#(stares at you really hard)

[meamiiikiii]

today's word is anonymity. the state of being anonymous. it is a hard word to say.

[vaxxman]

> WARNING ! FILE CORRUPTION DETECTED. > PROCEED ? [Y / N] ---Please.

[the1trueanon]

hehehehe finally got these done!! Reboot is so fun to draw; I swear drawing him just bursting into laughter immediately made me feel so much better about literally everything 🥰 He has such a pretty smile, especially when it's genuine. I love him being silly and giggly 🥰 I want him to just be able to laugh and be happy .....buuuut at the same time I also want to put him through so many of The Horrors(TM), so maybe my wants shouldn't be trusted XD

As always, Welcome Home belongs to Clown (partycoffin), and Reboot!Wally/the Reboot AU belongs to @bloodrediscream!💖💖

[yuviur]

Shot by Carol, on one fateful Saturday morning

[spaceratprodigy]

Feeling GREAT today babes 👍

[atlantablack]

from a groundhog day fic I may or may not ever finish

He’s alone in the throne room when Bilbo finds him, a miserable look on his face. It’s been quite some time since he’s seen Bilbo look this unhappy and even with the arkenstone forefront in his mind he still finds the space to worry about it. Focuses on the tight lines of his mouth and the trembling of his hands and feels nothing but worry. 

Bilbo who helped him reclaim Erebor. Who is as precious to Thorin as the gold in the next room. Once the arkenstone was found and the thieves at his front door were dispersed, once he had time and space, he would make sure that Bilbo had a place of honor at his side. 

“Bilbo,” he says, blinking furiously as he tries to stay focused. “Are you well? Has something happened?” 

Bilbo shakes his head and comes to a stop in front of the throne, dropping to his knees in front of Thorin. It’s so out of character that for a minute Thorin’s vision tilts. 

“Bilbo,” he says again, softer, pressing a hand to Bilbo’s cheek and tilting his head up. While it is a dream to have Bilbo in front of him this way he doesn’t like the grief filling his burglar’s eyes. “Tell me, what has happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo says, a sob working its way out of his mouth after the words. “I keep messing up and I’m going to mess up again but I’m trying.” 

He frowns, not sure what Bilbo is speaking of. “I do not understand.” 

Bilbo smiles at him, tragedy written in every line of his face. “I know. But I needed to say it anyway.” 

“This isn’t going to work, but, I’m going to try anyway, okay?” Bilbo pauses, studying Thorin’s face like he’s looking for something. Thorin doesn’t know what but he would give it to Bilbo if he can. 

“Just,” Bilbo swallows, presses into the hand Thorin still hasn’t removed from his face. “Just, please, don’t hate me, okay?” 

“I could not,” he says, wondering what could have happened to make Bilbo think otherwise. It does not once occur to him that betrayal could come from the one in front of him and more fool him. He is blinded by his regard for the hobbit and so, when Bilbo reaches into the pocket of his robe, he has no expectations. 

None, until he catches a glimpse of light playing off of Bilbo’s fingers. No, he thinks, breath catching. The room tilts dangerously and he doesn’t realize that his fingers are digging into Bilbo’s face until he whimpers. 

In the end the most remarkable thing about having the arkenstone pressed into his hand is not the arkenstone at all. It is the tears silently streaming down Bilbo’s face as he presses the stone into Thorin’s hand, his fingers curl over Thorin’s, the stone hidden between their hands. 

“How long have you had this?” Thorin asks, knows his voice has gone dangerous, but he’s helpless to stop the fury licking at the base of his spine.

Bilbo closes his eyes and in the smallest voice Thorin has ever heard from him says, “From the beginning. I found it almost as soon as I went into the treasury.” 

Thorin can’t breathe, the betrayal so strong he feels as if he’s going to drown. For all that he had thought someone would take the stone he had not truly believed Bilbo capable of such a thing. “You,” he says. “You would steal from me.” 

“No, no, I didn’t steal it,” Bilbo says and he sounds as if he believes this. “I was scared to give it to you, Thorin. I’m still scared. You’ve gone somewhere I can’t follow and I don’t know how to help you.” 

