#don’t even play…

[schpeenor]

I MADE THE DOODLES!!!

CHUBBY DABI… H HIS LIPS… HIS LASHES… HIS GOD DAMNED BOOOOOBS!!!! HIS TIIIIITS!!!!! NO NO NO I WILL NOOOOOT STOP DRAWING HIM YOU CANNOOT MAKE ME. also spinner didn’t get dabi’s boobies in his mouth but he got to lay on them.. (let’s pretend these aren’t different doodles cause dabi has a shirt on)

THEY’RE GEEEEKS!! THEY’RE STICKING THEIR TONGUES OUT!!

PUT DABI ON ALL FOURS 2K24!!!!

[yourmajestybee]

EVERYONE NEEDS TO LOOK AT HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON UNTRAINABLE THE STAGE PLAY RN

[p0nyr0ni]

[calmlb]

“Chuuya wasn’t in Dark Era, why is he in this art??”

wdym, he’s right here 🤨

[gilettefusion5]

My new favorite thing is referring to all in-game currency as dollars, no matter what game. This is closely followed by describing all crowns, helmets, and headwear as hats. I kill a lot of enemies with weird hats and sometimes they have $7 and a biscuit in their pockets.

[bajablastflavoredsaxreed]

bari saxthur got lucky in that kayne didn’t write him a part in The Wager so he didn’t have to go to the world’s longest and ugliest rehearsals

[mothmothwoth]

Anyone want stupid niigo and WxS art I drew on my phone

(The “he would not say that thing” is from this Danny phantom comic)

[clumsypuppy]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[the-meme-monarch]

i think i like the new toons but i Am currently making shit up about them. ginger and cosmo Are canonically cousins though Hooray

you know they’re holiday special characters bc they have an excess of patterns on them. it’s where all the budget went /j

[gods-favorite-autistic]

To me there’s like a line between the Bad Kids who were always themselves extremely authentically and that fucked them up socially (Riz, Adaine, Gorgug) and the Bad Kids who spent a good portion of their lives playing a part and that fucked them up mentally (Fabian, Kristen, Fig)

[moyazaika]

morning glory; tw yandere, gn reader, mdni 18+

the sun is shining, and the morning sky is a promising, pale blue; you are staring down at the stack of hot pancakes on your plate, to avoid looking at him.

completely unperturbed by your close proximity, he’s standing behind your seat at the table, leaning over; warm arms caging you in on either side as he drizzles sweet, chocolate syrup onto the golden face of the topmost pancake, so that it forms the shape of—

“a heart,” he smiles, “for the love of my life.”

“thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “dig in, darling.”

this fork in your hands, you consider silently, turning it over; should you jab it into his neck?

after he’s made your plate, he sits down in front of his own, across from you. after all of his extensive doting and fussing over you, his own food’s gone cold, but he either doesn’t seem to notice, or he simply doesn’t mind.

you don’t care enough to ask.

he takes slow, thoughtful bites of his own breakfast. you observe, with a bemused sort of awe, the care with which he breaks off the pancake in measured portions, before ensuring each spoonful carries a blueberry, and is dipped in the chocolate syrup.

fork in his mouth, he meets your gaze; takes his sweet time savouring the taste of his food, swallows, smiles at you expectantly. “something on my face, love?”

you turn back to your own plate, completely untouched. “no.”

“alright.” the sound of his fingers, drumming against the dining table. “be a darling and fetch me the milk, will you?”

he’s never allowed you to leave the table until you’ve finished all your food. he’s never even allowed you into the kitchen before. you look up at him warily, voice hushed, “..why?”

“i’d like something to drink, is all.”

you stand very carefully, the grating sound of your chair scraping against the floor making you wince. he says nothing, and so you take that as your cue to take a few hesitant steps into the kitchen.

when you step over the boundary where the wooden floorboards give way to checkered tiles, you turn over your shoulder, suddenly very unsure of what to do next.

“the milk…?”

he’s watching you still, chin resting on interlaced fingers, elbows on the table; even though he was the one who first instructed you that doing so was bad manners.

“yes, love.” he smiles patiently. “should just be in the fridge.”

“okay.”

you’ve never been alone in the kitchen before. never really had any reason to when he insists on making all of your meals. you know you’re technically being supervised even now, but it still feels strange to reach for the fridge handles and just—

“open it.”

you oblige.

you’ve gotten used to it, perhaps.

the cold air hits you in the face as soon as the doors swing open. it takes a moment for your gaze to flitter over all of the different compartments and containers before you catch sight of the milk, and—

why…?

the hair on your skin stands on end.

you read the words once, in a quiet shock.

then another time, as if you simply must’ve read them wrong the first time. you’re in disbelief, going back to the first letter—

your heart drops.

this can’t be happening to you.

