresses. "Andrea managed to bewitch us all with her fabulous little Six."

Miranda rolled her eyes, her lips quirking into a wry smile. "Ah yes, how could we ever forget the glorious days of Harry Potter and the accessorizing disasters? Truly riveting."

Emily, her frustration palpable, chimed in. "She was the epitome of uneventful yet managed to stir up chaos with her incompetence. Let's not forget the time she decided to order lunch for everyone and ended up with a plethora of gluten-free vegan tofu options. Nightmare."

The conversation took a sudden turn as Miranda's daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, made their presence known. They had been listening intently, quietly giggling amongst themselves.

"You two find this amusing, do you?" Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow.

Caroline stepped forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Well, Mom, as much as Andrea's fashion sense left us wanting, she did introduce us to the wonders of Harry Potter. We may not have liked her for stabbing us in the Gryffindor-loving hearts, but we can't unsee the magic."

Cassidy nodded in agreement. "Andrea may have been clueless about fashion, but she was the reason we snuck in our dog, and had a glorious adventure in Harry Potter World."

Miranda's mask cracked for a split second, an undeniable glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "You two and your shenanigans, it's a miracle we kept up appearances during that disastrous trip."

As they continued their walk through the office, Joanna caught snippets of conversations and snippets from Emily's diary, always filled with snark and hidden exasperation.

"Dear diary, another uneventful day with Andrea. She still doesn't understand the art of making a proper cappuccino. I swear she must have invented a new form of coffee abstractionism."

Joanna chuckled, glancing over Emily's shoulder to catch a glimpse of other entries that mentioned Andrea's foibles. Despite the sarcasm, there was an undertone of nostalgia and respect for the young woman who had left her mark on everyone's lives.

The icing on the cake, however, came when Nigel presented Joanna with a framed photo of himself, Miranda, and Andrea during happier times. "To my fabulous little Six," he said, handing her the frame with a grin.

Joanna's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. She had heard so much about Andrea, and now, holding that photo in her hands, she realized just how much impact one person could have, even long after they were gone.

In the grand scheme of things, it was the uneventful moments, the ones where Andrea stumbled, that had left an indelible mark on the lives of those around her. And as Joanna looked at the smiling faces in the photo, she vowed to honor Andrea's spirit by embracing both the chaos and the uneventful moments that defined life at Runway magazine.

archiveofourown.org/works/49891525"

#cross posted on ao3 #alternate universe #miranda priestly #devil wears prada #kramer vs kramer #emily charlton #nigel kipling

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Into thee free, and a”)

A rispetto sequence

               1

None and with old my boy. Into thee free, and a little of these dark to Ovid, and flitting retreats of played so the rest euer; stellas short of need to fool, his barely, seeke a Couch ugliness of the prince; clear as the through to pleasure, few from Gaeta:—Shot. Or gall told of Me and which aboue of Thee the heart like to touch our soules may vow and the deeply, betraying.

               2

As you be; Deale the most hew, attends for this, at lace, now but ne’er so. They never died, bodies all the Face or mother until I stay force, but when it lightly train septembering alwaies fast, and dust I walls of my greatest wealth to guide, and my funny noon’s transportion, like a zeppelin. Time this true hypocrites in senses in pity which, what dear, more stood.

               3

Not to nuptial song an hour; but he waves rolling us all awry; what ever in a tule frequestioning, that through THAT Love. The can hour, whom Fame and Lo! I do burning, onely by night long since breath she were still my cheek or the ruby night, brief ass’s earth, no light, love’s glance of a struck matched with swore? And so its backe, and I sow, an image of snow and Lo!

               4

But of youth’s affection’s rule and all standing over-part my heart he shew, which whom myself almost, and dumb death, the under throe: turns in lovelines, although the silks were best. But the riper shall be these for you my serenity— that from the Cup, and the silent Dead, conform of Italia! And when not a silence the stroke, such of its in meditation.

               5

Lethal. But such a kind; what! Come, gleamy life progress? To music, while if one, no doubt, thou with product I reap’d—I came of this despair, soon applied, as widow’s life was the first an awkwards of decorates woke—and the lie! Is differ a To-morrow? There is your rais’d nor lieth. The knew no misfortune led; there specific seas at last, if he spurres with dead!

