#will reblog tomorrow at a better time

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Compiling some Peppino-centric hcs i have bc i would like to have something to look back on as a point of reference 😌 (this is so long. SO fucking long. Im sorry)

- starting w the basics: hes a short king; 5’2 (157cm). Hes like late 40s-early 50s to me. Hes got brown eyes i never draw bc i like drawing him w dots lol. Hes particular about his appearance and grooms very consistently. Has literally no issues w balding (exposed to balding bears in his youth; thinks they are hot now 😌) and it helps that he can literally cave someones skull in if they speak ill of him. He does have a couple of comfy hats incase his hair decides to be unruly in bad weather.

- very bulky build; think of olympic strongmen/ highland games but short. Visibly muscular arms and broad shoulder, fat chest and stomach, smoother legs (fat layered over muscle; v thick thighs and calves). Hes got surgery scars on his lower back from a bullet wound (only entry/no exit point). Debated giving him a scar around his sternum from heart surgery or some other crazy injury he had but im not sure yet; the bullet extraction scar is definitely staying tho.

-does NOT work out; he used to wrestle in his late teens/early 20s but otherwise he was (still is) a man who did lots of physical labor around his childhood home and grandparents shop. Continued the cycle when he got his own home and his own restaurant; cheaper to do his own (extensive) repairs than call for specialists/contractors when u are Fucking Poor.

- he DOES exercise; he is fond of jogging. He does this alot postgame, usually in the early mornings before he opens, and at the beach on his days off. He had it drilled in v early in his life that he Needs to stay active, so he will roll out of bed and do this almost daily. On his days off he will have random people come and join him; usually pepperman or noisette. Its too tedious/boring of a task for gus and noise, and vigi is out cold until sunrise at minimum.

- he owns a HOUSE; he does not rent an apartment. This is bc i think it would be reasonable to assume that anyone who OWNS a restaurant was at some point, well off enough to own a house instead of renting. And i like the idea of him using this house as collateral; if the shop goes under, so does his home (more stress for him…). (Ive seen other people treat his shop like a duplex ie shop on the lobby level and an apartment/living space on the second floor. This is ALSO v good and coincides w my want to have his home tied to his restaurant)

- the house is small; two bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, and a basement (where the 1/2 bath is located). BIG kitchen, small livingroom. It is surprisingly well furnished bc of his family donating things to him when he bought the house in his 30s. Lots of older wood based furniture. Hes not grossly messy (like food, bugs, etc) but he is disorganized beyond belief. Lives an ‘organized mess’ lifestyle bc of his high stress. Also extremely apathetic to his living conditions until postgame when his restaurant starts to take in profits again; less stress -> more positive time at home -> aware of the clutter as he spends more time at home.

- drives a beat up lookin car to and from work. Its his BABY; his ol reliable. He has to do lots of work to keep her intact and functioning. Eventually gets a newer car with his profits, but its rlly to help ease the strain on her so that he can take her out for drives occasionally.

-eldest of like 6 siblings; will not try to name them all just know that hes the only boy. Eldest daughter is only a year younger than him. Good relationship w all of them and his immediate family. Very matriarchal immediate family. Only a handful of uncles, his dad, and his grandpappy. Stubbornly cut off contact w everyone after the horrors (war) and refused to accept help w his failing restaurant (prideful). Eventually his (eldest) sister reaches out and he makes amends one at a time. (Gets an earful from his momma)

- works LONG hours. Awake by 4am, in noisettes cafe by 5am, in the shop by 6am. Preps and calls until opening at 9am. Closes at 9pm. Closes up FOR REAL at 10pm. Rinse n repeat. As the shop does better financially, he starts opening later and closing earlier (at the insistence of Gus). He still does his walks and his morning routine, just a little later, and he has enough time at home in the evening to cook for himself.

- on the topic of cooking, he is a good chef all around; pizza is just easier to market and consistently do Correct. Likes food alot. So much…..he isnt picky but he does go 😬 when eating something. Bad. And it happens Often.

- stress baked often. He felt bad about throwing out his food afterwards so he would give it away to his neighbors. No longer stress bakes but he will cook out of boredom which is not as bad but still not the best 😭 luckily he has so many freeloaders that will eat anything he makes (gus and noise)

- this is his second shop; the first one was in a larger city (think similar to pig city). Closed down due to insufficient payments, but reopened on the outskirts of the city (close to the forest) after putting up his house as collateral.

