sythethecarrot

[sythethecarrot]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[sythethecarrot]

New [tumblr] users: there is something very important for you to know.

There is a secret callsign for [tumblr] users.

If you spot a wild [tumblr] human in the wild, you must tell them this phrase:

"I like your shoelaces."

The appropriate reverse-call, if you hear this phrase, goes thusly:

"Thanks! I stole them from the president."

I'm paying literal actual money for you to see this, so don't let it be in vain. Use this phrase everywhere.

[sythethecarrot]

hi, my name's sythe and when i was in high school i made an online vent book on google docs just to collect my thoughts because i didn't have a paper diary yet. a couple of months later i got really hyper because i found it in my drive (i forgot it existed) and was excited to read my 3AM ramblings

the girl next to me then forced me to send it to her and she sent it to the whole school who read my girlblogger 3AM thoughts and the vents about people who made me sad or angry and got made a social pariah.

and i brought the haribo tangfastics

hi, my name is june, and I remember this one time in middle school—Something really upset me, and then I had a panic attack, and then I was crying really bad so the staff took me into the library with a friend and I was crying bad in my friends arms and apparently I was crying for my dad and then after that they called my mom and then my mom came and took me home and then I remember I just woke up in bed with a bad headache and my eyes were puffy. I wanted tylenol, and so I looked into the cabinet and drawers and didn't find any and so I whined to my mom I need a pill and she said no, go back go bed and so I whined again and I cried and I went back to bed and then a couple days later I was better and then I hung out with my brother and he asked me what happened because mom had told him "don't give june any pills if she asks for any. She's already taken a bunch without me knowing." and when he told me that I was like wtf so basically I tried to overdose, and I didn't even remember. Oh and I brought the bowl

[sythethecarrot]

night-time whispers

Indigo One, 25th anniversary edition.

Mobquet, White Witch.

THX 1100 Series. 

USV-5. Wait, is that modified?

As much as he wishes he was asleep, a certain ex-Jedi general was very much awake. His wife was fast asleep beside him - she was always a deep sleeper - yet tonight he couldn’t quite drift away into a realm of peaceful rest.

Like most nights.

Of course.

Too many years of being hardwired into insomnia had taken their toll on him. As a child on Tatooine, he learned to sleep slightly in case Watto called suddenly, demanding his presence with a sharp ring - if the holo rang more than once, he’d be beaten. His sleep didn’t improve even when he was taken in by the Jedi - he was either troubled by worries of his mother or stayed up because of anxious late-night studies of the Jedi Code. Much to Obi-Wan’s dismay, Anakin’s sleep only worsened in his teen years as he started to be plagued by nightmares, and the Clone Wars after that turned even sleep into a luxury.

Anakin Skywalker sighed, turning on his side and nuzzling into his pillow. He’d been watching speeders in hopes that it would send him into a slumber, but all it did was annoy him when reckless drivers sped out of line or when clearly intoxicated scum rattled around in expensive motors. If anything, he felt more awake than he did 43 minutes and 17 seconds ago when he turned to look outside the window. 

Leaning over his wife, he checked her force signature. No surprises - she was resting peacefully, and if he wasn’t wrong, he sensed a whisper of a nice dream she might tell him about the next morning. Never one to pry, Anakin simply smiled, kissing her temple before climbing out of bed. Although she never complained, he could tell his restless tossing and turning disturbed her at night, and he doubted he was going to get much sleep anyway.

Anakin walked down the hallway, footsteps silent against the cold hardwood, before entering the nursery. Almost 4 years out of the Clone Wars, he now had two little ones of his own - a 3-year-old girl, Syala, and a 1-year-old boy, Prithvi. 

Syala was now old enough to sleep through the night, but before that, she had been a fussy baby when she woke. Although her late-night tantrums were somewhat infrequent, she was difficult to quiet down. Already used to waking up in the middle of the night as well as being an insomniac and a light sleeper, Anakin insisted on staying up with the kids (or, well, kid at the time) to lessen his wife’s burden, but he sure didn’t miss the many nights when he had rocked her to sleep in his arms through exhaustion. 

Prithvi, however, kind of reminded Anakin of himself. Although the little boy rarely woke his parents up in the night, he was often found peering into space in the night when he was checked on. If anything, it made things tricky, as no one could tell when he needed attention, and it worried Anakin’s wife that the baby wasn’t quite a sleeper.

