#he will be very old

[malyen0retsev]

i wish everyone who made kit connor feel he had to come out a very merry FUCK YOU. you forced an eighteen year old into coming out publicly, before he was ready, when he stated many many times he wanted to keep it private. how many more times does this shit have to fucking happen before some of you fucking clock that YOU CANNOT QUEERBAIT IN REAL LIFE. this is the natural end to the discourse of ‘if somebody is in the public eye playing a queer person they owe us their sexuality’, and it’s DEEPLY FUCKED UP, they do NOT owe you an answer, and this mindset JUST FORCED AN EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD TO OUT HIMSELF BEFORE HE WAS READY TO

[peakvincent]

new game is to type one through ten in your tags and see what comes up. i think my favorite of mine is ‘my uncle told us he spent seven and a half hours in a sensory deprivation tank once’ but ‘gideon the ninth motherfucker’ is a close second

[menlove]

honest to god can't stop thinking about this song about jeff bezos by philip labes (link takes you to his spotify). it's such a good example of politically driven folk music.

[marisatomay]

for some reason people can’t admit that they think an aging celebrity is still an absolute smoke show so they say the person “hasn’t aged” instead of just saying they’re hot as hell

[splickedylit]

The Grand Highblood is dead, and some young upstart named Makara just took his throne. A perfect time for seadweller nobility with political aspirations to take an unsanctioned friendly informal visit the battleship Dark Carnival and make sure the clowns' new leader knows his place.

I've had a Playing With The Big Boys animatic in my head for actual years and this all emerged in two days straight of nonstop clown-drawing. I'm losing my gotdamn mind. Happy Honkoween. Please enjoy my baby. Here it is on youtube if you,,, want that.

Warnings, because they go by fast: canon-typical violence and brief flashing lights.

[landwriter]

hob gadling being so goddamn normal compared to his anthropomorphic husband, in-laws, and husband's social circle that he circles right back around to being the more sus/shady one OR hob gadling keeps accidentally derailing dream's attempts to be King of Nightmares by horny vibes/going "joke's on you, i'm into it"/"promise?" to any and all threats

Hob isn't normal, is the thing. He's not. He never was. He was smouldering with strangeness and hunger long before his future sister-in-law took one look at him and decided he'd be good for her little brother.

He asked her, once, bit drunk, if that was why she chose him: if she'd heard him forswearing her in the White Horse and looked at him, peered into the contents of his soul, and thought: well, there's one at least as stubborn as my brother - maybe they'll be good for each other. She'd just smiled and waited for Hob to take another sip before saying, "Good? I just thought it would be interesting," and twinkled at him when he sputtered. Hob said older sisters were terrors, and they'd toasted to that.

Whether she'd intended or not, they were good for each other, him and Dream. It took them a little bit to realize, a small handful of centuries holding one another at arm's length for fear of what would be seen any closer. Then they'd crashed together anyways, and it had turned out they were matched not just in that bloody-minded stubbornness to keep a decent thing going, but also in all the intensity they'd tried to smother to do so, the roaring hunger and devotion and need; the both of them strange creatures capable of giving so much and greedy enough to take just as much in kind.

On the outside, though, others see Dream, his distance, his power, the thunder of his voice, and don't see it as the armour it is, the necessary carapace protecting the sort of tender feelings that could scorch the entire earth, because he is a vessel for human emotions that are strong enough to live on in stories and dreams, because he is, in that respect, - and Hob gets choked up about this, if he allows himself to think about it too much - fundamentally more human than him, than all of them, the embodiment of every fantasy and fear and tall tale of men, tending to them each night, taking no rest for himself.

On the outside, others see Hob, his banal humanness, and other humans assume the rest of him is the same, and so do most non-humans, except they're baffled by it, baffled by why he is Dream's husband. So he plays it up, because it's funny, and if they're too incurious or gullible to figure out what lays beneath, then that's alright, because his husband figured it out, and loves him for it, and that's all he needs.

Dream didn't understand at first why Hob acted extra human whenever they mingled with other capital-e Entities and inhuman sorts, but now he finds it so amusing as well that Hob wonders how the gig isn't up from the moment anyone sees his twitching smirk. His husband has a terrible poker face, Hob thinks.

He's much better at pretending. In fact, he's so good at performing the petty normality expected of him that it goes full circle and becomes, somehow, magnetically strange to all the fantastical creatures in his husband's social circle.

He had not realized the heady effect of normal human upon non-humans until the time he had gone to a Samhain 'do in the Underhill, in his formal role as Prince Consort to the Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, first of his name, et cetera, and, rather comfortable with those sort of events by then, which were really not that dissimilar to interdepartmental faculty parties, with all the posturing and alcohol, only far better outfits, had, a bit soused on the fantastic elphin mead, accidentally started talking with a member of the faerie delegation about the football tables. At first he thought he'd committed a faux pas when the faerie just stared at him, slack-jawed, but later that night, he'd found himself surrounded by a cluster of wide-eyed dryads and undine and fae, gratifyingly holding court on why Billy Wright had been such a shite Arsenal manager. Apparently, it was the highlight of the evening.

It also helps grease the wheels of immortal statecraft, which Hob thinks of as something of a secondary benefit to making his husband smile. He would be a fierce bodyguard and soldier for Dream, in a heartbeat, he would curry favour on his behalf with pretty words and eager gladhanding, but what works out best, he's realized, is when important folk approach them to talk shop with Dream, to head it off with warm conversation about things like Tube construction, ABBA, and sausage rolls, until they look thoroughly disconcerted, before gracefully handing them off to his husband.

