#my brain won't let go of it

[casual--scare]

He is so silly I can't stop drawing him

[winkle-pickers]

Inspired by this post, a really good discussion about it, and reassurance that life doesn't end after your twenties - quite the opposite in fact. Happy 43rd birthday Kaiba <3

[spookythesillyfella]

GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT O

★ [ original image under cut]

[sleepinglionhearts]

Kana may, in fact, be named Kana because it is a simple name but also I know where I started, I'm borrowing that name with great respect u___u

[piratekane]

(post-3x05 kacy scene)

Warm fingertips press down against the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, a melody she knows that she knows but can’t quite place in the early grey of the morning, the sun rising, muted, through the low clouds outside the window. She was asleep a minute ago and there’s a dream quickly fading away as her eyes open slowly and the room shifts into focus.

“Morning,” Kate whispers, still sunken in her pillow.

“G’morning.” Lucy pulls the words from the back of her throat like she’s pulling cotton from a cattail. “Time s’it?”

Kate doesn’t roll over to check her phone. “Early,” she guesses. “Too early for our day off.”

A day off. A present for her jungle excursion, courtesy of Tennant. A whole day to let her body come down from the high of being chased through thick vegetation with a life hanging delicately in her hands. Lucy lets her eyes close again and sinks back into her pillow. She goes back to focusing on Kate’s fingers looped carefully around the wrist between them. Tap, tap, taptap. Tap, tap. A song, then. One that she knows but can’t quite place.

“Is that Boot Scootin Boogie?”

Kate exhales a short laugh. “Taylor Swift.”

“Who else would it be?” Lucy feels the bed shift as Kate slides a little closer. She can feel the soft heat coming off Kate’s bare arms and wants to reach for it, pull it back over her, close her eyes and slip back into sleep for just a little bit longer.

It was a long day yesterday, her nerves pulled to their breaking point. When she stepped over the threshold to their apartment, the weight she had been working so hard to push off came crashing down on her. She doesn’t remember tasting the pizza Kate ordered, doesn’t remember picking Love is Blind on the TV or queuing up where they left off. She doesn’t remember brushing her teeth or turning out the light.

She does remember Kate’s body warm behind her on the couch, her own body pressed to Kate’s front as they sat wrapped up in each other. She remembers Kate’s arms and how they wrapped low around her waist in bed and held her tightly. She remembers soft lips to her bare shoulder and I love you against her skin as she let the exhaustion take over.

She remembers the Kate of it all, the steady and warm and loving presence she’s come to need like oxygen in her lungs. She remembers the overwhelming feeling of love—one she thought she’d never find in a million years.

“I could sleep another hundred hours,” she admits, eyes still closed.

She feels Kate’s smile against the back of her hand. “You can. We have nothing planned today.”

The thought is so tempting. She could pull Kate’s arms around her, drape them over her like the light comforter they’re sharing, and let herself sink back into sleep. It’s not too far off; she could reach for it and be asleep in moments.

But Kate is awake and tapping out a Taylor Swift song against her pulse point and that usually means banana pancakes and a Golden Girls marathon and pressing Kate against the counter edge and kissing her until either their lungs start to burn or the pancakes start to smoke. Lucy loves those mornings and the way Kate tastes like the bites of bananas she snuck before mixing them into the batter.

“Did I dream yesterday?”

“Only if we were having the same nightmare.” Kate’s free hand pushes back some of Lucy’s hair. “Otherwise, it was real.”

Lucy slides her foot forward, curling her ankle around Kate’s calf. “I thought so.” She opens one eye, studying Kate’s profile. She’s committed it to memory by now. “I feel like a truck ran me over.”

“It did,” Kate murmurs. “That very much happened.”

Lucy sighs. Yesterday wasn’t a dream. She can see it vividly in her mind and she closes her eyes against it again, trying to fill it with Kate—Kate so close and so warm.