-first shop is where he first meets pizzahead. Hes offered a generous sum of cash to sell the business (which would then be converted into a ph brand shop). Obv declined. Later offered a position in pizzaheads business instead; nearly killed the man when scaring him out of his shop.

- Peppino is NOT some aggressive out of control beast (despite what pizzahead believes). He is vaguely neurotic and it is exacerbated by extreme stress and bouts of anxiety. So funny how removing the extreme stress and sources of anxiety makes him more Normal. (Somewhat encouraged by an official image i saw after i made this hc of peppinos attitude outside and inside the tower. He is relatively apathetic and inside the tower he is borderline manic. More hcs about that too)

- he is relatively fun to be with otherwise. He has some extremely dry humor. Hes incredibly sarcastic. He LIKES customer service…otherwise this would be impossible for him to endure. It helps that he Owns a shop, instead of only being a worker; he can yell at people who are rude and annoying to him and he knows (at least postgame) that he has loyal regulars.

- he is a bit of an asshole; he make snide remarks he shouldnt and hes been in his own fair share of fights bc of it. Has mellowed out drastically as he got a better grip on his emotions postgame. Only the most tolerant could really deal w him prior to postgame (gus) in part due to his anger (response to exacerbated neurosis and ptsd)

- also autistic. Extra stress bc of this. Easily overstimulated and the response to this is anger. Completely undiagnosed lmao but hes like late 40s; he just learned how to deal with it.

-common stress responses: bites on anything, usually his hand (Tried stopping this bc people would TOUCH him if he did that in front of others and that just made shit worse). Grinds his teeth. Jaw clenching. Making A Fist So Tight You Accidentally Cut Urself. Flappy hands, usually w hands balled up into a fist (specifically eyes closed; jaw clenched; head ducked, flappy hands over his ducked head). It looks ‘worse’ than biting but at least the excessive movement deters people from touching him.

- on a more positive note; knows quite a bit of magic tricks. Sleight of hand stuff is his forte. It is good for the anxiety and it keeps his hands busy. He is will consistently say that he is not good w kids but he loves entertaining them; they say the funniest shit and he likes being a bad influence on them 😈. Also teaching them tricks and letting them see behind the curtain is so fun for him; like they are so excited about silly tricks and it makes him feel a little cool….

- he is the kind of person whos like (dad voice) ‘not gettin a damn cat in my house’ and then has blackmail of him passed the fuck out with a cat on his stomach. He feeds the local strays by his shop and he cant help but feed the strays that end up by his house. He doesnt feel confident enough to take care of another animal when its so hard for him to remember to take care of himself so for now he just feeds them. But maybe soon he will take them inside…he also baby talks cats but if u caught him doing that he would kill u i think. (Pov u are the noise)

- silly hc that he has a real last name but he keeps it as spaghetti bc its funny to fuck around w people who ask him. No i dont know what his last name would be but i think it would be funny to have him ‘change’ it for branding and have people believe it. Also i think its funny to think of peppino saying this to ph somehow and he completely runs with it as gospel. Like ‘granny did u KNOW his last name is fucking spaghetti??’

- wrt young peppino, i say that w him being 20-23 in mind. Worked in his grandparents shop during this time. Worked as a line cook for some other restaurants as well (and saved up money to buy his own home while he lived w his parents and sisters). He was generally a sweetheart, just a bit odd (the Autsim and Anxiety), but that was (and still is) his charm point lol

- (SUGGESTIVE) cannot stop thinking of him as a little otter that hung out w older bears in the leather scene. He prob had his best years w them before he had to focus on other shit. He still keeps in contact w some of the peeps that were around his age postgame, and they meet up sometimes to hang along w vigilante. Now that hes older it is a bit surreal to now be the bear he used to look up to in his younger years. But its a bit flattering. Noise and Pepperman are younger than him and they both regard him w the same kind of wonder he used to give older bears. He thinks its cute lol (pepperman bc thats his muse and he sees his body type as PEAK human form, and noise bc i hc him as a bit sheltered despite the fame)

- (STILL SUGGESTIVE BUT THATS IT I SWEAR) adjacent to this; its weird for him to come back to this side of him bc hes been living in survival mode for over a decade. Got his house in his early 30s -> WAR -> comes back traumatized -> leaves family to cope -> dumps money into a restaurant to cope w leaving family. So he kinda missed it alot. Its fun to explore it w gus heehee and sometimes noise when he behaves.