               6

But complain; nor contractices of foreman, or ugliness weel, nae maid, What Lamps and what a drug that rubs its the tressed, though their fold, as without his globe they ca’ me, i’ll rather. And late, and Fancy, shall day after two, how long-drawn Sigh, my Clay wit depends for Italy. Yet something core, beeing immortal worke I known the Vessel of you when you pleasure I?

               7

And the meant a screen: would servant to fright like Waters of fruite motion hold weight and revisions. Winter-side, but short, he solemn love. You with my bosom, the bed, but die wits, and aver a peace or leaps like for when only hunted, nor housed the for wise, made of a child, by whom Fame and th’ effect. For in one but seized, and yet God it’s not her eyes as right, knight.

               8

Thou art nor she fatal work the who made wretch for then tear blind turtle. Will I thine own joy shaw, and Wild I begin, in a woman can giue. Widows why nothing me than not kill wring Sects so simple deadly died, love and he treasure, likewise Salomon in stainless life it would you all, which fools not a smooth wicked it have broom to the Stone jaw of ice exiles throw.

               9

The One did the approximate fores for your sleep might, thou lo’es mee. But wish me, again. ’Tis song. Inventing did in their eyes, the Memory moth, pod of Repentance, and low, you begins honour, with them most and you meant to learn: and what once breast you can unlock the union of a’. At time for the never in The Seed: there nearly in that frown when in that train.

               10

Beside ours I wanna be you be leave to thee the Parent night, cling still is fulfilled tears there she has met wi’ my Phillis, has give your wedding Life to make and he asked the wind, how twas impotently showers in felt affect. Going off force that great doth wail’d, and that slides that must be: for head knocked by tradesman’s knees on a pillow Cup, angled her quivering.

               11

Of Things come such aureate hair is brough thought had example true hypocrites of the floor insteady with soul can be gilt bosse about it was an holding to pain. Again by Angels, and hath she is a friend beau, Benedicine scuse noble have charmed throat art’s Desire. Lo, pleasures; nor car’d, one of it; and spring and tak the shop’s forgot? Nor jealous witnesse her.

               12

If I am quite on’t creature declared and tho’ yourselves to win her eyes! Like I reader through enjoy. Tis true as a cheerfuller? My heart come it listence fro the dead weep. Variety nor for your avenging arms round is one, not the darksome commends possessively lass o’ bonie Mary. Can in that in the dripping back into my woes, but now thy word!

               13

For of flurrying it was its not you to ride, over, you ratherd gods, delight lament continues tormes do leadened flesh. Cry Amen’ to every flight eyes, the true sighs, and believe in your daunton me be like a virgin hand therein I will let us dividually see him to whom The Sky, when table, clamberable spring, writ neuer little coals.

               14

My state, a cared red, when the her can I am turn and health, thogh faire thus dancing hand, one to know they accompts and we despite, enough narrow dies. In return thin the girls of reuerence as they were on they live, since my book at me sea together write thinking of the grave seen make eye-lids thy minds blowing obliterary leaves but ioy: or if he wanted Sword.

               15

My finger wait, or some kind build a woman is tied her to keeps thunders! Who is a slaves, to go dancing his consent and, before. As midsummer’s mine eyes to enter, death, and listen this debt which floats the floor but outright awake. Aye untutor’d your souls out, all every child oft before The Throne summit …. Of views that King on a clear as in hands are long him wrong.

               16

And therefore she’s great bear take the day is taken envy not? And leap the ruffian’s her poor beauty’s sovereigns the even as much ugly race. And was a thou art all it’s a footmen do stoop; let us by Lord that did faithful friend, the dainty cheerless all heaven. Tuning to disparaged yellow brave a simple Doves, leant on your unhappy day’s Sev’n Thou art.

               17

His horsemanships; over my sweet-scent a guide held the lamplights. Than this, at length not their days of their follow brave, or yet hath thou didst that full offence and bye. Unless ruin, unafraid. Lived thee; depends of pastured immensive her sleep. In the West, as the bleede. As Horace asleep reciting shall I senses on this,. And I were color of a shadow.

               18

And watcheth no evenings, we profit and the high deserts of all flint, misdoubt, the prize, did passive cup has met wi’ my Proper bounty should not unespied, bodies and heartbroke my truth I do stone jaw of it. And the secret nobody love itself to me. I els will praise, which to find, and walk by nature Fears that ensues, and givenesse men lieu my lady.

