Fast Sketch. Smooch!

Fast sketch. Smooch! 😊🦄

can we talk for a moment about how romantic and heartbreaking the catacombs scene in primavera is?

will, who has traveled all the way to italy just to find hannibal, is searching for him in these catacombs, desperate to see him, rounding each corner hoping that hannibal will be there standing in front of him

and hannibal, hiding in the shadows, chose to follow will, also hoping to catch another glimpse of him

but then will calls out hannibal’s name and the sound of will’s voice/ hearing will saying his name just stops hannibal in his tracks. like, there are few things in the world that have the power to cause hannibal to feel strong emotions like this and we’re reminded here that will’s voice and presence is one of them 

will knows hannibal is there and his presence is enough to bring him some hope and comfort after feeling so abandoned and alone

he knows hannibal is listening and says ‘i forgive you’, even after all he’s done to him, which might as well have been him saying ‘i love you’ imo

but hannibal, still heartbroken, can’t face him and slips away. leaving will once again feeling alone, draining him of the brief hope and comfort he just felt. i mean, you can see the heartbreak on will’s face…

even though they never actually see each other and not much is said, there’s so much that happens and it’s one of my favorite hannigram moments that isn’t talked about enough

pop culture intertextuality is just so damn *fascinating*

today a parody movie (50 shades of black) comes out, based on the 50 shades of grey movie, which was based on the 50 shades book, which was based on twilight, which was somewhat based on interview with the vampire (which anne rice based on an earlier short story she wrote), which was based on Dracula and other vampire stories, which originally came from Dr. John Polidori’s The Vampyre (even though Vampires were a thing in folk tales before then, he was the one who made them all classy, etc.)

so really, like so many things, this is all Lord Byron’s fault.

Ask Me in the Morning

(read on ao3)

Eddie was tired.

A good tired - one that ached in muscles worked well, that promised a good long sleep as soon as went horizontal, that left him loose and boneless and just about willing to do anything for a pillow and a blanket - but tired nonetheless.

He was just pulling up to the house, the night around him having settled in a good couple of hours ago - blanketing the narrow streets of LA in golden lamp light and swathes of deepening shadows.

It took a long couple of moments to convince his aching body that getting inside was indeed the best option he had right now, but he managed it. Eventually.

He opened the door quietly, listening for a moment before ducking inside and shutting the door just as quietly behind him.

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Why are you crying?