#i want him in my pocket.

[torturedblondhairedboy-child]

Can’t believe I forgot about the scene in ATBFTS where Hannibal and Will just got through their argument abt the dragon straight up attempting to murder his family at hannibals behest and he says some shit like “he craves change” And then looks at will like a kicked puppy and goes “dont you crave change?? ☹️☹️☹️☹️🥺🥺🥺🥺”

If i was Will i wouldve crashed through his little enclosure and absolutely bludgeoned him to death. Like straight up blunt force trauma so unimaginable. S3 hannibal is so fucking funny but wow if i was a character interacting with him i would be like someone put this bitch down he is ANNOYING!!!!!!!!

[lemongogo]

life of regret

[egophiliac]

I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?

I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.

[pianokantzart]

[zylusmusings]

"what's wrong, sweetie?" the leader of onychinus, most loathed creature of tarus city, looks and sounds almost unrecognisable as he stares down at his sniffling beloved, with crimson eyes that twinkle with specks of admiration, yearning and concern. his strong arms, so used to battles and defending himself from acts of violence, now cradling a treasured lover ever so kindly and tenderly. his voice, often rough and speaking out of pain and anger, is no louder than a decibel and soft enough to lull an infant to sleep as he speaks to her.

his calloused fingers comb through her hair, and he reminds himself to ask her another time if he could braid her hair, just like when they were in the grasslands. but not right now, not when his other hand is occupied with rubbing the small of her back in soothing circles. his actions has practically turned her body into putty, melting it deeper against the mould of his body as she lays atop him, face buried into cotton of his shirt. she looks so vulnerable at this very moment, a little different from the fearless hunter everyone is accustomed to seeing. he feels the atoms of anger (on her behalf) and natural protectiveness form in his chest as he tries to think of what possibly could have upset his lover tonight. this damned world is undeserving of her, he thinks, so he tries his best to fill in the cracks the world has left her with.

"everything has been so tough." her tiny voice answers. in the midst of everything ever-changing, sylus seems to be the only constant she had. it feels like as everything is against her, he is the only one for her. "i'm so scared," her voice barely audible, yet sylus doesn't miss the crack at the end of her sentence. instinctively, his palm stops its ministrations of gentle circles. his knuckles now bending ever so slightly to clutch onto her back more protectively.

"what can i do to make you feel better, sweetie?" his voice low, the vibrations grumbling from his chest against her own. almost desperate to make her feel better, he starts peppering kisses into her hair. it's a win-win, sylus thinks. while she finds some comfort in his affection, he gets to indulge in the faint smell of her strawberry shampoo and the way she melts further into his body. it causes his hold to tighten around her. "what can i do to make you feel... less afraid? safer, if you will," he asks, noting her admission of fear.

she pauses, as if to think, then moves to rest her chin on his chest as she stares at him for moment. they simply gaze into each other eyes, a silent language both of them are fluent in. sylus doesn't want to get ahead of himself, but could it be that her eyes are mirroring his; the way it screams of pure and true love. sylus knows without a doubt that he'd love her even if it was never reciprocated, so when the familiar gaze is reflected in her eyes, a breath gets stuck in his throat. he clears his throat, fingers brushing away a lock of her hair, "what is it, beloved?"

she stays silent for a moment more, and sylus bears in mind the way he grows a little nervous under her loving gaze, though he tries to mask it with a raised brow. "well?" her hand finds his own that tucked her hair away, bringing it to her cheek. like clockwork, sylus moulds his palm against her soft cheek, his thumb grazing the smooth skin.

"i think i only feel safe with you." it knocks the wind out of him. sylus is self-aware of his reputation- once, he was the creature so feared by humans that it caused much self loathing. and even now, people fear him as the infamous figure of danger in the n109 zone. sure, it is for different reasons now, but sylus has always felt to be synonymous with monster. "with me?" he repeats, a crease forming between his brows as his heart begins to pound against his chest. she simply nods and confirms, "yes." one word to cause a visceral reaction in his heart.

she doesn't say anything more and doesn't elaborate and sylus is too taken aback to push it further. thinks he needs a moment to himself to take in this revelation. a monster like me... that is what makes her feel safe? he sighs, shakes his head as if to deem herself almost foolish for feeling as such. there could be trillions of creatures in the entire universe, and she would be the sole one who'd find safety with him.

and if sylus hadn't already made it his mission to keep her in safety, he makes a silent oath with himself at the moment. he'll protect her until his dying breath. this woman shall never have to worry for as long as she decides that he lives.

he pulls her in impossibly tighter. "that's the first time someone said those words to me," he echoes words he has said before (albeit she doesn't and won't remember a thing) and he reminisces the memory for a bit. the same way she sees the beauty in him, the similar softness she so graciously graces him with - such a stark contrast from what others are to him. it reaffirms him though, that she is his one true soulmate, across all universes and through time. he'd burn the world for her take a claymore to his chest, if ever need be. in the previous and present life, she would always be kind to him and he would always be hers.

she hums, then nuzzles her nose against the crook of his neck where she presses the petals of her lips against his warm skin. "well, everyone else doesn't know you like i do." she mumbles, and sylus chuckles.

the whole world can cower in fear and misjudge him, for all he cares. he is simply sylus in her eyes, "i don't want anyone else to know me like you do."

[beanghostprincess]

he's both the prettiest and the frenchest he's ever been and i don't know if i want to kiss him or slap him or look like him

[gunsatthaphan]

just bro banter 🤙🏻✌🏻

[apparently-artless]

blushing sakura in every episode (◕‿◕)♡ [6.1/?]

