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#“I WILL marry you!”
doodle17 · 2 months
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you should draw raz and lili meeting as fucked up looking toddlers /nf
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eeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
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starcurtain · 1 month
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Please someone redraw this with Dr. Ratio and Aventurine because this is the exact vibe they have in my head post-Penacony.
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kenm4vhs · 8 months
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sorry for the noise that’s just me barking
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sourscratched · 6 months
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quick comix of the little creatures
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steviesbicrisis · 6 months
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To me it’s the fact that Steve assumed Robin had a license but still woke up 3 hours before his work shift to drive her to school everyday.
That is not a plot hole everybody, that is just the kind of person Steve Harrington is.
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camembri · 4 months
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you wanted zoro to be on whole cake island to fulfil your weird desire to see zoro punish sanji. I wanted zoro on whole cake island because I think he's stupid enough to right place wrong time the plan and accidentally marry Sanji in full view of the whole wedding party in what becomes the most elaborately constructed comedy of errors ever written. we are NOT the same.
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tobydoeswrite · 12 days
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Madney 🤝 Buddie
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pinkgibbon · 2 months
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anton chigurh goes to stardew valley
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gauloiseblue · 2 months
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This is Price. You can't change my mind
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fakemichaelsheen · 6 months
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-the bookshop-
aziraphale: *pacing*
crowley: *enters*
aziraphale, exasperated: where have you been?
crowley, confused: I thought you said-
aziraphale: I need your help
crowley, suspicious: okay…
aziraphale, wringing his hands: whilst you were gone, mr brown visited and he…well, he made it clear he wanted to…take me out on a date
crowley, bitter: I see
aziraphale, clears his throat: I, um, to get out of it I-I told him……..you’re my husband
crowley, raises his eyebrows: you did what?
aziraphale, flustered: I panicked! I didn’t know what else to say. he was rather persistent
crowley: so what…we have to act like we’re married around him?
aziraphale, dismissive: oh, I wouldn’t worry. I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon
mr brown, enters: hey mr fell-
aziraphale: *grabs crowley’s face and kisses him*
mr brown, coughs: err, sorry to interrupt…
aziraphale, lets crowley go: oh, sorry, mr brown, we didn’t see you there
mr brown, awkward: yeah just…forgot my hat
crowley, dazed: do you want to stay for dinner?
aziraphale, hisses: crowley!
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contact-guy · 4 months
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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.
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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
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laniidae-passerine · 2 years
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fantastic mr fox says something about fatherhood that’s batshit insane and I don’t think the movie actually knows it’s saying it. it just takes you by the shoulders and makes you look square in its eyes and goes “some men should never have been fathers. they are. and they love their children deeply. and they try so very hard. but that doesn’t mean they should have been fathers.” and then just gets up and leaves you with that like you’re meant to be okay afterward
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Something deeply Freudian tells me that if Aegon had come out looking like that (i.e. looking like Alicent photocopied herself) the entire dance would have been avoided because Rhaenyra would have agreed to marry him SO fast.
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ditzybat · 2 months
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j’onn, who’s been watching one too many sitcoms with m’gann, seeing bruce and clark exhibit mannerisms similar to that of on screen couples: ah yes, they are married.
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nill-from-nileve-nevy · 3 months
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The scene that made me see red:
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Me at the height of my anger:
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Me when I calmed down and came back to my senses:
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I hope this was painful, Prego.
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