Anakin quite liked the nursery - it was spacious, with a rocking chair and lots of playmats for the kids. There were often toys strewn all over the floor in the daytime, but Anakin picked them up before going to bed lest someone get hurt by stepping on them in the night. His wife had painted the walls of the nursery herself, excited by the prospect of getting to decorate herself. It was done in several shades of pastel, featuring yellow as a dominant colour. Soft suns and other symbols were done in lighter hues, and when Syala was born, the two of them had painted fluffy pink clouds to match the baby. They’d had to redo them in blue for Prithvi, and Anakin was already aware he’d have to paint the walls, again, when the kids grew up.

A small sacrifice.

Just as Anakin predicted, Prithvi was awake, gurgling softly in his crib with wide eyes. Upon sighting Anakin, he smiled - a wide, toothy smile. The kiddo was bordering on a year old, and his teeth had come in faster than his sister’s. Although both of the kids had taken more after their mother, they both won the genetic lottery and inherited Anakin’s seaglass blue eyes.

“Hey there, buddy.” Anakin smiled softly, reaching into the crib to scoop out the baby. “Still up, hm? An insomniac like Daddy?”

Prithvi gurgled softly, fretting in Anakin’s arms. 

“Sssh, don’t go waking up your mum.” Anakin cooed, cuddling the baby close to his neck. “She’s a sleeper, you know. Not like us.” He kissed Prithvi’s little cheek, trying to quieten him down before he woke his mum up.

Prithvi gurgled again in Anakin’s arms, drooling a little on his shoulder. Anakin sighed, bouncing Prithvi with one arm before trying to wipe it off with his free hand. 

As much as he liked younglings, he didn’t think he’d ever quite be charmed by their less glamorous moments. 

“Come on, now, honey.” Anakin whispered, kissing the boy’s cheek again, bouncing him in his arms as he walked circles around the room. “What is it, darling? It’s okay, Daddy has you, hmm?”

Prithvi gurgled, but softly this time. Anakin chuckled. 

“If you’re gonna keep me up, buddy, at least smile for me, yeah?” Anakin teased, settling into the rocking chair and laying Prithvi across his lap. “You’re lucky I love you, kiddo.”

Just as Anakin settled into the rhythm of rocking Prithvi in his lap, a soft voice calling “Daddy” had him at full attention. 

“Syala.” Anakin smiled at the little girl standing in the doorway, clutching her white cat plushie. It was her mother’s but passed down like an heirloom. Syala was too young to notice the bite marks her mum had left in the toy cat’s face as a child, but Anakin was sure she’d find it funny someday. “Can’t sleep, honey?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously, pouting as she walked over to Anakin. He grinned, standing Prithvi against his lap and patting his knee for Syala to climb onto. She was still a bit small for her age - much to everyone’s surprise given how tall Anakin was -  with short curls and wide eyes. Her felt blanket was draped over her shoulders and trailed behind her like a cape, and Anakin distantly thought he might need to wash it sometime before it got dirty.

“Daddy, I’m sleepy.” she cooed, nuzzling into Anakin’s stomach.

Anakin chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Is that so, sweetheart? That makes 3 of us, then. Do you want to hold the baby?”

Syala nodded softly, cuddling into Anakin’s warmth, as Anakin laid Prithvi over her lap instead. 

“Pwithwi’s small.” Syala murmured, patting the baby’s face with just enough force to make Anakin cringe.

“Yeah, honey, that’s why we use gentle hands.” he reminded her, gently stilling Syala’s arms and trying not to laugh at her stating the obvious. “He’s just a baby.” 

Just like her, really.

He hiked his daughter a little higher in his lap, careful of the baby he had placed on top of her, and closed his eyes as he rested his head against hers.

“You know Daddy loves you, right, munchkin?” he murmured into Syala’s curls, pressing periodic kisses to the back of her hair.

“Mhm.” the toddler mumbled back, letting her brother’s hair. “Love you too, Daddy.”

It was just a mundane sentence - a natural response to his words - but for some reason it spread warmth throughout his chest. Anakin had never thought he’d be so lucky as to have his own family - to be married to the love of his life and have two fucking incredibly kids who he would do anything for. He never thought he’d have the chance to sit in a rocking chair with his two kids in his lap in the middle of the night, to hum a distant lullaby in a handpainted nursery.

“Sleepy.” Syala murmured, patting Anakin’s bare chest. 

“Are you sleepy, princess? Do you think you can wait until Prithvi sleeps too?” Anakin murmured back, running his hands through her soft hair. Gosh, it was so soft, just like her mother’s. So perfect. So his. 