[timethehobo]

Lil Emmy prepping for another work week.

[ravencromwell]

Rereading Dickens Christmas Carol for the first time in a long time. And the more I reread, the more it strikes me how seamlessly a queer reading could slip within these pages. Not an especially twee reading, wherein all Scrooge's troubles start and end with grief over Jacob Marley's death. For we know that Scrooge was a "Tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!" And we know that he and Marley were "two kindred spirits"

And perhaps that very fact makes the similarities to queer life, unintended as they most likely were by Mr. Dickens, achingly poignant to me. Scrooge is, we're told, "secret and self-contained and solitary as an oyster." How much that resonates, for so many of us who shield our innermost selves but from a select group of friends. And we know that Scrooge and Marley were, at the very least, certainly that for one another. Scrooge is Marley's sole mourner; his sole executor and beneficiary; and even Dickens notes, "friend." How reminiscent is that of queer couples across history, estranged from their families?

Scrooge lives in a set of chambers that once belonged to Marley—clearly Dickens wanted us to believe Scrooge gave up his own dwellings after Marley's death to economize. But with only a flicker of change, those chambers become _their chambers, rented by Marley as the senior member of the couple. The place is so desolate Dickens notes "one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again." The perfect abode for two queer misers who wanted no one prying into their business.

Marley's name is still above the door of Scrooge's counting-house: a mark by which, no doubt, Dickens meant to convey Scrooge such a penny-pincher he couldn't bother to have it changed. But a thing can be both! mark of frugality to ludicrous excess and! mark of mourning. "sometimes," Dickens opines, "People new to the

business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him."

This is why "death of the author" matters so much, in expanding our interpretations of texts. It is vastly far from the lens Dickens would have intended. But, the idea of a ghost of queerness, so taboo in the society it could barely be glanced at sidewise in this tale that is all about the inexplicable and yet that lingers over everything becomes an astonishing lens through which to read this book. Thinking of Scrooge as a queer man, his "melancholy dinner at his usual melancholy tavern" becomes a eerie prefiguring of the hollowness of days spent by Isherwood's A Single Man. In this universe, little wonder Scrooge doubly hates mention of time with family, marriage, etc. when the precise nature of his grief is both unacknowledged and unacknowledgable.

And readings like this are vital, because the uncomfortable truth is, discrimination doesn't "discriminate between sinners and saints", to borrow a Miranda phrase. It is easy, in my liberal circles, to fight for queer people who hold "the good sorts of politics". But what about men like Michael Hess, culpable for supporting Reagan even as his contemptuous homophobia let the aids epidemic run rampant? How much harder is it to remember Michael had a partner? That he deserves empathy and compassion for being practically tarred and feathered out of the party upon his own aids diagnosis?

Expanding our imaginative universes to include queerness, not as redemptive panacea, but merely as one aspect of identity, personality, often in vicious conflict with others. Even! as we consider those stories equally worthy of being told feels vital if we're ever to truly express the complexity of what queer humanity looks like.

[kazenorth]

He wants you to unhand him this instant >:(

[gd-dollopole]

Merlin witnessed how women acted his entire life, and realised they’re just as humans and they’re just as different.

If we really need to find a definition, he was definitely always opened minded. He knew everyone was different, because he was different to begin with, and accepted any sort on new person coming in his life, all types of women, from magical ones to farmers to warriors to nobles, from his friends soon knighted, to more common citizens and ladies of the court, to Morgana, Gwen and even Morgause, who Merlin didn’t find strange at all that she wanted to fight in armour and against Arthur, of all people, because Merlin’s just a silly, little guy from a small village with one of the most rebellious person ever as a friend, and a single woman as a mother.

Which means:

the way Merlin decided to act once he aged himself into The Dolma, was all his doing, and he decided to do it in that way, and it is unbelievably amazing😭.

Merlin decided The Dolma should have worn a dress; he decided she should have had an high pitched voice.

IT WAS MERLIN who decided The Dolma should have flirted with Arthur, and gesture with her hands like that, because to Merlin, if he had to be a woman, then he would have been still himself, still sassy, but also elegant, and outright flirty with everyone, just with a different appearance.

He did not care in the slightest? Like, that’s what gets me. He was more tired of having to hide, than having to pretend to be a woman. I know he was enjoying himself, I just do.

Which means Merlin wanted to flirt with Arthur, but realised he could have done it only by being a woman. I love how he was able to keep his character and just… Didn’t change anything of himself.

It’s like, each time he pretends to be Dragoon or The Dolma, he can let out those things about him that he can’t show otherwise.

For him, there were no rules to follow, and the way he tells Arthur and Mordred that he wanted a man by his side for protection, because she’s an old woman, oh my god, that is hilarious, and it makes me laugh each time.

“Oh, the gangly boy.”

Merlin described himself as a gangly boy😭I can’t do this. I love The Dolma. I love Dragoon The Great.

I love Merlin. He has so much imagination, it’s unbelievable.

[youhavethesun]

the thing about Ryan is that it is physically impossible for him to drink anything without being confused. the two go hand in hand for him. he cannot be holding a glass, mug or cup without his face automatically turning to 🤨

[yyenky]

[jun-hug]

I'm reading hunger games for the first time and I just finished second book do not talk to me

[rowdyluv]

he is like a kitten who just got the zoomies at 3am and then realizes he woke you up

totally not a real life caption situation