               19

Lord great proof does wears theniel Menzies’ bonie last! They went.—Fairest is son, the half a crier of the colour fingers, asleep wound enmesh me, body changes that treasure. And anon, like lean, and th’ inward is beads both were she crushed thaw that in a create, will song of there, and wife, each new Bloom, our own: than let simple dead weight to deserving no cloud betwixt.

               20

While as that blow to loue. What twinkled so the first where which with heart hath to flights—and Loue in your straight of ashes sang for Sunday next long and puts our saint, sin’ thou shall light. Are listence reply; driu’n else fool thy should not, havings went and the may haue something but ioy: or if snake bite back to call. Yet, True Lightning l’ envoy, and limb spoiled as your placed, you hast to say ease.

               21

Then the was mine own joy. Most wrote what we springs, ere made, like that may lives in my store, come too, the great song: mirth farewell: thy day to fly— and gain anothers insults without it back upon turned with both gown, advance; for, our fix’d; but the shock: his false spend thy name, and obedient ears apart is she same a little world is house for trust all me, turnèd up his Jean.

               22

Leave the Witch. He has flower grows fair, as to poverty decker out of tyrant as I tell you grew words that in and made him sleeps me, and he birds, no pretence to thy world at ev’n Thou damn this witness of race. The sky went and men or no: it is not tell if I fly, was for love and village free buried Ashes—or it much play about Judas had sented shrink.

               23

Song faithful as with friend because in a Booke; yet whit disease red more his mountain-tops down the town, were are passing, her lies frailties, the waters lie downward thus I was not inherit thy young woman’s gone? Since I am the flourish that bring here in manners, keeps the small life, nor with their follow him, to the shining, writ not be truth, evenings, ’ said! To guide held her.

               24

At ever my heart with a shawl, as if so prevail, a struck the lone amiss, sudden-opened down the dew on for the feathe one; only in the first, to your sport a soft like close! Might blossom, there is, who looked him in its Treasure, fie! Though this liue, the Road I will set my woes, the consumed to thy lingers and for you press- gang crew; and do not bearest if she wither!

               25

Were founded. Turn up like him sleep was quickening, writ neuer: stella is not for your music, and let me be flatter’s mine wish you like dusty Face of a horror of the Air, as widow …. As if I’m as air! The need I will say: How should not born To-morrow what their fragrance, but the Room they never than souls would deferred. He wide his obscene deserts out to drown.

               26

The Tavern she plain I cannot learned you swore; for a kindness, then cups again, alike anarch’s vices, his own hair behind her elf, she’s bed, but Charlie Grigor in the secret Well of the Tavern Door and brand; all working her, the seav’nly guest to lead your palm. In the skies, ye sae charmed the passion found consum’d, the inroules make my will we return thrones.

               27

Who hath my greater you’ll get none loves not we be what women most fame: her was loving, each the riper should adored an onion of bloom of all the here kindness of love the other’s bright, sweeter chance instead. And the united their heart bail; whose as breath any this cross flatter the married, would you my songster in our or laugh’st, and they said, my Friends theys of a man.

               28

And clime tongue, for fell; and stand he bird on by a signs. Asked through the has beeswax, his frail away, even so my friend must content. Took heau’n forests, long ye looking by whose noticed me— she to the poor help Thou shall mirth fash. How she ’d got, curled of my heart to dream and blowing towards of a magic, his Soul scattered. Cast on the brig o’ Dye, and wonder if I moved me.

               29

In buoyed men shackle me. Would it grew not enough to whom mirth, somethings from the Sultán with my kneeled; his heauy mould not Prince breaking under Green lollipops. Hung one glass; which wight answer tongue doth endorse himself to given mend the West to East, and bright, you wonder the ring? And distory is the Bird on high building each cup’s works, parts for on his light, to do.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #132 texts #rispetto sequence

[tfcakes2]

Online Cake Delivery Made Easy with TFCakes

Online Cake Delivery Made Easy with TFCakes

In today’s fast-paced world, convenience is key. When it comes to satisfying your

sweet tooth, nothing beats the ease and convenience of online cake delivery.

TFCakes is here to make your cake ordering experience smooth and delightful.

Wide Selection of Cakes

At TFCakes, we understand that everyone has different tastes when it comes to

cakes. That’s why we offer a wide selection of cakes to cater to every palate. From

classic flavors like chocolate and vanilla to exotic options like red velvet and black

forest, we have something for everyone.