“I’m not ready to talk yet,” she admits. She isn’t. She can’t. She’s still working through her family in her own mind; she can’t possibly put into words what they’re like and what they’ve done to her and to each other.

“We don’t have to talk.” Kate’s voice is soft and genuine and Lucy thinks again—again and again—how lucky she is. “We can just lay here. We don’t have to do anything at all.”

Lucy knows Kate isn’t lying. She knows Kate won’t push and she won’t prod and she’ll let Lucy set the pace for when and where and how. And it sounds perfect—a whole day in bed with Kate and their bodies pressed close together, hidden away from the world.

But someone told her to live her life yesterday. Someone who had the courage to throw theirs to the wind and start over from scratch. Someone who proved that there are still good people in the world who want to do what’s right for the sake of doing the right thing. And even if she can’t talk about it yet, even if she’s not ready to unlock the ugly parts of her past and lay them out on the table, she’s not going to lay in bed all day and let the world just pass her by.

“No.” She opens both eyes, staring deeply into Kate’s brown ones. “Let’s get up. We can make pancakes.”

“Banana or blueberry?”

“Both,” she says, feeling greedy and not caring. “And bacon. And toast. And—“

Kate laughs. “Okay. Remember we can only eat so much.”

“I can eat so much. I’m from—“

“Texas, yes.” Kate laughs again and leans in, kissing Lucy softly and pulling away too soon.

Lucy thinks about chasing her, pressing her deep into the mattress and not stopping until she has to come up for air. But she settles on letting Kate pull away and slide out of bed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that exposes the long line of her neck. In her thin tank top and her soft shorts, no one has ever looked more beautiful than Kate does right now.

Lucy may be holding some things back, may be keeping some things close to the vest, but this? This she wants to scream from the rooftops. This she wants everyone to know. This she wants to tell Kate.

“I love you.”

Kate looks back over her shoulder, a smile on her face that threatens to break through the grey clouds outside their window. “I love you too.”

Live your life, Lucy Tara.

Lucy smiles as she gets up and stretches her arms above her head, feeling the tension break in her shoulders. She is going to live her life. She’s going to take every moment and hold it tightly in her hands. She’s going to love Kate with every part of her that’s capable of it and when she’s ready she’ll tell Kate everything she wants to know.

“Lucy?”

Lucy looks up. “Hmm?”

“I said, we can make toast too. If you want.”

She thinks about it for a moment before she smiles. “Life is too short to skip the toast.”

Kate rolls her eyes, pulling the sheet back up on the bed. “Where did you read that?”

“That’s a Lucy Tara quote, free of charge.” She winks when Kate laughs and scrubs her hair back off her neck into a bun. “There’s more where those came from, by the way.”

“Lucky me,” Kate grumbles, still smiling.

“Yeah,” Lucy says softly. “Lucky you.” She holds Kate’s eyes for a moment. “Lucky us.”

Kate’s smile slips into shy before she clears her throat and gives the neatly-made bed one last pat. “Lucky us,” she echoes. She slips out of the bedroom and heads towards the kitchen, humming something under her breath.

Lucy watches her walk away and thinks: this is a good life. This is a life worth living.

She follows Kate.

[delta-orionis]

People tend to get Very Upset upon learning that a lot of things in space don't look the way they do in photos (most nebulae viewed through a telescope appear gray or pale green, for example). I think it's important to emphasize that the objects in photos are being captured by cameras, not human eyes, which perceive light in a very different way.

Many telescopes (like JWST) capture light invisible to human eyes, so colors in the visible spectrum are assigned to the image so that it can be perceptible to humans. Pictures of things like nebulae and galaxies also tend to have extremely long exposures (they can range from minutes to hours to even days), while the human eye has an exposure time of less than a fraction of a second, and thus perceives color differently.

