#must protect the baby

[caramelcactus]

Do you any headcanon for your version of Evan Afton in any of your aus'?

Yeah once again just like with previous one I store them in my head so I may not get them all out but here are a few

• Evan couldn’t cope with divorce and his mother disappearing ( aka developed separation anxiety/fear of abandonment of some sort ). He constantly needs someone around, mostly it’s Mike and Lizzie. He can’t be left alone for too long, same goes with sleeping alone. He comes to sleep with Mike or Mike stays with him

• When he’s nervous or anxious he fiddles with his sleeves. Elizabeth and Michael are actually aware of this habit and can tell when Evan’s stressed

• He’s scared of animatronics because they’re just big scary robots. Nothing complicated. Just a childish fear. Well and maybe he heard someone joke about them coming alive and stealing kids so it amplified his fear lol

• He’s good at drawing just like Mike is

• Evan is a walking free antidepressant

[blizzardsong96]

I recently finished the show about an alien family and their whacky sci-fi shenanigans.

Love is stored in the Pupa.

We shall see how long the brainrot lasts.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Since it's Knuckles Wachowski's week, I rewatched both movies, the first a couple nights ago and the second tonight.

And may I just say

No fictional characters have ever awakened my maternal instincts as strongly as the Wachowski children have.

I MEAN?!?!

I AM VERY WELL AWARE OF WHAT THEY'RE ALL CAPABLE OF, BUT???

I look at them and I think "SMOL. SMOL SOFT CHILDREN. SMOL SOFT BEBIES WHO HAVE HURT AND I MUST HELP AND PROTECC AND LOVE AND NURTURE THEM."

HELP

[angelcake10023]

Little MK Reference Sheet for the Curious MK AU 🐒

Again this is for after the events of the main story. Tang is about 25-26 and MK is about 5-6. I love him so much he’s just a baby….

Also I’m planning to make older versions of both of them to match their ages in the show (so about 15 years later). Because of that we’ve decided to also call it the “Expedition Au”

Pigsy is next!

[technically-human]

Okay now I wanna see the regular male comic Edwin and Charles in your style! Is that okay? Sorry if it’s a lot 🥹

The original dead bois

[animatronic-assistant]

Goodness, you sound just like Sun.

She may be stepping between Nightmare and Lunar

You’re not weak, Lunar.

Nightmare: Showing emotions is weak, being vulnerable is weak, being a crybaby is weak, not being able to stab a man is weak, getting ur feelings hurt is weak. Right Lunar Eclipse Killermare?

Lunar: .....

Nightmare: ANSWER YOUR FATHER YOU DISRESPECTFUL BRAT!

Lunar: Yes....father....those things are weak....

Solar: Do you see the daddy issues @gremlininthedark ?

[bird-inacage]

Ossan's Love EP11 | FK Cameo as Alone x Kaitong (Hugs)

And so they said, we must not break with tradition and thus came forth another entry to the 'First in a hospital bed' cinematic universe.

[chio-chan2artbox]

Sanji will always be his little eggplant ☺️

[tennessoui]

14 for obikin pretty please?

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[5. 'are you jealous' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' (LATEST) 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.'

The first time Anakin visits, he's so angry that he cannot speak for the first two hours. Obi-Wan sits against the wall of his cell, on the floor even though the Jedi have provided him a perfectly comfortable bed and chair. The Force collar around his neck looks wrong. His master sitting on the floor, dressed in the dull orange of a prisoner's jumpsuit looks wrong.

Anakin is so angry that he can't speak. He can only look and tremble until he is told he must leave.

Obi-Wan does not speak either. He does not even look at him.

Maybe that's what makes his anger harder to bear. Anakin knows that Obi-Wan has met with countless other Jedi. Visitors, friends, allies, people who are working with him on his defense case. He knows that the other man talks to them, has sliced into security holo footage to see it for himself, though no one will tell him what is said. Everyone always leaves looking frustrated, but at least Obi-Wan talks to them.

But not Anakin. Even though it is Anakin that Obi-Wan has hurt the most. Anakin, who deserves to know why from Obi-Wan's mouth.

After all--

"He was like a father to me," Anakin spits at him on his second visit, only a few days later. Going to see Obi-Wan in the Coruscanti prison cell where he is awaiting trial is like an itch. Scratched once, Anakin finds he cannot help himself from digging his claws in.

Obi-Wan is still against the wall. His beard has grown slightly longer. His head is tilted back against the wall, though when Anakin speaks, his eyes slide down from the ceiling to rest on him.

