she’s “of modest
origins” according to wookiepedia but “modest origins” on naboo is
“basically royalty” to a lot of the rest of the galaxy. and she has a
bit of that well-meaning pureblood paternalism/cluelessness imo
wealthy with some influence and connections to the Wizengamot. Not as
influential as other older families though. Enough that she’s known and
safe. She fights against her parents wishes who want to remain safe and
neutral in the war
3/3 in favor of pureblood, which goes with what I was thinking so…It also complements Muggleborn Anakin quite nicely!
Thank you for the input! You came up with a couple of points I hadn’t thought of.
In response to the Autumn/Halloween prompts going around. I’ve seen several mentioning Halloween costumes and your OTP dressing as their OTP. This is my Clint/Coulson effort.
Clint had worked hard on his costume. He’d tracked down (and paid a small fortune for) an authentic uniform. He’d snuck off to an anonymous tailor on the other side of the city, to make sure it fit right and showed off everything he wanted it to show off. He’d scrolled through countless websites, checking details and reading how-to guides. He’d even bitten the bullet and created an account on a website so he could ask a cosplayer where she’d gotten her patches. That had led him to Etsy, and another account as well as a P.O. Box, both in an alias no one would ever be able to connect to him.
The sewing had been easy, a skill learned long ago in dusty tents and caravans. Then it had been a matter of tricking and charming his way into SHIELD’s weapons stores for his prop, lacing up a battered pair of combat boots, and wrangling his newly darkened and grown-out hair into a classic pretty boy style he’d normally never consider. Even the dog tags around his neck were in character.
TBH I think a big part of why I was blocked for writing was because I missed writing the kids. I just missed it. Without the kids, I’m writing very similar dynamics in my head, even if they range greatly, and even writing the kids, I like the dynamic they share with their parents.
That’s why Public Eye and You and Me were so fun, the combination. Same with Hat.
And I think I need to get back to that. Hence, Sunday.
Rules: post the oldest selfie you can find and post the newest next to it
ok listen,,, in the first picture i know i look like 8 but i promise i was 14… its hard to believe. ( i was super popular freshman year if u didnt guess) i always look like 5 years younger than i am (also that combination of the hat, sunglasses, and braces are the height of fashion and i will not be judged) anyway this is almost 3 years later and i am,,, relieved,, to say the least
My character is a very... questionably fashionable bird (his favorite hat is combination Stetson and wizard hat) who was just trying to travel to a magic school for his custom class, but then the tiny lizard cleric saved his sorry butt and now he's staying with the party because he's trying to figure out dimensions for a papoose to steal the cleric and fly away.
After seeing this post by @determinedtomato I thought I’d make alternate Zodiac Symbols for the Eight Signs of Universe C from a post I made a while ago. Based on their shirt symbols rather than their Aspect Symbols, the Zodiacs/constelations themselves are still named after their classpect as before. Feel free to use/edit these for Speciesswap AUs as well as post-game AUs, if you want but please credit me and/or this post. Also Dirk’s Zodiac is a combination of his hat, to represent him and his shades to represent Hal/AR.
Halitus the Heir Lucerna Lux the Seer Hora Tempus the Knight Locus Spatio the Witch Vita the Maid Nilum
the Rogue Anima Cor the Prince Fides Spes the Page
Using literal translations now, leaving the old ones in a strike-through in case anyone wants to use them still. (thanks to @hearts-rogue for the ask)
Boom ta boom
Boom ta boom
Boom ta boom
Boom ta boom
Ladies and gentleman you are now listening to the sweet sounds of Vintage. Perk up your ears, tune in your soul and ride with us on the Express Line!
Miles’s dried hands clenched the sticks as he waited for his opportunity to cut into the song. You see jazz is a dance among players, weaving in and out of each others sounds waiting for their moment like young girls playing double dutch. Complimenting, accentuating, competing. Music was its own language, and it was the only one that Miles could speak.
He dipped his brow and Weaver pulled back on the horn, leaving a small window for Miles to jump in
Miles began pounding viciously at the drums, different combinations, cymbals, Hi Hats, Snares . His dreads rose up and down as if gravity didn’t apply to him. The crowd thickened in the train station, bee hive buzzing about his greatness. The horns began pulling back 1st. Then the bass guitar. Then the pianist. Until there was only Miles. Everyone grew silent in the train station. Wood danced on the drum skins, beat patterns reverberating off of the porcelain tiled walls between the screeches of distant train cars. Every sound seemingly complimenting the solo.