Re: Neptune not being as blue as we originally thought, those iconic pictures of Neptune and Uranus were taken more than 30 years ago by Voyager 2- no other flybys have occurred since. Those photos were processed three decades ago using three-decade-old techniques, so of course processing them with more modern techniques would end up being more accurate. If (and when) spacecraft with more modern equipment get close enough to take new pictures, they will probably be closer to true color. (source) (source)

I personally think the revelation that Neptune and Uranus are very similar in color is kind of nice. They're already about the same size, and they tend to get thought of like twins. Uranus also gets a lot of flack because its name sounds funny in English (and most people mispronounce it anyways). I'm anthropomorphizing them, I know, but people tend to view them as more boring than the other planets and that makes me sad. They don't deserve the hate.

TLDR: If perceived by the human eye from close up, many things in space would look very boring. I think it's nice that telescopes help us see things that we wouldn't be able to otherwise. Ramble over, lol

[cannibalhellhound]

My brain is determined to draw the blorbos as any animal possible

So have some PolarBear!Ice and KodiakBear!Slider + their very non shifter bf Mav

[schmweed]

[grandpappys-chinstrap]

John Kramer never wanted Mark Hoffman as a convert. Mark is and was always meant to be a tool for John to use. Since Mark's game of Russian roulette that did not require a true "offering," such as murder or pain which for John was an manifistation of the individuals will to live, Mark's identity as a convert is at best loosely based upon John's need for physical strength and more hands to create the great gears of his games. This distinct difference in Mark's game and therefor conversion story and apprenticeship creates a deep divide between his role and the role of both Amanda Young and Lawrence Gordon.

In this essay...

[kazuaru]

Since i updated my main oc's i thought i should updated nathans big sis (sofia)

[marsspeedway]

I think Tumblr likes the COLLEGE AU and I love the AUs…. THEN GABRIEL PLAYS THE VIOLIN (the original idea) AND THE KEYBOARD WHY NOT.

The fanfic was inspired by: https://www.tumblr.com/themachine/742337025681850368/happy-friends-day-everybody

If you are willing to read 2725 words of a work in progress about Gabriel and V1 here it is: *English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes, this is mostly translated with an online translator and some corrections by me.

Gabriel really didn't expect to find some dusty old belongings when he returned to his parents' house for a small family dinner with his mother, his two older brothers and a few other relatives he's not very close to. He didn't expect to find Michael so excited when his mother pointed out that he was in the attic, nor did he expect Michael to have taken most of the items out of the boxes when he got there.

The items were scattered on the floor, a few other boxes and the small folding table they kept there. Most of it was his father's stuff, junk or trash he doesn't care about but knows his mother doesn't have the heart to throw away; not when it's the last memories she has of his father before he disappeared.

Gabriel remembers him: a tall, elegant man, extremely strict and whom he had very little time to be around. Even his brothers, who should have known him better, don't know much about him either.

Now, standing here in the dusty air caused by Michael snooping and rummaging through boxes, Gabriel looks around. The attic is not small although neither is his house so he finds it normal. They keep huge amounts of antiques from his grandparents and even great-grandparents or older ancestors that he has only heard stories about. For example: an old desk that belonged to a writer in his family, one of those huge clocks that he remembers they had for a long time in their living room and that he still remembers jumping out of fright every time it rang, Raphael's old drum set is also lying around dismantled and of course Michael's cello in a corner next to the drums on the floor.

Gabriel looks at them and clearly remembers that these things didn't go there, these used to be in a deeper part of the attic.

"What are you looking at Gabe?"

The young man turned his head when he detected his brother's voice and silently motioned with his head towards the instruments. The man walked over, standing next to Gabriel to look at what he was referring to.

"Ah those old things? Well, I thought I'd take my cello to practice again and Raphael wanted his drums too." Michael explained as he folded his arms and then hummed softly, Gabriel raised an eyebrow under his helmet without turning to look at him. "Just in case you want to know…" Michael said slowly, moving closer to Gabriel to slip an arm around his neck and leaning his weight on him.

This couldn't be good.

