#Dirty Windows

[ghoul-foolery]

Me at 2AM with my silly little thoughts, after getting an entire 3 hours of sleep.

[duvalpete]

Manhattan. April 2023.

[newriverartist]

So Dirty

Winding Magenta Original 24 x 18″ oil painting $705.60 20% off this week! https://www.etsy.com/listing/688597353/winding-magenta-original-24-x-18?click_key=a7e9578189141674a12754cbaa6e89dd152cf131%3A688597353u0026amp;click_sum=f618b4d2u0026amp;ref=shop_home_active_48u0026amp;pro=1u0026amp;frs=1 https://www.etsy.com/shop/TowheeHillStudio?ref=seller-platform-mcn We have a lot of dirty windows…

[snowdin-stims]

🍑 | source

[felassan]

r/dragonage (Reddit) post titled "Jeff Grubb: Dragon Age: Dreadwolf scheduled to release in late 2024." Post text: "Dreadwolf to be shown this summer and planned release later this year, Bioware is internally confident on the release date. Anything could change of course." Source: [link] Clip: [link] "Credit to: u/IcePopsicleDragon for posting this in r/GamingLeaksAndRumours."

[source]

In episode 339 of Game Mess Decides, Jeff Grubb had the following to say on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf's possible/rumored release window [transcript]:

Question from chat: “Hi Jeff and Mike, when will Dragon Age 4 be shown and released?” Jeff: “Yeah, I mean, I expect it will probably pop up this summer. I don’t know when it’ll be shown is the real answer, that’s the, let’s get that out, I don’t know when it will be shown. I assume it will be shown sometime this summer. Could happen at any time though. It will be released this year [2024], last I heard. That is, and they’re pretty confident about that, doesn’t mean it’s a guarantee, could slip, but right now, internally, they expect to release it later this year, which is why I took it in Fantasy Critic”.

[source (timestamp 35 mins 20 secs), clipped version]

(there were no more mentions of Dragon Age or BioWare during the episode)

[ghouljams]

Slasher!Soap's favorite game is a group activity. He loves watching his pretty hens scatter. Like chickens with their heads cut off, he laughs. He's always liked the pretty sorority girls, the ones that group themselves together, the lonely ones that stay home for the holidays. The only problem is he has to travel for his fun! He can't go around killing pretty girls nearby or he'll get caught.

That doesn't mean he can't make phone calls. His burner phone dropped conveniently into a nearby trashcan after he's done. He's so nice to his hens, tells them all the fun things he's going to do to them. Sometimes they stay on the line and he knows from their heavy breathing that they must be touching themselves. It's so funny, they all have their number so easily accessible, their keys are always hidden under the mat, they always post on social media that they're staying on campus for break...

Oh sure they all coo and cry, ask why he's doing this when he tells them he's gonna run his knife over their pretty pussy before he starts carving into them, but that's the fun! The crying, the begging, the "please don't" followed by the "I'll do anything" it all just makes it that much sweeter wrapping a bag around their head, or his hands around their neck. He trashes the place afterwards, makes it look like a burglary gone wrong. Disorganized. The police love to call his careful planning disorganized, but it keeps them off his back.

It's his favorite game, and he hasn't lost yet.

[itsc]

big day for a little cat named bear

[algu-sims]

[algu] dirty set 1~5

window 1, 2 : 5 swatch

fireplace : 4 swatch

sofa : 7 swatch

rug : 11 swatch

Download (early)

[hansoeii]

Hello! I just wanted to say that you've been one of my favorite artists for years and have been a huge inspiration!! Everytime I see your art appear on my screen I fall in love with your art style all over again.

I hope you have a good day! 😊

Awe god, thank you so much!!

Take this picture of my cat minkus as a thank you gift

Have a good day yourself! ❤️

[breakdownsbuttlights]

I’m sorry I haven’t been replying to many asks lately; I’ve been busy at work and then exhausted from allergies in the evenings. I’ve been trying to spend my best free hours working out more, which is making me fitter and healthier but also immeasurably duller. The only art I’ve been doing is makeup. ANYWAY, I have some days off soon, so hopefully I’ll get some Powell wips done.

In the meantime, look at my baby’s new leaf! Its most fenestrated yet! So proud of it.

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 1 | Female!SoSu x Hancock

A Soulmate AU

-

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

\\

Notes: I was writing a Ghoulcy Soulmate AU, and then I was suddenly drawn to this after years of not touching it. Originally posted on Ao3

\\

Hancock took a steady pull of his cigarette. Perched on the rotting sill of his open office window located in Boston’s State House, he relaxed into the gentle chill of an early spring evening. Goodneighbor had gone quiet some hours ago. He would be concerned if the town’s uncharacteristic early evening if it wasn’t so pleasant. Goodneighbor going to sleep was a rarity, and he chose to enjoy the downtime with several cigarettes and a couple canisters of jet as he attempted to master the art of blowing smoke rings. He would ultimately discover, after smoking through nearly entire pack of cigarettes, that it was a feat that required an embouchure that he didn’t have the lips for — or he was too fucking stoned to do it right.

Flicking the still smoldering butt out into the night, Hancock returned to one of the two limp couches in his designated office space, and flopped down. He reached for the mentats tin on the rubbish-covered coffee table. Why not end the night on a high note?

