#I also need to practice buff might more

[sensei-twinkles]

This was just an excuse to practice carrying positions ehehehe…

And if anyone has fun ideas or just wants to talk Dadmight.. my dms and ask box are open, I’d love to talk with more people in this fandom you guys have been so nice 🥺

[solxamber]

Hello! I, unapologetically and shamelessly, love love loveeeee buff ladies, id like to see how the second-years, + leona, jack, malleus and vil react to the only female student of nrc that can also carry them no problemo, no sweat🤭🤭🤭

added Lilia in for funsies, hope you don't mind and thank you for waiting so long!!

Second Years + Leona, Jack, Vil, Malleus, Lilia x Buff! Fem! Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would initially view your incredible strength with disbelief and a hint of skepticism. The idea of someone so effortlessly strong, and a female student at that, would challenge the traditional rules and expectations ingrained in him.

When he finally witnesses you in action—whether it’s carrying something impossibly heavy or, worse, someone else—he’d stand frozen, staring with wide eyes and a flush creeping across his face. "That is… certainly impressive," he’d mutter, trying to regain his composure.

However, if you ever picked him up, he’d be a spluttering mess. “Unhand me this instant! This is entirely inappropriate!” he’d exclaim, his voice high-pitched with indignation.

Despite his protests, there’d be a tiny part of him that felt oddly reassured by your strength. After all, it’s not often someone can lift him with such care and ease.

Over time, Riddle would quietly admire your abilities, though he’d never outright say it unless pushed. His respect for you would deepen as he realized your strength isn’t just physical but also tied to your determined and confident nature.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s initial reaction to your strength would be a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant shrug, he’s used to the strong women back home, after all.

But the first time he actually saw you lifting something—or someone—effortlessly, his sharp eyes would narrow slightly, and a smirk would spread across his face. "Huh. Didn’t think herbivores came that strong," he’d comment lazily, though the glint of interest in his gaze would betray his amusement.

If you picked him up, however, the teasing would take a turn. “What do you think you’re doing?” he’d grumble, though he’d make no effort to get down. Instead, he’d lean back slightly in your arms, acting as though being carried was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re lucky I don’t care enough to make this a big deal," he’d mutter, but the flick of his tail would betray how much he actually enjoyed it.

Leona would respect your strength but wouldn’t openly praise it—he’d show his appreciation in subtle ways, like trusting you to handle difficult tasks or letting you take the lead in tough situations.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie would immediately see the practical benefits of your strength and wouldn’t hesitate to make jokes about it. "Oi, you’re like a walking moving service, huh? Betcha could carry all my shopping bags with one hand."

His tone would be playful, but there’d be genuine admiration behind his words. Seeing you carry heavy objects—or people—without breaking a sweat would make him stare in awe (just for a moment though!)

If you carried him, Ruggie would laugh even harder, playfully clinging to you. "Careful, don’t drop me, yeah? I got big dreams!"

While he might make light of the situation, there’d be a part of him that felt incredibly safe in your presence. He’d trust you more than he trusted most people, knowing you had the strength to protect and support not just him but anyone who needed it.

Over time, Ruggie would take pride in being your friend, often bragging to others about your incredible abilities.

Jack Howl

Jack would be one of the few people to respect your strength without a hint of doubt or hesitation. As someone who values physical fitness and discipline, he’d immediately recognize how hard you must have worked to achieve your abilities.

"You’re really strong," he’d say bluntly the first time he saw you in action, his tail wagging slightly as he observed you with admiration. Jack would likely ask to train with you, hoping to learn from your techniques and perhaps even find a friendly rival in you.

If you ever picked him up, Jack would be caught completely off guard. His ears would flatten, and he’d stammer, "W-what are you doing?! I can walk just fine!"

Despite his protests, he wouldn’t struggle too much, secretly marveling at how effortlessly you carried him. Afterward, he’d apologize for overreacting and thank you for helping him.

Jack would see you as a dependable ally and someone he could always count on, and he’d quietly admire the strength and determination you brought to every situation.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be utterly flustered by your strength, especially if he witnessed it firsthand. The logical part of him would be impressed—after all, having someone with your abilities on his side could be quite advantageous.

However, the more self-conscious part of him would struggle to process how effortlessly you could do something that would leave him winded. "You… certainly have an unusual amount of strength," he’d say, adjusting his glasses and avoiding your gaze.

If you ever carried him, Azul’s reaction would be a mix of mortification and grudging acceptance.

"W-what do you think you’re doing?! Put me down this instant!" he’d protest, but as he realized how steady and strong your hold was, his protests would fade into awkward silence.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and mumble a thanks, clearly embarrassed but oddly grateful.

Over time, Azul would grow to appreciate your strength and even rely on you in situations that called for it, though he’d always try to mask his dependence with formalities and business-like excuses.

Jade Leech

Jade would be thoroughly intrigued by your strength and composure, finding it a delightful surprise. "How fascinating," he’d murmur with a small smile, studying you intently.

He’d probably ask a few pointed questions about how you developed your abilities, though his tone would remain polite and composed. If he saw you carrying something—or someone—effortlessly, he’d remark, "You’re truly full of surprises."

If you picked him up, Jade would chuckle softly, seemingly unfazed. "My, my. I never thought I’d find myself in this position," he’d say, clearly amused.

He wouldn’t struggle or protest, instead observing the situation with keen interest.

Afterward, he’d tease you lightly about your strength but would also express genuine admiration, finding your abilities both impressive and endearing.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be absolutely ecstatic about your strength and would make it his mission to see how far he could push your limits.

"Shrimpy! Pick me up! Do it, do it, do it!" he’d exclaim, practically throwing himself at you. The first time you carried him, he’d laugh uncontrollably, flailing his legs and making exaggerated comments about how fun it was. "You’re the best! Strong Shrimpy is my favorite Shrimpy!"

Floyd would constantly pester you to carry him again, treating it like a game. While his enthusiasm might be overwhelming at times, it’d be clear that he genuinely admired your strength and found your abilities endlessly entertaining.