-other things i wanted to mention but didnt know where to fit it. Peppino is a decent artist; he drew the logo for his shop and in general he is good at caricatures (another thing he can do to entertain a crowd; helps w anxiety to know how to not be awkward).

- Peppino is a bit of a mechanic (aka he learned bc he was broke and didnt want to call them for minor problems). Hes not a tinkerer but he likes the joy of creating sm and will make little. Creations. every once in a while. One of these creations is Peshino! He is a wooden windup toy made as a prototype for a more mechanical, mass produced version. He was intended to be sold as a cute little toy to help cement the branding for Peppinos shop but he never got the time or money for it, so peshino is collecting a bit of dust in his basement. Postgame, he takes peshino out and cleans him up; he feels a bit guilty about him….and the Big Peshino found in the tower plays music in Peppinos shop :) He also takes the time to clean him up and keep him functional.

Okay i think thats all i got for now byebye

[kindledrose]

goofy hermit doodles!! because uhh why not!!

[meownotgood]

it felt amazing to finally see that green checkmark on ao3, to finally move the full fic to my finished folders on docs, to finally say with my whole chest that it's really completed...

I'm proud of myself and what I managed to make, I'd been working on this fic for over a year, and I felt a lot of doubts while writing. I didn't expect to write so much. I often thought I was saying too much, or the fic wasn't good enough. when I reread it, I realized it wasn't perfect, but it doesn't have to be. I wrote something that was so unabashedly me, and I'm so grateful for that feeling. I'm so happy that I can write what I enjoy, that I can be myself while doing what I have always loved the most. I learned and progressed, and I can feel only excitement for whatever I write next!!

thank you for your patience, and if you end up reading, thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart 💞

I took off work tomorrow to celebrate lol (actually because I'm still sick but we're calling it a celebration). I don't know what to say next so here's some cute pictures of aki. three cheers for fic completion 🎉🎉🎉

[shevr]

[crystaljelly64]

Me and @tankycinna were talking about an Unus Annus AU for Steven and Marc where they’re Ethan and Mark (Jake and Layla are Evan and Amy as camera operators) and he brought up this specific UA moment, so I decided to draw it 😭🌙✨ (it’s mostly traced over from the video but the faces aren’t)

Thought today was the perfect day to post it since the prompt today is “Mummy”! I had fun creating this and hope to do more AU stuff in the future :D

[tblsomedoodles]

As promised, I submitted both George and Morgan to the @tmnt-oc-comp so we shall see what happens from there. : )

Morgan is not happy about this impromptu trip lol. They don't want to leave their plants unattended.

George just thinks it's neat and is pretty curious about the whole thing.

[staticcolour]

Commission o/

[graviconscientia]

It's been quiet. A calm that seems endless, longer than you've ever had at one time, one you should be so very grateful for. You aren't.

You keep track of the days. You keep track of the hours. You watch the moons shift in their phases, chart the stars as they move across the sky, monitor the shadows a blazing sun casts every day. Things move. Life moves. Planets, oceans, leaves, creatures, people, everything moves. You don't.

You have stayed in the same rooms for perigees, pacing the same hallways, locking eyes with the same photographs, the only changes in your surroundings coming as gifts from others. Tokens of affection from lovers and friends in the forms of food and flowers and fabric… Fine as they are, pieces you are grateful for, but is it enough? It isn't. You wouldn't dream of sounding unappreciative of any of them, but the hive you're holding onto is becoming a museum, full of artifacts of a lost life you're afraid to forget and a new life that you're afraid to live fully.

When you ran into the forest, you thought something would shift. You thought you could ask the the trees your questions, you thought they'd tell you the same things they always had: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." They didn't. They offered their embraces, but they stayed silent. You ran to your dad, too, and hoped he'd have something for you. Hoped he'd have wisdom, or at least kindness: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." But it didn't happen, not like that. Quiet rumblings, warmth that didn't quite reach your heart, words that didn't match what you thought you needed. What do you need? What are you missing?