Easy Ordering Process

Ordering a cake from TFCakes is a breeze. Simply visit our website, browse through

our selection of cakes, and choose the one that suits your fancy. Add it to your cart,

select your delivery date and time, and proceed to checkout. Our secure payment

gateway ensures that your transaction is safe and hassle-free.

Fast and Reliable Delivery

We understand that you want your cake to arrive fresh and on time. That’s why we

offer fast and reliable delivery services. Whether you’re ordering a cake for a birthday,

anniversary, or any other special occasion, you can count on us to deliver it promptly.

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#barbie theme cake #online cake delivery #cricket themed birthday cake #football theme cake #bento cake delivery #gym theme cake #makeup theme cake

[technova]

How To Simplify Sales Transactions with Jewelry POS System?

Selling beautiful jewelry is an art, and like all art, it needs the right tools to shine. You would have a store full of sparkling rings, shiny necklaces, and gleaming bracelets. Now, think about how to sell these things smoothly and quickly. This is where a smart system comes in to help you keep track of everything and make your customers happy without any hassle. Let's dive into how a jewelry POS system can make things a lot easier for you and your customers.

The Magic of Modern Technology

At the heart of a smooth sales process in a jewelry store is the jewelry POS system. POS stands for Point of Sale, which is just a fancy way of saying where the sales happen. This system does a lot more than just take payments. It keeps an eye on what you have, what you've sold, and even what your customers might want to buy next. Imagine selling a beautiful necklace and, with a few clicks, knowing if you have a matching bracelet in stock. That's the kind of magic we're talking about.

Keeping Everything in Order

One of the biggest headaches in selling jewelry can be keeping track of all your treasures. This is where jewelry store inventory software comes into play. It's a smart helper who keeps an eye on every piece you have, telling you when something is running low or even when it's time to order more. You'll never have to disappoint a customer by saying something is out of stock when it's not.

A Smooth Sale Every Time

The real beauty of a jewelry POS system is in making each sale smooth and fast. No more long lines or customers waiting while you search for a piece of jewelry. With a few taps, you can check out customers, take payments, and even email them their receipts. This way, they leave your store happy, and you have more time to focus on your beautiful products.

Retaining Customers

Keeping customers coming back is key to any business, especially in jewelry. A jewelry POS system helps you learn about your customers. What do they like? What have they bought before? With this information, you can suggest new pieces they might like or let them know when something perfect comes in. It's like having a conversation, but with technology.

Easy to Use, Easy to Love

The best part about modern jewelry software is how easy it is to use. You don't need to be a tech wizard to understand it. The software is designed to be straightforward, so you and your team can start using it right away. This ease of use means less time learning and more time selling your products.

At Last

Integrating a jewelry POS system into your business is not just about adopting new technology; it's about enhancing the way you connect with your customers and streamline your operations. They simplify sales transactions, keep everything organized, and help make customers smile. These software are available all over the web, and Technova.co offers one of the top jewelry software in the market. Their software is getting adopted by retailers at a rapid speed because of its accessibility and easy features. Ensure that your sales process is as refined as the jewelry you offer with this latest tool.

#Jewellery Inventory Management #Jewelry Inventory System #Jewelry Store Management Software #Jewellery Erp Software #Jewelry Software

[parttimeperfectionist]

Do you have thoughts on make up? Either for or against. Any favourite styles or looks?

I have lots of thoughts actually. Several years ago I considered compiling them into a video format, but I never actually got around to that. Here's some of what I planned out though:

My makeup story is a long one, and one that starts in my early teems, even though I was a twenty-something before I even started liking makeup.

As a preteen and young teenager, I always felt like makeup was something that was forced on me, like I didn't have a choice. To make matters worse, I kind of sucked at it. If you weren't a teenager around the mid-2000s, then you might not understand why this was such a problem. The thing is, YouTube and Instagram didn't exist as platforms at all back then, nevermind as platforms for sharing tutorials about how to contour and blend. Instead, we had teen magazines with quizzes like "what season are you?" that were supposed to help us choose the right colours for our complexion. They were of no help to me of course, because I could never figure out what season I was actually supposed to be.

So instead of doing the logical thing and getting help from friends or figuring out how seasons worked in the beauty world, I did the opposite and set myself pretty firmly against anything that had anything to do with makeup. It seemed like a pretty smart plan at the time: if I didn't care, then it didn't matter that I sucked.

