#so you know... they are not married.

[etirabys]

I feel worse eating monogamous animals. like... maybe that guy was married

[starcurtain]

Please someone redraw this with Dr. Ratio and Aventurine because this is the exact vibe they have in my head post-Penacony.

[lilislegacy]

piper: what’s a cute little thing that belongs to your partner and whenever you see it, it just reminds you that they’re yours

will, softly smiling: nico’s playing cards

nico: *trying not to blush*

leo: calypso’s threads. it comforts me to see them sitting on my table

calypso: *looking at him lovingly*

hazel, with heart eyes: frank’s bow. i always think of how handsome he looks when he shoots it

frank: *giving her heart eyes*

percy: annabeth’s fucking mile-long blonde hairs that i pull out of my buttcrack in the shower

annabeth: *evil cackling across the room*

[jadeluz-official]

Betelgeuse and Lydia's Wedding - Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

[perseruna]

a shard of ice & eternal flame

[theballadofmars]

I love how mqf's oficial description is something like: a good heart who wants to help others but then you read the novel and his reaction to lqg trapping ten infected men who are crying in panic is "great now I can start to work in my experiments with decomposed people to find a cure" and gets out a lot of needles, which makes the man cry even harder.

Even if we only get bits of the other Cang Qiong sect leader's we can reach the conclusion that no one there is normal, sqq is just biased.

[bertoyana]

X-MEN APOCALYPSE (2016)

+bonus:

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

[sesamestreep]

I really feel like one of the best details in “A Scandal in Bohemia” that I never see people fixate on enough is that the story starts with Watson stopping in to see Holmes at Baker Street on a complete whim, because he happens to see that he’s home (and Watson is now married and living elsewhere). Like he doesn’t send word first, he’s not invited, he just shows up and surprises Holmes. Which is not that weird but then Holmes is like “oh good, I’ve got a case anyway, you might as well hang out!” which just makes it funnier when the King shows up and is like “I’d really rather speak to you alone, actually” and Watson tries to leave and Holmes is just like “anything you can say to me, you can say to my best friend John Watson, and if you ask him to leave, I would consider it a grave insult, you would be my enemy and I will not help you ever!!” And the king is like “…ok” and just moves on.

like, that is crazy behavior. Holmes is talking about how there’s probably lots of money in this case, and then almost turns away the client for…not knowing who the fuck Watson is?? He’s not even supposed to be there?? He just came to say hi?? “It is both or none”… girl, GET UP.

[electoons]

I love the college of winterhold. everyone there is casually deranged and there's like an alarming number of students and staff who threaten you immediately when they meet you. it's always one of the first questlines I do. which makes it even funnier when you get made the arch-mage of the college. I'm level 12 and got through this questline knowing exactly 3 spells. what do you mean you want me to lead the college. this school CANNOT be an accredited institution

[mochiobonio]

" swim with me, my hylian "

[skyrigel]

Simon who's an attention whore. You cooking? So he's clinging on to your neck, grabbing away that spatula and kissing you giddy. You on work ? So he's leaning against the wall, brooding and whining and mewing. You out with your friends? He's sending that Little scratch he got, captioned with, “need kissies now”, he lowkey wants your fuckin' attention all the damn time and he's so shameless about it.

[constarlations]

Pokémon Timeskip Series: Battle Legend Lyra 🍒🍂

One of the two Johto-Kanto champions, Lyra is best known for her bright and cheery down to earth attitude both on and off the battle field! She likes to travel ALOT you can find her in coffee shops in Kalos or surfing the waves in Alola or just about anywhere with her Fiancé, Silver by her side and never turns down a challenge to a good battle (even if she accidentally sweeps the other person’s team whoops) Her favorite drink is boba tea, her birthday is March 4th, she has a crippling gatcha AND otome addiction, and is 165 cm tall but that’s all for text no one is gonna read aaaaaa-

Drew out my timeskip Lyra due to me wanting to update a few things in regards to her design (can’t believe it’s been almost two years since my timeskip designs HELP) but I hope you enjoy!

Twitter Link

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[shrugsinchinese]

Tether Essence: for you to feel the entirety of my love

[hoshinasblade]

imagine being hoshina's girlfriend while being a third division officer as well deployed to neutralise a kaiju in a big part of the city. a yonju was about to pierce you with its sharp limb when hoshina intervened, effectively sparing you from harm but injuring himself at the same time - a stab in his upper torso, and since the attack is widespread, medics cannot reach your area immediately.

imagine cradling a wounded hoshina's head in your lap and you're scared shitless because the amount of blood hoshina seems to be losing by the second cannot be good. you touched his cold hand, terrifed that you may just lose him.

imagine hoshina on the verge of death and choosing that moment to propose you marry him. "i bought a ring, it's in the third drawer of my closet," he whispered through labored breaths. you asked him to shut up, to save his energy, to patiently wait with you until the medical officers arrive but that only spurned him more. "if i'm dying, i gotta ask now," he said, his stubbornness not fading despite the obvious pain he is trying to struggle through. "i love you so much. will you marry me?"