Is graves gay
This year's pride month is just around the corner and Riot Games is once again kicking things off in style in Runeterra by offering League of Legends players the chance to get their hands on more imagine skins. This time around, it appears partners in crime Twisted Fate and Graves will be taking the rainbow coloured spotlight.
The pair, who in fanon are considered "bitter ex-lovers" following the Burning Tides event, currently own pride emotes on the PBE right now (via Reddit). These emotes demonstrate the pair embracing and holding hands in a similar vein to the Leona with Diana cosmetics last year.
These emotes are also accompanied by a series of Pengu-themed icons, in which these lovable little mascots carry aloft flags representing the lesbian, LGBT, pansexual, male lover, trans, bisexual, asexual, and non-binary communities.
While this content is on the PBE at the moment, the devs are currently taking feedback. Some contain argued that the names for the Twisted Fate and Graves emotes - Partners in Crime and Accepted - are too generic, while others include asked for more LGBTQIA+ flags to be added.
https://twitter.com/QuachWatch/status/1524141511054544896
This is the fifth year
Queer Places:
1929 East 90th Cleveland Cuyahaga Ohio
Ralph Graves (born Ralph Horsburgh; January 23, 1900 – February 18, 1977) was an American screenwriter, film director and actor who appeared in 93 films between 1918 and 1949.[1] Ralph Graves was an thespian in early Hollywood. He told historian Anthony Slide that he had an "unholy relationship" with actor Mack Sennett.
Born in Cleveland, Ohio, the son of John Harvey Horsburgh (1877–1954) and Lillian May Graves (1876–1965), Graves had already been cast in 46 films, half of them produced by Mack Sennett, before he wrote, directed, and starred in Swell Hogan in 1926. That film was produced by Howard Hughes, whose father had once supported the young thespian in the first stages of his career by placing him on the payroll of the Hughes Tool Organization between screen assignments, even though Graves never actually worked there. Graves and the younger Hughes met on the Wilshire Country Club golf course, and over lunch the actor pitched a film about a Bowery bum who adopts a toddler. The plot intrigued Hughes, who had a strong interest in Hollywood, and he invested $40,000 in the proposal. During filming he sat on the si
crow 🐦⬛ — do you assess graves gets hit on by men a lot like...
tw/ mentions of internalized homophobia
THIS MAN HAS TO BE AT LEAST BI. AT LEAST.
He gives energy of bi (or gay, depending on what you headcanon him) guy who didn’t know he liked men until it suddenly clicked one day—not an “oh” moment, but he’s like. “…jesus, that makes sense.”
Considering his environment, I don’t think it happens too often, but when it does, it catches graves off guard HEAVILY. I think sometimes he would yell—maybe stare in disbelief, but it’s likely he would pull them aside, gritting his teeth, lecturing them.. and maybe quietly cursing when he’s alone because he’s like “fuck, that was kinda nice… WHY DID IT FEEL NICE.”
tbh, i wouldn’t doubt that graves has internalized homophobia, especially being a dude who is hinted at creature born in the South of the USA due to his accent and linguistics (and the fact that he’s supposed to be the stereotypical american)
oblivious fucker, but when he finally realizes it, he doesn’t deny it, but he’s definitely like “….i
The
Hudson
Review
. . . the title of poet
Comes only with death.
—Robert Graves
Trying to think why we should still read Robert Graves, who can feel these days a minor if prolific writer, I shift to poems appreciate “The Face in the Mirror”:
Grey haunted eyes, absent-mindedly glaring
From wide, uneven orbits; one brow drooping
Somewhat over the eye
Because of a missile fragment still inhering,
Skin deep, as a foolish document of old-world fighting.
Crookedly broken nose—low tackling caused it;
Cheeks, furrowed; coarse grey hair, flying frenetic;
Forehead, wrinkled and high;
Jowls, prominent; ears, large; jaw pugilistic;
Teeth, few; lips, occupied and ruddy; mouth, ascetic.
I pause with razor calm, scowling derision
At the mirrored guy whose beard needs my attention,
And once more demand him why
He still stands ready, with a boy’s presumption,
To court the queen in her high silk pavilion.
It’s all there—the mythologizing of affectionate bordering on lunacy, the flat-out realism of a bloke who was once pronounced dead in battle and survived to