“I have gone nowhere,” he says, frowning and realizing that it’s true, Bilbo is terrified, is shaking under Thorin’s hand. It doesn’t erase the fury but it tempers it. He is trying to understand. Feels as if there’s a fog in his mind as he tries. He wants to understand though, does not want to believe that Bilbo could betray him so thoroughly without a reason.

Bilbo tries to shake his head but Thorin’s hand holds him steady. “You’ve gone away into your own mind,” he says, looking up at Thorin with wet, pleading eyes. “You’re sick Thorin. I need you to break out of it.” His voice breaks and he’s a liar, a pretty liar, but a liar nonetheless. 

Thorin pulls away, holds the arkenstone up to his face and finds it as beautiful as he remembers. He looks back down at Bilbo and finds nothing but grief looking back.

“Get out,” he says, the words heavy in his mouth. “Leave Erebor. I will grant you safe passage only because you did, in the end, give me what is rightfully mine.”

But Bilbo is already shaking his head. “No,” he says, a stubborn tilt to his mouth. “No. I’m not leaving you.”

Thorin barely thinks before backhanding him “GET OUT,” he roars. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there’s shrieking. Dwalin and Nori come running in and for a minute stop dead in the doorway.

Bilbo’s sprawled on the dais, one hand to the blistering red of his cheek, but he still sits back up, eyes terribly wide and betrayed, and says, “No.”

Thorin can see him trembling. Can see Nori, his jaw set, creeping towards them as if Thorin would not notice. “You will leave,” he says, leaning down to the hiss the words in Bilbo’s face, “or I will make you.”

Bilbo’s chin tilts up. “Then make me, Thorin.” And then, like he has no concept of how much danger he is in, he tips forward and presses his forehead to Thorin’s. “I can’t leave you,” he murmurs into the space between them. “I can’t watch you die again.”

Thorin feels frozen. The press of Bilbo’s forehead to his overwhelming. He clenches the arkenstone in his fist until it bites into his skin and dimly, he thinks that he should be concerned about breaking it.

“Get out,” he says again, voice gone unaccountably soft. “I do not want you here. Traitor.”

“Like I said, make me,” Bilbo says, leaning even closer, the words ghosting over Thorin’s mouth.

Bilbo’s mouth, when it finally brushes his, is soft. He presses against Thorin so sweetly and for a minute Thorin wavers. Presses back. Thinks, please, thinks, let me have this one beautiful thing. He wavers—

—and then he pushes Bilbo down the dais stairs. It is not a long fall but Bilbo falls easily and with a resounding thunk as his body hits the bottom. Nori is at his side before Thorin can blink, pulling him to his feet and pulling him towards the door. Thorin feels so dizzy he could fall over.

“You’re a fool,” Dwalin says from the bottom of the stairs.

“I am king,” he says, voice raspier than it should be. “I will not tolerate thieves and traitors.”

“Aye, but you have always been my king. Even without that stone. You used to know that.”

“Get out,” he snaps.

Dwalin leaves and Thorin stares down at the arkenstone for a very long time. Feels like his head is splitting apart. Feels like his heart has torn itself asunder. He’s not sure when he falls to his knees in front of the throne but he’s listening to Bilbo’s voice on repeat, You’ve gone somewhere that I can’t follow. Thinks of Dwalin’s words and the grief that had seemed to pass from Bilbo to Dwalin. A shared grief that Thorin can’t understand, doesn’t want to understand. You’ve gone somewhere that I can’t follow.

The arkenstone, when he throws it across the hall, does not shatter, but Thorin’s head feels clearer than it has in days and so of course, the guilt comes pouring in. By the time Bard and Thranduil arrive the gold haze has almost completely cleared from his mind.

It doesn’t fix anything.

——

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasps, sliding to his knees next to Thorin. “No, no, you can’t do this, not again.”

“Bilbo,” he sighs, reaching for Bilbo’s face despite the way it exacerbates the pain. “Amrâlimê, there is nothing to be done.”

“No,” Bilbo says, voice choked. “You can’t do this. You need to live. I need you to live.”