He’d also brag about you to anyone who’d listen, making it clear that he thought you were extremely interesting.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his bright smile lighting up even more as he watched you carry things—or people—around with ease.

"Wow, you’re amazing! I didn’t know you were so strong!" he’d say with pure excitement, clapping his hands together.

Kalim wouldn’t hesitate to shower you with praise and would likely ask if you could teach him a thing or two about how you became so strong.

Uf you ever picked him up, Kalim would laugh joyfully, throwing his arms around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is so much fun! You should carry me around more often!" he’d exclaim, his cheerful energy making it impossible not to smile.

Kalim would admire you deeply, not just for your physical abilities but also for your kind and easygoing nature.

He’d see you as a source of strength in every sense of the word and would look up to you as a close friend and role model.

Jamil Viper

Jamil’s initial reaction to your strength would be subtle surprise, though he’d quickly mask it with his usual calm demeanor. "Impressive," he’d remark with a slight nod, his sharp eyes studying you with curiosity.

Jamil would be intrigued by your abilities but wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, preferring to observe you quietly from a distance.

However, deep down, he’d feel a twinge of admiration for how effortlessly you carried yourself, both literally and figuratively.

If you picked him up, Jamil would tense immediately, his eyes widening as he muttered, "What are you doing? Put me down!" Though his tone might sound irritated, there’d be a faint blush on his cheeks, betraying his embarrassment.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and pretend nothing happened, though he’d secretly appreciate how strong and dependable you were.

Jamil would quietly respect your abilities and would come to see you as someone he could trust in times of need, even if he never outright admitted it.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil would be both impressed and intrigued by your strength, though he’d maintain his composed demeanor as he acknowledged it. "Well, aren’t you full of surprises," he’d say with a raised eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of approval.

Vil would appreciate your abilities as a testament to your dedication and discipline, though he might offer some teasing remarks about how you should ensure your strength doesn’t compromise your elegance.

If you picked him up, Vil’s reaction would be a mix of indignation and surprise. "Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?" he’d demand, though there’d be no mistaking the faint flush on his cheeks.

Once the initial shock wore off, he’d sigh and compose himself, commenting, "If you insist on doing something so bold, at least make sure you’re doing it gracefully."

Despite his protests, Vil would respect your abilities and admire how effortlessly you seemed to balance strength and confidence, though he’d rarely express his admiration openly.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus would be genuinely fascinated by your strength, his eyes lighting up with curiosity the first time he saw you in action. "You possess remarkable power," he’d say, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

As someone who values strength and capability, Malleus would immediately see you as someone worthy of respect and would likely seek out your company more often.

He’d find your abilities both impressive and endearing, particularly because they set you apart from others at NRC.

If you ever picked him up, Malleus would be surprised but not offended. Instead, he’d tilt his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he remarked, "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

He’d remain calm and composed, treating the situation as if it were entirely normal.

Afterward, he’d express his admiration for your strength more openly, likely sharing stories of powerful warriors from his homeland and how you reminded him of them.

Malleus would hold you in high regard, seeing you as a kindred spirit and a source of strength and stability.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his mischievous grin widening as he watched you in action. "Oh, how wonderful!" he’d exclaim, clearly impressed.

Lilia would find your abilities both fascinating and entertaining, and he’d likely tease you playfully about how you could easily carry anyone who needed it.

If you picked him up, Lilia would laugh heartily, clearly enjoying the experience. "How refreshing! It’s been centuries since someone carried me like this," he’d say, his tone light and amused.

Lilia would admire your strength not just for its physical aspect but also for how it reflected your determination and spirit.

He’d see you as someone truly special and would delight in telling stories of your (slightly exaggerated) feats to anyone who’d listen.

Silver

Silver would be quietly impressed by your strength, his calm demeanor remaining unchanged even as he watched you lift heavy objects—or people—with ease. "You’re incredibly strong," he’d remark simply, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

Silver wouldn’t make a big deal out of it but would silently respect your abilities, seeing them as a reflection of your dedication and resilience.

If you ever picked him up, Silver’s reaction would be surprisingly composed. "Oh," he’d say softly, blinking in mild surprise.

He wouldn’t protest or struggle, trusting you completely and even finding the experience oddly comforting. Afterward, he’d thank you sincerely, his admiration for you growing even stronger.

Silver would see you as a dependable and trustworthy ally, someone who could be relied upon in any situation.

Masterlist

[therealcocoshady]

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻���♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

[hopelesslyprosaic]

I feel like The Six Napoleons is one of the best Granada episodes, and part of why is, of course, That Scene.

By which of course I mean this one:

All genius, but of course, even more specifically, the bit starting at about 5:52. You know the scene I mean, and if you don't by all means watch it!

Honestly, it's an in-a-nutshell demonstration of the greatness of both canon and the Granada adaptation.

Here's the scene from the book:

“Well,” said Lestrade, “I’ve seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We’re not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand.” “Thank you!” said Holmes. “Thank you!” and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and practical thinker once more. “Put the pearl in the safe, Watson,” said he, “and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case. Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.”

And here's the dialogue from the show:

Lestrade: I’ve seen you handle a good many cases in my time, but I don’t know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than this. We’re not jealous of you, you know, at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand. Holmes: Thank you! Thank you! Would you get down the Conk-Singleton forgery case please, Watson? Goodbye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.

Not many differences! ACD knew what he was doing- he knew how to write a good yarn, he knew how to write good characters, and he knew how to write a good interaction. Granada wasn't filmed in canon order, so we don't get to see the progression of Holmes's relationship with Lestrade per se, but after a number of excellent, more "foiled again!" type Holmes-Lestrade interactions since A Study in Scarlet, ACD decided to do something cool and different here and pulled it off beautifully.