"I'm starting to think you say that to all the boys," his former master who is a murderer says in that lilting familiar drawl.

"You killed him."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agrees, because apparently part of his defense case is not to plead not guilty to the murder of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Anakin would say that may be problematic, but then--there are security holos, soundless and slightly blurred, of the event. Of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi taking tea with Chancellor Palpatine. Talking in civil gestures for thirty minutes. Requesting, as far as anyone can tell, for the Chancellor to fetch him a pot of sugar. Lighting his saber and beheading him the moment the old man's back was turned. "Yes, I did."

"Why?" Anakin yells, voice cracking on the word. He doesn't understand. He thinks the not-knowing will drive him to madness. He thinks maybe it already has. It has been two weeks since the Chancellor's murder. Half the Senate is seeking Obi-Wan's execution.

The war, theoretically, has paused, like even the Separatists are holding their breath. Waiting. Wondering.

Obi-Wan looks at him quietly for a moment. For five. His face is stoic, resolved. Beloved, even after this.

Then--for a singular second--the mask cracks, and his master stares at him as if he needs to see him in order to survive. He looks hungry and exhausted and relieved, down to the bones.

"How have your nightmares been lately, padawan?" he asks him, and Anakin is so disgusted by the word--by the title that Obi-Wan doesn't get to say after killing the Chancellor, killing Anakin's friend--that he turns and leaves without another thought.

He is back a day later. He has never known how to keep his distance from things that can hurt him, that's what his mother always said. Too curious by half. Too sure of his own invincibility. That's what his master always said.

Anakin isn't sure of anything anymore.

"Why did you kill him?" Anakin asks. Obi-Wan's beard is longer. He is still on the floor. It rankles, the sight of him brought so low. "Did someone tell you to?"

Obi-Wan lets his head fall forward, a puppet with its strings cut. "Do you think me so biddable, Anakin?"

Anakin today. Not padawan. As if Obi-Wan has learned his lesson. As if he is as desperate for Anakin to linger in his presence as Anakin is hopelessly addicted to returning.

Padmé had tried to stop him this morning. Had tried to tell him it would do no good to see him, that the justice system would do its work, that Anakin was only hurting himself by returning over and over again. She pointed out that he had nightmares last night, for the first time since the news of the Chancellor's death reached them.

He hadn't had the heart to tell her that his nightmares were not about the Chancellor dying, but about Obi-Wan facing down an execution squad. About Anakin, standing on the deck of the Invisible Hand, Palpatine's voice in his ear, telling him to do it, do it. Cut off the traitor's head, only to look down and find that the two sabers he is holding are familiar to him, and person on his knees before him is his master.

Anakin had woken with a yell around one in the morning, sweat soaked and shaking. He hadn't been able to sleep again.

Maybe that's why he feels so alive now, slightly manic and still trembling as he paces in front of the Force barrier of Obi-Wan's cell. Did someone tell Obi-Wan to cut him down? he'd had the thought somewhere around five in the morning. Had it been someone Obi-Wan trusted? Someone he loved?

Who stood to gain from the death of the Chancellor? Who had the Chancellor ever hurt or threatened?

Anakin walks as close as he dares to get to the cell. "Master," he says, coaxes really, pushing forward until he can hear the hum of the force field.

Obi-Wan's head thumps back against the wall and he watches him from under his eyelashes.

"Master, I'm with you, alright? Hey, I'm with you, always, alright, always, so if someone told you, manipulated you, just tell me please. I'll find them. I'll get them to turn themselves in, master. Just tell me. Why did you kill him?"

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He looks for all the world as if he is meditating, save for that collar around his neck. The prison garb. He doesn't look like a murderer, but he is. He is. He killed the Chancellor. He is going to face execution. Anakin is going to have to watch him die too and all he can think is that he knows that Obi-Wan doesn't even kriffing like sugar in his karking tea.

"Answer me!" Anakin yells, lifting his fist and forgetting himself for just long enough that he slams it against the barrier. He pulls it back with a curse as the force field short-circuits his mech arm and the prison alarm blares out a warning siren.

This time, he is led away from the cell by a Coruscanti guard. He is advised to not return for a standard week. The entire time he is exiled from the prison, the only thing he can think about is the expression on Obi-Wan's face as he watches him leave: eyes wide open and forehead wrinkled with concern, as if worried that Anakin had hurt himself.

