i'm horrible with these things

4

I blame this entirely on the Didscord. This is YOUR FAULT. I hope you’re proud now.
So how long does Oikawa run around with that sign stuck to his back? :’D

7

happy wednesday my dudes <3

(mila says something like “i want to take you to bed but don’t worry you wont’s sleep”, and georgi says “anya” :’) )

7

I love that you can see Magnus moving closer and putting his hands to Alec’s waist.

(I wish it was more visible in the frame, but if that’s the price to be paid in order to have a closer shot of the kiss — I’ll take it!)

bonus:

okay i know Hardeen was a Terrible arc for everyone involved, but what if Obi Wan had told Anakin about faking his death? Anakin’s like no worries dude I Got This, except he really. does not,,

the only reason his “acting” is remotely believable is because almost no one has seen him like this before, so it must be due to all the grief and loss and heartbreak and anger and whatnot

he starts by sobbing over Obi Wan’s supposedly dead body for a solid two hours when Obi gets shot down. “LOOK at him, so cold and Lifeless. D: HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE WARM AND FULL OF LIFE, SNIPS. I know last week I checked his pulse because he was meditating so calmly I thought he passed away in his sleep, BUT HE’S USUALLY SO WARM AND FULL OF LIFE.”

It goes on until Anakin has finished everything on his painstakingly written Outline from last night. At least half of Coruscant hears part of this speech. Mace sends Obi the security footage later, at a time he knows Anakin will be there to sit through it with Obi, because if we had to suffer then you do too, Obi Wan. 

then at the funeral, Anakin pulls out a twenty foot scroll of real actual paper, because he would appreciate this, I think, and clears his throat loudly and messily before telling the council that he has prepared a few words for the greatest jedi this order, nay, this GALAXY has ever seen, and will ever see, no matter how long any of us live—

five hours later,, he’s still going strong. half the eulogy is Terrible and V Cringeworthy, but the other half is actually v heartfelt and moving. even Mace and Yoda have to blink away some tears. 

it becomes easier after Anakin starts going into Unnecessary Details about obi wan’s life, like how he’ll miss holding onto those heavy 327 thread count woolen robes when he’s saving obi’s ass (curvature 48.5 degrees) for the 23094th time, and how he’ll never see a more sincere expression of Compassion than he saw when reading line 83 of Obi Wan’s eighth letter to Duchess Satine last month, quoted now as follows— 

Ahsoka enlists Plo Koon’s help and they finally shuffle him over to the side, promising him they can finish his fake eulogy at the council dinner tonight. Obi Wan’s death may be fake, but MY WORDS ARE REAL, SNIPS, HOW DARE YOU. says Anakin, before he (a little gleefully) starts destroying the walls to show how Emotionally Compromised he is over this 100% real death. 

he takes the 212th drinking, after having told all of them, too. so now there are 293637 men crying about Obi Wan (relatable af, y/y), all of which have the acting talent of a wilted blade of grass. there are 283747 toasts, and every single person there cries for each and every one of them, despite everyone knowing obi is still alive

8

Ken was born to be L♡VED £2   

↳ P.S. I love how their heads naturally turn in his direction and their gazes are fixated on him. This is true love ㅠ.ㅠ

don’t 👏 call 👏 yourself 👏 a 👏 spider-man 👏 fan 👏 if 👏 you’ve 👏never 👏 been 👏 bitten 👏 by 👏 a 👏radioactive 👏 spider 👏

Me: Ok so, hear me out, Danny Phantom stories and headcanons without torture or death or betrayal. What is, just one time, we made it so everyone is okay and mostly happy?

Phandom: Blocked, unfollowed, don’t sit with us again

“I’ll get your body back. I promise.

text [x]; 

Anxiety is the most silently painful experience. It makes no sense and you sit there alone and suffer for a unknown reason. You can’t explain it. You can’t stop it. It is horrible.
—  A silent storm

anonymous asked:

All this Maglor talk makes me think about what he was up to post First Age. Do you think he was a Third Age ghost story, like elves tell their children, don't wander too far from home or you'll be stolen away by the Maglor! Or elves traveling alone in the forest coming upon a lone elf and always in the back of their minds thinking, shit, what if that's him?