And when the director and writer of this Granada episode put this one together, they decided that the relationship between Holmes and Lestrade should be a focal point in this episode, and not only did they barely need to change a dang thing in the ending to do it, what small things they did change were all beautifully in the service of the tone of the original ending, taking advantage of the brilliant material they had to work with. I was just relistening to the excellent episode of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes Podcast discussing The Six Napoleons, and one of them points out that one of the few text changes is removing the word "very"- going from "we are very proud of you" to "we are proud of you." And it works so well- it accentuates the contrast with the previous suggested notion that they would otherwise be jealous, between what Holmes might have expected to hear (and, indeed, perhaps expected to WANT to hear) and the actuality, and how much more meaningful it turns out that is to Holmes.

The creators here- and I of course include the actors, as both Colin Jeavons and Jeremy Brett act the fuck out of this- are so smart with how they pull this off. They know that what they have on the page is gold, but they also know how they can buff it up for a stronger shine. They know that Brett will absolutely eat up all of ACD's stage directions about his response, he knows the character inside and out at this stage, so let's keep the scene the way it is and, instead, build the rest of the episode around setting up this scene in such a way that it will have maximum impact as written.

There is one thing that is added- and that's the handshake at the end, that Holmes offers to Lestrade. We don't know what happens after Holmes's final words in the story, but in the episode, the physical acting continues telling the story only implied in the text of the short story- Lestrade is a bit thrown by Holmes's reversion back to his old, casually cutting self, but rolls with it, only for Holmes to extend his hand to him. Lestrade seems, even, slightly surprised- this is, perhaps, Holmes's rare gesture of pride in him.

[moghedien]

Shadowheart navigating being a cleric of Selune post game has to be like…the funniest thing to behold

Because she has a few options:

1) just don’t ever do any cleric stuff outside of her little farmhouse cottage and don’t worry about it

2) do cleric stuff but lie and pretend that she definitely knows what she’s doing and wasn’t a Sharran like a week ago

3) do cleric stuff and be honest about being a Sharran a week ago

And like any of those options are potentially hilarious l because if she like actually pursues doing Selunite cleric stuff, she has basically no history and is just popping up out of no where. The cleric and paladin that converted her have been dead/presumed dead for a century. They have no current religious community (the last one they had was forcibly converted to Shar and destroyed) and might actually have reasons to not want to get immediately caught up in one. The likelihood that they would be able to point Shadowheart at any kind of like help or resources is slim as they’d probably be fumbling in the dark with only slightly more context than her about the current state of Selunites

Like literally the only thing that would make any of this easier for them is that Aylin is literally Selune’s daughter and can probably prove that though she seemed to have some issues she needed to discuss with her mommy at the end of her questline so maybe not, and all of that is even assuming Shadowheart goes to Isobel and Aylin for help/direction

So you potentially have Shadowheart stumbling her way into congregations either like “hello fellow Selunites. I too love the moonwitch I mean moonmaiden” or you have her being like “hello I used to follow Shar but I failed at becoming a dark justiciar and now I’m going to follow Selune look I dyed my hair and everything”

Like either she tries to not bring up Shar and pretend she converted randomly or some other way and it immediately becomes clear that she somehow converted and became a cleric knowing very little about Selune and Selunite rituals/practices yet has a lot of preconceived ideas about Selune that are probably wildly wrong even when she’s trying not to be hostile to Selune anymore, and thus immediately becomes suspicious

Or she’s honest about being formerly Sharran and immediately seems suspicious and off because of that as she has to try to explain her life story that she does not remember and how she converted because she met a hot buff lesbian tied up in a magic circle who was a real demigod and it’s not weird that she converted on the spot, she swears! Anyway can someone teach her like the basic beliefs of being a Selunite? The buff lesbian wouldn’t stop fucking her wife long enough to teach her.

But then the more likely option of her just not even trying to deal with the clericy activities of being a cleric and she just minds her own business collecting baby animals and taking care of her family. Which is like a slow burn in its humor potential because presumably she’s not gonna live in the literally middle of no where and there will eventually be neighbors and some kind of community she’s part of, and she’s just becomes known as the nice little half elf girl who loves animals and just takes care of her aging parents, who are devoted Selunites. And her having healing abilities would probably come up, because that’s a useful skill to have, especially in a small community, and healing magic plus Selunite parents would eventually cause people to put two and two together even if she didn’t advertise it. And you know that would lead to more questions about why she doesn’t advertise it and why she doesn’t do any Selunite practices for the community and you know she actually doesn’t seem to know a lot of stuff that other clerics of Selune do/teach, why would that be when she’s clearly a powerful cleric and has a devote family. And also what’s up with that big ass wound on her hand that’s flaring up all the time? Also it’s all very suspicious especially since they all just came from no where one day.

And you know that eventually it would lead to a point where Shadowheart and/or her dad would have to just be like “ok so what happened was…”

[silentstyx]

"Go For the Throat" ~ jake peralta x reader

tw! fighting, hitting a throat, self-defense, genitalia mention, laryngeal trauma.

sum! "Have one of them teaching the other self-defense or fighting and one of them accidentally hits the other too hard." (ai fanfic trope again lord save me)

I'M SO MAD, THEY DIDN'T HAVE A B99 LIKE PICTURE THING IDK WHAT THEY'RE CALLED. I'M 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓎. js fyi i did watch b99 while watching so im pretty up to date on his character 😉😎 also established relationship between jake and reader

You weren't a detective but you did have a detective boyfriend. Who says he's "put a bunch Gruber's away"? Whatever that means.

Anyways, having a cop boyfriend meant that you were safe. When he was there at least. Otherwise it was up to you to keep yourself safe.

Except you never really got taught how to defend yourself. But recently Jake offered to teach you self-defense.

You were on your way to the 99th precinct, after looking up what to wear when you practice self-defense. It said comfortable clothes you can move around in: you brought tennis shoes, t-shirt, shorts, no jewelry.

You go to the detective floor for Jake, after grabbing his attention he took you to the gym. He had on his gray shirt and jeans. God he looks so good.

"i don't know what to do." You confess to him, looking at his body not his face.

He chuckled, "thats the whole reason you're here. Because you don't know what to do."

You roll your eyes at his witty response. He then starts to teach you what to do.

"I'm gonna teach ya how to throw a punch, kay?" He said a tad more seriously.