"Your keyboard and violin are in the back…" GOD DAMN- "I don't mean you should use them, you know…I was just reminding you in case you want them back or want to do something with them." Michael had to have felt him tense up and he definitely did; the way he gently bumped the sides of their heads together with the slight click of the metal of their helmets touching, the way he stroked his back reassuringly, the way he let him go when he felt Gabriel stir.

"You can get rid of them, you don't have to keep them." The older man reminded him by giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before releasing him completely. "If you want them go ahead, they're in the back on the left… Call me if you need help with anything, yes?" Michael said as he walked away with Gabriel giving him a simple thumbs up in affirmation mode and drawing a chuckle from Michael as he gently shook his head. Sometimes he wondered where his brother had picked up such quiet habits.

When Gabriel watched Michael disappear down the stairs he turned around, hesitating for a second whether to actually go further into the attic but after a few seconds he decided to do so, sighing and spreading his wings to illuminate the area.

The further he goes in he can see more and more boxes, some sealed with tape and others just closed, others possibly opened by Michael and resting on or at the foot of some rotting furniture.

After poking around a bit Gabriel manages to get to the bottom, catching a somewhat large object that is covered by a dark tarp.

Gabriel swallows.

He reaches over, reaching down to drag the heavy tarp off the object's surface and drop it to the ground, revealing what's underneath: his old keyboard.

Okay, one of two… Where's the other one? Gabriel scans the area with his eyes, settling his attention on an old chair where, on the seat, rests a case now whitish thanks to the accumulated dust. Gabriel reaches over, running a hand over it in an attempt to clean it up a bit though it only spreads it further and decides to leave it alone, picking it up and taking it with him to where the keyboard is.

Gabriel used to love these things, don't get him wrong, but now that he remembers their existence and knows that Michael also knows they are here he doesn't hesitate to have his brother tell his mother about his rediscovery and his plans with his old cello. Gabriel's mother is a bit… intense when it comes to music or dance or waltz or whatever it is she likes.

She had made her 3 children practice ballet, she had rehearsed them for the fancy parties that were organized among the rich families in an attempt to make them gentlemen who knew how to waltz well with the damsels, she had put them in an orchestra and also a choir and of course she had made them attend church. It had been fun for a while; when they could play together and have fun or when they practiced anything whenever. But when Michael and Raphael began to have more duties and obligations they began to drift away; leaving Gabriel alone to face it all.

He danced, played, sang, attended mass every Sunday and was a good student until he too could quit like his brothers.

He remembers the moment when his mother informed him that he could stop his extracurricular activities, he remembers how he simply covered his keyboard and put away his violin for the last time one day and never played them again. He knows the same thing happened to his bible now lying somewhere in the bedroom he shares with V1, abandoned when he stumbled upon the blue machine that slowly pulled him away from the path of God his family had instilled in him to follow.

Ah… V1.

Well, now he no doubt knows someone who will be interested in the instruments. He doesn't plan to give them to them, he still loves them and wants to try them again but surely he can lend them to them if they ask for them. Taking them to them sounds like a good idea since besides cheering up the machine he has for a roommate he can practice and try to de-rust a bit before the recital he is sure his mother will force convince them to do.

Gabriel made a mental note to take them with him tomorrow morning when he went back to his dorm, maybe carrying them there won't be so comfortable but it will certainly be worth it to see V1, his friend, happy.

…

The dinner went well, honestly much better than he expected and he was happy with that. Especially since he managed to avoid all the questions about the church he attended, his schedule or if he had already conquered a lady. Of course he had! But it's different to ask that question than to ask if a lady had conquered him, because certainly hadn't. Not when there was a cerulean machine waiting for him in his apartment… FRIENLY- THEY'RE HIS FRIENDS. HE JUST LIKED THEM.

Anyway… It was good. Certainly much better than the last family dinner they had at Christmas. Gabriel never wants to see Michael angry again, that much is clear to him.