You run to the ocean, you wait for something to happen while you stand at the waves' edges, watching the ships in the distance with narrowed eyes. It's dangerous to venture further than this, to test the waters so very literally, but you slip off your shoes, leaving them in the sand, and walk into the water, slow, measured, eyes kept upward even as you slip underneath the surface, listening to what the sea says to you. What do you do? What needs to change? All it says is: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." But you know that's a lie. You leave, drenched, angry, frustrated you even asked, and more desperate than ever for an answer.

Nothing changes when you enter your home. The same silence you've become so used to greets you, the same emptiness fills every room and seeps into your lungs. It steals your voice. It steals your breath. It's quiet. You can't stand it.

Messages find you, and they manage to pull you out of the loop of madness you've made for yourself, even if their efforts are short-lived. Your heart softens for their writers, but your mind spends a little too much time with them. You talk of peace. You talk of calm. You talk of quiet, unearned.

"sometimes, peace is welcome. to have the time to be idle. to not have to do anything. it's good, isn't it?" "usually. i can appreciate quiet, but restlessness is usually what i get out of too much of it, yeah." "then we should do something about it."

You decide to do something about it.

You sent a letter, to Asidea, a few days ago. A short one, a frantic flash of words, written through lonely sobs for faces you miss so terribly, on a day where you felt your failures so acutely. There was no response, then. You don't deserve one, you know that. Still, you're trying again. Another letter, longer, with a pair of requests. You send it off, and sit by your transportaliser, waiting for hours. You're giving them three this time. It's terrifying to leave your coordinates unlocked for so long-- what if they come through in person? what if they make demands i can't meet? what if they pull me back before i'm ready to go?-- but you trust your children. You trust that they will not move until all of you are ready.

Before the three hours pass, there's a flash of green, and a box sits atop the transportaliser pad. It's unassuming, a brown box wrapped with a dark red ribbon. You are careful in unwrapping it, nervous that it is a trap laid by someone else, but it is exactly as you had hoped. It's from your children, only, with six letters inside. Your hands are delicate as you hold each sheet of parchment, all held far away from a face wet with tears as you read them. dear mama, they all start, and they all end the very same way. love, forever, always, from the moons and back and beyond. Five letters, written individually, and one penned by Virago with words from all of them. The last letter is heavier. The last letter answers both requests.

Inside the envelope is a stack of photographs, copies of originals kept in albums locked away, pictures of the life you left behind and the people still there. Selfies of your family that you managed to sneak in taking, candids of young people enjoying moments between duties and responsibilities-- Virago and Jagara doubled over and laughing in beautiful ballgowns, Perygl grinning by an arrow in a bullseye, Cyther Kaiser and Haakon smearing frosting on each others' faces, Izerti excitedly pointing to a book with her name printed along the bottom edge. More photos of them posing by statues, reading in nests of pillows, holding onto each other in snow, on shores, in sand, on sofas… And there you are, in some of them, pressing kisses to their cheeks, beaming proudly as you stand behind them… There are a few that you've never seen before: one has you looking out a window in your imperial regalia, another is of you giggling with your ex-husband in plainclothes, a third is one taken of the five remaining royals, all of them smiling warmly and holding each other tightly. The date is written on the back of it; it was taken six days ago. It was prepared for a day they knew mattered to you. It was prepared for their mother.

The photos were the first request, and if that was all they gave you, it would've been more than enough. But the second part was answered, and at the bottom of the envelope sits a ring, golden band with cut alexandrite atop it, exactly the same as it was 67 sweeps ago. You slide it on your finger gingerly, then press one of the gems. Slowly, you stand, and glance at your reflection in the mirror in the hallway. It still works. Your perception disruptor still works. There you are, human, with bright blue eyes surrounded by white, a shock of red hair, freckles and scars smattered across pink skin. This is not who you are, but it's what you asked for. An option. A change. A choice.