You nod your head, then he goes further to explain.

"Okay you wanna make sure you're always covering your face. so put your forearms in front of your face, but make sure your fists are still able to throw a punch." He does it as he explains, showing you a visual aid as well.

You copy him, as well as his spread feet that he didn't explain.

"Okay, good. But I'm gonna warn you, you're not always going to be able to do that so I need to see how good your punch is." He explains.

You look confused, "How am I supposed to show you?"

"Punch me."

He says it so carelessly meanwhile you're freaking out, "What? Why?"

"So I can see how you strong you punch? I feel like I made it pretty clear?" He says with his confused, teasing smile.

You roll your eyes at his sarcastic come back, "Where?"

"uhh my stomach. No that might could hurt bad... uh my.. hand!" He says, while he was thinking about it he was doing that thing where he looks around a bunch.

You snicker at his antics before hitting his hands, the way he told you to do it. You hit hard enough that every time you hit him his hands went back. He also wasn't known for being the strongest. No matter how much Jake had told you otherwise.

"Noice, okay now let's do a body part where it wont move backwards when it gets hit." He has his proud, genuine, sweet smile on as he says this, "Hit my shoulder"

"Won't that hurt?" You put your hands down a little more as you look at him concerned.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, "Thanks babe, but I'm so buff that I probably won't even feel it."

Again, you roll your eyes and scoff at his comment. God he was gaslighting himself.

"What I'm saying is there a bunch of strong, tough bones in your shoulder that will hurt if I try to fist my fist through it?" You said, matter-of-factly.

His face came to a realization of what you meant then he smiled, "Oh yeah, smort. Hit me in the chest, it'll hurt less. Especially with all of these... chest bumps... that I do with, uh, my gym bro's."

You shook your head, putting your fists back to the way he instructed you.

BAM.

You meant to aim or the chest.

You thought you were hitting him a little below the collar bone.

Except you were a little off. You hit him in the throat.

He was making a wheezing noise, holding his throat. Your hands were still near your face, but this time they aren't kept in fists. They're flexing as you freak out.

"Oh my god, Jake! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to!" You say panicked.

He doesn't respond, he's still bent over an end table, holding his throat, wheezing.

You grab his phone, unlocking it, and call some of his coworkers upstairs to join you. Those being: Amy, Charles, and Terry.

They all come downstairs after seeing he had been put in a group chat with the only message reading, "come to the gym NOW."

They then see Jake gasping for air. Charles was the first one by his side.

"Jakey! Are you alright?" Charles asked panicked as well.

Jake gives him a look of concern and confusion (eyes widening and brows furrowed).

"What the hell happened down here?!" Terry asks somewhat loud, "Peralta I'm gonna take you to the hospital."

Charles, Terry, and Jake all leave. Jake getting admitted to the ER more than likely. Leaving you and Amy alone. Together. Where you probably just killed Jake.

"What happened?" Amy asks, genuinely just confused.

That's when you word vomitted.

"Jake was teaching me self-defense so I could protect myself when he isn't around, he told me to him in the chest but I missed and hit him in the neck!" You speak at a rapid pace.

You feel so guilty, he has a now life-threatening injury because of you. Amy comes up to you with a sympathetic look, rubbing your shoulder, "When the sarge texts me I'll let you know and I'll take you to the hospital."

You nod your head at her comment, appreciating her kindness.

About half an hour later Amy gets a text from Terry and she takes you to the hospital in her car.

You were allowed to visit him in his room, Terry had to drag Charles out so you two could have alone time.

Jake wasn't weezing anymore but his voice was super raspy.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I did not mean to hit you in the throat. I meant to punch you in the chest, like you said. I feel so bad." You again rant.

"It isn't 100% your fault. I should've gotten you to punch the actual punching bag, the thing that is made to punch." He says somewhat regretfully, still coming out in weird teasing tone.

Your eyebrows were practically knitted together. He could see the guilt, pain, and regret in your face.

"Don't feel bad. We're both at fault. Hitting me in the chest also would've hurt me, and risked my heart. The doctors said I have Laryngeal trauma," He tries to explain, "but they also said that nothing looks severe and that I should be back to normal soon."

You nod, understanding that nothing is too severe. Still, you feel bad that this whole time you could've avoided this. If you were smart enough to say, "Hey! This isn't a good idea, let's just use the punching bag!" or if you had just done what he originally said and punched his shoulder.

"I think that is what you should use that move for self-defense." Jake says jokingly.

You rolled your eyes at him and laughed, "or kick 'em in the genitals. Hurts for girls and guys."

"I don't want to practice that move with you."

[quibbs126]

…Okay, you may end up seeing these drawings yet again on a later date

I finished the page, which was small at 500x500 px, but I wanted to make the page bigger. I did that, and I drew one new thing, but now I don’t know what else to draw on there. So for now, I figured I might as well post the original full page right now

Yeah, sorry for the laziness

This is the other sketch I finished on there, for those curious

Anyways, so yeah, this new style practice I’m trying

The original page I tried these out on is this, which also isn’t full, but I thought trying it out with actual characters instead of just random poses and shapes would be better, so I switched over to Cookie Run characters

The method is still a work in progress when it comes to all the shapes and the red sketch layer

I suppose what I should do now is try drawing a bunch of different Cookies that have different body shapes, so that I have practice with that. As well as maybe attempt some full body ones

I suppose you can suggest some if you want, considering I don’t know who to draw other than like, Hollyberry or Avocado, since I should try drawing large but not buff characters here. But I should also probably draw more skinny, and also chubby

But on to what I actually drew

So I already talked about Peach Blossom and the top Dark Choco drawing prior, so no real need to elaborate

The Dark Choco and Dark Cacao one was me drawing them in their younger forms to see how they compare. Not for any sort of study thing, but just in a symbolic sort of way. Since they’re so similar looking

I think I had a lot more fun with Choco, especially his hair. I remember Cacao being mostly annoying for his weird cloak thing that I don’t understand