The side of Bilbo’s face is an ugly mess of blues and purples and Thorin’s heart manages to find the energy to clench. “I have done you a disservice,” he says, struggling to get the words. “You were right to keep the arkenstone from me for as long as you did.”

“No, don’t do this,” Bilbo says and he’s fully crying now. “I can’t do this again, please.”

Thorin presses his palm to Bilbo’s face, says, “I wish to part from you with you knowing that in any other circumstance I would have returned your affection.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispers, leaning down to press a furious kiss to his brow, to cheek, to his mouth. “Please, just hold on for a little longer. The eagles will be here soon.”

“Go home, master burglar,” he says, wishing he were not leaving Bilbo to such pain. “Go home to your armchairs and your books. Go home and live a good life.”

Thorin dies. Thorin dies and then—

[dobythealpaca]

@/zeldot whiteboard doodles!!! a lil late to this one,,, 👀

[peggy-uwu]

Listen so we know that Sebastian didn't have many human skills like cooking etc at the start of the contract right? so maybe at the very beginning, when he first meets Nina, she teaches him the very basics of sewing, just in case he needs them..

Just imagining like,,, a few days after Ciel returns from the cult with Sebastian, Angelina contacts Nina and asks her to go and check on Ciel, make him some clothes etc bc obvs the mansion burned down with everything inside of it.

She takes all Ciel's measurements, (notices all the scratches and the brand and everything else), and then says she'll stay for a day or two to throw together a few outfits and essentials for him. So Ciel goes to take a nap and she sits down and starts working on his clothes, some shorts, some socks, a nightshirt and a few coats, just enough to last him until she can get him a proper wardrobe. She drags Sebastian along with her thinking 'well hes a butler, he has to have SOME kind of sewing knowledge, he could at least cut some cloth pieces out' but NOPE hes completely useless.

So she sits him down and starts showing him some basic stitches, just in case something happens and he needs to fix something, while asking him about everything that's happened.

[hballegro]

i have more conspiracies about MASH that may or may not be true, but ive decided they are. they also just might have been explained, but im dumb, and cant remember. heres your sequel.

in 7x3 where hawkeye tackles bj, bj goes "AAH!' and hawkeye says 'WRONG! THAT STARTS WITH AN H!'. this is because mike farrell's line was 'hey!' but due to the force and drama of the scene, just Yelped instead.

All the dogs that turned up that never appeared again [like the one bj and hawk "ate" when they were trying to scare a visitor, dogs seen in 1 shot, etc] were just dogs that the production crew/cast owned and wanted to bring to work/volunteered their animal for acting duty

in the handful if scenes where hawkeye is actually knitting [and not using the red yarn, for the reason given in the previous edition], hes making a blankie for erin. [co-credit my sibling]

klinger got his ears pierced during the course of the show, starting with clearly just clip-ons and then later declares he doesnt want his ears to close up. some say continuity error, I say commitment (and also it would probably be easier to find real earrings instead of clip-ons)

in s7e2 Peace on Us, no one told bill christopher to tie that red streamer around his neck, he just thought it would be silly

in s7e2 Peace on Us, again, no one told alan alda to drive the jeep back to camp with his leg up like that. he just knows the character well enough to make that call. which he's correct about

the scar on hawkeye's lip was caused by a fishhook in his youth. got called Troutboy a long time afterward because of it.

bj is a vaseline girlie and takes good care of his hair as well.

hawkeye sniffs food because, having grown up partly during the depression, eating spoiled food was a real risk, so giving it a good ol' sniff-test was a given

fr mulcahy cares deeply about his appearance and engages in more grooming activities than any other guy in camp [the shower cap, always looking perfect, owning gardening gloves, manicured hands and feet, etc]. he even irons his stole on a bi-weekly basis and launders his clerical collars

hawkeye's issues with people leaving and not saying goodbye began with his mother after she passed, since his father didnt want him to worry

on nights where charles goes to bed after the other two, he will occasionally clean up a little bit. this contributes to why he's so pissed in 'Pressure Points'- he's been doing his own cleaning and some of theirs without them noticing or caring.

once again these are all just things that came to mind while watching, i didnt think too hard on them. the only one 'researched' on was the food sniffing, solely because i needed to do Year Math lol

[awyeahitssam]

Based on the idea that Malfoy could not get the vanishing cabinet to work effectively, and decided to mention, instead, that Hogwarts was taking the Great Hall wards down for a six-fucking-week course on Apparation. This is what wouldn't happen. But it's where my mind went, first. Warning: Graphic Violence

A loud crack signified the first successful Apparition. 