Everything that's been sent to you is returned to the box, brought to your room, and placed on your desk between a beautifully wrought dragon in a gardenia, and a tiny pillow with a crisp game-like module resting on it. Paper is pulled out of a desk drawer, and teal ink is drawn across it, letters swirled along with frenetic speed, a simple message dressed in verbosity. i love you. i miss you. please wait a little longer. i need more time. i want to see you soon. i promise, we'll be together again. somewhere, somehow. Folded carefully, sealed with wax, monogrammed on the back, you send it off, and you're quick to lock your coordinates. You fiddle with your necklace for a moment, eyes fixed upon the transportaliser, staring at the numbers you've input from memory.

You think this will be one of the last letters you need to send. You think, as well, this is one of the last times you will do this song and dance of scrambling your coordinates, of locking the doors behind you.

Something has to shift. Even in the quietest moments of life, everything moves. Now, you must too.

[tennessoui]

Prompt ask! 😍

"I need you, though"

guess who went to the zoo today i went to the zoo today so this is the premise of my zookeeper au in ficlet form

(1.6k) (warning: himbo obi-wan)

Obi-Wan Kenobi is leaning against the post of the goat pin, watching him.

Anakin doesn’t quite know what to do about that, and he decides to table the issue until he has  a moment to shoo the man away.

What he can’t figure out is why Obi-Wan Kenobi is here. They’ve never talked. Until this very moment, he hadn’t realized Obi-Wan Kenobi even knew who he was, but when he turns his head slightly to the side to peek over at him, it’s definitely him that he’s looking at.

Of course he knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is though. He’s one of the best zookeepers in the Coruscant Zoo—and probably the most recognizable. After all, he’s the head of the team that works with the big cats, and everyone comes to the zoo to see the lions and tigers be fed and sleep. And whatever else the lions and tigers do.

It probably helps that the guy feeding them and playing with them is undeniably also probably handsomest man in all of Coruscant.

Maybe not, Anakin doesn’t know.

What Anakin does know is that it’s very hard to look in Obi-Wan’s direction without imagining beard burn on his thighs, a fact of life that’s thus far not mattered much.

But now he’s surrounded by little children, exhausted moms, and goats, sheep, rabbits, and ponies. Arousal is not one of the feelings he should be having at this moment.

He throws the fresh hay down by the stable and wipes the sweat off his forehead. He needs to get Obi-Wan Kenobi to leave because he probably has—like, an actual job to do. He’s wearing his zookeeping jumpsuit, which means he probably should be on the other side of the zoo, prodding sleeping lions or petting tigers.

He’s probably scaring the bunnies, smelling all like big cat and predator and sandalwood cologne with just a hint of spice—

Look, it’s normal that Anakin knows what Obi-Wan Kenobi smells like. They’ve passed each other in the hall before, at work events. He’s pretty sure Obi-Wan Kenobi has come out of the bathroom right before Anakin went in a few times too, so it’s not like it’s abnormal to know how the guy smells.

And the most important thing is he can’t be smelling like that around Anakin’s babies, because they’re probably terrified and they have to put up with enough with all the snot-nosed brats that come in and try to pull their tails or ears.

On his way over to Obi-Wan Kenobi, he sees a little girl in a princess dress doing just that with Cinny-Minny Bun Bun, which is a crime too grievous to go unpunished, so he redirects his body immediately to snatch the poor bunny away from the girl’s grubby little fingers. “You’ll hurt her doing that,” Anakin chides in a perfectly polite sort of voice, cuddling the bunny to his chest. Cinny is quivering. “What if someone came up and pulled on your ears? How would you like that?”

The little girl looks at him for two seconds before promptly bursting into tears. Internally, Anakin rolls his eyes. Kids cry about everything, but they especially don’t like being told that they can’t torture small animals.

Psychopaths, all of them.

He keeps Cinny against his chest as he turns away from the kid and finishes his trek over to Obi-Wan, who is giving him a very unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“You can’t be here, you’re scaring the animals with your—big cat scent,” he says once they’re face to face, separated by the posts of the fence around the petting zoo. 

“You’re scaring the children,” Obi-Wan Kenobi points out, which may be the first words he’s ever said to him directly.

Anakin scowls and adjusts his hold on Cinny-Minny. “Children are the worst.”