The hand pose was ass though. I knew the general idea of what I wanted, that being them with their hands over their swords, but I was struggling to figure out how to draw the hands. Not to mention I had to change the pose from the red sketch because the swords were further down than I put them. I still don’t think I did the pose exactly correct, but screw it, it’s good enough

I’m also noticing that Choco looks way lighter in skin tone compared to Cacao. Like yeah, I know he’s normally slightly lighter, but it’s far more noticeable here. I’m pretty sure it’s because I used Dark Choco’s ToA colors here (bc they work better with my black lineart), which are slightly lighter, as well as just that Dark Choco is wearing much lighter colors while Dark Cacao’s are relatively darker. So maybe it just makes them contrast more

I liked drawing them, but I also did basically do the same body type 3 in a row, so I should probably draw different characters

Anyways, let’s talk about that extra sketch

So for those who likely don’t remember, that there is an OC of mine called Prickly Pear Cookie

I made her entirely on a whim one day, and she doesn’t really have any character or story, just vibes, but I really like her design and wanted to draw it again

I probably should give her some sort of bra though. The shirtless chest looks cool but in my opinion sounds really uncomfortable without at least that

I did originally draw her with the green skin, but it looked weird so I shifted it to more of a yellow so it looks more human

Honestly I really like how she turned out

But yeah, I think that’s about it for now. Just wanted to show this

[servantofthefates]

If life is an experiment, your Uranus is your laboratory.

Uranus in the First House: Your Body

You will likely go through various rebrandings in your life. From nerd to glam. From emo to CEO. It will take you a while to discover what you want your physical vessel to look like.

Uranus in the Second House: Your Wallet

You will likely go back and forth between having an excess of money and having none at all. It will take you a while to figure out the right ingredients for financial stability.

Uranus in the Third House: Your Words

You will likely go through various makeovers in how you speak. From punk to poet. From high street to high-end. It will take you a while to discover how to communicate your true self.

Uranus in the Fourth House: Your Home

You will likely experience an unstable home life. That could mean moving around a lot, or your family changing frequently (e.g., through marriage). It will take you a while to find home as it should be.

Uranus in the Fifth House: Your Joy

You will likely have changing hobbies and interests as you grow. Even to the point of being ashamed of what you previously liked (e.g., a band, a celebrity). It will take you a while to discover what your soul enjoys.

Uranus in the Sixth House: Your Lifestyle

You will likely have drastic changes in routines that relate to your identity. From vegan to carnivore. From fitness buff to couch potato. It will take you a while to realize how you want to experience life.

Uranus in the Seventh House: Your Relationships

Your taste in connections (romantic and more) will likely keep evolving. From light to burdened. From friendly to brooding. It will take you a while to realize what you want and need your people to be like.

Uranus in the Eighth House: Your Morals

You will likely have changing definitions of what is wrong. From seeing things like Satanism and death penalty as evil, to thinking they are good, for example. It will take you a while to define your principles.

Uranus in the Ninth House: Your Faith

You will likely have different beliefs throughout your life. You might keep switching from one religion to another and to none at all. It will take you a while to form a true connection with a higher power.

Uranus in the Tenth House: Your Reputation

You will likely have different ranks in society throughout your life. From pleb to socialite. From royalty to nobody. It will take you a while to decide how you want the world to see you in this lifetime.

Uranus in the Eleventh House: Your Community

You will likely be a part of vastly different groups throughout your life. From religious fanatics to agnostic intellectuals. From celebrities to nuns. It will take you a while to discover where you belong in life.

Uranus in the Twelfth House: Your Pain

You will likely have different ideas of what hurts. You could go from crying at the sight of war-torn countries to shrugging about their plight. It will take you a while to decide on what is fair and unfair in this life.

In Whole Sign Houses, my Uranus is in the Ninth. I was raised Catholic. But in truth, I was mostly agnostic. At a fairly young age, I discovered Greco-Roman paganism from my elders who practice it in semi-combination with Christianity. Then in college, I had to pretend to be an atheist around judgmental religious fanatics who hated witchcraft. Now I am a practicing pagan who follows my ancestors' writings over my living elders' teachings. Can you also feel your Uranus manifesting?

Related: If life is a battlefield, your Mars is your weapon.

[distant--shadow]

The witch and the widow chapters 1-4 author’s notes

Ok, so first off I feel I gotta preface this by saying I am absolutely not a history buff. Kinda the opposite of one really. I was one of less than 10% of the kids in my year of 300 or so that didn’t take history at GCSEs, mostly caus a subject taught and based around names and dates etc is the definition of something not suited for my type of brain, also I hugely lost interest in it caus we moved past the fun trebuchet eras and all that real fast and it became of slog of me falling asleep in lessons caus I had a teacher whose method was putting on movies and shutting the blinds (I’d always fall asleep and he was later jailed for being a p*edophile, so that’s a thing.) Anyway, all that to say I’m not good at this shit, but as ive gotten older I have taken a bigger interest in queer history in particular, and that often if not always links into other areas such as fashion, women’s rights, religion,the arts, class, and race etc. (I’m still not good at names and dates though!)

They are outfitted and arsenalled - the stones of the wall - in a manner to rival any army; tapestries of red and gold perhaps once brandished on battlefield as banners promenading around death now retired and indoor-still-air-still as taxidermy giving colour between all of the shades of metal, burnished and polished and in some cases rusting, some still purposefully left blood-stained, swords and pikes and maces arranged in wallpaper patterns as though flowers or fans, sword-sheath beams spreading from chest-plate armour suns.

Let’s start with something easy and recent. The Baron’s armoury was inspired by a few castles I’ve visited, these rooms are always so bizarre to me. I don’t know if this is at all of the time/how they were decorated or a more recent thing, but either way it’s pretty wild but I do love the visual and metaphor of it. In this one castle I found out from talking about the carpentry to an attendant that the decorative ceiling work around the chandelier above the dining room table actually hid a trapdoor - and there was other hidden doorways for passages and to secret rooms in this castle, that’s not that unusual - but this particular trapdoor was to allow for the chandeliers to be switched out. Why? Caus they had them in multiple colours of glass, and the lady of the castle liked the chandelier to co-ordinate with her dress if they were having guests round. Aint that such a flex? Definitely some food for future thought.