The day after he is allowed to return, he does. He does not want to seem too eager or desperate, so he waits until it's early in the evening before pointing his speeder towards the prison unit.

"It had to have been someone you loved," Anakin announces as he stops in front of Obi-Wan's cell. He's in his bed this time, lying on his back and looking at the ceiling. He does not twitch at Anakin's voice, though Anakin can tell that he's not asleep, though his eyes are closed. He can tell just from the minute lines of tension he's holding in his shoulders, his neck.

How can Anakin know him so well and not know that he is capable of this? Of murder on this scale?

"Hm?" Obi-Wan finally says, when the silence drags on and it becomes clear that Anakin will not say more until he has engaged. Anakin watches this war play out in the subtle movements of Obi-Wan's facial muscles as well. He knows him so well. He knows him better than he knows anyone else in the galaxy.

"The person you killed him for. You had to have loved him more than anything else in the entire galaxy to kill a man the way you did. Defenseless. Over sugar. You don't--you don't even take sugar in your tea! It was a coward's way of killing--and it doesn't--you would never. Not unless it was for someone you loved."

Obi-Wan's eyes blink open, but he doesn't look away from the ceiling. He doesn't look at Anakin.

"I don't--I don't know what harm you think Sheev Palpatine could cause to anyone, but that has to be it. Nothing else makes sense. You loved someone enough to kill for them, and you killed the Chancellor."

The words come out easily. Anakin has practiced them for a week now; it is the only thing that makes sense. Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else but love could make a man like Obi-Wan do what he did. He must have loved someone a lot. He must love them more than the Republic. More than his own freedom.

The first time Anakin had told Padmé his theory, she'd looked at him for ages, until he'd grown angry and defensive. She'd touched his arm, as if that could hold back this hurricane brewing inside his chest, and said, "I don't know if you're right, Ani. I don't know if I think you're wrong either. It's just...you sound so...jealous."

At least Obi-Wan doesn't say the same thing. But what he does say may be even worse. Because he doesn't deny it. He doesn't protest. All he says is, "And who is it that you think I love more than anything else in the galaxy, padawan?"

Anakin has thought about this, too. "Bail Organa," he makes himself say, even though the name curls his lips up into a sneer. Bail Organa, the man who has been voted the interim Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. The man who has gotten everything from this assassination, while Anakin has had his everything taken away.

On his cot, Obi-Wan's eyes slide closed. His mouth quirks up. "Ah," he says, as if he has had something he has long expected to confirmed to him. He says nothing else.

It makes Anakin want to hit the barrier again. It makes him want to scream. It makes him want to be petty, hurt Obi-Wan back in the same way that Anakin feels hurt even though it doesn't make sense, none of this makes sense. But it feels as if Obi-Wan has kept half of himself secret from Anakin, a whole love, his entire capacity to love, and Anakin wants to prove that he has as well.

So he says, voice mean and sharp, "Padmé is pregnant. The med-droid says it is twins."

Everything else remains unspoken, but surely audible. That they are his. That he never stopped seeing Padmé. Perhaps even that she is his wife.

On the cot, behind the Force barrier, in his chains, Obi-Wan opens his eyes and blinks at the ceiling. His lips form a small smile, as he says, still not looking at Anakin, still not looking at Anakin, "I know, dear one. Why do you think the Chancellor had to die?"

[dearveras]

william smith hockey i love you sm pls never change

[end0r4]

« Your task is not to control, but to see. »

PATTI LUPONE as Lilia Calderu in Agatha All Along: Death's Hand in Mine (2024)

[multifandombullshitbabes]

have we ever thought abt the fact that zuko is literally azula's older brother. like she's his little sister. that's his little sister. throughout a big, big part of atla plot, he was actively running away, scared of his little sister killing him because he KNEW she would/could. can you imagine that? your little sibling, wanting more your father's approval than your companionship to the point of death? every time they fought, zuko was fighting his baby sister. azula was fighting her big brother. this is making me so sick. they were 16 and 14 years old.

[syndrossi]

I've been reading lots of platonic family and accidental adoption/acquisition stuff lately, so I really have to know, what WOULD Daemon do if Jon and/or Rhaegar brought home a random stray? Be it a stray cat, dog, direwolf, or human? (Or for additional hilarity, an extra baby dragon that is not bonded to either of them but randomly hatched in front of them anyway. Rhaegar obviously couldn't leave it to fend for itself. It's a tiny baby. Even smaller than Qelebrys was when she hatched!)