Miles bent over panting heavily. Then as if electrocuted he jolted up and clapped his sticks
The band pounced onto the silence with an assortment of sounds, each one blending more perfectly with the next. Building until they reached their climax.
The train station erupted in applause. Miles stood up and bowed, Weaver hugged him with a child like grin as he stepped to the side to let Sugar take over the sticks. Miles nodded to his band mates and they did the same. Then he took off running.
Snaking through the crowd towards the A train he heard the conductor’s voice blaring over the intercom “stand clear of the closing doors please.” Seeing his small window he narrowly slid through the doors just in time. He made it. But this time there was no applause. Just a train car full of dull New Yorkers, each one seemingly more tired than the last. He scanned the train for an open seat and found one next to a nursing mother. He took it. For the 1st few stops the child seemed to be fascinated with her pink bottle, atleast until her eyes met with Miles. A smirk began crawling up the side of her face as she let go of her bottle. Miles smiled back. And then she made a sound.
Drool dripped like molasses down her chin as she giggled.
Miles returned the favor.
The little girl giggled louder and caught the attention of a construction worker sitting across from them.
Pftttttttttt. The baby was giggling uncontrollably now only pausing to make her trademark sound.
Miles began to beat box with the sound
Pftttttttttt ti klat ti
Ti klat ti
Pfftttttttt ti klat ti
The construction worker began to tap his feet to the beat.
Joining in with Miles’s beat boxing
Pffttttttt ti klat ti
By now the mother was smiling and cupped her hand over the baby’s mouth who was now laughing so hard she couldn’t pause to make her sound.
But the mothers cupping hand produced another sound with her daughters laughter.
Ouuu Ouuu Ouuu
The mother continued to make this sound with her daughter joining in with Miles and the construction worker.
By now the entire train was aware of what was going on and began to nod their heads to the beat.
The once gray train car was now filled with life. Head bobs, knee slaps, foot taps.
Some began beating on the walls, Others tapped their keys on the metallic poles. It was alive. Each sound added another rythm to the mixture. They continued their beat for about 1 minute when Miles switched up his beat pattern. Clicks, and deep guttural sounds, Faster/Slower, Choppy and smooth. They all fell silent and listened to the varieties of sounds he could create. The train stopped and the doors opened. Miles got up,still beat boxing as he walked to the door. Once outside he turned around and stopped and stood smiling at his new band mates. The little girl laughed and the whole train car applauded. Miles took a bow and the doors closed.
A satisfied hum precedes the paint being set aside. Plumeria withdraws a compact from her pocket, opening it and passing it to him to examine. She's given him thin, curling whiskers, a neon pink heart on the tip of his nose completing the look. "I know y'don’t like t'leave your spot," she sighs. "Mmm. Maybe I'll bring us a picnic when I'm ready for a break myself." Once again, she baits him with the promise of caring for herself.
The sight of his now somewhat more feline appearance, especially combined with the Growlithe-hat she made him drew an excited smile out of him. Silly as it was to be a grown man who enjoyed such things, he thought he looked very…cute. It was like getting your face painted at a carnival, but it glowed.
He considered her offer, the idea of her getting to care for herself in the process always an appealing one that’d make him do the same. After all, she was a lot like him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. They would both overwork themselves and miss out on some kind of fun if they stuck to being stubborn, even if that fun was just between the two of them.
“As long as you let me know when you’re ready for a break. I’ll come check on you, if I don’t hear from you.” He nods, finally, after considering forcing her to have a break now. Forced breaks were no breaks at all, after all. “I appreciate it, Mistress. Thank y–th-thanks.”
you know holly has a picture of jotaro in episode 2 and you can see that he was specifically drawn so his hair and hat were separate there was a hat line and everything its like his hair just magically combined with his hat when star platinum manifested
This hick town is wild. So much “god” everywhere. But at the same time, the only people I know down here (through the boyfriend) are part of this pagan group, maybe a coven, where this guy does weekly teachings and it feels… really weird.
Paganism feels like it should be free and there is no One Path so weekly teachings like school feel……….. indoctrinating?? I dunno man it’s wild.
But that combined with reading A Hat Full of Stars to avoid socializing has made me really want to continue my own personal studies and do actual pagan learning yaaay