Aight. Clothing. So anyone that chats fic/au to me or is in my server has probably heard me yell to go watch Kaz Rowe’s videos many times. As I’ve said this fic aint meant to be historically accurate but it does kinda straddle histories, one of which being our own; so women wearing trousers and the like at this time would still be a crime, and draw a lot of attention . Imogen in men’s clothing genuinely isn’t meant to be much of a gender thing but a thing of practicality, and she has mostly lived in the countryside or in the outskirts, so she does not get into the trouble she would should she go into the towns and cities (another reason to keep away past the potential noise, but this Imogen will happily don a dress or skirts if she needs to, she’s just usually working – and maybe it’s a bonus that dressing as a man acts as a sort of flagging for any women who might be interested lol.)

I guess here I should mention how I think this version of Imogen's powers and how they’ve manifested (along with everyone else being unaware of them) will have somewhat changed her disposition and personality, it is a lot more aligned with later campaign Imogen who has more confidence and empowerment, she hasn’t been ostracised for her abilities or particularly bombarded by them, think more like when she has her circlet on, she chooses to listen in (mostly), although of course she has still heard many terrible things (and her life has still been pretty brutal but that’s to be written still).

(it’ll be really fun in this regard getting to explore and explain this version of Laudna, but early days for giving much away on that yet!)

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

A little note as to say that Laudna’s appearance is heavily influenced by Victorian mourning wear, with some of the clothes cuts altered to be a little bit more regency and earlier in places. (her  attire is a little outdated, further suggesting her distancing from society and fashion)

A couple of days ago Imogen happened upon a bird with an injured wing, crying helplessly and rolling in circles, feathers taking flight away from the bird that could not, settling around it as it panicked itself bald-

The bird could not live without the use of its wing, and it didn’t, whether that was by Prosciutto or a fox, only its feathers were left in a pile.

Imogen had gathered them into an empty burlap sack; taken them to one of the maids downstairs to clean, repurpose them for filling pillows.

Here’s a silly little easter egg for my p(r)oof reader. Last time he visited we was enjoying a cinnamon roll from the local bakery by the city river (as you do) and a cyclist hit a seagull. It was real distressing, the seagull was distressed too. A handfull of middle aged women stood around it not wanting or knowing how to intervene as its wing was twisted at a crazy angle and it flapped about in a pile of its own feathers, there’s still bird flu about so it is wise to not touch wild birds, and as bleak as it is I was saying to freshy that a wild bird who’s wings broken like that is gonna die, and probably slowly and painfully. Some man came along and lifted up the bird to take the bird off the path and laid it to rest behind an old bridge building, I think he must have mercy killed it too as the bird was already dead when we walked past 10 or so minutes later after finishing our cinnamon roll and giving a cautious glance. So there’s a nice happy memory thrown in there for him.

what appears to be driftwood breaches the surface, then another point, then another

the water belches

Ceviche scares, whinnying as he rears onto his back legs, the Lady leaning forward and clinging to his harness. Imogen stands in her stirrups, leaning across the gap over to the black stallion, grasping his reins and cooing

“All good, boy, all good-”

What had appeared to be driftwood lands on the surface with a slap, looking like the carcass of an old boat left to rot in the muddy bed of a dock, timber ribcaged and leathered skin cladding.

A femur surfaces, followed by a jaw.

Second easter egg for the p(r)oof is a quick one (I’m such a considerate writer, I know.) On a train ride to a loch we went to for a day out there is a stop that is on another lake/body of water, and right by the train tracks (which are at water height) there are 4 or 5 old ships stuck in the mud, most of them just the frames/structures of the old boats, mostly wood and some bits of metal, but they’re pretty big boats! It really looks like whale carcasses. I’ve always wanted to get of there and check it out, and we were gonna stop by on the way back but my health being what it is was giving me some grief that day so we missed 2 trains and then soon the daylight, so hopefully next time buddy.

There’s alotta meat and gore talk and Imogen being a vegetarian without the label for such is just another way of me playing round with all of her complex feelings about what the Lady might be doing, her feelings towards Angharad butchering and nourishing the women with these communal stews and all of that. I’ve been vegetarian myself for 20 years now, and it was all triggered by an existential crisis in my mid teens (still a huge fan of leather and blood though) – Imogen greatly cares about animals, struggles with the thought of anything being slaughtered, she is in some ways more empathetic than most because she knows those she does on so much more of a personal level, really feels how someone is reacting to a situation they are in, but also because of this she knows humans are often corrupt and vile and she is spared such thoughts from animals, only knows their instincts and the love and comfort and service they bring – and yet she will obsess over the Lady’s (potential) tooling on that saddlework leather that’s really fucking brutal if she thinks about it one way and beautiful if she thinks about it another hmmm what if everything’s not black and white.

Oh, and the stew is a homage to @picturesofthegoneworlds’ pre-campaign fic Intertwined which I am lucky enough to co-parent and her writing is hugely influential on mine.

There’s a few things being bread crumb trailed here that I can’t explain in the author notes yet, but I’m looking forward to when I can. One small detail I will give away is just a silly thing about the chapter headings. They are something of significance from within the chapter, given in its ‘proper’ name – maybe someone gets access to some books to do research at some point?

anyways, thanks @astoriacolumnstaircase for enabling me. will do another post like this for future chapters if folks find it interesting.

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.

a note from Lucy: I swear there is fluff! I swear, I swear, I swear! You just have to squint *reeeeaaaalllly* hard. Yes, I read the book of genesis and the book numbers along with some extensive Wikipedia deep diving for like…a paragraph of lore. But is it really ever enough?

playlist | moodboard

wc: 2498

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)

series masterlist | m.list

Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown.

