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REVIEWS SAY FALLOUT TV SERIES DOESN'T SUCK

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my headcanon that the first time Charlie got a little too carried away with Vaggie and went demon-mode, she pinned her on their bed only to immediately come to all flustered at what she did 🤭🤭

silly bonus frame under the cut:

guys omfg Chaggie has my HEART rn… they’re so freakin adorable and I’m a lil bit obsessed 😭😭 I have some more sketches of them ill probably render later. but for now take this!!

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Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue.

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It's gonna be such a funny mess when Donald Trump dies of a stroke on April 1st, 2024.

Naturally everybody will think it's fake because of the date only to lose their minds (both positively and negatively based on their opinion of trump) when realizing it's real

There will be massive celebrations in the streets and on social media and lots of predictable "don't speak ill of the dead" discourse about those celebrations

Weird evangelicals will pull some weird number trick talking about how Jesus was conceived on April 1st and that makes Trump a sort of messiah and people will make fun of that

The Republicans (after they're done with the faux-sadness and faux-outrage) will stomp over each other to be his successor but none of them will succeed. They'll tear each other apart and have no single nominee for the November elections.

There will be discourse about if Biden and the living former presidents should go to his funeral (they won't, he was a traitor insurrectionist)

The Ukraine-Russia War immediately goes in favor of Ukraine as morale in the Kremlin is reduced. China similarly backs off from its threats on Taiwan.

Ten thousand new memes are made, some sticking around for years to come.

Not a month later a bunch of unofficial biographies of Trump hit the bookshelves, many with new details about just how awful he was.

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The one with the cat

Haven’t had time to write lately, so here’s an old Ros snippet from Chapter 2. The Abernathy Farm is one of the Minutemen’s oldest and best suppliers of food in the Commonwealth. Unfortunately, not every member of the Abernathy family feels the same way about this arrangement.

In other words, you ever had that one awkward dinner where your friend starts arguing with their parents? Yeah.

* * * *

“I want to join the Minutemen,” Lucy said. “Mom, I want to keep people safe.”

“And what about yourself, huh?” Connie demanded. “What are we going to do when the General comes knocking on the door with your body in a sack? We repay the Minutemen plenty. We give them our food, we keep their damn supply lines running, we let them build on our land, but they do not get to take you too.”

“Sweetheart,” Blake told Lucy, “we talked about this. We need you here.”

Connie rounded on him. “When exactly did you talk about this? Where was I for this conversation?”

“You have triple the workers since then,” Lucy said, irate. “You don’t need me. You just want to keep me here, like some sort of prisoner.”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Connie said.

Lucy raised her voice. “I would rather get shot out there than die on this damn farm.”

“Lucy!” Blake scolded.

Ros had shrunk back in her chair, unsure what to do. Her adrenaline had kicked up again, turning her breath shallow and her hands unsteady. She didn’t like yelling she was unprepared for, whether or not it was directed at her. She kept her head ducked and her shoulders hunched, not looking at them.

It felt like an eternity before Blake remembered she existed. Voice low and hoarse, he said, “We have a guest.”

A thud rattled the spoons on the table. Lucy’s chair shrieked against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” she muttered, footsteps retreating. The front door slammed.

Connie’s chair shrieked too, with far less thunder. Her footsteps retreated in the opposite direction.

Blake sighed. Ros didn’t move.

After a second eternity, he said, “Not our finest moment. I’m sorry about that. A lot’s changed in a very short time. You’ll find most folks are still struggling to adjust.”

Ros shrugged. “No judgment from me.”

He nudged her bowl closer to her. “Eat. You’ll want to keep your strength up.”

She wasn’t hungry either, but she forced another bite to be polite. The meat tasted too rich, difficult to choke down.

With a “Mrrrp!” a warm weight landed in her lap. She jolted, knocking her hand against her bowl. Droplets of stew splattered the table. While Ros attempted to choke her heart down too, Maise kneaded her paws on her thighs.

“Lucy,” Blake muttered. “Let the cat in again.”

Adrenaline fading, Ros ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. Maisie rocked her haunches, settling into a loaf in her lap with a purr. “I can carry her out,” Ros offered half-heartedly.

He smiled. “Naw, I don’t see any harm in letting her stay a little while. I won’t tell Connie if you don’t.”

Good, because the cat didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Ever. Ros was stuck in this chair now.

And, stuck in place with the heated weight in her lap, she took another bite of stew. Then a couple more. Maybe she was a little hungry after all.

She didn’t register Blake watching her until he asked, “Ros, how old are you?”

She shifted all her focus to petting the cat, feeling a frown creep across her face. Her age wasn’t something she usually gave out to strange men.

“Sorry,” he said. “Add that to my list of faux pas tonight. Didn’t mean anything by it. I just…I can’t get over how much you remind me of her—Mary, my eldest. She was twenty-one. Would be twenty-three now.” He didn’t need to clarify. Ros had seen the grave while scouting out the property.

Ros said, “I’ll give the clothes back in the morning.”

“No. No, keep them. They’ll just sit in a box otherwise, go to waste. Better they live on.”

In other words, he was seeing ghosts. It would bug her, wearing a dead girl’s clothes, if everything she owned hadn’t been scavenged or passed down from the dead. Their whole world was the inheritance of a fatal mistake. There were ghosts everywhere, in every piece of clothing, every old mattress and power pylon. Even her Pip-Boy had a ghost in it.

Winnie didn’t though. The irony that Ros’s strongest tie to life was a temperamental, malfunctioning robot who was neither alive nor sentient was not lost on her.

If she was kind, she would remind him she wasn’t his daughter—that he was only seeing what he wanted to see. She doubted she even resembled her. She didn’t have Blake’s square jaw or Connie’s blond hair and blue eyes. She wasn’t a synth; she wouldn’t put on someone else’s clothes and take their place. She wasn’t anyone’s daughter either. That was an attachment, a relationship that was off the table. Permanently.

But she wasn’t particularly kind, so she didn’t say anything. She pet Maisie until her bowl was empty, and then she silently helped Blake clean up until Connie reappeared to snatch the dish cloth from her hand and send her off to bed. Ros slunk away without meeting her bloodshot gaze.

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Lost Lamb (1): First Go Forth, General (2.3): Current Go Forth, General (2.2): Prev

Link to Discord: discord.gg/KJPzA2xp Link to Tapas Version: Here

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Sir Pentious got that RizzzzzzzzzZzzzzz~

#hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel sir pentious #my art

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MINUTEMEN COMMAND 2289 - THE CASTLE

My Fallout 4 Sole Survivor, Rose Takahana and the rest of the Commonwealth Minutemen Command.

This one took me WAY too long to put out there shjkjsdsjk, but hope you enjoy some F4 fanart these days UwU

#my art #fallout 4 #curie fo4 #curie #sole survivor #Ronnie shaw #preston garvey #fallout

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Charlie and Vaggie.

#hazbin hotel

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Background Practice. Seaside Volcano

#my art #background design

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I am sorry to everyone who tagged me in some tag game and I never responded. I saw it and thought “aww they thought of me” and proceeded to forget about it right after

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🦀🎉🦀🎉🦀 Henry Kissinger is dead 🎉🦀🎉🦀🎉🦀

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El muchacho de los ojos tristes

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