—again

—again.

this can’t be happening to you.

your legs give out beneath you.

—and the very moment they do, warm hands, smelling faintly of pancake batter, are there to collect you; keep holding you up, as strong arms wrap themselves right around your body. his kind voice cuts straight through your thoughts. “what’s wrong, my love?”

“that’s…” you raise a shaking finger, point into the fridge. it’s more of a question, the second time around. “that’s…?”

he follows the direction in which you’re pointing, and then he lets out a sigh you can only describe as polite; a dismissive acknowledgement of your distress with no attempt, nor interest, in providing an explanation.

both of you stare at the milk carton where it sits in the fridge, right next to the fruit juice you like so much—beneath the logo, which you’ve traced over a thousand times, bored out of your mind at the breakfast table—is a picture.

an old image of you. younger. smiling.

free.

one word printed beneath the picture, in blocky black letters that take up half of the carton’s packaging, completely impossible to miss—

MISSING

there’s fine print beneath that, even. a smaller string of letters you can’t even begin to read, seeing as it feels like your own world’s tilted sideways; knocked right out of balance. completely off-kilter.

he understands this.

that is why, then, he decides to do it for you.

“town left devastated,” he reads evenly, “over sudden, unexplained disappearance of beloved, active member of community, who vanished without a trace last fall. family members plead with those who may have any information to call the national missing person’s hotline for handsome reward.”

the silence stretches on for a moment, so that the soft, low hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the house.

“how unfortunate,” he murmurs, tone an imitation of empathy. “the world is only growing unsafer by the day, my love, and this is why,” he brushes your hair out of your face. “i need to keep you so close.”

he closes the refrigerator doors, and carries you out of the kitchen. so completely absorbed in your own shock, you’d neglected to even realise that at some point, he must’ve picked you right up; swept you off your two, very own feet.

“i can’t imagine losing you like that,” he shudders. “i can’t imagine if something like that happened to you, my love.”

he sets you down, very gently, into your seat at the breakfast table. your arms hang limp by your sides, limbs having completely given up on you; so he carefully folds your hands in your lap. pulls out a chair right besides you, and reaches for your cutlery.

“don’t fret over it, darling. as long as you’re with me,” he smiles, cutting into your cold food. “i promise i’ll always keep you safe, and take very good care of you.”

you observe the deliberation with which he breaks off the pancake in measured portions, before ensuring each spoonful carries a soft blueberry, and is dipped in the runny chocolate syrup.

“now open wide, darling.”

you oblige.

what else is there to do?

“try not to think about it too much, my love,” he hums, watching the way your lips fall around the fork, “there is, after all, no use crying over spoilt milk.”

you chew very slowly, taking your time to break the pancake down into something smaller. his eyes, which had been trained on the movement of your throat, now rise to meet yours—

and even though across the table, his plate sits empty: there is, you note, a faint hunger in them.

“wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

the food in your mouth tastes rotten; you don’t answer.

he only smiles patiently in response, as if he has all the time in the world.

the worst part of it all is that outside, you know that the sun is still shining, and the morning sky remains, even now, the same shade of a promising, pale blue.

[cynderrfall]

The adventure of Zelda!

[fierysakura]

Aite let’s do this. Here’s my thoughts on the Jedi’s Attachment rule and why it exists:

Attachment and love/affection are two very different things. You can be loving and affectionate without being attached to someone.

The same way, letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It’s accepting the way things are and that death and loss are a natural part of life. You can’t fight what’s natural. It also doesn’t mean to sit back and just accept things as they are, or why would Jedi fight to protect? To change things and save people?

Love is knowing to put the many over the few. If someone you love is in danger, but there’s also a boatload of civilians, it’s going for the civilians, even if you hate them, despite wanting to save the other. ie. Letting go of your feelings. Not being attached.

So why this rule is such a big deal.

For a Jedi, being *attached* poses a much bigger problem than for the average person (looking at you Anakin Skywalker.) If a normal person can go to extremes either as a result of losing someone or wanting to protect them, think of what a Jedi, who feels things more deeply because of the Force, could do if they can’t let go.

The important thing is Jedi don’t say ‘don’t love.’ They don’t say ‘feel nothing.’ In fact you often hear Obi-wan and others say to trust feelings, instincts and refer to each other affectionately.