The reality of it was, you and Joel were two people who lived in the same small town. Who’s paths crossed once to save your life, and the others when coincidence would grant you that small pleasure. He carried you to the care of an old man with blue eyes now milky in cataracts. Jude. Who nursed you to health in a metal framed bed of an old family home— now the town clinic. The knife that sliced open your side had been dirty, and sepsis soon spread in the bloody gash. Only with Joel finding you in the snow, and Jude delivering you antibiotics, did you recover back to health.

He wouldn’t visit you directly. He would visit Jude and glance at you through the doorway as he passed the hall to the elderly Man’s office. To distract from the man you read stories when bedridden. Parts of biblical scripture; Read the book of Genesis; Read the book of Numbers. Jude being a religious man who had the fortune of holding God in his heart, kept them among his medical journals and books. And the former was far more interesting than the later in your opinion. For in them were mentions of anthropomorphic creatures born of flesh, blood and divinity. Towering tall over common trees and temples built in the name of Lord God. You were no religious woman, but you found comfort in the fables of the Old Testament. And likened Joel to the Nephilim in all ways.

Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there. If he was all that bad…why did he save you? You saw his need to care, protect, understand. Not be understood. But just understand. You would let yourself dream of taking his rough edges to the smooth plane of a whetstone. People claimed you cannot buff brass into gold. That it will only be as such in your head. That it was a fools game, but the fool is rich in content, and poor in sorrow. For the fool has little to worry about while they live in ignorant bliss.

What wasn’t written in any of the books of the holy scripture was this; ‘The disturbing comforts the disturbed.’ But it might as well have been. It was practically the way god intended life to be. You are shaken, and you are weaned on being shaken, until stillness is a discomfort and your body begs to be rattled again. But harder.

—

You took a while to find your feet. Joel took it upon himself to wordlessly help you with any medial or manual task. You were given a house on the edge of town, up a hill in some remote street that was always quiet. It seemed the less social souls resided there. Not that you minded. It was jarring to say the least. Being cast out into the hostile wild. And then brought back into the warmth. Here you had clothes, food, a roof over your head, and community. It stung in the same way it does to run your hands under a scalding tap after labouring out in the cold. It made your fingers numb before they regained feeling. Stiff. And a trouble to flex them back and forth, closed fist, open palm; Closed fist, open palm.

It’s how you earned ‘Bambi’. A name only Joel would ever call you. Dear doe on her wobbly, spindly legs. He’d keep you upright. Despite being a good thirty year sicker than you. Dirty old man. Ditsy little girl.

Your time together was silent. And while he never said he cared, he showed it. By waiting for you each time you were in the stables. And he would walk through town with you a safe distance from his side, up to the top of the hill your house was on. The snow would crunch under his heavy boots and he wished he was lighter on his feet like you. Not a large bulk of a man with heavy feet and even heavier hand. Maybe Joel wasn't large by the world's standards, but he was still a giant to you- muscular, and broad shoulders. With hands that could engulf yours, or cradle the entire crown of your head with a single palm. His arms were strong, and large from manual labour, and tightly knotted with tendons and grizzly muscle like thick twisted ropes that held up sails. What you liked most, however, was his softer belly. Perhaps the only soft thing about him from what little you had seen, or heard, or assumed. You felt an intrinsic satisfaction in knowing he was well fed. And Joel didn't mind it either. It was a reminder to himself what he was in fact as safe as he could be. Anything to not go hungry again. He still kept his brawns either way. Kept his hands and mind busy with patrols and the odd job around town. Fixing roofs, garden sheds, building tables with spare lumber from the woodhouse, and chopping firewood for the colder months. At the beginning of winter he would spend most of his free time ensuring you had enough. He spent hours out in his backyard, swinging that axe down on log, after log of wood. Then carry it up the hill in a wheelbarrow to your front door. He did it for nothing. Nothing but the peace of mind that grew from the seed of knowing you were warm. But he was greeted with something you had baked, or sewn, or knitted, or grown in your empty hours alone. Apple and rhubarb pie, thick woollen gloves, sourdough bread with crunchy, thick crusts that crunched when he broke his bread.

“It’s nothin’.” He would say, and shrug, hands on his hips while he looked back at the finished product of whatever work he’d slaved over that entire afternoon. Be it a pile of firewood, raised garden beds, or a fixed gutter. “Just…do me a favour?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Keep that smile on y’face, Bambi. Don’t let anyone take it away from ya.” His face was stern. As if he was telling you, not asking you. But if you were to ever stop smiling he thought he’d keel over and die a little bit inside. Or part of him would anyway. The part of him you now had in your chest unwittingly.

You watched the mountain of a man, Big Bad Joel Miller, warm up. Day by slow day. He was on the threshold of it. Right there. But the toe of his thick winter boots never ventured onto floorboards. He stayed out in the cold. After a while you dared Joel to touch you. Tired of him only meeting halfway. He was a man of few words, but a man of so much action. And when you challenged him with your tongue, he countered with his touch. That night was hell under the guise of heaven for his restraint.

“Y’so bad for me, Bambi.” Joel grunted, his entire weight smothering you against the mattress of his bed. His cock dragging in and out of you slowly. “Old sinner like me ain’t made for you.” So slowly the anticipation ached in the joints of your toes that curled. His grip on your hips casting his handprint in a watercolour bloom. “That’s it, fuck– takin’ me so well.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, back arching in a deep curve off the bed while his hips altered their pace. Just a tad quicker as you bucked up into him. The two of you climbing in tandem to the high. “That's it,” He repeated in a hiss, followed by a growl into your neck, “Keep archin’ that back for me.” You did just that, holding onto his forearms for leverage as you curled your spine a little deeper. A word came to mind. One you’d heard once before. Only once. But I held such a comfort to be able to label it. Hiraeth. He was that. And what you felt was that. A longing for a home. He treated you like you wouldn't break. But spoke as if words would lacerate you. One punctuated thrust, aided by your own slick was all it took, a moan for him deeper. A tear slipped from your eye and you let gravity do its work, pulling it from you. It slipped from the corner of your eye, and down your temple. “Good girl, Bambi.” He crooned, splaying both of his palms over your hairline and sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck, and gripped. That soft fleshy part at the base of your skull and the top of your still curved spine.