Whenever the occasion allows it, he'll skip on the finery too (another thing, he thinks, that he only cares about his husband seeing). Once, a baku ambassador, himself arrayed in glorious golden robes that matched his sharp gilt claws, had been so baffled by Hob's appearance on the arm of Dream, in his ratty old jeans and a United jersey he got as a gag gift once (and, on principle, refuses to wear in the Waking) that the chimera had absently agreed with Dream's suggestion for revised quotas on devouring nightmares.

Dream had been so delighted by that victory that he'd pressed Hob up against the front door of their flat in Islington, the moment they got back in, and laid kisses all over the hideous jersey, murmuring that Hob was a fearsome diplomat, and Hob had laughed and said he was only a distraction, then let Dream drag him to the bedroom anyways to thank him for his contribution.

Some see what's underneath, of course, and Hob's just as glad for that too.

The second time they'd had dinner with Crowley and Aziraphale, well past the food and making excellent headway on the rest of the wine, Dream had been called away on urgent business. Hob thought the night would end there, but the moment Dream left, Crowley had leveled an unsober finger of accusation at Hob and said, "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing."

Hob hadn't needed to try and look confused, but then Crowley leaned in and said, conspiratorially and only accidentally hissing a little, "This 'regular bloke' thing, but you're worssse than him, aren't you? Bet you are. Bet anything," and Aziraphale had genuinely emitted a tiny gasp of affront on Hob's behalf, and Hob was too busy laughing to say that he wasn't wrong at all, while Crowley gleefully swiveled around and said "I told you so, angel. S'obvious. Humansss. Not a normal one among 'em."

It was a lovely thing to say, actually, and all too easy for Hob to forget sometimes, being a particularly abnormal human leading a particularly abnormal life. But Crowley knew what he was talking about. He spent far more time with humanity compared to most of the inhuman lot. When Hob had made him promise to keep his secret from the rest of them - humanity's secret, really - and explained why, Crowley had laughed and laughed and laughed. He thinks it's the moment they became proper friends.

Hob isn't normal, is the thing.

But it's fun to don it like ceremonial garb and be an ambassador of humanity twice over: in truth and performance both. It's fun to be exactly what's expected and still disconcert.

And most of all, it's fun to go back home with his husband, to their terribly normal human flat, and curl up together in their terribly normal human bed, and watch Dream's face flush with pride or amusement as he debriefs Hob on what chaos he's wrought this time, intentionally or otherwise, with his terribly normal human presence, and Hob just laughs, then smiles until his face hurts, because Dream is his husband, wholly apart from humanity and still the most human creature Hob has met, and he knows all the ways that Hob feels like both, too.

[sukifoof-art]

cannot stop thinking about Dad Michael i love them both sm

[bunnieswithknives]

“David, what the FUCK.“

part 2

[flowery-king]

A palisman won't leave Philip alone

[Defanged Philip AU]

[ratherbeinsunnydale]

i just gotta say i really love how they are portraying the very specific type of man that viserys is. which is like, nice enough? and to be clear, i’m not saying he’s nice but that on the surface, he appears to be a very kind and caring man and father but maybe not a great king. but he also does not do anything to buck against the norms of westeros and will do what is most convenient for him because he is afraid and ultimately spineless.

like he loved his wife and cares deeply about her, but also he pressured her through multiple pregnancies and no he did not include her in the choice re:the birth and let her die terrified because he was too spineless to tell her the truth of the situation or include her in the decision he made

and he loved his daughter but not enough to claim her as heir until his brother pissed him off and then to try and do damage control and say he should’ve always seen it and yet after naming her heir he continues to exclude her and belittle her before his council while still eventually cashing in on the fact that he did name her heir (even if he’s not doing any work or putting in any effort to prepare her)

and he’s disturbed at the thought of marrying a 12 year old but also is comfortable regularly meeting with and grooming his 15 year old daughter’s best friend and is unnerved that Laena is being tutored on how to speak to him and persuade him but is willfully ignorant to the possibility that otto holds a similar sway over alicent and also is willfully ignorant to the fact that rhaenyra agreed to the marriage but would genuinely have never felt comfortable with him marrying her best friend

viserys just has this vibe of like “hey he could be worse” and sometimes a vibe that he thinks he’s pretty alright because of that and it can just be very sinister. he’s so spineless.

i don’t know what i’m saying i just feel like it’s a flavor of character thrones hasn’t quite touched on before. and i’m enjoying their take on it and paddy considine is great.

[puppyeared]

AKA... the CATS!!

[comixandco]

ik that taako’s voice in the first episode was because justin was still figuring out his character but i like to imagine that before joining bob taako put on fake accents to avoid being recognised, since he was wanted for the whole poisoning incident, but also for the bit

and then kravitz changes accents mid-fight in crystal kingdom and then drops them during their date at the chug ‘n’ squeeze and taako’s like oh 😳 same hat 😳

[cheruib]

my cats my reason to be happy

[doberbutts]

[anne-o-nyme]

Essek has a 400′s life crisis and goes back on the road with a party of young adventurers. He, of course, brings Caleb with him.

all credits for this amazing idea goes back to the great @flappingduster-scribbles

[expelliarmus]