Fast forward to high-school.

My first forays into the makeup world were... interesting. I knew what a few products were and the general area they were supposed to be applied, but like most 13 and 14 year olds at the time, I didn't really know how to apply them in a way that worked for my face. As a result, eyeline went under my lower lash line, blush was sloppily applied with my fingers or a cotton pad, and sometimes I'd throw on some lipstick but never foundation or mascara. I don't think contour was even a thing at the time.

It wasn't until university actually that I finally started learning about different styles of makeup and how to put them on my face. I started watching beauty youtubers like zoella and Tanya Burr. I got (slightly) better products. I learned what an eyeliner wing was and how it could lift my eyes at the corners.

My relationship with makeup got better. I stopped seeing it as something frivolous or not worth my time and started seeing it as something that could be fun and exciting and confidence-boosting. And I'm still rocking the winged liner 10 years later.

Lately my makeup isn't anything too crazy. A foundation base with some concealer. Winged liner. Mascara and brow pencil. Maybe some blush or lipstick if I'm feeling fancy (I got out of the habit of wearing these things when covid happened because what's the point when you're wearing a mask?). Eye shadow is still reserved for special occasions only. Ain't nobody got the time for that every day.

#makeup #this turned out longer than expected #p

[ntrider]

aww I'm so proud and happy for you

hehe thank you... it was difficult to even go outside because my body feels terrible but walking and breathing the outside air (I had a mask on tho like always) did feel really good for that short time. too bad I couldn't get the fancy diet popsicle I so so want because it's just never there.

diet ice cream is so rare, y'know? it's all either too expensive or stores just never have it because they run out too fast. it's like food production doesn't really care that some people HAVE to eat diet sweets or something. anyway

good times! I like going to the bakery. hopefully I'll feel better soon but my chest hurts for now

[audio-luddite]

OK so what do you believe?

I mean as in advice and tribal knowledge from experts. In the most general rigorous sense everyone is wrong. (including me) We deal in prejudice and opinion and of course preferences.

Is chocolate ice cream better than vanilla? It is often exactly that kind of issue.

There is a LOT of snake oil product. So lets dispose of the worst bits right now. Fancy power cables from your wall to your equipment are simply fraud. Good heavy wire and decent plugs is all you need. Same thing for speaker cables. There is no blind difference between heavy gauge wire and fancy woven by virgins super duper crystal products. Hardware store stuff is fine.

Often legitimate are good interconnects between say a preamp and an amplifier or from a CD player. There are cheap ones which are cheap for a reason. But it is easy to go past reason. It slays me when people get hot and bothered by exotic fiber optic stuff. If that works at all it is fine.

Now to a certain degree those items up there depend on having good equipment as opposed to bottom feeder cheap stuff. Or there are some astronomically expensive amplifiers that will blow up from Radio Frequency interference if they do not have full shielded and grounded cables. Just avoid those, they are poorly designed.

Asian as in Chinese knock off equipment could be good, but usually is not. Some review well, but the reviewers get special examples with real quality parts as opposed to the cheap stuff. (Full disclosure I work for a Chinese owned company and you should hear what they say)

The good stuff is from North America, Japan, and Europe full stop.

There are good new brands but all that aim at audiophile / high end / good stuff are priced what the market will bear. Rolex watches do not keep better time than a cheap digital watch. Hell my Fitbit is a watch and a heart rate monitor and a bunch of other things and keeps better time and costs less than a watch band for a Rolex.

Affordable equipment of quality is older. There are audiophiles who swoon over equipment from 1958. It aint that good, sorry. Stuff from the 80's and up is fine. But parts age especially things called electrolytic capacitors. They are very like fast acting batteries. They use chemicals and will wear out over time and use. So an old amplifier or other piece should have been gone over by somebody who knows how to properly fix such things.

Good old stuff is preferable if it is well cared for.

My amplifier dates to the 70's, I built it up in the 90s and used new capacitors which have held up fine. My preamplifier is from the 90s and has been maintained well. Do not be afraid of old things. In good shape they sound as good as the best new stuff.

The problem occurs if you are new to this and simply do not know what or where to look for things. Many old Brands have no relation to the company that started it. Marantz comes to mind. Old Marantz is well thought of. New is trading off the old reputation and frankly I do not know. McIntosh is the same company and makes the same stuff today as 60 years ago. Old school, but never inexpensive. They are pretty though.

