#because 1: it's true

[martianbugsbunny]

🏳️‍⚧️Trans Is Beautiful🏳️‍⚧️

[paintedcrows]

Introducing RoyalAuthor! ...I cannot stop thinking about these old man scientists...

[valyrfia]

any reporter: so max if you’re not able to win who would you want to wi-

max: CHARLES! CHARLES! I WANT CHARLES TO WIN! I WANT TO HEAR THE ITALIAN ANTHEM! IL PREDESTINATO VINCE! CHARLES WILL BE THE NEXT WDC! CHARLES WILL WIN! FORZA FERRARI! SEMPRE!

[miikpal]

galleria

speedpaint under cut

[counting-stars-gayly]

This might be a hot take, but I actually like that Percy figured out Luke was the traitor at the last minute. There were A LOT of clues that would’ve been hard to ignore, and he ignored them for as long as he could. And it’s clear that even after accusing Luke, he’s still surprised and heartbroken at Luke’s confirmation of his suspicions. He was holding out hope, guys!!

Also, the Betrayal Scene flows better as an exchange of dialogue and a swordfight than it did, in the books, as a monologue and a scorpion sting. This also leaves a bigger impact on the viewers and characters because it’s more emotional.

[vroom-vrooms]

You know… my favorite thing about Max and Charles not following each other on Instagram TO THIS DAY is that they probably think it would be weird to follow each other now but they don’t realize it only gets weirder the longer they wait

Also it’s weirder that you DONT follow each other

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Their Ass.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lelelego]

hook, line, and sinker

(tav/astarion)

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[shiraishi--kanade]

"It's so embarrassing to admit I only create art for validation" did paleolithic humans not paint for other humans to see. Does a child making their first drawing to show their parents makes it any less valuable. Do gardens arranged for the visitors' eyes make the roses any less beautiful. Do love poems written for one person alone to hear make your heart ache less. You're fine

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."

[secriden]

Going legitimately insane because all my brain has been able to chew on has been this particular callback and what it means for the headspace that Fadel is in at the end of episode 6.

It's insane that Fadel even said that to Bison in the first place because the Fadel of episode 5 knew better than to believe it was possible for anyone to truly bare themselves to another person, knew better than to want to know and be known and chosen despite it all. To the Fadel of episode 5, "laying yourself bare" was an impossibility because of how much power it gives the other person, and Fadel's mind is too practical, his circumstances too complex, his heart too fragile to ever give that to anyone ever again.

But Fadel's walls began to crack in the face of Style's honesty and the shared pain of knowing what it is to loose someone precious; cracked under the weight of Style pressing kisses to his scar and laying Fadel bare to bring him pleasure; shattered in the face of Style giving himself over to loving Fadel for a whole night -- and Fadel woke up half underneath the spread of Style's body and found himself already in love.

And do you know how I know this? Because of all the things Fadel could have said he liked about Style, he chooses this. It's not that Style is effortlessly kind and thoughtlessly generous at times. It's not that Style is hot and sexy and frankly kind of a slut (specifically for Fadel). It's not even that Style has secret, hidden depths and an unexpectedly shared pain which allows him to understand and empathise with Fadel in a way that no one but Bison has been able to for a very long time.

No, it's his cockiness. His arrogance. The way Style is unabashedly himself and makes no apologies for it. The way Style will literally dance to his own tune and sing at the top of his lungs with no care for anyone else's opinion unless it's to appreciate it. The way Style walks into the room and has the confidence to put his body on display and already know that he will be welcomed and wanted -- and this confidence meant that he assumed Fadel would find him attractive, and would not stop until Fadel eventually gave in to that attraction.

It's telling that it's these specific instances that come to mind when Fadel thinks about Style's lips. There are so many scenes and shots they could have chosen (because lbr here Dunk, and therefore Style, really does have amazing lips), so it feels very intentional that Fadel thinks firstly of the time Style refused to back off when Fadel pretended not to miss him, and then the moment when Fadel finally admitted that he did and was rewarded with Style's reassurance and reciprocated vulnerability and wholehearted embrace. Also, because this was the last episode that Style did not Know, and therefore was still being fully honest with Fadel. Both instances are Fadel appreciating in hindsight the way Style's very nature -- the way he would not give up, the way he keeps pushing and pushing even in the face of Fadel's seeming impassivity -- gives Fadel not only the opportunity but the impetus to finally let go of his control and acknowledge his feelings for Style.

It's explicit confirmation that Fadel enjoys and appreciates and has grown to love Style's personality and antics and the way he expresses himself.

So the Fadel in episode 6 dares to ask for Style's honesty and gives with it an explicit promise of trust and acceptance in return. After recognising the effort Style has had to put in to find ways to connect with Fadel (heavy metal vs pop rock), he now asks for Style to be real with him because Fadel understands himself to be ready to love, and in loving Style, is able to offer the very thing he wants the most from Style: "acceptance of who he really is".

We also see the evidence of Fadel's unspoken promise in the way that he now responds with an almost easy openness to Style's questions in stark contrast to the Fadel in the early part of the show. If he wants Style to accept him, he can't continue keeping all his secrets. So now, he gives Style pieces of himself with barely a thought, and lets Style use them to push and prod and drag to light the very things he used to keep hidden because he thought they weren't useful or helpful or worthy of being loved (see @sherrymagic's gorgeous gifset + my tags on it).

It's also in the way he now allows Style to take him outside of his comfort zone because he trusts that the private joys he's kept to himself are safe in Style's hands; that, moreover, Style will look to Fadel's happiness and not make a mockery of it.

