#[blending in poorly]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Your URL. Change it/j. It's inaccurate. You draw them so well istg- /lh/pos

Anyway, what woukd happen if Nie Huaisang gets a metal martial arts fan.. Do you think he would finally whoop some ass instead of outsmarting them in extravagant fashion?

As cool as NHS kicking ass would be, he has his babygirl reputation to maintain.

[styusha-10]

Sherlock Holmes was an otherworldly creature indeed. I am no man of superstition, although I vaguely remember my grandmother’s tales of daione sìth. Holmes did not distinctly resemble any of the fair folk, these light, ethereally beautiful golden-haired men and women, and yet somehow he gave the same impression. His smooth, almost catlike movements reminded me of cait-sìth and, in all honesty, during investigations he often was the very picture of a predator pursuing the prey or cat playing with mice. I could easily imagine him in the highlands of my homeland, windy and boundless, as to my mind he had the soul of Scottish winds, but I also understood perfectly well that there was no place for him anywhere except in London, hustling and bustling and pulsating with life, crimes and mysteries.

He was not completely detached from the human world, basically having an excellent understanding of human affections, related to the motives of crimes, such as love or envy, though his knowledge clearly came from prolonged observation rather than from personal experience. He was wise enough to seek my aid when something eluded his understanding, which I prefer to consider as a sign of trust on his part.

He was too theatrical or too aloof at times — traits that I mostly attribute to the eccentricity inherent in genius. He also aged much more slowly than me, but this could easily be associated with our slightly spreading ages and his lack of habit of taking anything too personally, which I am often guilty of. Although in the decade we knew each other, I turned almost half gray, and he remained largely the same, except for a couple of new wrinkles and heavier bags under his eyes.

His voice was the voice of a siren or ben-varrey and he had a natural gift of instantly capturing the attention of everyone in the room with the help of said voice and some kind of internal magnetism, which made people instinctively trust him and obey him.

And yet my favourite of his many noble traits I dedicated myself to immortalise was perhaps his benevolence. With such a mind, such power, it would be too easy to use it for evil, something we had unfortunately seen too many times. His gaze on me which I felt quite often was never heavy or insolent and had not ever bothered me. Clients — those at least who seemed nice and did not irritate him immediately — he treated with kind patience, amiable interest and generous if sometimes mannered hospitality, being rude not out of intention to offend, but simply out of his energetic, eccentric nature.

“I am afraid I have accidentally enchanted you, my dear friend", he suddenly said, somewhat sadly and apologetically, one quiet evening on Baker Street. “That kind of devotion that you show to me cannot be expected from any man under normal circumstances.”

“That kind of devotion,” I thought to myself ruefully later that night, “has nothing in common with sidhe’s enchantments.”

This is my first attempt to capture Jeremy Brett's magnificence, and I feel like I haven't done him justice, so there will probably be other takes. Also first attempt in publishing something on Tumblr and nearly first — in writing in English, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Following a long and good fandom tradition, I consider Watson to be Scottish, hence the writing of almost all the creatures mentioned in Scots.

The cat-sith, whose existence I learned about unacceptably late and did not change anything much, is hunting in the Scottish wastelands. It has an unhealthy addiction to corpses, so it is recommended to distract him with games and riddles, as well as warmth. Doesn't remind you of anyone? However, while writing, I mostly thought about the classic sidhe, adjusted for, uh, almost everything.

I don't know myself whether he is a magical creature, think what you want. To be honest, being portrayed as a magical creature seems unfair to Holmes as a character — part of his charm for me is precisely the fact that he is human, an outstanding human being.

[secretsimpleness]

Storytime, when I started a second playthrough it was mainly because I craved sudoku. Female Ryder (custom), Scott Ryder / Mass Effect Andromeda (c) Bioware

[seance]

just know that behind every gifset you see, there's a gifmaker who got mad as hell trying to adjust/color correct an awfully dark yellowish-green filter slapped on top of your favorite show, and still they persevered

[trashart00]

I saw a screenshot of Monarch where he looked like some sort of surfer dude… so I decided to draw that… as a joke… AS. A. JOKE.

3 hours later:

(S5E1-S5E3 doesn’t put Gabriel in the basement. it’s not afraid of his shine. it lets him bejeweled.)

[darlingdesiredelicious]

((You know how some vampires in fiction have retractable fangs

Kinda sucks it doesn't seem bg3 vampires have that lmao. Even if they could tho I feel like that's the least obvious feature that gives them away))

[t-u-i-t-c]

Inu Brother → One Gif Per Episode (41-50)

[wurm-food]

unstyled and crooked horns idc, but I do not hate this Power wig??? 💥

[ilhoonftw]

one of my favorite jokes to make is seeing idols with poorly done extensions and saying 'omg their hair stylist must hate them'

also seeing meh stage outfits and saying 'they gotta be terrible to work with no one who likes their client would make them wear such poorly made all ill-fitting outfit' to be fair there's a seniority/popularity level that celebs achieve and stop relying in stylist and just wear what they like. but when outfit isn't well received, they blame the stylist (who just sourced whatever clothes the celeb wanted...)