Now Obi-Wan is smiling slightly, which is a really good look for him. “Your job hinges upon being able to work with animals and children, and—and, Mr. Skywalker, that was a very disappointing display I just witnessed. I understand thata you’re still grieving the unexpected loss of your wife, but you have to keep your personal life from affecting your work, or we’ll be forced to terminate your contract with Coruscant Zoo. I’ll be making a note of this incident in your file for your performance review at the end of the month.”

This is all said very sternly and with a self-assured yet disapproving tone.

But Anakin thinks he’d probably notice if he had a wife and also if she died tragically. He blinks at Obi-Wan and wonders if the man is having a stroke. He’s also pretty sure Obi-Wan can’t actually fire him.

He could probably sic the big cats on him though, which is less than optimal.

“Uh,” Anakin settles on saying.

Obi-Wan’s eyes dart away from his face and then back to him before he breaks out into a grin. “Sorry, the mother of the child you traumatized was coming over looking rather unhappy. I thought if I told you off for your outlandish and boarish behavior, she wouldn’t feel the need to. And she’s turned back now, so. You’re welcome.”

Anakin blinks. “Me and my dead wife thank you,” he finally says. “You need to go though. They can probably smell Split Pea all over you.”

“I don’t actually roll around with the lion as much as you may think I do,” Obi-Wan says, and both of his eyebrows are raised.

“Oh, of course. That’s just the tigers.”

“Chowder and Gumbo enjoy my company, but for the most part I do stay out of all of my enclosures. They’re big cats, not exactly petting zoo material.”

“Which is why you need to leave,” Anakin says again, in case Obi-Wan didn’t hear that part. “You’re scaring Cinny-Minny.”

“Cinny-Minny.”

“Cinnamon Minerva Bun Bun.”

Now it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to blink. “Ah. Of course.”

“All your animals are named after soups,” Anakin says defensively. “Don’t throw stones.”

Obi-Wan looks amused, which is also a very good look on him, the fucker. “I didn’t say anything,” he points out.

Anakin scowls and clutches Cinny close. He’s ninety percent sure she’s fallen asleep.

“You need to leave,” he reiterates. “I need you though,” Obi-Wan says, and then looks slightly horrified. “Your hands. No, sorry. I mean—” it’s the first time this entire conversation that Obi-Wan Kenobi has been flustered, and Anakin would be enjoying it a lot more if he could think past all the mental images of what Obi-Wan could use his hands for.

“That,” Obi-Wan finally spits out, looking mortified as he rubs a hand over his face and uses his other one to gesture at—

Anakin blinks down at Cinny. “My bunny?”

Does Obi-Wan think the petting zoo animals are like class pets that the employees can go home with? How did he get such an erroneous conception and also why is Anakin sort of jealous of a rabbit right now?

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “Well, no.”

“Thanks for clearing that one up,” Anakin says gamely. “Want to try again?”

Obi-Wan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, like Anakin is the one being difficult here. “I…am in need of your expertise.”

“My expertise. In…bunnies?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan snaps. Anakin blinks at him. “I—my friend is out of town for a month, and he asked me to pet sit for him. And I think I’m killing the rabbit.”

This is pretty alarming actually.

“What?”

“It’s not eating anything and it just—sits in its hutch. I haven’t seen it eat any of the food I’ve left out, and it’s like. Shaking?” Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “I’m worried I’ve given it a terrible case of seasonal depression, honestly, but my friend’s daughter will literally never forgive me if I kill her rabbit.”

Anakin thinks he probably agrees with the friend’s daughter, and something like that may flash across his face because it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to scowl.

“I’ve tried everything that works for my cats,” he says. “Nothing. I’m running out of ideas, Anakin.”

This is the first time Obi-Wan’s said his name, and Anakin finds himself half-distracted by how much he enjoys the way it sounds in his voice. But more importantly: “Wait, sorry, did you—did you, what, give the bunny extra bloody meat? Put the food on a stick and wriggle it around to encourage its predator instincts to come out and play?”

Obi-Wan’s silent for a moment too long.

“Oh my god,” Anakin says before bursting into laughter so fierce that he has to shove Cinny into Obi-Wan’s hands just to clutch his own stomach.

Obi-Wan holds the bunny like he’s holding a lit stick of dynamite, and it only makes Anakin laugh harder. This is a man who routinely walks into small spaces already inhabited by clawed and fanged predators and scratches them behind the ears, but the fluffy bunny in his hands looks as if it may break him.

