#youre lazy and youre gay?

[maxxifer]

POV: the boys are judging you

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

Need a story where Arthur is a ghost who follows Merlin around all day and only in dreams can he communicate and touch Merlin. But to Merlin, he thinks it's not real that he's imagining the Arthur in his mind because no way would Arthur, his golden King would ever call him precious or beautiful, it's just wishful thinking on his part.

So Merlin lives a long life without knowing Arthur is there with him, this time it's Arthur's turn to watch and protect Merlin from the shadows as the warlock once did when Arthur was alive.

Arthur could've stayed in Avalon til he was needed yet the urge to return to Merlin is powerful, although he entrusted the care of Camelot into the hands of Guinevere and Leon he could not do the same of Merlin, and only upon his death did he finally realise why.

He was in love with his best friend. Always had been.

And so it is with great stubbornness and a helpful hand from Freya, whom he just found out was Merlin's first love, he frees himself from Avalon and returns as a spirit that guards Merlin's dreams from nightmares and fights off evil creatures that want Merlin's magic or wish to claim Merlin for themselves...and if some of those creatures happen to be humans who wanted to court Merlin well, he's not going to make it easy on them, on his knight's honour he will protect Merlin's virtue!

[nearlymello]

You know that gaydar TikTok account? Where somebody gets asked a ton of questions that determines if they're gay, straight or a homophobe. I feel like if L and Light went on it Light would get every question right and L would be silent and Light would be deemed gay just for knowing that much and L would be deemed gay for the way he fucking stands.

[jvnart]

Team Gai lazy* study day

Tysm @depressedhatakekakashi for all the support! This is just the first part of a little series of doodles for them :)

[kangaruthi]

harrow from semi-charmed kinda life which i love

[prokaryoticnaven]

been very out of tune with the concept of drawing as of late sooo heres this stupid doodle .i scincerely believe in the fictional non cannon world of cookie run that exists in my head that every ancient hero has been w white lily at some point LOL

[thatneoncrisis]

race as an element in fantasy stories will never not intrigue me btw i will always yap about the external choices and author makes affecting the internal machinery of text itself and how intentional any given off the cuff statement appears to be

[andywaslost]

ignore all logic

and grab my hand.

a dance with the devil

may be your last,

or maybe we stand

the test of time.

[heartofpromethea]

no excuse for this one just fag shit

[anotherartblock]

💎the fashionista💎 & 🍎the farmer🍏

[peceraynadamas]

These losers were sooo in love. They kissed soooo much. And held hands in the exorcist barracks soooo often.

I like to think being doomed by the narrative made them look at each other with such adoration.

New fallenwings drawing featuring my new outfit redesigns :). Working on it for a bit reignited my love for this ship so expect some more soon.

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

I think we all need to conjure the image of Merlin sitting on Arthur's lap whenever a princess/noblewomen comes along to woo Arthur. The mighty warrior, killer of bandit losers, sword twirly hand gesture guy, Crown Prince of Camelot just straight up panics and his natural reaction is to pull Merlin onto his lap and say he's gay for his manservant or throws Merlin over his shoulder and runs away, far away from the beautiful women.

My boi Merlin however wonders why Arthur doesn't just court someone already and stop trying to get him in trouble with Uther or his Uncle Gaius who keeps his fluffy caterpillar eyebrow in constant doom mode; Merlin is not in the mood to deal Arthur's romantic inability nonsense and people thinking he and Arthur are together when they're obviously not.

Seriously they're not together...they both protest loudly as Arthur holds a pantless manservant wearing a loose and very familiar red tunic whilst the prince himself is shirtless and the laces on his breeches are untied.

Definitely not fucking together.

[horiizonsstuff]

another yaoi dump ho—💥💥💥

oh and uh my silly designs of their summer madness counterparts cuz i binged the whole show, give me more nEOWWW

[losver07]

was working on my wip and realised this scene is so wolfstar coded so ummm here ya go (sorry in advance for the awful translation lol)

also this is veeery long so i'm putting most of it under the cut

tw: mention of death, harsh(ish) lenguage

★

"Then came the ambulance and the police,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed somewhere in the room, mind showing him once again the image of Sirius' tired smile. "They gave me a blanket. I felt stupid in it."

John, observing him with deep eyes, full of compassion, nods. Remus figures he can't show it, the pity. That it's part of his job not being able to say Oh, you poor thing and that, instead, he must be professional. And it's not that John is bad at it, at hiding what he thinks; it's just the eyes.

It's impossible to lie with one's eyes. Sirius' always shine, even if he insists on wearing the blackest clothes.

Shined. Not anymore. And he doesn't dress in black anymore, it's Remus who has to mourn now, instead of him. And for him.

"How are you feeling?" the psychologist asks, and Remus makes an effort not to cry.

"I don't know," he answers, honest. He doesn't know what words to use. "Bad."

Not enough. John gestures at him to keep talking, to elaborate. He always does that. It's cruel.

Remus looks down at a ring he takes off his finger, and proceeds to watch it turn in his hands as he fidgets with it. It was Sirius'. Everything he owns was either his or reminds him of him in some way. Even the smallest of things, the silliest of details.

If only he could get rid of it all. If only he knew that'd make him forget.

"It's like I don't really believe this is real,” he says, without lifting his gaze from the steel ring. It's carved in a checkered pattern, a chess board that extends and hugs the owner's finger like a ribbon. It's not excessively visible but, if you brush your finger against the metal, you can feel the shapes against your skin, kissing your fingertips like he once did. That feels like so long ago, though. “I... I'm sad, obviously, but also angry. I think it was selfish of him."