[luminessdoodles]

Here's Umber without his jacket ! I only have a few markers with me at college rn so pretend he has light skin + his pants and tie are a nice RSA blue

[cheerfulmelancholies]

I love this idea! The last pic is my favorite. I wonder what they're thinking.

🐙

[fangsandsoftgrass]

Sarisa Rothalen: "it's illegal to sell imports from the Dominion and Covenant here."

Cirwedh, who's been pretending she's a severely stunted Nord this whole time because she didn't want to find out what the reaction to her being a Bosmer would have been, so she's been covering every inch of her skin and wearing a glamoured hood:

[sent1pede]

i was trying to find a new pfp but instead found the worst image

[existentialflirt]

You know, I think the reason why tofu isn't a thing (In America? I'm speaking as an American. I know it's at least considered a viable protein in other countries and regions of the world) is cos no one can fucking it cook it properly. I have yet to have it made well at a restaurant. It's either too dry and chewy or barely more than a warmed up chunk of bean curd. Just had some General Tso's made with tofu and it was the most disgusting thing I've ever had. Honestly, I wish I'd just gotten a proper vegetable dish. (And you know it pisses me the fuck off, cos being a vegetarian or vegan is nothing new at this point. It shouldn't be a thing that dining out anywhere is this fucking ordeal. I understand not wanting to necessarily mess with the plant based shit, and frankly I'm not too impressed when I pay for someone to fry me up some impossible or beyond whatever, like bro, I can do that at home. But idek, there's a lot you can do with beans.)

[mayfly-maycry]

Hussie excels at creating character voices, and the world building of Sburb is so complex and yet he still managed to juggle it without contradicting himself. At least, until he didn’t.

homestuck is so well written too bad it's badly written

truer words have never been spoken

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know.

She sat with the 3-month-old baby girl. Every time she looked at her she saw His eyes, the eyes of the father of her child that had no idea she existed. A perfect blend of the two, but like her father the most recognizable feature was her eyes. Carrying her mother's soft and feminine features, while having her father's gaze.

She was standing in the kitchen of her two-bedroom apartment preparing to pump her full, plump breasts as her daughter slept soundly in a playpen nearby. Thinking of her daughter had become second nature to her, which meant that her thoughts only revolved around her daughter from the moment she found out she was pregnant. Although she was struggling as a single mother, she did not hold any resentment toward Simon. After all, he had no idea their daughter existed.

Simon was forced to leave for his work responsibilities. He knew he would be gone for a long time, it was a no-brainer that they would go their own separate paths. When her thoughts were not consumed by her daughter they were consumed by Him, she craved the closure, or support, or comfort that she knew he could bring her.

Interrupted. Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Her protective nature took over as she walked to the front door while holding a bottle in her right hand. Her heart sank the moment she looked through the peephole. "What is He doing here?" she thought before slowly swinging the door open.

His gaze immediately dropped to the pink bottle in her hand, "Why didn't you tell me?" he spoke, his voice was soft, yet it still held a slight tone of hostility. His accent was prominent, something she noticed would happen whenever he was emotional. His eyes looked drained, tired, and confused, but physically he looked as good as ever. His tall stature and wide frame cast a shadow over her significantly smaller build.

"Tell you what?" she said as her face flushed red and her heart pounded in her ears. Her ears also burning.

Simon walked into her apartment closing the door behind him, "You have never been a good liar". There it was, the exact gaze she saw in her daughter staring back at her in His body. That same gaze turned to his sleeping daughter in the pink playpen that was littered with stuffed animals and pink accents.

She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. Anger, frustration, joy, sadness -- it was evident that he was on a roller coaster.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he sighed running his hand through his thick blonde hair. She was stunned, but she didn't know if it was because he actually showed up, or if she was stunned because this was their first time standing in a room together as a family. "Who told you?" her voice came out soft, timid almost.

"Price, but that is beside the matter" he paused to take in the sight of his daughter. "Why didn't you contact me? I gave you my cell for emergencies... th-this is an appropriate reason to contact me." he now sounded frustrated with her. She was gripping the bottle in her hand still, unable to relax and let it go. Was he mad?

He wasn't. He approached her and gently took the bottle out of her hand -- he knew her better than anyone meaning that he knew that she reacted poorly to confrontation. "You're okay, Love" he spoke gently as he held her small hands in his, "Talk to me, please." he pleaded as he guided them to the nearby couch, making her take a seat. There was new sense of gentleness when he spoke. The shift came naturally to him as now he was fixated on protecting the mother of his child in all aspects. His thumbs massaged her wrists gently while he waited for her to find her words. Simon has always been patient, a quality she loved about him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only audible noise coming from the cooing sounds of their daughter. "Whenever you're ready, Love. I'm here to stay," he said with his warm hands still on her.