if you would like to use him you must ask me first!!!

anonymous asked:

Fanboys just make me angry and sad. My brother is one of them and he hates TFA with a passion, almost like he feels personally offended by it (he's an R1 and ESB fan). I LOVE TFA and he uses that against me to accuse me of having really bad taste in movies and not being a 'real' Star Wars fan. It just really gets me down because I can't even to explain to him why I love it in the first place, he just ends up talking over me like its only his opinion that matters.

Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that. That must be very frustrating and upsetting. I obviously can’t exactly intervene, but I will say this - be proud of your taste in media and don’t let anyone else tell you that your less of anything because you happen to like a movie that they don’t like. I personally think The Force Awakens is a far better film than Rogue One on almost all counts, but I would never use that opinion to say that people who prefer Rogue One are wrong. (And, incidentally, we have the weight of critical opinion to back us up on The Force Awakens being better - you can’t dispute Metacritic scores!)

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Gif source:  Hannibal

Imagine Hannibal asking you to marry him.

——— Request for anon ———

When you woke up that morning, the spot where he had been beside you was cold and empty, the only warmth lingering there being from the sunlight shining through the window onto the spot he’d once occupied. You stretched, unfazed by his absence. He did that sometimes, letting you sleep in, whenever he was in a good mood. You could tell this was one of those days because the smell wafting through the house was that of the breakfast that he must be cooking downstairs.

It’s only after you let out a contented moan, finishing your stretch, that you open your eyes to the room. The sunlight catches on the edge of something on the nightstand, drawing your eye towards the shine of a small, metal piece of jewelry that was currently being used as a paperweight to a small scrap of paper beneath it. At first, you think it must be something of Hannibal’s as you catch it in your peripheral vision, but as you look directly towards it, it becomes clear that it’s not a masculine piece of jewelry at all.

You slowly move towards it, crawling across the bed as your still sleepy mind tries to place just what the out-of-place piece of jewelry could be doing there. It’s only as you take it into your index and thumb finger, looking down at the paper beneath it, that it finally settles onto you just what the implication of it’s presence was.

It was an engagement ring with a single diamond encircled by the metal setting. It had to be at least two karats, if the sheer size of it was any indication. Yet, it wasn’t so big as to draw a ridiculous amount of attention. It was elegant, classic— two words Hannibal would take pride in hearing you say— yet it definitely made a statement as to his financial status, demanding recognition for its importance with every cut of the stone as it caught the light with each turn of it in your fingers.

It spoke to how much attention he’d put into the detail of choosing it, said all the things that he needed to say without actually uttering a single word. You slip it onto your ring finger, not surprised to find it was a perfect fit as you take another few minutes to admire just how right it looked on your finger, like it was the one thing you hadn’t known you were missing until now.

Finally, you read the letter. Two words that immediately had you smiling at how simple they were, followed by his elaborate signature right beneath them.

Marry me.