“Sean Was Very Much Sam For Me. You Know, Always Looking After Me, Being There For Me.” - Elijah

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this

straight friend groups be like: *blonde girl* *chad* *the funny one* *kyle* *brunette girl* *frat boy*

gay friend groups be like: *catboy* *suicidal mentor figure* *a walking nervous breakdown* *murderous trans guy* *sadistic traumatized doctor* *killed 35 people* *autistic detective* *kenji*

“you should be at the club” i should be by the sea. i should be in the mountains. i should be awestruck and rendered speechless by the majesty of the natural world. if you even care

fuck him on the senate floor friday

you have 6 seconds to pass me that blunt before i threaten to kill myself

mental health status: need to look at the sea for hours and stay quiet

Sarah Bernhardt (1844-1923) as Hamlet (1899-1900)

The sand would have rose with Anakin if the Jedi hadn't been rotten and selfish; acting like this they helped Ani's downfall and the birth of Darth Vader. Palpatine convinced him to join the dark side because there was no one else on the other side willing to help him.

Anakin + M for the minific thing, please

M. when it rains/snows/storms;

The palace doors were shuddering and clattering and hissing, shaken by the sand raging outside. It was furious, building onto itself, feeding the storm grain by grain like single drops feed seas on other planets he had only heard of in bits of stolen tales, conversations eavesdropped from people free to roam the galaxy as it pleased them. The noise was astonishing. The Desert was screaming, roaring, just like the slaves who died at the execution he had been obliged to attend to only a few days ago. They shared the same fierce dignity, the same fearlessness. It was said the Desert’s strength came to hover on their dying children if only someone dared ask for help. Sandstorm were the moment when every dead slave came back to life to throw their wrath onto the world. He knew that. He knew that without single grains a sandstorm would be nothing, and the raw, angry song those single grains were able to form together had always struck him. Sometimes, no matter how dangerous it was, no matter that he had too much respect for the Desert to defy them like that, he wished he could be outside, facing the sandstorm in the eye.

He kept brushing the mop against the floor, knelt on hot sandstone. There was dust all over the place, and Gardulla hated dusty aisles, especially during sandstorms, when sand used to sneak in from every crack and crevice of the structure and settle on every layer, on every spot, like a rough, gritty blanket. She wanted no Desert trace in her palace, because a Hutt can control the Desert, a Hutt can shut the Desert out. Anakin liked the dust he was cleaning away, though. He knew the truth. He knew sand could rise, and rise, and rise, and cover every Master’s throne, cover the palace, cover whole cities, cover entire worlds. He knew it could slip into the shackles’ gears and erode the steel, it could blows into Masters’ eyes and blinds them. Sand was powerful and unstoppable. He knew one day it would have set his people free.

My favorite jokes are about mispronouncing philosophers' names but I'm afraid it's a nietzsche subgenre