He doesn't remember why they had started fighting because, honestly, he hadn't been paying attention. Gabriel was more interested in eating or thinking about what he would do when he got back to his bedroom, thinking about the gift he had bought for V1 that was now hiding in his closet: a replica gun from a game that V1 had been looking for for some time now and that Gabriel had found in perfect condition at a garage sale. Even packaged and with its 4 coins! With the 'Marksman' in his possession V1 almost completed their collection.

Gabriel felt a little proud to have found it. It's old, he knows that, and he also knows that V1 would love it.

He was so deep in thought at the time that he didn't even notice when the voices around him began to raise and only noticed when a bump on the table made him jump in place and nearly spill the spoonful of mashed potato that was going straight into his mouth.

Ah… Another family situation. Nothing new for the times.

Whatever, the point is that this dinner was better than Christmas. And if you'd like to know: yes, V1 absolutely loved the gift. And Gabriel received a new microphone that he had been wanting to buy for a long time: now he could better record his little audios and attempts at home podcasts.

To commemorate the gift V1 opened it carefully, not wanting to damage anything in the slightest because: 1, it was a collector's item and 2, it was a gift from Gabriel. Instead the microphone was lightly tested, saving the real test for later when V1 received an audio from Gabriel that DEFINITELY tested the capabilities of the device.

V1 saved the audio.

Even if it was a silly audio of Gabriel basically mumbling into the microphone in a seductive, gravelly voice that he would kick their ass if they left a mess in the apartment again.

V1 saved the audio.

And now there was Gabriel, walking across campus in the direction of his shared residence hall with a keyboard under his arm and a violin case in his other hand along with his backpack on his back. It was less uncomfortable than he thought it would be although being a 6 foot tall, heavily muscled guy he doubted he would have much trouble with lifting that amount of weight.

When he found himself in front of the door he thought about knocking and waiting to see if the machine was home in the hope that they would open it for him but when he distinguished the sound of an electric guitar on the other side he considered that it would be better not to disturb them in one of their practices.

He fumbled to pass the violin case to his other hand and used the now free one to rummage in his pants pocket for his keys, snapping them into the lock when he found them and turning it to open the lock. The door opened and he was glad when the old hinge didn't squeak knowing that V1 had oiled it as he had asked.

He walked in closing the door behind him and finding his living room in a much better state than he thought it would be. The cushions were a bit of a mess but other than that everything was in its place: the small coffee table was clean with nothing on it, the bookshelves were still tidy, the couches weren't out of place and there was no junk around.

It was a relief.

The familiar sound of the electric guitar quieted for a moment and left him in total silence as he placed the keyboard on the larger couch and on it he laid the violin case, then as he took off his backpack Gabriel gave a nod and at the same time the guitar restarted loudly as Gabriel knew it would. The angel could easily imagine V1 doing the same as him only in a more passionate way and lost in the frenzy of the song: more intense and violent.

He took off his coat, leaving it hanging on the coat rack in the entryway as he made his way down the hallway humming the guitar melody before catching one of the lyrics and singing it quietly.

Rock hadn't been something he'd listened to much growing up, much less metal but he'd certainly grown fond of it since V1 started showing them to him and unconsciously, or consciously, they had become two of his favorite genres. He would deny it with V1, feigning annoyance when the machine would put music on the speakers or when they played a song he knew but they would quickly catch Gabriel humming softly or bobbing his head to the music but would say nothing about it. They would let it happen and enjoy the company in the moment.

At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and before that were the two rooms of the apartment: one facing the other. The doors matched and Gabriel remembers how more than once they both tried to leave at the same time without being aware of each other's presence and how they bumped into each other. At first they were annoyed, really only Gabriel was, but slowly as their friendship grew they both took it more gracefully; like a little attunement.

