#Lol i want to tell you about my thoughts

[bombheart]

Eheh, it seems to me (or maybe headcanon) that nitrams emit heat, not really strong, but room temperature. And they are adapted to cold, but they can feel it weakly.

And the trolls would warm themselves by hugging them:33

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[abisalli]

fashion, put it all on me!

[wigglebox]

Destiel Pride - Day 21; Most faithful mirror

[the-cooler-kizy-art]

ARLIGHT PEOPLE, AFTER A TON OF HARD WORK AND HAIR PULLING, i present to thee....

My designs for Calypso and Circe!!

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

"shipping saiki is aphobic because he's aroace!"

stares at you with my demiromantic asexual in a committed relationship eyes then looks at the camera like im in the office

[b0nkedmehead]

*slams fists on table* I have so many head canons about Sam's style omggg

I personally see Sam as a diy thrift your clothes type of goth. Safety pins, studs/spikes,patches ect. Only buying from small ethical businesses every now and then, and her wardrobe is 100% curated over the years.

With a mix of her grandma's clothes in there as well because we love giving life to hand me downs👏

I just personally can't see her buying from big companies or fast fashion especially with how she is in the show.

These doodles are how i see her to start dressing in her college years and in the show i see her more as a baby bat tbh (that's just me tho)

I think she branches out a bit and gets more comfortable in making her style really fit her with experimenting (Romantic or Victorian goth Sam would be great)

I was kinda going for a mix of 90's goth/the craft/modern with the layers and mismatched thrifted clothes. I may have missed the mark but honestly i was just having fun putting her in outfits lol

[sysig]

Two big softies(?) (Patreon)

[deoidesign]

something that makes me sad is when people tell me the healthy communication in my writing is "unrealistic."

like guys this is how me and my partner talk with eachother... I'm writing from personal experience...

[tennessoui]

For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!

(from this prompt list)

(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)

so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!

(2.5k)

It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.

But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?

If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.

So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.

And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 

And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 

There are more decisions to be made.

There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.

Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?

It would be what Padmé would have wanted.

Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.

“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.

“Bacon,” Luke says.

Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.

He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.

The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.

But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 

(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)

Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.

When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.

“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”

The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.

“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.

Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.

“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.

Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”

—-----------------

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.

The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.

But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.

Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 

But it’s not.

Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.

But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 

And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.

What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.

Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.

Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.

He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.

He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.

“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.

Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.

“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”

“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.

“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.

There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.

Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.

“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.

“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.

This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.

“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”

“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”

Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.

A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."

Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.

He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.

“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”

“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.

The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”

“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”

“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.

“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.

The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”

Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?

“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.

“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 

He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.

Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”

Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.

“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”

“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.

Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.

When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.

Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.

“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.

The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”

[therosevest]

the best of: jade claymore

[yuwuta]

If megumi asked uzhsjdhshd omg I totally see it tbh him wanting you, but I don't think megumi would ever ask yuuji to share you, in any type of way at all. (not trying to push my own hc here!!) I feel like yuuji himself would be the one asking megumi. Yuuji knows that he's yours just as much as he knows you're his. And he loves you too much, a lot, it's purest type of love he has ever felt for anyone. And megumi is his best friend, he loves him just as much, right? Yes, not the same love between you and him ofc but yes. And I have no idea what they were doing but yuuji's just says, kind of out of the blue, that he'd let megumi fuck you. The reason being exactly cause he knows you're his, and you're just so so good that he needs to have someone to talk to (about you and always so respectfully) and who better that his best friend?

you’re opening the pandora’s box that is itfs + reader…. god….. 

okok i agree. if you’re dating yuuji, megumi would never ask, yuuji would be the one to bring all three of you together. definitely because he loves you and you’re his, and he loves megumi too, so it just makes sense that his two favorite people also get to have each other—but also, yuuji can tell megumi likes you, and he can tell you think megumi is attractive and since yuuji’s so nice, what kinder thing to do than to set you two up so he can watch (: he definitely enjoys being the mediator, also enjoys the somewhat awkward air between you and megumi, how yeah, maybe it’s a little taboo that the two of you are about to make out while you’re boyfriend watches, but yuuji likes that too… also he likes knowing that you both like him. like how lucky is he that his best friend and his girlfriend adore him so much :(( you two together makes so much sense in his head, because he talks to megumi about you, and he talks to you about megumi, and now, he can just pour all his love for both of you out at the same time

but also…. i’d like to think that yuuji’s maybe not so nice when it’s the other way around—when he and megumi get together first, and you’re megumi’s best friend. he’s not mean, but he does like to tease... how naughty of megumi to ask out yuuji knowing he’s still got a crush on you, and god does yuuji like to tease him about it :/ jerks him off and taunts about how he knows megumi’s dirty little secret—that he’s in love with his best friend and fantasizes not just about having you, but about watching his own boyfriend fuck you too… 

yuuji knows megumi would take his feelings for you to the grave if he could (he’d have done the same with his feelings for yuuji if yuuji wasn’t the one to ask him out), but where’s the fun in that! you and megumi are sooo cute together after all, so yuuji doesn’t mind trying to get you two to confess to each other too. uses his proximity to megumi to get closer to you, takes advantage of his bubbly disposition to be physically affectionate with you, uses megumi’s feelings to his advantage to tease, to wink, to smirk whenever you and yuuji hug a little longer, when he texts megumi that he’s meeting up with you for lunch, when he gives you his jacket and doesn’t ask for it back… there’s so much fun in watching megumi blush and whine and get off at the thought of his best friend and his boyfriend together. and the thing is, yuuji genuinely does like you, too, he sees what megumi sees in you, and he thinks megumi is crazy to have not asked you out before, but he supposes everything happens for a reason, because now, this way, yuuji gets to be there and watch it all happen under his guidance. there’s something about the power, about being the bridge between you two even though you and megumi have known each other for much longer, about being in control of a dynamic that could have, but wouldn’t exist without him…

[teenage-fleabag]

Some thoughts on the Life is Strange franchise

To be fair I'm not really up to date with recent Life is Strange discourse, but since the somewhat recent announcement I've had so many thoughts and I just wanted to ramble a bit.

