This shit's relevant to my interests. Also my life, sometimes. I'm a fanboy with the sensibilities of a fangirl. Also to be found here is slash, genderfuckery, lots of swearing, some creepy shit, and some political shit. I'm shit at tagging things, although I certainly make use of the tags for snarking. I reblog my art and stories from my artblogs, linked below, although I sometimes post it here by accident. (When I do reblog them, the tags are 'look i drew a thing' and 'look i wrote a thing' respectively.)

Fandoms include, but are certainly not limited to: Kingdom Hearts, Skyfall, the Slender Man mythos, Welcome to Night Vale, and NBC's Hannibal, though not in that order. Fun fact: I am always up for recommendations! If you know a horror movie, a fantasy/sci-fi novel, a band, whatever, you think I might dig, please let me know! Bonus points for a queer subplot, extra bonus points for no romantic subplot, negative points for a cis-het subplot (although I might check it out anyway).

Feel free to call me out if I do something offensive, I won't bite, promise. (I'll probably squeal in terror, apologise profusely, and promise to never do it again.) I try to watch myself, but sometimes I fuck up without realising it. If you catch me fucking up without realising it, please do let me know.

 

bonearenaofmyskull:

I love this so much. I love that Hannibal wasn’t just randomly sitting there and missing Will occasionally, that he kept the appointment time open, so he sat there REGULARLY for WEEKS, looking across at that empty chair, longing for the day Will would fill it again, feeling Will’s silence like a draft.

And Will KNEW it, he KNEW Hannibal would be there waiting, just as the two had always known where to find the other without the need to call ahead, no matter the distance and inconvenience between them, that compulsion to find the other that sent Hannibal to Quantico when Will was 30 seconds late for THIS SAME appointment, bypassing Wolf Trap because he knew Will wouldn’t be there, that same compulsion that sent Will to Hannibal’s home, knowing he’d be there and not at his office, when Will had to drive a hour in the snow to unburden himself.

And while Hannibal faithfully waited for Will all those nights, he’d no reason to believe Will would show up now; Will had been free for days and left him waiting. Will had been to his home and almost killed him, and Will had left, silent and still angry, so that when that knock came on the door of his office, Hannibal did a double take at his own appointment book, even though he knew damn well what time it was. And he opened the door and there Will stood, just as he’d always stood, in the center of the waiting room and facing away—no need to sit when he knew Hannibal would never keep him waiting—demonstrating such trust that only giving someone your back can demonstrate, especially knowing the violence Hannibal is capable of. He had a confidence in their relationship even Hannibal is no longer sure he can give Will anymore, not now that Will is becoming what Hannibal always knew was in him to become, and in so buying that transformation, Hannibal may have cost himself the friendship that had become dearer to him than anything, because Will was dearer to him than anything, even when he believed Will was not a murderer after all.

But here Will is back, the same and not the same, their friendship is back, the same and not the same, and Hannibal himself is back, the same and not the same. “You changed me,” Will says, and Hannibal replies, “The friendship we had is over. The Chesapeake Ripper is over.” 

He gave it up for Will—not killing, not who he is—but his very favorite expression of who he is. He had been consumed by frustration and outrage when someone took credit for his Ripper killings previously, and here he goes and just gives the credit away—and to a man he doesn’t even respect—all for Will, so he can fill that silence in his life and bestill that cold and empty draft.

"The Chesapeake Ripper is over," he says to Will. You changed me too

pandarican:

blueklectic:

thegoddess-afrodite:

thegoddess-afrodite:

thekrissychula:

Pet Peeves: Men Who Are Uncomfortable With Their Sexuality

Yall work fast

Few things:

1. Your tresses look magnificent

2. Your skin is radiating with the glow of cousin Beyonce’s aura. 

3. You deserve an award for that eye roll of yours

Wait! 

4. I love you!!!

Millie loves and supports me. I’m blessed

her videos are the best

(Source: youknowyouwantsit)

A white girl wore a bindi at Coachella. And, then my social media feeds went berserk. Hashtagging the term “cultural appropriation” follows the outrage and seems to justify it at the same time. Except that it doesn’t.

