#thnk about it

[magioffire]

i applaud each and everyone one of you who resisted making a ‘master has given dobby a sock, dobby is a free elf’ joke at vali because i dont think i could stop him (or myself for that matter) from committing Unalive on you

[yiaemiel]

I feel like if you know me, it makes perfect sense I like nightcrawler so much

some color variants below the cut!

[xiewho]

no time to celebrate

[sleepsucks]

[graff-aganda]

DUNGEONS & DAYDREAMS: The unfinished 26 page draft for my ichinan comic I was cooking up ages ago! I revisited these and I just don't see myself finishing this anytime in the future. It got a bit too ambitious :( But I still like a bunch of the pages and panels, so I'm finally sharing what I have in it's rough but earnest glory! The rest is under the read more :^)

[cycle-hit]

hey so do you guys think about how MAHIRU is the prisoner second-place tied with kotoko for "prisoners who talk about their families the least" or are you normal.

like. Mahiru Shiina. mahiru "values the idea of very traditional romantic love and starting a family to extreme amounts" shiina. is the prisoner second-place tied with KOTOKO FUCKING YUZURIHA for "least information given about their parents and least talked about". why. how.

why does mahiru talk about wanting to start a family yet talk about her own so little? why doesnt she mention the love between her parents, the romantic love she wouldve witnessed the most, when shes so obsessed with love? why does she refer to them with fond terms (equivalent to "mama" and "papa" in english) yet not talk about them at all? why does she not even consider them in the interrogation question "would you be leaving anyone behind if you die"?

mahiru what did you mean by you are/were a "sheltered girl" and that youre thankful towards your parents but perhaps they were a bit "strict". mahiru PLEASE. family is very important in milgram's writing! yamanaka even says this in an interview!

SO WHY IS MAHIRU SHIINA TIED WITH KOTOKO FUCKING YUZURIHA FOR LEAST INFORMATION ABOUT THEIR FAMILIES. EXPLAIN TO ME NOW YAMANAKA. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!!!!!

also. her prisoner pair is shidou. the #1 spot holder of "milgram prisoner of whom has never referred to his side of the family not even once". he only refers to his wife and kids. we know nothing about HIS family he grew up with beyond that except for implicated guesses taken from his behaviours and way he is. yamanaka why is mahirus pair shidou. YAMANAKA

[noirve]

they just read each other for filth like that, then stayed together for another 50 years anyway. it's like when you know someone well enough to be able to say the things that truly hurt—why even leave? who else could know you like that? something something shiv calling tom post-fight to say she's always been afraid of the underneaths, of the worst thing the other person is thinking, but now they know! and once you've said the worst things, you're kind of... free? which is her last resort attempt at saving her dying marriage instead of just divorcing. that's post-'73 loumand to me except it's just armand actually because he deleted the whole argument from louis's memory oops

[turbolainen]

everything is bad but teuvo played his best hockey on the canes next to sebastian aho for 7 years and they set a franchise record for duo with the most points recorded together on the same goal and the nhl record for most games ever played together by finns and no one can take that away from us

[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.”

[pixelatedquarter]

Something something [add here the line from Take Over, Breaks Over]

Because of this post doing the rounds

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

fnaf cowboy au where Henry and Bill are out in the middle of nowhere doing cowboy shit for extended periods of time and Bill fast talks his way into having sex with him. like theres no people for MILES let alone any women it's not like meeting there needs is wrong or anything and Henry just shrugs and says sure.

[gunsatthaphan]

me carefully checking twitter to see if the LOL cringefest is over and I can resume my normal online activity

[ichijokaoru]

sorry this idea possessed me

[airysunfairy]

thinking about the guy i saw at the grocery store stocking shelves that looked like unmasked simon riley. he was tall with broad shoulders, looked to be in his 30s, had a similar face, short strawberry blonde hair that was thinning at the crown,,, and all i could think about was how that was probably a job ghost would like, or at least one he'd be hired for more easily than others. just a job where he can use his height and strength, probably will get a question or two from patrons but maybe not with how intimidating he looks so he'll probably have relative peace and quiet - apart from whatever songs they play in the store to keep shopper's minds busy while looking at the prices. idk it just felt like i really saw him how he'd be in real life for a second. also he checked me out WHEW

[amoneki-ramblings]

Continuing on the religion thoughts/rambles

I just think that a really interesting comparison could be made between ghouls and needing to eat human flesh/blood and like communion/the eucharist?? Like hear me out,

You could probably already draw the connection with people having to eat the actual body and blood of christ and ghouls needing to human flesh. There's also the fact that this practice is an actual necessity for ghouls, like they depend on it to live, as it's the only thing they can consume that'll actual sustain them (unlike coffee), which makes it sacred in a way (not to mention ghouls treat humans/human bodies in a special way that doesn't translate to humans, for example donato mentions how they view the head as the "centerpiece" of a meal, and it is a special part of ghoul meals, we see Yomo put his hands together and bow his head before collecting corpses, the way Shuu acts about his gourmet meals sometimes (also reminding me of a line I saw once in a tg fic, "Not the blood of Christ but certainly the blood of someone else"), etc., just the way that (by some at least) it's held in high honor, and it is a sacrifice).

There's also the fact that hunger will drive ghouls to insanity (and cannibalism still slowly eats away at their minds), the only way they can be "saved" from this fate is consuming human flesh

There's this one verse; John 6:53 that has multiple variations but generally goes “Unless you eat my body and drink my blood, there is no life in you" While it can be very symbolic in the context of religion for ghouls it would be very literal, as they have no choice but to consume the body and blood of humans or they slowly and painfully die

Just. Something something comparison between ghouls eating humans and communion, something something corruption of religious ideas because the lives of ghouls and their need to kill and feed off of humans is regarded as a sin/sinful. Does this make sense.

Ummm I was gonna try and fit that in with amoneki but I ran out of thought juice orz. Tbf I think this kind of connection/irony would definitely not be lost to Kaneki, I think he'd have some interesting thoughts on that as well I just forgot where I was going with this :skull:

[lemongogo]

idk if its just because im a super emotional & sentimental person , but i really rly rly (many rlys later) enjoyed the use of the plant memory feathers or whatever they were called at the end of the series .. smth soo special about highlighting the power of empathy through a shared collective of anger , grief , despair, wonder , love , joy , etc … T_T .. the way everyone feels that burgeoning desire to want to be better , do better , and cultivate a community of love and peace . _AUGGGH !!!! !!!

idk how to fully describe it in the way that i wish i could , but you know that scene shortly after where a doctor connects w a visibly distressed plant to try and communicate his plan to heal her in whichever way possible , thanking her for all she’s provided and vowing to do what he can so they can begin to coexist .. T__T its just soo sweet .. or people finally seeing vash for who he is and what he represents . having direct insight into his heart and , for the first time ever , wanting the best for him. “i see.. you all know him as well .. that young man , with the gentle smile.” lkterally kill me .please please plea

+ im always thinking about the memory knives saw of the child and mother praying to the plant … the kind reverence ppl generally reserved for them , …