They learned each other's schedules so it didn't happen so often. Gabriel gets up first thing, at 5am to shower and take his time in the bathroom, at 5:30 the bathroom is free for V1 to use at 6am when they wake up and when they leave breakfast is prepared and ready on the table: blood and whatever Gabriel is going to eat. At 6:30 the dishes are clean and they both share the bathroom to finish getting ready: V1 wipes the unabsorbed or dried blood off the plating and Gabriel does whatever it is that angels do under that helmet of his. V1 still doesn't understand it, they just know it's like washing his mouth or brushing his teeth or something… Oh, and that Gabriel doesn't take off his helmet… Just like he doesn't take it off to eat.

Peeking through V1's half-open doorframe Gabriel watches them from behind, strumming the strings of their guitar with fervor and excitement as they nod their head before the song ends and thus they too must hit their last note.

The angel leans back against the door and watches fondly as the machine sucks in air and listens as the fans spin in the sudden silence, the machine's chest rises and falls in pseudo breaths in an attempt to keep their components cool after the intense movement and Gabriel laughs softly as he claps his hands, making the machine turn their head in his direction.

"Good job there, that sounds great!" Gabriel complimented as he walked into the room, V1 turning fully around to sign a 'thank you'.

"How was your weekend?" Gabriel asked approaching the robot who already knew his intentions since they saw him walking towards them slightly opening his arms.

"Pretty good. We practiced a lot and made progress on a few songs. How about you?" V1 signed before opening their arms and accepting Gabriel between them, letting themselves be squeezed by the strong angel in front of them.

"I'm glad you had a good time." Gabriel murmured sweetly, slouching down and resting his chin on the machine's shoulder. "A good family dinner, you know how they usually are…" Gabriel whispered soothingly, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the affection and feel of the metal of V1's arms around him.

"I also have something to show you." Gabriel hummed, pulling away and placing his hands on V1's shoulders. At the man's words the robot perked up, pulling away from him to bounce in place with excitement and curiosity, drawing a chuckle from Gabriel.

"Come, follow me." He said, sliding his hand down his companion's arm and taking their hand before leading them out of the room. V1 didn't complain, this had been something Gabriel had been doing unconsciously for the past few weeks and V1 found it harmless, almost cute if not charming.

[icantbeseenlikethisonmymain]

Okay okay hear me out regarding Ringo canonically killing someone:

Loving the looks-like-a-cinnamon-roll-is-a-cinnamon-roll posts, but like canonically Ringo can and does kill a person when it is absolutely and unavoidably crucial. SO I propose instead "looks like a cinnamon roll, chooses to be a cinnamon roll"

Not to be Deep(tm) but I'm loving how contemporary media has gradually begun to recognize a certain type of "pure person": the person who has the capability to be cruel or to harm but actively chooses (the often supererogatory) kindness and grace. E.g. Waymond from Everything Everywhere. I think Ringo has such potential to become this character, especially in contrast/in complement to mizu, who is often forced to choose violence but is not always. (I think Ep. 4 and 5 are great examples of this, with Kinuyo, the little boy who ratted her out, and the various young Thousand Claws who are hiding from her.)

Ringo, who has been been forced to kill someone only once and found it incredibly "dark," could help Mizu differentiate between when death needs to happen and when there's another way.

[shays-shack]

Chapter 325 ruined my life dawg I can't stop drawing them

[roxannepolice]

Fourteen: *puppiest eyes to ever puppy eyes* Simm!Master: Oh, stop giving me that look, it makes you look even more pathetic than usual. Fourteen: B-be-bea... Simm!Master: What, "bird", you took up ornithology in your old age? Fourteen: B-beard! Simm!Master: Excuse me?! Fourteen, rushing over to him and nuzzling at his goatee: Beard! Simm!Master: Oh, for fuck's sake... Fourteen, oozing pure contentment: Beard :)

[taonpest]

Good morning to them and them only

[ineed-to-sleep]

ENDING SPOILERS FOR BG3 AHEAD

Hate that I found this scene kinda hot