#degrees fahrenheit

[give-a-rating]

[the-alternates-are-in-my-home]

I don’t draw these two enough.

I don’t draw their brother Kelvin enough, either. I gotta develop him more.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

My favorite thing about spoooooky Jewish folklore and folktales, is that there’s always a break in the action for a rabbi to spend a few days studying the texts to determine the marriage rights allocated to a reanimated corpse.

[communist-hatsunemiku]

Mushino_Shirase

[aether-weather]

manifesting summer rn (it's 18 degrees)

[its-all-papaya]

For the landoscar word prompt: homesick

okay i'm sorry this one took 55 minutes and still like. doesn't rlly end. idk, i couldn't work it out, have some melancholy rambling ig....

It's snowed every winter Lando's been at university, and this is his fourth, so he really should be used to it. It's just. He'd had an exam in the morning that he'd spent all night cramming for, and it hadn't been snowing on his walk back. It had been cold - enough that he'd tugged on a hoodie before crawling back under his covers - but it hadn't been snowing when he'd set his alarm and started his nap.

It's snowing when he wakes up, though. Maybe there's something about opening his eyes and turning his face out from the pillow and seeing it first that way. The sun's about to set; maybe it's the way it glows in the last afternoon light. Whatever it is crawls under his ribs and sits there like a pill he's swallowed the wrong direction, aching every time he swallows and breathes. He's not even fully awake. The memories are half dream when he blinks out the window and sees the ghosts of his little sisters in puffy jackets and his mum calling them back to tug hats on each of them so their ears won't go too pink.

It doesn't even snow much in Bristol. It snows much more here.

The washer is running when Lando pads out into the living room and he hadn't started it himself, which means Oscar is home from his afternoon class. His bedroom door is closed, and Lando really shouldn't bother him, but his stomach is heavy like lead and it feels out-of-sorts in a way that only his mum's tea would fix. He's afraid if he crawls back into bed he might do something silly like cry about it, because it's past ten at home and his parents will be asleep and he's not even sure calling would fix it anyway.

"You can come in," Oscar calls when Lando finally does knock.

He's sat propped against his pillows in bed, paperback folded open on his knee and blinds drawn shut. Lando's fairly sure his lit class is the one Oscar's just come from, but it would be like him to do the homework immediately after.

"You okay?"

Lando realizes a minute late that he's just been standing. Just staring. He swallows around the oblong feeling and pulls his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands so Oscar won't see him worrying them.

"Yeah," he answers eventually, "Just. It's snowing."

Oscar smiles, says, "Is it?"

He can't reach the window from his bed, so Lando crosses the room for him and pulls the curtains back so he can see - so they both can.

It's snowed every winter they've been in university, and this is Oscar's fourth. He really should be used to it, but his smile is just as awed as Lando still remembers it being freshman year, when they were crowded together around their shared bedroom window, tucked in together over the weekend holiday all of their classmates had gone home for.

"Perfect reading weather, then," Oscar says, settling back against his pillows.

Lando should go. He should nurse the weird, sad feeling with a hot shower, or something, and not by bothering his roommate-and-something-more-too when he's trying to study.

"Can I sit with you?" he says instead.

Oscar smiles. His, "of course," comes out like there weren't even other answers he'd considered.

He's warm when Lando curls up at his side. He's still got the book propped open against his knee and he goes easily when Lando nudges up under his arm and props his cheek against the ball of Oscar's shoulder.

"What's your book about?" Lando asks.

"Um," Oscar lifts it to show Lando the cover like that'll help, that plonks it back down like he's realized it won't. "This orphan girl, bit of an outcast. It's like a coming-of-age thing, I think, I'm not too far into it."

His fingers trace absently along the strip of skin where Lando's hoodie has ridden up at his waist, and it makes Lando shiver.

"Will you read it to me?"

"Yeah. You might be a bit lost, though," Oscar thumbs through the pages he's already been through like an explanation.

Lando doesn't say he'd probably be lost even if he'd read those, too. That it's not about the story, really. He thinks Oscar probably knows.

"S'okay," he says.

"Okay." Oscar turns his head enough that his lips brush Lando's forehead. Lando can't tell if it's on purpose.

Oscar's got a nice voice. Lando thinks he could probably fall asleep to it, and he wonders if he'd wake up without the knot in his chest, whether the bittersweet fog over his thoughts would have lifted. Maybe the snow would have stopped by then, even, maybe it'd all be melted.

Lando yawns into Oscar's chest as he flips a page, and Oscar pauses for a second to turn his head again. This time, his lips press more firmly at outside corner of Lando's eye, where he knows he's still got a pillow crease working its way out after his nap.

"Snowy weather is a bit sleepy, innit?" Oscar says, softer than the tone he'd been using to read with, "Peaceful and stuff."

Lando looks back out the window, where it's gotten heavier - big, wet flakes that stick to the glass and leave trails when they slide slowly down towards the frame.

"I think I'll miss it if I move back home after graduation," Oscar continues, voice sounding a bit like Lando's insides feel. Lando doesn't want to think about it.

Oscar goes back to the book. His hand is warm on Lando's hip, voice warm in Lando's ears, and Lando wonders if someday, down the road, Oscar will wake up to snow showers and think of this moment.

from here

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[falsekingfrancis]

I have made an objectively better temperature measurement system. Better than Fahrenheit, better than Celsius. It’s called ✨degrees Hughes✨

100°F=100°H

0°C=0°H

And room temperature is about 55 degrees

I also spent way too much time making a calculator so you can use it in your everyday life. Everyone should use this it’s better.

[claypigeonpottery]

I only have like 5 more packages to pack, I should get them done tonight. @subpar-lemon-bar and I are taking more breaks this time around, instead of trying to power through. it’s probably wiser of us lol

[speedlimit15]

im so sorry for laughing at europeans every time i convert a temperature theyre complaining about. No im not actually its really funny ive apparently been boiling alive my whole life according to you guys. i love you so much the temperature youre upset about is what i have my thermostat set to year round

[bananasofthorns]

riddle me this batman......

[lovingldsconvert]

six months ago my friend asked me about my baptism she couldn’t attend because we lived in different countries

[bitchybylershipper]

so excited to walk to school in 26 degree weather tomorrow morning

[justalittlebluetiefling]

I will never understand people who let their cats outside sorry not sorry but this guy has been on my back porch for an hour and a half now trying to get into my house and he’s cold and friendly and it’s making me really sad.

[goldensunset]

i love how some of these are like very beautiful historical outfits from all around the world and some of these are americans drawing miku in like a hoodie and sports gear experiencing road rage and burnout. because that’s what every single state considers unique to their culture

[muppet-facts]

no idea but trick or treat

Treat! Picture of the chickens in the workshop.