I've been a huge Life is Strange fan for years now, falling in love with the first game when I played it at fourteen. Since then I've played every game that has been released in this franchise. But the first game has always felt special, like a little glimmer in time that no other game has been able to replicate, but that doesn't mean that the other games suck though!! I've quite enjoyed them!! I just think that Deck Nine aren't really living up to the standards set up by the games made by Don't Nod.

Even though one of the critiques of Life is Strange 1 is how the choices made throughout the game don't really matter in the end, seeing as they all can be easily erased by the last choice, it still felt as though they all had a purpose? They contributed to the sentiment of ''your choices matter'', letting the players see the butterfly effects that they themselves were responsible for. And all of this culminates with the final choice - being dictated by how you played the game and which relationships mattered the most to you, creating an incredibly heart wrenching ending.

And I was so excited to see how Don't Nod expanded on the choice mechanics in the second game!! Life is Strange 2 isn't without fault or criticism and I understand why many people didn't love it, especially if they played it while the episodes were being released, but it was so refreshing to see a new story and mostly, to see that the creators were trying to improve and make something different. Especially knowing that they probably saw the love for Max and Chloe, but stood firm that their story was over, which I think creatively was the best choice.

Before the Storm is difficult to talk about, because even if I do genuinely love it, it still suffers from the ending just not being as strong as you'd expect from a Life is Strange game. But I've always kind of written that off as something that you just have to deal with when creating a prequel. But then True Colors came out, which I was very excited about, even if the storyline seemed a bit similar to the first game (small town, mysterious death - I know it's kind of a reach, but still), but once I finished it I felt quite disappointed. I loved the characters, but I thought the ending absolutely sucked. So did the big reveal. It felt as though Deck Nine had learned nothing from the progress made by Don't Nod.

Since the release of True Colors I've had this feeling that Deck Nine ar just trying to recreate the magic of the first game without making any bold creative choices themselves, just juggling around elements of Life is Strange 1, trying to figure out which one will grant them the most success. This point being further proven by the announcement of Double Exposure.

Don't get me wrong, I love Max, but her story was over, she had her arc. And yeah, sure, maybe a part of me is saying this because I don't want to see her suffer anymore than she already has, but there's a reason why Don't Nod have been so adamant that her story is over for now. I know the new game isn't out yet, and I'm still holding out hope that it'll surprise me, but I truly cannot see how they can make a Life is Strange game with Max as the main character, while basically ignoring the events of the first game. I get that it has to be stand alone for commercial purposes, that a direct sequel probably wouldn't sell as well, but that makes this game just feel like fan service without actually serving the fans.

I truly have no clue how they plan on just explaining away Chloe if a player chose the bae ending, especially since they were still mentioned as being together in Life is Strange 2. I'm aware that they mentioned that the player will be prompted to input their ending during a conversation, but Max's story is so much more than just a simple conversation. It makes it seem as though a whole part of her is just being erased, a whole games worth of trauma just ignored for the hope of selling a game to as many people as possible.

I don't really know how to end this, but I'm not sure that Double Exposure will really hit the mark for many fans of the franchise. I'm still excited to play it, but I'm staying cautiously hopeful that I might be pleasantly surprised.

[wiseatom]

i tried for a well thought out post. instead you get this mess that i’m begging you not to twist:

the outraged cries of “cliques” are people being actual friends with each other. the people complaining about certain blogs or creators being on pedestals are usually the same people putting them there. i’m not one to belittle feelings - i understand where the upset is coming from. i even understand my place in it! but at the end of the day, we’re working ourselves up over what? notes? followers? hits on a fic? things based on luck and timing??

i can only speak for myself, but i work a full time job and i’m hard scheduled 45 hours a week. all of my free time goes towards fic writing, because that’s For Me and that’s what’s important for my mental health, and even then, i am usually too exhausted to do that. i would love to read fic and interact more! my to-read list is a mile long! it is just genuinely hard for me to find the time. i prioritize my friends because they are my friends — real, actual people i know beyond tumblr mutualship, who i talk to about more than just fic writing — and even then i am late getting around to it. i’m not saying this as a “woe is me, my life is hard” moment, but moreso trying to offer a perspective that is not even being thought of. and i get it, no one wants to hear it, because you’re frustrated, and being vocal about frustration feels nice (i know, bc here i am)!!

someone is going to come for my throat for making this post as a “big author” and “part of the clique we’re all vagueing” and maybe it’s juuuuust me but like. if you’re that unhappy, log off. if seeing a friend group you’re not part of interacting makes you unhappy, log off. if seeing the engagement other people get on their posts or fic or art makes you unhappy, log off. you cannot force people to interact with you or your creative work, and aggressively posting about it when they don’t is not inviting them to. i am begging you to stop having expectations of people you do not know, because at the end of the day, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 228 | id in alt

And so my crimson heart bleeds onto your golden eyes freely.

[alexturner2005]

yesterday my parents brought home a new dog without telling me first, knowing that i’m not ready for another dog yet after the death of my last one 🙃