Before it had been his, Sirius', the ring had belonged to Regulus. It had been silver then. Sirius turned it into steel when he'd received it from his brother, who got it from their father, whose father had gifted him it, and so on. It must be hundreds of years old.

"Selfish?"

He'll probably ask to be buried with it. If it's not worn on his left hand, it will be trapped on a chain around his neck.

"Yeah, I dunno," he shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain himself. He knows how he feels, he just finds it difficult to believe that anyone could understand it. He tries anyway. "He's gone and he's left us all here as if we didn't have enough problems of our own," he says. "Like, now I have to be myself, which is already tough enough, and also be him for James and Peter and Harry and... Oh, God, Harry..." He shuts his eyes. He needs to breathe. He closes his hand over the ring, and looks at John. "But I need him too. And I don't have him. I don't have anyone to treat me like he did. So, I don't know."

The therapist nods again. When he started the sessions, Remus thought it was weird that John didn't take any notes, like in the movies. It might sound stupid, but he imagined someone constantly writing on a notepad, making a record of every word that came out of his mouth.

It turns out John only uses his notebook to write dates and appointments down; that he actually listens to what he says, instead of analysing every sentence as if it were a mathematical problem.

He's been lucky, and he knows it. At least in this, he's been lucky.

"Do you feel responsible for what happened?" He asks, and Remus thinks about it for a second. Now that the unease has lessened, he's left with just the cold on the tip of his nose and the metal on his fingers. He misses hugging Sirius on cold days like this one.

"Yes," he answers. No point in lying.

John stares at him. Elaborate, he's probably thinking. He always looks at him like that when he wants to make Remus talk.

"I'm the one who was supposed to take care of him," he says then. "And, instead of that, what I did was use him to make him help me with my shit. And even after he's gone I'm still whining about him not being here to give me cuddles. I don't know. Maybe I'm the one who's being selfish.

The psychologist, whose diploma is Remus now observing, makes a face.

"Wanting love is not selfish, Remus," he says, so soft and kind it almost makes Remus feel small, vulnerable and about to break. Or already broken.

"But taking the love away from someone and keeping it to yourself is," he objects.

"You think that's what you did? Taking the love from him?"

"I don't know," he says, and before John can ask him to explain, he continues: "I think maybe if I'd made things right he'd still be here."

The air is still for a few seconds, both in the room and in the street across the window, as well as inside of Remus' lungs, who holds his breath in an attempt to make the ache on his chest go away. It doesn't work.

"It wasn't your fault that he suffered," Josh tells him, but he's been told so many lies he doesn't need to think to detect the lie.

"But it was that he didn’t stop suffering," he tells Mr Too Good For Taking Notes. He should've had that noted. "I should've done something. It's what I'd to have done."

John, wanting to understand but being apparently incapable of it, furrows his brows a bit. The expressions only last a second, and is not even that exaggerated, but Remus sees it anyway. The doubt.

"You think it was your purpose?" He asks. He acts interested. Sometimes he almost even makes Remus forget that he's paid for what he does. That he wouldn't be there if it weren't for the money. That he's got better things to do than...

"Helping him?" Remus asks, trying not to sound too aggressive, but probably failing. "Yes."

"And do you think you were, say, destined to save him?"

"Yes," he agrees. A bit cheesy his personal taste, but, yes, that's what he believes. Why lie, if he's not going to write it down, even.

"But, if it was destiny, how could you have avoided it?"

That feels like a boot to the stomach. He doesn't quite know wether it confuses him or it makes him angry but, either way, he doesn't know what to answer. Perhaps not having thought of it earlier is what irritates him and puts him, once again, in front of a mirror in which a disappointment shines.

He thinks for a bit. Then speaks.

"Trying harder," he says. "Being better."

"No, Remus; is not about trying," his confidant tells him, with a smile that could either indicate complicity or compassion. "You did all that you could, and more. And, still, you couldn't change it, nor can you now."

For some reason, that hurts. Rather, it stings. Both in his open wounds and his sore eyes.

"And what do I do?" He asks. His voice doesn't seem to want to know the answer, as it doesn't cooperate in making itself heard. He swallows and takes a deep breath, letting Sirius' ring slide back into his finger, where it should always have stayed.

"Think about what you did achieve," John offers, so careful it seems almost meticulous. "You made him happy for a time, you gave him peace. You made him feel safe, too. Confident. You helped each other. That's good."

"But he's dead," Remus says. He's not sure he's used that word since it happened. It's not likely, seeing how much it hurts pronouncing it. He's spent over a month circling around and avoiding one of those damned words, the ones that feel like mines in an already ruined field. He presses his lips and looks at John, cheeks wet with rivers of salty water. "That's bad."

"Yes," the therapist agrees. "That is bad."

[daniel-is-me]

bruh

am I gay

@lilacflowersss specifically because I need to weaponozem ijbiwh o

yo

pl[

yo what

[rainbowresurrection]

Kinda got a love/hate relationship with the history of K/S because it's like. Can I please have a queer discussion about this 1960s television show without it being reduced to "shipper discourse". I thought Spock and Kirk were homo long before I knew that their characters spawned a fanfiction counterculture. The bisexual dude who wrote the episode that really kick-started the movement didn't know it was going to coalesce into the fan phenomenon that it did, he was just writing what he knew how to write best: the repression of burning male desire, and two dudes doing homoerotic shit. Can I just talk about the repressed burning male desire please, and the implications of a gay angle to Kirk and Spock's story, without it being referred to as shipper discourse. Can I do that. Does this make sense