Harry’s eyes, closed in preparation for his own attempt, snapped open and his head turned. It wasn't a student standing at the other end of the Great Hall, though. Harry jolted for his wand as other students began to turn to the cloaked figure, but before he could take aim there were four more sharp cracks. 

Dark-robed, masked Death Eater’s were apparating directly into the Great Hall, the only place the castle wards were down for Hogwarts students to learn how to do the same. 

Bellatrix LeStrange was the first to appear sans mask, having no need for discretion. She took in the scene with a cackle, batting away Harry’s immediate curse effortlessly as she cooed, “Aww, look at the wittle student's trying to learn!” 

In his periphery Harry saw Neville lift his own wand, and they cast simultaneously. This time, Bellatrix twisted out of the way. “Do the wittle babies wanna play?”

“Sectumsempra,” Harry hissed with malice, fully aware of the spell's effects, now. Bellatrix’s eyes widened a bit even as she turned out of the way, quick as a dancer. The Death Eater behind her fell to their knees as their body was pulled apart by deep, horrible gashes. 

More cracks sounded; Harry began to send out indiscriminate stunners, hoping to catch the intruders before they realised they were being cast at. They all came prepared for battle to have begun, shield charms springing around them immediately. 

“Bombarda!” Ron called grimly. 

“Expulso!” shouted Neville. 

“Protego Maxima,” murmured Hermione. “Accio Susan Bones. Protego. Stupefy—students to the teacher's entrance!”

The frozen bodies of some of their yearmates seemed to jolt, realisation settling. Many students turned tail and ran. 

Susan Bones, having narrowly been pulled out of the way of a powerful cutting curse that had gouged into stone walls by Hermione, was casting stunners, petrification hexes, and disarming charms. Harry was not nearly so restrained, once he realised the stunners were ineffective. Sectumsempra broke through shields like a battering drill and Death Eaters were falling, ripped apart by his fury. Curses flew from Harry's wand as fast as he could think of them: conjunctivitis, blasting, jelly-fingers, reductors, even slug-vomiting. He conjured six venomous snakes that shot off without instruction, knowing his will. Yet again and again, Harry came back to the Half-Blood Prince’s spell, the most devastatingly effective of them all. People were dying from its effectiveness, but Harry didn’t care, because they had dared step foot in Hogwarts—  

A horrible pressure was building in Harry’s head as half the hall emptied. A wand prodded Harry’s spine, and he stilled, shaking with rage and adrenaline. “Call—call off the snakes, Potter,” a somewhat familiar voice demanded shakily.

“I’d rather they bite your father, Nott,” said Harry coldly. “Drop your wand before I have to make you regret it.” 

The wand trembled, for a moment, against his spine. “C-Cruci—”

Harry drove his elbow back, hard, and slammed down one foot on Nott's. The taller boy stumbled back in pain, and it was no great difficulty to stun him. He hit the floor, hard, and Malfoy’s grey eyes were large and frightened as he stared at Harry, still as prey. 

At once, Harry realised what he had done “You,” he said, scar pulsing horribly. “You did this. You brought war to a school filled with literal children, you stupid, useless brat. You're scared of what Voldemort will do to you? Just wait, Malfoy. His punishment would be bliss compared to what you deserve for this.”

“Such a temper, Harry Potter,” came Lord Voldemort’s cold voice. He had made no sound as he apparated, not like his followers, but Harry’s viciously prickling scar had made his imminent arrival clear. “You have done well, Draco. You will be… rewarded.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted in fright from Harry to the Dark Lord, and Voldemort was barely in time to hiss “Stop,” to the snake that had snuck up on the boy. 

“You don't obey him,” Harry hissed, “you’re mine. Do what you’re made for, dear one.”