Syala lazily hummed her assent, but Anakin could tell the little girl was already halfway to laland. 

He stayed only a few minutes more, before picking Prithvi up in his left arm and Syala in his right. After whispering to her to sit on the floor, he gently lowered the now-sleeping infant into his crib before tucking him up under all the blankets.

“Night night, sweetheart.” Anakin whispered into his son’s ear before leaning down to pick up Syala. 

Crouching down to her level where she sat on the floor of the nursery, blinking slowly up at him, Anakin whispered, “Syala, time for bed, okay?” The baby girl mumbled something incoherent as Anakin scooped her into his arms, rocking her gently in his arms a few times.

“You’re getting so big,” he huffed playfully, “soon Daddy won’t be able to carry you anymore. You’ll be a big girl. Have to walk by yourself.”

Syala wasn’t even a fifth of his warmup on a bench press, and Anakin could deadlift upwards of 20 times her weight, but still. 

“Daddy.” she cooed softly as Anakin walked into her room. 

“Right here, sweetheart.” he murmured, placing her tiny form on her bed. “Right here with you.”

Syala mumbled again, before sighing and turning on her side. Anakin couldn’t help but break into a smile at the heartwarming sight of the little girl, breathing softly beneath his palm.

“I know I say it all the time… but I love you, bug.” he murmured against her temple, kissing her cheek. “So much. More than anyone loves anyone else, except maybe for your mother. My darling girls.” He pulled her blanket over her shoulders, tucking her into the covers and placing her bunny in her armpit. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

As he pulled away from her, watching her fall into a deeper sleep, Anakin himself felt the tug of exhaustion. Somehow, putting his kids to bed (for the second time) had worn him out. This time, as he trod the hardwood floors on the hallway back to his room, he knew he wouldn’t be tossing and turning next to his wife again. 

He’d be asleep, just like the other 3.

[sythethecarrot]

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

[sythethecarrot]

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

[sythethecarrot]

anidala. true love. reblog if you agree

[sythethecarrot]

padme amidala reblog if you agree

[sythethecarrot]

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

[sythethecarrot]

mine is so uncommon i added a guy on snap for fun one night and the next morning he requested to follow me on instagram and that's when i found out he was also my (guy) friend's ex boyfriend

[sythethecarrot]

REBLOG IF YOU WANT A LOVE LETTER FROM A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN YOUR ASK BOX NOW

[sythethecarrot]

Like/Reblog this if you DON'T hate Anakin Skywalker

please do this, i really want to know how many people don’t actually despise him

[sythethecarrot]

Women in STEM (Smut, Trauma, Enemies to lovers, Masquerade balls)

[sythethecarrot]

AITA for striking my (M43) son (M20) when he rejected me as his father?

I understand that the title might have you thinking the worst, but please hear me out.

I didn't have a relationship with my son for basically all his life. This was due to my circumstances at the time: I went through a major personal tragedy and was severely injured, to the point of being on life support. To this day I have a lot of issues with my health.

I recently reconnected with my son. I immediately invited him to meet my boss (M92), in hopes that I could set him up with a job opportunity. I feel that this is significant. As far as I know, my son has been working in menial jobs in agriculture, but then apparently chose to leave that life and - to my shock - join a criminal syndicate.

I felt as if getting a good government job would be a way to turn over a new leaf in his life, especially given his past. However, he immediately became combative. I attempted to give him some guidance in managing his emotions, but he rejected that as well.

I'm sad to say that the argument became physical. Some blows were exchanged, but in the end, I was angry enough to strike him. I immediately felt very bad, and decided to offer him the government job on the spot. He rejected me again, and chose to leave very abruptly. I haven't had any contact with him since.

So, AITA?

Edit: Yes, I admit that to call it striking him was an understatement. To clarify, I cut off his hand.

Edit: However, I feel like it should be stated that I myself am a quadruple amputee and we have excellent healthcare.

Edit: I did not immediately identify myself as his father when we met. I think this was my mistake. I think he would have been much more receptive of my message had I done so. As it stands I only told him of our relationship after I had struck him.

Edit: My wife is not in the picture. To my knowledge she passed before his birth.

[sythethecarrot]

i hate when i send someone a meme in another language and they're like "uhm... translate? 😒" fucker i sent you a meme where 90% of the words have an english cognate and/or you don't need to know what they're saying to find it funny. can you at least TRY

[sythethecarrot]

Reblog if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

[sythethecarrot]

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