“Alright, thank you,” Obi-Wan says, sounding more than a little put-out and ticked off. “Alright.”

Anakin’s laughter finally peters out, and he takes Cinny Minny back from Obi-Wan before he can give the rabbit PTSD or anything. “Okay,” he hears himself say, which is weird because he hasn’t thought at all about the actual request, unable to think past the mental image of Obi-Wan trying to find a bunny the way he feeds his lions. “Yeah, okay. Do you need just like—advice or. Pet websites? A blog forum?” “Come over,” Obi-Wan demands. “I learn best through hands-on demonstration.”

Anakin doesn’t say any of the five things that come to mind because they’re all a bit sleazy and he’s better than that. “Okay,” he hears himself say again. “Yeah, okay.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan smiles at him before reaching out and using two fingers to gently pet the space between Cinny’s ears.

It’s probably the most attractive thing Anakin’s seen in the last month.

He doesn’t want to think about what that says about him.

[narsh-poptarts]

Commission for @anxiousartist0 !!

Thank you for commissioning me!

[fbwzoo]

Took a bunch of cute Emma pics yesterday! I love the selfie & her big ol grin the most. She was panting from being outside & barking at the neighbor dog, and I was trying to get better pics, but she was too amped and also trying to tacklekiss me. 😂

[catgirlknighted]

The only thing left on my longest story yet is to put the 2 pieces together & make sure the tags don’t have any words that’ll stop it from showing up in the search engine. I want visibility on this. It’s a love letter to my past self & one of my dearest relationships of that time period that I still cherish to this day. If you wanna see me write more, reblog my damn original posts!

[deadsince1973]

I finally saw the final episode of Till the End of the Moon, and I am LIVID. I hated that ending so much!!!! I am actually so angry right now!! >:(

[liesonthefloordramatically]

this week is the 9th anniversary of me fleeing my parents’ home, which is. fine. it’s whatever. but more importantly that means that NEXT year I’ll be celebrating a decade of Being Disowned and I really need to come up with a proper way to celebrate it

[yooniesim]

Only reinstalled the hell app to post this bc I didn't have enough time to say everything I wanted to in my last posts. I'm not checking notifs or messages. I haven't seen anything posted on the last few posts, so if anyone is waiting for a specific response, you won't get one for a while. I'm done posting seriously or talking about anything until I heal and my family is better. I wish you all the best. Thank you to all the friends I've made here, everyone that treated me kindly, my great anons that kept me informed (and humble 🤡), and the talented people keeping this community going.

To people like Sara, Ki, Viper, Nes, Api, Wolfgang, Weepy, Blue, Moon, Twink, Van, and many many more- you made my time here great & regardless of anything that's happened now I still appreciate you and all you did to support me when I was hurt. To all the server members in general and my followers- I'm sorry for the pain or loneliness anyone has experienced from me not being able to be here to handle this issue. As well as to anyone that felt alienated or uncomfortable as black members of the server; being black myself, I should've been more aware and never allowed that to happen to you. Some of the members that expressed this, I considered close friends, which means I should have noticed even quicker and didn't. And when I was informed, I was too overwhelmed to do what I needed to reassure and protect you. Dollie/Corpsetrait may not be in the server any longer, but rot was there when the right choice would've been to remove rot until I had time to investigate all the claims, at the very least. That's what I've done now- too little too late. I know I could've done better, especially for my friends' sake and the server's, and I'll learn from that to make a better environment when I return. Make sure you keep all those receipts for me to put in my thinkpiece then- it's in the works, don't worry.

Finally, to all the people I disagreed with and shit talked in the past- no hard feelings. Keep fuckin' it up and I'll see you next time. ✌

[crownshattered-arch]

|| Soooo a vast majority of my mutuals I haven't really even talked to before.... This is because I'm a really shy bean, plus I haven't really had time to chat until now.!! So, let's have a little interaction/plotting call for those I've barely (or haven't at all) interacted with!!

Like this post and I'll message you (likely tomorrow) so we can start plotting future interactions!! I'm just really bad at making the first move, so at least this gives me a door to walk through so we can start chatting~