I'm obsessed with the moment in the screenshot on the bottom right because Fadel looks so completely out of his element and almost in a state of shock. He's literally standing separated from the rest of the group in the composition of the shot, hesitation writ in every line of his body, while Style, who isn't even a fan of this band or this music, fits in with the band seamlessly.

But this hesitation isn't because of discomfort, it's nervousness and an almost joyous disbelief because Fadel could never have done this on his own, he would never have allowed himself the indulgence of actually showing his love for his favourite band if Style hadn't taken the initiative to drag him there and ask for the photo. And, oh, how wonderful it must have felt to see Style prove his own words by being right there by Fadel's side as he lets himself go, as he lets himself be himself without fear, for the first time in what must have felt like forever.

In a single, perfect night, Style has been exactly, precisely, breathtakingly everything Fadel could ever have wanted; because in a single night of Fadel finally having the courage to bare himself to another person, Style gave Fadel not only acceptance but a celebration of who Fadel is. With everything Style does that night, he ties himself to Fadel; he ties his happiness to Fadel's and his comfort to the warmth of Fadel's embrace. Style fashioned himself into exactly what Fadel wanted -- and now that Fadel has had a taste of it, how can he possibly go back?

Which is why Fadel already knows that it's too late for him, he knows that he is already in love; knows, moreover, that he has rewritten parts of himself to seek out and miss and yearn for Style; has even learned to love Style the way he understands Style wants to be loved.

So Fadel might as well keep the promise he made to Style with his lips pressed shut against the lies he didn't want to keep telling Style. He might as well give Style more days and nights and chances to spin his lies, because at least Fadel has the meager comfort of knowing he spoke the truth.

Because if Style wants to keep playing this game, if Style is able to so be so convincingly deceptive that Fadel can no longer trust himself to tell when Style is lying, then Fadel will take the punishment of choosing honesty in the face of his betrayal. Fadel will fashion himself into a heartless tool and allow himself the indulgence of playing this tantalising part -- because he may just find a way to save Bison in the process.

And to Fadel, it does not matter if his own heart gets broken along the way, because Fadel deserves the punishment of laying himself bare to the man who does not love him in return; he deserves to give Style the power of knowing the hold he has over Fadel.

But doing so is a punishment for Style, too, because if Fadel must love, then he is going to weaponise his own feelings in the fight he now thinks he has to wage against Style. Because two can play this game of cruelty, and Fadel does not care if this sword is double edged because cutting himself to pieces is a small price to pay if it means dragging Style along with him into hell.

After all, what's another crack when his whole entire world has already been so utterly and completely shattered?

[houseswife]

house: this has absolutely nothing to do with wilson

also house: [brings up wilson unprompted] [spends 95% of the session either talking about wilson or deliberately avoiding talking about wilson] [literally admits it’s about wilson]

[kindaorangey]

"are you asking me or making me?" is soooooo interesting to me because i think armand only asks it when he can't gauge whether he's letting louis down. it's barely even sexual - it's a hail mary. it's a show of trust, indirectly admitting that he wants to do something other than what louis expects of him, but that he's willing to obey louis anyway, for the sake of their relationship. it's sort of heartbreaking watching them at the sacré-cœur, because if louis had said "i'm making you" armand would've done it in a heartbeat. he would've taken it as a show of committment on louis' part, and he wouldn't have betrayed him. but louis takes the question just as an expression of disagreement, and so he doesn't play the game. ironically, he respects armand's independence too much to make him turn madeleine if he doesn't want to. and so armand isn't convinced of louis' commitment to him, and he betrays him.

and by the time we see them in san fransisco, louis knows what the question means now, and answers "no, arun, i'm not asking" without question. and armand accepts it without complaint, even as it pains him. companionship really is the most important thing in the world to armand, just like it is for lestat, and he's willing to do any number of horrible things to louis and himself just to keep him as a companion, just like lestat. louis' biggest mistake is not realising how to use that to his advantage sooner.

edit: HELP people are reblogging this again. i misremembered the context of the scene - louis is asking armand to witness the turning, not do it himself. still, if armand had gone along to witness, that would have 100% been taken as implicit permission for louis to turn madeleine (thereby adhering to the first of the great laws) and, in essence, "agreeing" with her turning where before he ordered claudia to drive madeleine out of town. this hypocrisy, and the further bending of the rules for louis' sake (he's given permission to turn a mortal despite neither of them being in the coven), would have been seen by the coven as betrayal. armand knows this; he doesn't think madeleiene should be turned for these reasons; that's why he asks, "are you asking me or making me?"

still. if louis had said "i'm making you" i think armand would've gone along to witness, implicitly giving his permission for madeleine to be turned and functionally changing his allegiance from the coven to louis once and for all. so the core point of the post still stands.

[borgialucrezia]

"Every now and then when he gets it right, he still gets it in the end. He does a successful siege. I mean he would have won Forli. He would have kicked ass at Forli if Cesare had let him know the other Sforza was coming to cut him down from the rear. I think he would have actually won if it weren't for his brother." — DAVID OAKES

[cryptocism]

yknow. Real Rashid being a double agent is actually the least surprising reveal of season 2 like if they really said: "this man's bosses gave him a week off so that one of them could larp as a servant while using rashids name and dressing in rashids clothes (but sluttier) exclusively to fuck with a Random Journalist who came for an interview" and then followed that up with rashid acting like everything was chill cool and normal until credits I'd be ringing the cinemasins bell like quasimodo no regular person would stick around after that shit it Could Not make sense unless he had an ulterior motive