“Listen!” cried the bard. “Listen, good folk and I shall tell a tale such as never you have heard before.” 

The taproom of the Prancing Pony stilled and quieted, which said much for the skill of his voice, or of the mannish want for new stories.

“The Dark Lord is thrown down and a king crowned in the West!” the bard went on, leaping up onto a table and drawing out his harp. “But Sauron - yes! I shall speak his name! - is not the first nor the greatest foe of the free peoples, and there are kings that sit e’en now in a West more distant than Gondor. A flagon of ale and a warm bed for the night, and I shall tell you of the fall of Morgoth, and the fall, too, of the great Elvenkings of old. I shall sing to you the Noldolantë, as was first sung by Maglor Fëanorian, the greatest bard to ever walk this earth.”

Barliman Butterbur looked around at the crowded taproom and the folk squeezing in from the stables as the news spread and decided he knew a good deal when he heard it. He filled the requested flagon and handed it up. 

The bard drained it in one long gulp, wiped his mouth upon his sleeve and struck another cord. “There was a man - a prince! The greatest of all princes! - and he had seven sons-”

It was a long story, but a good one. Barliman liked the clever maiden in the vampire fell even if he couldn’t quite keep up with all the Fins - what kind of names were those, he asked you? - and much of it was sadder than he liked. But it kept the patrons in and kept them drinking, which was more than enough to recommend it to him. 

The young bard told the story well, slipping into the characters like they were well-worn boots and a favourite jacket. He was a handsome fellow, bright-eyed with hair as raven-dark as the plumes in his fine hat, and the flames licking in the hearth threw shadows across his features that made him seem now fair and merry, now old and fell as a grizzled wolf in keeping with the characters in his tale. 

When he was done with his tale, had accepted another flagon of ale and refused, despite much pleading, to do an encore, the room started to empty out, the patrons wending their way home or upstairs to their beds. 

“Here now, though,” said Barliman, pausing with his hands full of empty jugs and greasy plates. “What about that last fellow? You never said what happened to the second son.” He was an innkeep after all and every innkeep has a sense for when he’s been cheated.

“Faded from grief,” said the bard, wearily for it had been a long performance. “Or drowned with Beleriand. Returned to the West when the weight of his sins grew too great for even his proud shoulders to bear up under. Or perhaps,” - he leant in closer and Barliman was not sure why he’d thought this old man young. “Perhaps he lingers still upon these shores. Haunting the woods, and singing sad songs beside forgotten pools. Perhaps he steals away Mannish children to raise as his own, scions of his dead house.”

“Not around here, I shouldn’t think,” Barliman huffed indignantly. “That may have gone over in that drowned country but we have a proper king now and he wouldn’t hold with stolen children.”

The bard laughed merrily. “Of course, of course. The poor fellow’s surely dead, but I’ve long found a neat ending, all tied up in a bow, makes for a poorer story. A more forgettable one, certainly, and I would not have poor Maglor fade from history altogether. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am for my bed.” His hard heeled boots rang on the stairs as he picked his way up them. 

His words rang on in Barliman’s mind a good while longer. After the tables were wiped down and Barliman was in his nightshirt blowing out the candle, he thought about that wanderer, weeping upon the cold sand of a distant shore.

All innkeeps have a sense for when they’ve been cheated and a new thought tickled at the back of Barliman’s mind. 

But the bed was soft, the hour was late and Barliman never had had much luck in recognising kings. 

anonymous asked:

Is baby Hannibal supposed to be under age? Or just tiny? It's doing me a concern. :/

:))))) FOR THE LAST TIME. BABY HANNI IS 30 YEARS OLD.
DON’T WORRY I’M NOT MAKING AN APOLOGY TO PEDOPHILIA OR WHATEVER YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT.

💛 BUT IF U WERE READING TAGS. OR EVEN GO FURTHER INTO MY BLOG THAN THE TWO FIRST DRAWINGS…. WELL. YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN. 💛