Anakin: You’re like a father to me.

Obi-Wan: Then why don’t you *listen.*

(Episode II. Not a reprimand for calling him father-like but asking if that’s how he feels, why doesn’t Anakin listen like a son should.)

What they *do* say is don’t get carried away in positive or negative feelings, as both can lead to impulsive actions with long term consequences. It’s a concept that follows the lines of mindfulness and just being *aware* that they have so much power, they can’t afford to be reckless. Because the damage *will* be long lasting.

They say don’t love someone so much that you’ll do anything for them. They say don’t be *possessive.* Because that’s a *very* dangerous place to go for a normal person, let alone a super powerful being who could leave *chaos* behind. Attachment is refusing to let go. Stopping someone from doing what they love because you’re scared. Love is trusting and accepting things can’t/will change even if you don’t like it, and accepting that when there’s nothing you can do without breaking your moral code.

Jedi grieve. They feel loss. They get angry. They *love.* They just don’t let those feelings overwhelm them to the point of irrationality, accepting, understanding, and releasing them because they’ll do no good in the long run. If emotion overwhelms the brain, the logical part shuts down, and we’ve all seen what force fuelled temper/grief can do.

‘Kanan and Ezra don’t follow the rule.’

On the contrary.

You see Kanan learn to let go of his grief and *attachment* which has been holding him back all this time. In doing so he becomes a Knight and Master. He loves Hera, yes, but he loves unconditionally. Not possessively. He’s fine with Hera going on dangerous missions and accepts that there will be times she’s hurt. That there’s always a possibility she might not come back and he’s gonna have to live with that. He doesn’t try to stop her. He doesn’t fall into a rage if she gets hurt. He accepts it, pain, rage, grief and all, but lets it go so he doesn’t become fearful to the point he won’t let *her* go. He accepts Hera loves the Rebellion and compromises even if he doesn’t like it. Love. Nothing wrong with that in the Jedi Order.

In contrast you have Anakin. When Padmé is in danger he will drop *everything* to go to her, including putting his men and padawan in unnecessary danger to do so. You see his jealousy when Clovis is around. His lack of faith in Padmé despite her assurances. How he won’t back down even if it scares or disturbs her. You see how he *refuses* to take any chances at all with her health to the point of breaking his moral code. This isn’t love anymore. This is attachment, possession. This is what the Jedi forbid.

You see Ezra struggle with letting Sabine go on a dangerous mission and Kanan teaching him that he has to accept the danger, that she might not come back. and how to do it. Telling him to respect her abilities, what she wants to do, and not loving her to the point of stifling her. This is what letting go is. This is what the Jedi teach.

Ezra has to learn to let go of his own grief and accept Kanan’s death. This is what love without attachment means. This is what the rule is. Feeling it. Accepting it. Then letting the emotions go so they don’t control your actions more than your mind does.

Also, anyone can leave the Jedi Order. If they don’t agree, there’s nothing forcing them to stay. Being a Jedi is a religion, a way of life. You can discuss and debate the details, but you don’t get to pick and choose what parts to follow.

You can be a force wielder without being a Jedi. The privileges the Jedi received were because of their belief and the respect that earned.

But more importantly, you can happily leave the order, and the Jedi will still welcome you to come hang out. To chill with your friends and walk about the Temple, train with others and catch up. It’s a community. You don’t suddenly lose all of that because you decided following the Jedi way wasn’t for you.

[ronanlynchusurper]

i don’t think we talk enough about declan being equally as down bad and ‘all or nothing’ with romance as ronan is. like yes ronan said he would start wars and burn cities for adam’s true smile, begged god for adam after he first saw him and fortuitously had all his objects of worship were in one downtown block etc but ronan had known adam atleast 18 months at this stage. whereas declan really risked it all to get tyrian purple overnight for a first date gift after ONE conversation…the man was discussing their marriage as a ‘when’ not an ‘if’ before we even saw them kiss like what’s his excuse lmaoo

[d1sapp01ntm3nt]

outsiders musical fanart but I did it in school, didn’t have a reference for Johnny (so I just used the movie ver), and went totally off of memory for Pony 💪💪💪💪😈😈😈💥💥 (we’re so back)

Traditional ver :3

[calamitousortbo]

“he got remarried and has a daughter, he’s moved on” you are literally speaking from inside his reintegration-fuelled post-seizure comatose fever dream that he is having because of his refusal to ever move on