Daemon lives under the specter of Allard Royce's miserly authoritative figure in the boys' lives, so he's very bad at not giving them their every heart's desire. In the case of a direwolf, however, he would try his best to hold strong (before ultimately failing).

x~x~x

Oh no.

Daemon was no stranger to dread when it came to his sons. Some of it, the unbearable kind, was rooted in the fear of losing them. Other times, it was his children being far too clever by half and knowing that he would pay for it somehow.

This was a new dread entirely, one that seized him by the chest as he stared into their pleading, hopeful faces. You will have to break their hearts.

“That is—” he broke off, studying the furry pup that was so large his sons both had to hold it up—Jon’s arms beneath its chest, and Rhaegar’s beneath its belly, just before the hindquarters. That is no wolf.

“He is a direwolf,” Jon said, his smile turning tearful as the pup licked at his cheek. “And he has lost his pack. He needs a new one.”

How did it even reach Runestone? It was a journey of well over a thousand miles on foot to reach the castle from the North, and from what Daemon had heard, direwolf sightings were already rare, even at the heart of the North, in Winterfell.

Moreover, it was an unusual pup, with pale fur and red eyes that gazed at Daemon with a strange intelligence.

“How will you care for him when we are at King’s Landing?” Daemon asked, only to realize by the sudden brightening of his sons’ faces that he had already lost.

“We can make a sling for Caraxes’s saddlebags and strap him to it,” Rhaegar said with a confidence that told him his son had already thought of it. “He can ride below or alongside, depending on which is more comfortable.”

“The king will never allow a direwolf in the holdfast,” Daemon said weakly, but although that would have been true of his grandfather, Viserys was another story entirely.

Jon dismissed his bluff with a shake of his head. “We shall convince him.”

“What do you intend with a direwolf?” he demanded. “Such beasts are not meant to be mere pets, no more than a dragon is.”

“He would not be a pet,” Jon said, looking almost offended. “He would be—a protector. One who can follow us where a Princesguard wouldn’t. Like our dragons did, when they were little.”

His sons’ hatchlings still believed themselves to be little, of course, and had been heartbroken when they had finally been barred from following their riders into the holdfast. The last time Qelebrys had tried to sit on Daemon’s shoulder, she had ended up sitting on him, heavy as a grown man.

Perhaps his sons merely missed those early days, when they had been able to enjoy that closeness with their dragons. Perhaps he should have considered the possibility and tried to find them a kitten to fill that longing.

This is certainly no kitten.

But as the silence dragged out, Jon’s face grew more despondent. “Please?” his son begged, the vulnerability in his voice nearly rending Daemon asunder.

His sons so rarely asked him for anything, usually content with whatever they were provided—a lingering reminder of their time in the Vale, where they had been taught to treasure what scraps of affection they had been thrown. Daemon could too easily imagine Allard Royce staring coldly in the face of their pleas, denying them again and again.

As he gazed into his son’s eyes, he could see a glimmer of that younger child, hopeful but guarded, daring to believe that Daemon might grant his dearest wish.

It is a direwolf, Daemon thought despairingly. A wild thing. As like to harm them as help.

“What if we were not alone with him?” Rhaegar asked. “He sleeps in a common area at night, and during the day, we are with you—or Ser Willam. Or a Princesguard, when we are back home. Until you trust him.”

He met the wolf’s eyes again, unnerved by its calm. He could not help but feel as though it was an act for his benefit, even though that was absurd.

“I make no promises,” Daemon said, trying hard to maintain his stern demeanor in the face of their shared elation. “Should the beast harm anyone who is not directly threatening you, it will be taken back out into the wilds.”

“He won’t,” Jon breathlessly assured him, and the pup nosed him in the ear, drawing a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“And when you are outside with it, you will have your dragons present.” He caught a ripple of something in Rhaegar’s expression and he narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“It is nothing,” Rhaegar said, holding out for several seconds before admitting, “Qelebrys tried to attack him.”

Daemon resolved to find a nice plump pig for his son’s drake later. “And Shadow?”

Rhaegar smiled wryly. “Shadow will try to play with anything.”

[jeusus]

Spring.

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

Chapter 36 (of Onyx Storm) SPOILERS

REBECCA?!?

HOW. DARE. YOU.

EVEN MAKE ME THINK —

FOR EVEN A SECOND —

THAT RIDOC — MY RIDOC — OUR RIDOC —

WAS STABBED?!?

Clearly you have overestimated my emotional capacity!!!

[otomeorangejuice]