#his name is blake

[ashevi666]

more oc designs and coloured sketches with them

[loopnoid]

more mash nonsense i've been accumulating. yes i can draw things that are not bj and hawkeye sometimes. that being said nsfw(?) beejhawk under the cut

[d0d0-b0i]

bees n stuff

[hawkeyeslaughter]

the fact that radar clarifies to henry that pierce and mcintyre are hawkeye and trapper respectively despite that fact that henry almost always refers to them as pierce and mcintyre implies the fact that henry rarely remembers who has the last name pierce and who has the last name mcintyre , and the only explanation i can draw from that is that hawkeye fully just responds to the name ‘ mcintyre ‘ as though someone were talking to him and trapper does the same thing with the name ‘ pierce ‘ , therefore th

[yesloulou]

Daniel greeted by a media person at the 2023 Met Gala | @ charlie.lanks

[mango-sideburns]

My fav thing about TAZ is that any aspect out of context sounds fucking bonkers.

Like, in the balance finale there's a scene in which Garfield (who is very specifically never described visually bc most people imagine him as like. The Lasagna Cat. Who in this universe is the most powerful warlock in the realm and also has a hobby of cloning people, which is great for the one character that got forced into haunting a mannequin) is summoned by an alien spaceship that runs on the power of friendship so he could beat up some flashing balls. In D&D.

And that was just. Such a normal scene in the narrative. No one blinked an eye. I would like to bow down to Griffins clear unmatched talent for making me feel such big emotions over ridiculous shit like a goddamned umbrella or a regular ass pair of jeans or the idea of a taco recipe.

[tiredandoptimistic]

One of my favorite details about Trapper that I don't think I've seen anyone else comment on is the fact that he's the only lead character whose person back home is his kid. They've all got somebody who's the focal point of their "I wanna go home" scenes, the one they write letters to (other than Frank, who doesn't give a shit about anybody). Potter, BJ, and Henry have their wives, Mulcahy and Charles have their sisters, Margaret and Hawkeye have their dads, Radar has his mom, Klinger has his uncles, and Trapper's got his daughters.

Now, I know that BJ, Potter, and Henry all have kids they love too—hell, Erin and Peg are about equally prominent in BJ's stateside dreams—but the thing that sets Trapper apart is that he doesn't seem to care much for his wife. He talks fondly of her, sure, but he's also cheating on her constantly. Henry cheats too, but there are whole episodes dedicated to how he could never actually love anyone but Lorraine. With Trapper, he's just kinda...distant from his wife. Doesn't really talk about her much. If anything, his behavior is closer to Frank's; the serial adulterer who doesn't spare many thoughts for the woman back home. HOWEVER Trapper is leagues better than Frank in literally every way! Not being wholly in love with his wife doesn't make him a bad guy or a negligent father, it's Frank's many personal failings that are to blame for that. I think that's my point here, that I just think it's neat how Trapper is able to be a relatively more complicated figure because in him the symbols of domesticity (wife and kids) are divided. He doesn't need to be an adoring husband to be a devoted father, he can write home to Cathy and Becky because they're the ones he's really waiting to get back for.

The main cast of MASH has five married characters; Henry, Trapper, Potter, BJ, and Frank. Of that list, Trapper's the only one whose wife I can't name. Conversely, he and BJ are the only ones whose kids I can name. Henry and Potter both have children given names sometimes, but they're not consistent at all because they're not actually important in comparison to Lorraine and Mildred. Nobody gives a fuck about Frank's kids, least of all him. What I'm getting at is that, in general, the wives are the point of consistency, the anchor point representing "home." Not for Trapper though, for him it's his daughters, and I just think that's neat.

So yeah, Trapper McIntyre is dad of the year, even if his marriage might not be the best. This post was brought to you by the scene where he writes a letter home to his daughters and all the times he's cute with local kids in the show.

[misaothewitch]

[deezbignutz]

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[cookieandbread]

just an angsty thought I hade while rewatching 300:

what happens if Reid dies?

who tells Morgan? is it Garcia or is she silenced by the ball of grief stuck in her throat, trying to swim up in the ocean of tears threatening to drown her? is it JJ or is she unable to let go of her son as she tries to explains why he's never seeing his godfather again?

who tells Hotch? is it Emily or is she trying so hard to keep the team together that she forgets to keep herself together and falls apart? is it Tara or is she helplessely watching the BAU sink into grief, trying and failing to save the people she calls her family?

who tells Alex? is it Rossi or is he drinking the guilt away until he doesn't remember what it's like to outlive everyone he loves? is it Hotch, after he's been told, or is he too busy clinging to his son to make up for the boy he'll never see again and didn't even say goodbye to?

[anachilles]

“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.” for Blakely/Douglass. Please & thank you!

omg, fun! thanks so much for the excuse to write a lil ev and doug 🥰 -> prompt lists i'm currently accepting requests from: [ x ] [ x ] <-

"Single fillies. C'mon, boys, time to get the lead out."

Everett resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste at the lewd comment, choosing to let the buoyant atmosphere (sans whatever bizarre stand-off Bucky had just decided to pick with Harding) and passable-at-best whiskey warming his insides draw an incredulous, good-natured chuckle out of him instead.

He could feel Doug's eyes hot on the back of his head from where he'd floated towards the back of the pack, and glancing back in his periphery, he caught the moment Doug's gaze flitted away from him, and in the direction of Tatty Spaatz just to Everett's left.