Hancock snickered to himself, amused at his own drug addled thoughts, “On’a high note.” Because he was high. Ha-ha.

He fumbled with the old tin, eventually managing to lodge the blunt end of his thumbnail into the lip of the lid. The little tin box opened with a satisfying pop. He placed one of the white tablets on his tongue. It immediately began to dissolve, coating his tongue in chalky grit. When he eventually swallowed he was already feeling pleasantly fuzzy. The tingling was in his toes, his fingers. It danced along his teeth and the grooves of his brain. The ghoul sank further into the couch, glossy black eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth ajar as his thoughts stumbled from one to the next. He thought about starting a community garden; it would be tucked away from the main thoroughfare but still sizable. He remembered and clung to an old poem from an old book he had stashed away in his desk. He pondered the essence of the whole fucking cosmos. Or perhaps not, actually. He was blitzed and keeping his thoughts in line was becoming more, and more difficult.

When he started to hear whispers he thought nothing of it. On a livelier night he would have assumed that it was regular ol’ street noise. In the uncharacteristic silence of the night he figured it was a hallucination. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d experienced visual and auditory hallucinations before. They weren’t typically triggered by mere mentats, mind you, but it had been a long and drug-fueled day and he was content with riding the wave until he crashed.

The whispers belonged to one person. It started as a weak, warbling, like he was hearing someone talk from behind a closed door. Then the voice abruptly grew in volume; suddenly shrill, like he was standing next to a woman as she screamed for all she was worth. 

“Nate! No, Nate, please! Honey, please wake up!”

The ghoul’s brows furrowed. The voice was frantic, desperate as she cried for help.  Phantom hands — smooth, delicate, small — swam in and out of his vision. They moved in front of him as if they were his. The vision ebbed when he tried to divert his attention; it went beyond superimposition when he focused on it. Hancock could feel the sensation of the blood stained Vault-tec jumpsuit chafe under his palms as smooth hands gripped and pulled at the material. He was peering up at the face of a dead man, his body heavy and limp, slumped in some sort of pod that reminded him of Goodneighor’s Memory Den. 

“Nate! Please — please don’t do this! NATHAN!”

He’s dead. He’s gone. Fuck, if his heart wasn’t breaking. It was shattering into millions of pieces, leaving him more numb and empty than he had ever felt. And goddamn, it felt fucking real. As real as the jumpsuit under his palms, as real as the chill that had sank into his bones, as real as the couch he still lounged in. 

A sudden hand on his arm made his body jolt. The vision of the dead man was abruptly ripped from him and in its place was Fahrenheit’s stern face. She was blurry, swimming in a lake of wavering tears. He was crying. Fuck, he was sobbing. His shoulders heaved, his lungs hungrily taking in air in short, frantic gulps. For all of a moment, Fahrenheit looked on the brink of amusement. Her right eyebrow was curled upward and the corner of her mouth was lifting into a smirk as she readied to deliver some snide remark, but then her expression changed. The almost-smirk vanished, the haughty brow lowered, and then a look of awe lit her features. Hancock sniffled, the tears that had been cascading down his ruined cheeks came to an abrupt stop as if the well had run dry. The ache in his chest was gone. So was the dead man in the pod. So was the frantic, begging, voice. He blinked. He took one more big gasp for air to steady himself but it was shaky. He was shaking.

“S-sorry,” he rasped. His voice was weak and frail at the edges. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was, uh— that—”

Though he wanted to blame it all on the chems, he knew that that wasn’t the case. That was something else. Something he never thought he would experience in all of his lifetime. For some goddamn reason, the Powers That Be decided to gift Hancock with a soulmate. He was shocked. He was elated.

Fahrenheit’s voice was barely audible when she said, “You found them.”

“It’s a woman.”

“What does she look like? What’s her name? Where is she?” 

Soulmates were a rarity these days, because that’s what happened when nuclear bombs fell and annihilated the majority of the world's population. Fahrenheit was still missing her signature scowl. It made him uncomfortable. Hancock shook his head, reaching for his smokes that were in the breast pocket of his coat — anything to stop the shaking of his hands.

“I dunno. It’s exactly how they say. Y'see through their eyes. All I saw was her hands. And I heard her voice.”

“Whose Nate?” When Hancock glanced at Fahrenheit she added, “You were saying his name.”

There was no way for Hancock to know who Nate was, and yet he did. Hancock knew exactly who Nate was. Nate was his soulmate’s dead husband. Hancock swore, chucking the pack of cigarettes to the floor in a fit of irritation. So much for that high he had been riding. Coming out of the vision, he felt debilitatingly sober. Leave it to the universe to give him one of the best gifts anyone could ever receive, and then somehow make it completely awful.

Fuck you, too, universe. Fuck. You. Too.

-

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[duvalpete]

Bergen Hill. February 2023.

[greelin]

TWO OF THEM ?

[venacoeurva]

He has things to say and those are: ä

[50kgannamolly]

I'm judge and I'm jury and I'm executioner too!!🎶

[julialametta]

one a day 36/366

"ein Blick" / Vienna / Austria / ©Julia Lametta