Draco turned just in time to see the snake strike out at his neck. It vanished before its fangs could load the boy with venom, and Harry turned his hateful scowl to Voldemort, who’s gaze already rested upon him, intent, heavy and fascinated. 

“Deal with it, Hermione,” he snapped. 

“Harry—” came Hermione’s warning voice, but Harry couldn’t listen, had to dodge out of the way of Voldemort’s spell. The Dark Lord tilted his head, stare thoughtful, and then turned his yew wand… away. 

Harry watched him with a wariness not misplaced: Romilda Vane, nearly out of the Great Hall via the Professor’s entrance, fell to the cruciatus curse with a cry of pain. 

“Drop your wands, children,” the Dark Lord said, red eyes still locked on Harry as his soft, cold voice echoed through all corners of the room, carried by wandless magic. 

Harry grit his teeth at the seeming opportunity, well aware of Voldemort's objective. And yet, truly, he could not have picked a worse target to try and bring Harry under his control than the girl who had nearly raped him. He cast a wordless sonorous on himself to refute the order: “Don't give an inch. There are First Years in these walls. Do to them what you would to Umbridge. They're twice her threat. Any student who raised a wand to help Voldemort’s sect will be treated as hostile. See how I handle my enemies, Goyle, and ask yourself if that cheap shot is worth your life.”

Even as he spoke, Harry turned from Voldemort, dismissive, and focused on thinning the herd. Thirteen Death Eater’s still stood, including Bellatrix, who was engaged with Neville and Ron. Harry used every spell that came to his mind, even those from the Half-Blood Prince’s book he had not tested before. One man was effectively eviscerated, much to Harry’s disgust. He only used that spell once.  

When he saw one of his snakes change course he pulled the magic from them, an effective banishment, cold eyes finding Voldemort again. He had not heard the man speak parseltongue, and indeed he was still holding the crucio, face twisted strangely as he watched Harry. 

“My, my,” said Voldemort, immediate once he had regained Harry’s attention, two more of his people fallen, “so vicious, little snake. Does Dumbledore know you have venom?”

“I don't give a fuck what he knows,” Harry said harshly. “This is a school.” This is my home. “Focus on the bloody Ministry, and leave children out of it.”

Voldemort had the gall to laugh, high and cold. “This is not merely a school, Harry Potter,” he said. “There is a reason you children stand your ground and fight. This is where Dumbledore trains his small, young army to go to war and die, as their parents did before them.” 

Wrath bubbles in Harry, heavy and explosive, and he must look as unhinged and inhuman as the man watching him as he cages it behind his teeth. He flicks a shield charm around Bones and Abbott before a reductor hits, and a disarming charm hits the perpetrators back. He breaks the dark-wooded wand into two pieces the moment he catches it. 

“You truly think Dumbledore has taught us anything? Even my ‘private lessons’ with the man are just memories of your life, as if I care that you got away with murder when you were still sixteen.” Hermione pulls Vane’s still writhing body from the room, and Voldemort’s cruciatus ends, but he does not seem to notice or care, eyes locked on Harry. “The only reason I fight is because I do not believe in the world you are trying to create. Because you say things like ‘magic is night' and still try to subjugate witches and wizards, as if the fresh magic in their veins is poisoned by the muggles they're born to. I defy you, Lord Voldemort, because you decided your best course was killing a baby over a half-heard prophecy, and still try to kill me to this day. I am not going to stand here and let you. I don't believe ‘magic is might’. I've already killed many of your people tonight… but that—that wasn’t over ideology. That is because I will kill as many as it takes to keep your grasping, greedy fucking hands out of my school.”

[ashleyslorens]

TAROT CARDS ✴ SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET

[crustyfloor]

i think about this part often maybe a bit too much

[redmyeyes]

SUPERNATURAL -> 1x16 ❝ Shadow ❞

[cerealbishh]

If the time is right and the time is tonight

Go on and kiss the girl

[frankiebirds]

6x18 - lauren

6x20 - hanley waters

or, derek when he's not sure that emily is his friend, and then later when he's certain she was.

[tsubasaclones]

exploding them with my mind 💥💥💥