They'd been circling each other for weeks now, Doug and the General's daughter, which in itself on its own was playing with fire, if you asked Everett. She hadn't been his first choice even out of just her friend group when they'd first met, and seemed to be very much aware of the fact every time he'd attempted to flirt with her since. She was a stiffed-lipped, straight-faced sort, deadpan too, and didn't generally entertain much of Doug's foolishness like a lot of the other Red Cross girls on-base. Suppose that's why he kept coming back around trying to crack the nut; he liked the push and pull.

Everett let Doug make a blatantly purposeful move in her direction, one the other boys all would've noticed, before quickly side-stepping into Tatty's space himself, offering his arm and a barely concealed smirk.

"Hey, Tatty. You know you can't resist..." he goaded, a knowing smile crossing her ruby red lips as she took the proffered arm, letting him lead her out towards the dance floor while Doug was still caught mid-stride, half a step behind.

Everett liked Tatty a lot, truth be told. Enough to have his own privately-held suspicions, bolstered by the uncumbersome kinship he felt when they sought each other out for a dance during these shindigs, the easy laughs and conversation that never even threatened to stray anywhere close to the belt. Enough to save her, at the very least, from another round of Doug's games, despite how she seemed to revel in finding new and creative ways to shoot him down.

After that, Everett spent the rest of the night much the same as he usually did at these things - drinking, chatting and chain-smoking mostly, interspersed with a couple of dances with some of the other girls he was friendly with. Not to mention having a front-row seat to Doug's shenanigans as he jumped from conversation to conversation like a bee pollinating flowers in the springtime, only rounding back to the centre table every so often to drop into the crew's conversation, slinging an arm loosely around the back of Everett's chair each time he did.

You'd think a guy might get jealous. Only, for better or worse, Everett knows his bombardier all too damn well by this point, every good pilot does; his switches, his tells, how he needs to be handled. He'd recall irrefutably how Doug's eyes had snapped to him first, and how Everett knew immediately where he'd end up that night.

Everett stuck around right up until the death of the party, the crowd thinning out as each quarter hour ticked by, the band having packed up their equipment, the bartender having called last orders long ago. The last guy in the group he'd been sitting with departed for bed, slurring his words and stumbling slightly on his feet as he went.

Suddenly, he felt slightly awkward sat at a big table by himself, and so moved to one of the many abandoned chairs far off to the side of the dancefloor and pulled his cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket. He settled one between his lips and started scouring his pockets for a lighter, but didn't manage to get too far before a figure appeared in front of him, playfully tapping at his legs with a foot where they lay loungefully outstretched.

"What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo?" Doug asked with a shameless smirk, producing his own lighter from his pocket, sparking it to life as if in demonstration, before chucking it in the other man's direction. He was aiming for the crease of Everett's lap, but Everett intercepted it quickly, catching it deftly instead.

"You've used that one already tonight," Everett quipped, taking a deep drag from the cigarette, before slipping the lighter into his own jacket pocket. Doug made no protest, just shrugged, still smirking. "You've got to get some new material if you want to keep up."

"It's a good joke, what can I say. Worth stealing if you get the chance." His voice sharpened into a point on that one word of the sentence, and Everett couldn't help but mirror the other man's smile. He raised a chin a little further, managing somehow to look down his nose at Doug from where he was sat, despite how he was stood over him.

"Is that what I did? That easily? I mean, it wasn't hard. Perhaps you've just got to up your game."

A faux-indifferent shrug. Another drag of the cigarette, coupled with a long, deliberately charged exhale. A beat of silent anticipation as Douglass sized him up and down, eyes narrowed in challenge as they held each other's gaze, but also edged with something else. Clearly loose from the liquor, Doug's crystalline eyes darkened a little, his bottom lip briefly rolling in behind his teeth as he bit down teasingly.

Doug's eyes did a quick scan of their surroundings. The club had fairly emptied out, the closest others to them at the far end of the bar area and well out of hearing range.

"It's, uh, it's getting a little crowded in here," Doug started, his voice pitched low and verging on sensual, a smile still twitching at his lips even as he was trying to pretend to be serious, and held out his arm in Everett's direction, like he was one of his dames. "...why don't you take my hand and we'll get out of here?"

Everett made a point of hesitating for a moment, letting out another long, slow exhale of smoke as he made Doug wait for it, resigning himself to acquiescing their little game. If the man was a dog, his tail would be damn well wagging he seemed so keyed up for it.

"Oh how flattered I am to be your back-up plan. More flattered about it than Tatty Spaatz is, at least," Everett joked as he rose from the chair, pointedly not taking Doug's hand, but sticking close to his side as they made for the exit side-by-side, both their minds fixed on the empty fort, their fort, ahead of them, waiting at the airfield.

Once they were in the clear, the night air hitting them both like a tonne of bricks after being cooped up inside there all that time, Doug chanced a cheeky swat at Everett's ass.

"Well, you're prettier than her. Prettier than all of them," he teased, though his voice melded into something sweeter, more affectionate than the words themselves would give away alone. "My number one back-up. Always."

[breezysuffers]

Wouldn’t it be really funny if Blake met Erik?

[rosietrace]

My face every time Eve is mentioned

[murdockhawkeye]

mimmi is a derivative of miriam. miriam in the bible was moses' sister. moses was left behind by his birth mom for his safety and he was delivered by the water to his adoptive parents

so

zac is moses

[dr3comebackera]

guys i have to admit that for an extensive amount of time, i thought we were calling blake “blake friend” because we didn’t know his last name and he was daniel’s friend.

[thosegothsims]

welcome to the family, taron graves!

an unedited screenshot of him because hes the cutest little baby <3

he has the cautious infant trait as well!