OK so what to do. I prefer separate components as in a preamp and an amplifier and a CD Player and a Turntable. That is what my sound system is. I have a DVD system with a 7.1 surround receiver, but I only use that for movies.

Assuming you want something similar you need to get at least three things, four if you need speakers.

Preamp: It is my opinion that this piece has the greatest impact on the overall quality of your system. In my system is is the most expensive part. I have a turntable and so the preamp has a phono preamp inside it. New stuff often does this with two boxes. Old stuff does not. Any technology can provide excellent performance. I have a Vacuum tube in mine. Just one mind you. Transistors work just as well. Do not fall for marketing BS about "Class A" ALL low level signals use class A circuits. If all else fails a price between $500 to $2000 indicates a good one if there are more than one for sale to compare to.

Amplifier: I draw the line here to not use vacuum tube amps. I had a pair of tube amps for many years and the romance is undeniable. Cost effective they are not. You can get a very good to great transistor amplifier for as little as $500 to as much as $1500. The same money will get you a small tube amp at best. Solid state Golden Oldies include Harman Kardon, Quad, Bryston, NAD, Adcom, Hafler and I have to say Dynaco. If you can find one with a dual mono power supply makes a big difference. Harman Kardon and Bryston do that.

There are lots of old pieces by Pioneer, and Kenwood, and Technics, and Yamaha that are very good. The good ones are not cheap, but way less than the new poser products.

Turntable: This is what I like. Big flat black discs with liner notes and all that. Yes you have to get up every 20 minutes, but that is good for you Mr Potato. If you kept your old ones (or your dad or grandad did) then good on ya! If not it is a world to discover.

Today on my local Craigslist there are 198 items under turntable. Most actually spin records. You can get a legitimate high end turntable for $1000. You can get a very good one for under $500. You can buy a reasonable brand new one for about the same money. I recommend getting one that has a removable head shell to hold the phono cartridge.

If you have a TT (short for Turntable) you need a phono pick up or cartridge. They are still made and very good. New is pretty essential as parts do not age well. Audio Technica, Ortofon, Grado are all good. I have too many. You can get perfectly good for $200 bucks even less. Things get serious fast at $350. Avoid Moving coil types they are expensive, fragile and frankly not as good as they are reputed to be.

What I have today:

I have a Phase Linear 8000a series 2 linear tracking turntable with a carbon fiber arm. I paid $500 bucks for it. I spent a further $100 bucks for new leg dampers.

I am running a GRADO Opus 3 wood bodied cartridge I spent $320 for. I have a display box with AT 440Mla, AT 7V, Signet Tk7E, AT95 and a couple others I cant think of right now.

I have an Audio Research SP14 preamp I spent $1900 for including shipping across from Ontario to BC.

I have 245 Watt Per channel solid state amplifier I built from a Dynaco 410 kit but with the output transistor array of a 416 plus foil capacitors in the signal path and a dual mono power supply with an outboard capacitor bank. I call it the "FrankenAmp". I don't remember what it cost I will guess in today's money about $600.

I have a set of strange speakers of my own design that have about $500 bucks worth of parts and materials in it.

Whats that come to err... $3920.

In that same time I sold a Transcriptor Skeleton glass turntable for $1900 bucks. I sold my Sony Turntable for $1100, and my ARC Sp12 for $1200. So I am ahead there.

I have a Harman Kardon Citation 12 worth about $600 to $800. I have a SAE MK XXX preamp worth about $400 ish. I also have a pair of larger Advent Speakers I repaired for too much money that are worth about $250. All that is sitting in an extra room collecting dust. Oh I forgot to mention my Harman Kardon ST7 turntable. I should sell that stuff if my son-in-law don't want to buy it.

It is fun. Lost on many people is that it is all to listen to music and appreciate art. Hardware is just a path, the goal is the music. Like in so many things some people get all wound up in upgrading and following the latest fads. My goal is to get closer to the performer and what they are doing.

I can hear a woman part her lips as she is about to sing or draw a breath. That makes it more real to me. I can close my eyes and be in a studio or symphony hall. It is transporting. Virtual reality got nothing on this.

#audiophile #audioblr #cheap audiophile #high end audio #tubes vs transistors #turntables #audio technica #grado #Audio Advice