Cultural appropriation is the adoption of a specific part of one culture by another cultural group. As I (an Indian) sit here, eating my sushi dinner (Japanese) and drinking tea (Chinese), wearing denim jeans (American), and overhearing Brahm’s Lullaby (German) from the baby’s room, I can’t help but think what’s the big deal?

The big deal with cultural appropriation is when the new adoption is void of the significance that it was supposed to have — it strips the religious, historical and cultural context of something and makes it mass-marketable. That’s pretty offensive. The truth is, I wouldn’t be on this side of the debate if we were talking about Native American headdresses, or tattoos of Polynesian tribal iconography, Chinese characters or Celtic bands.

Why shouldn’t the bindi warrant the same kind of response as the other cultural symbols I’ve listed, you ask? Because most South Asians won’t be able to tell you the religious significance of a bindi. Of my informal survey of 50 Hindu women, not one could accurately explain it’s history, religious or spiritual significance. I had to Google it myself, and I’ve been wearing one since before I could walk.

We can’t accuse non-Hindus of turning the bindi into a fashion accessory with little religious meaning because, well, we’ve already done that. We did it long before Vanessa Hudgens in Coachella 2014, long before Selena Gomez at the MTV Awards in 2013, and even before Gwen Stefani in the mid-90s.

Indian statesman Rajan Zed justifies the opposing view as he explains, “[The bindi] is an auspicious religious and spiritual symbol… It is not meant to be thrown around loosely for seductive effects or as a fashion accessory…” If us Indians had preserved the sanctity and holiness of the bindi, Zed’s argument for cultural appropriation would have been airtight. But, the reality is, we haven’t.

The 5,000 year old tradition of adorning my forehead with kumkum just doesn’t seem to align with the current bindi collection in my dresser — the 10-pack, crystal-encrusted, multi-colored stick-on bindis that have been designed to perfectly compliment my outfit. I didn’t happen to pick up these modern-day bindis at a hyper-hipster spot near my new home in California. No. This lot was brought from the motherland itself.

And, that’s just it. Culture evolves. Indians appreciated the beauty of a bindi and brought it into the world of fashion several decades ago. The single red dot that once was, transformed into a multitude of colors and shapes embellished with all the glitz and glamor that is inherent in Bollywood. I don’t recall an uproar when Indian actress Madhuri Dixit’s bindi was no longer a traditional one. Hindus accepted the evolution of this cultural symbol then. And, as the bindi makes it’s way to the foreheads of non-South Asians, we should accept — even celebrate — the continued evolution of this cultural symbol. Not only has it managed to transcend religion and class in a sea of one-billion brown faces, it will now adorn the faces of many more races. And that’s nothing short of amazing.

So, you won’t find this Hindu posting a flaming tweet accusing a white girl of #culturalappropriation. I will say that I’m glad you find this aspect of my culture beautiful. I do too.

Why a Bindi Is NOT an Example of Culture Appropriation 

by Anjali Joshi

(via breannekiele)

tio-trile:

I was saying last time if you want to see someone eating inelegantly take them to the Boiling Crab

kart0ffel:

graysonmccoy:

I DIDNT EVEN NOTICE HIm AT FIRST I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST ANOTHER PRETTY CHEERLEAder 

he’s the prettiest cheerleader of the all

kart0ffel:

graysonmccoy:

I DIDNT EVEN NOTICE HIm AT FIRST I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST ANOTHER PRETTY CHEERLEAder 

he’s the prettiest cheerleader of the all

(Source: makemelaughblog)

blinkingkills:

dueantenneverdi:

Hannibal 2x8 su-zakana

you know, when people tell you its ok to be weird and don’t let anyone shame you for being you, i don’t think they meant it quite like that, hannibal.

blinkingkills:

dueantenneverdi:

Hannibal 2x8 su-zakana

you know, when people tell you its ok to be weird and don’t let anyone shame you for being you, i don’t think they meant it quite like that, hannibal.