htis show


ANYWAY here’s my powerpoint! sorry if it’s worded weirdly or redundant at times, when making power points i usually make the speaking part the most important LOL

this was done a few semesters back but i’m still really proud of it! it was really hard to not go on too many tangents bc there’s so much to talk abt when it comes to racism in this shoW


There was just something about him. We both had these messed-up childhoods. Made it easy to relate. Have you considered that all of that might’ve been an act to get close, that maybe he found a weakness and exploited it? It wasn’t an act. For whatever reason, Ward never lied to me. He just hid parts of himself that I wasn’t ready to see yet.

can we fucking talk about what a goddamn good ass fucking show Alias Grace is????? like???? LIKE????

the writing

the writing



go drop everything you’re doing and watch it right now if you haven’t 

Alternatively for older Mob: buys a cheap apartment and turns out theres this demonic spirit that lives there, but its very tormented and Mob would feel bad for exorcising it right away. So he lets it live in his little complex and treats it like a rowdy dog. Leaves it out some food and some specific chairs to flip and float around the kitchen, maybe even a few old dishes to break if it has to.

Eventually it decides it likes Mob, and basically becomes his spirit familiar.

           STARTER CALL.     💄     consider this my first     ,      official      starter call on      this queen      since i’ve remade her .       the starters coming from this starter call      can and will      vary from both length      /      season      /      episode depending on      your muse .      if you have a specific      season      /      episode       you would want a starter based on      ,      tell me on this post .      multi - muses also specify your muse .       thank you .

dwalin with thorin post bofa like

thorin reminding them of some old memories

thorin apologising for the madness

“Will you stay with me?”

he smiles with cigarettes tucked between his teeth,
gestures for you to pick one, as if they’re poppies in fields of war.
those things will kill you.
you think.
as if it’ll stop you from putting it to your lips like it’s a cyanide kiss,
and as if it’ll stop him from lighting another, knowing that you’ll be just as desperate,
to die for him, to die with him.

he laughs with blood painted inside his mouth,
collides his lips into yours like a punch into a wall, smudging red on your jaw.
thanks for the mark.
you think as you lick it off his tongue.
thanks for the brand, thanks for telling the world that I belong to you.
or is it the other way ‘round?

he kisses with hunger clawing inside his throat,
digging his fingers in the crooks of your spine, asking, asking,
i never lie, you whisper into his ear,
so he sears his body into yours, forgets both your names in the half-darkness, crosses your heart with his teeth.
hope to die, hope to die, hope to die.

he repents with the gallows hanging over his heart,
shoulders shaking in the blue florescence against the white sheets,
hanging his head low onto your red-purpled neck,
I can be your absolution, I can be your divinity.
let me ruin you, let me ruin you.

he falls and kneels before your shaky feet, prayers into blasphemy, fingers into skin,
I can be your graveyard.

he falls with thorns tearing into his dark hair,
arms stretching outwards like a crucifixion, opens up his body and waits for the monster in darkness, in the light, all around.
wake up. you shout at his crumbling silhouette,
pretending that your pale daydream could harm his miscreated nightmare,
centered on emptying out his concave chest.
but he’s hollow, hollow, hollow,
aren’t you going to fill him?

—  untitled. // r.d.