It hurt. It deeply hurt. His calloused fingers, textured by the trigger of a gun, or the handle of an axe, pressing into your malleable skin. But you’d let Joel drag you to hell if it meant he would hold your hand. You didn't care how he touched you– how he was inside you. He could be buried to hilt in your cunt, or knuckle deep in an open wound. As long as he was there. You'd give the heavens, and the earth, and rot in hell if it meant he stayed. Joel swore you had the space for his heart next to yours. But you didn't have the stomach.

You gripped the skin of Joel’s back. Searching for a part of him to hold that would turn off the cynic in him. Or at least try. You gave up on that idea. Because the man that fucked you— the man that loved you in action and not words— was not kind. He was not gentle. He was bold, and sharp as broken glass, and blunt all in the same being. You knew the crease of his brow. You had it memorised.

He hooked a leg over his shoulder, opened you up to his greedy eyes. They misted into dark hickory at the sight of you taking him so well inside of you. Messy little cunt for him to play with whenever he pleased. His nostrils flared as he pressed deeper. And your reaction was as he planned. A cry of his name. Your sex drenched and accommodating every inch. “A cunt made for me.” He gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick into the wet cavern of your mouth; Take the taste of you back with him when he retreated again; Righting his hips and the angle he fucked you in.

“Made for you.” You agreed in a garble and a slur. As if drunk off the last dregs of his kindness that lay at the bottom of the bottle. Licking it dry for all it was still worth.

“Say it again.” Joel grunted, demanded.

“Made for you.” You repeated.

“Good little Bambi.”

From there it was the crescendo. And it came broken in two halves of two separate waves. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And the second was the one that broke you. Had you shattering. It tightened in your womb, behind the mouth of your cervix, and then released in slow flutter; Your walls relaxing and then contracting. And he came after with a groan and spilled inside of you.

He was no gentle lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. When he fucked you that night…it felt like he was trying to love you— but couldn’t. He was too conditioned to violence. It showed the ache he left behind. Nevertheless, you would take more than he was willing to offer. But what he dropped in your palm you stored away and hoarded like a greedy magpie with shiny little trinkets. He was warm. But not warm like a campfire. He was warm like hellflame. And you were okay with that. You would take your time with him, and slowly pry open a gap in his ribs to slip past. To love him to the marrow. Even the mangled parts. Find him at his very worst — The part humanity suffocated in. And love him there. Silently.

Joel ran a hand over the flank of your ribs and then curled around your navel to pull your back to his chest. Then kissed the crook of your neck in a silent apology to your skin for each mark or tender bruise he may have left. One that wasn't really needed, but you accepted it by reaching behind you and running your fingers through his thick greying curls. In times like these after it all, in the clot and space in between, you came to realise loving him was like loving being hungry. It felt good to want things. To feed yourself you swallowed your fear instead. You lay there, exhaustion heavy in your bones, a hand of his slipping between your legs to feel the evidence of him being there inside you. His spend sticky and thick and warm between your legs. You couldn't fight the impulsive twitch that jolted your spine when he pressed on your swollen, slick clit and drew lazy circles. “Mine now, Bambi.” He murmured into the skin of your shoulder. He didn't kiss the skin there, but rather trailed his chapped lips over your flesh in such a light touch it felt like it was hardly there. More a trick of the sex hazed, lust crazed mind. “Understand that?” And you nodded in silence with a small smile, watching out the frosted up window pane as the dawn stained the sky a burnt orange and angry red. It refracted and smeared in the crystallised ice. A thin sheet that obscured the image of the sycamore tree outside his bedroom window. The bare branches looked far more like the bones of skeletal fingers than a tree bare of leaves. Its bleach white bark only emphasised your image of it. Your vision. Nevertheless; The blackbird would sing, once again on its branch, a morning song you knew by heart.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men In Bikinis

Requested: No

Warmings: Suggestive

A/N: I like putting big buff men in pretty dresses and also sexy bikinis, I refuse to be stopped

You were at it again. Your lover could tell just by looking at you. It was just supposed to be a trip to the clothing store for some new swim clothes. But you had to go and look at the bikinis, a grin on your face as you glance between your partner and the revealing swimwear.

Ghost

Ghost is not very happy but he does as you silently ask anyways, letting you grab something from the rack before practically shoving him into the changing room. He’s a little amused by your choice, the black swimsuit sticking to his skin nicely, the gaps between the laces showing off his pale skin. His favorite part is probably the strings on the top though. It reminds him of some of the lingerie that he likes to see you in. He’s actually surprised at how much he likes the sight of it on his pale scarred skin. He won’t wear it anywhere public because he feels that he almost always has to keep up an intimidating appearance. But in private, he wouldn’t mind, if your brain can handle him in the sight of it, bending over to pick something off the ground. (There was actually not anything on the ground)

Soap

Soap is eager to try on a bikini even without you, snatching one off the rack and heading to the changing room, barely even checking to make sure it’s the right size before he does. What he comes out in is a blue bikini top and one of those side skirt things, absolutely rocking that shit. He’ll rope you into trying on one too though, and once that happens he’s immediately purchasing whatever you pick out just so he can go home and fuck you in it. Might not even make it home actually, but his car has tinted windows so he swears it’s fine. He just handle the sight of your body so exposed, he needs to be on you, in you.

König

König is, just like when you made him try on the wedding dress, absolutely confused. His eyes wide and puppy like when you lay the bikini in his hands. He’s a little less confused when you shove him into the changing room. He’s very hesitant at first, this being a lot more revealing than the wedding dress, but he does put it on after a moment. He refuses to come out though, instead dragging you in with him, letting you see how the pink and white fabric accentuated his curves, the ruffles of the top making him actually feel a little cute. He actually would like to buy it, though he’d never wear it in public. Maybe you both could invest in a nice private pool instead.

Alejandro

Alejandro initially grabs this super revealing micro bikini but he literally could not come out of the changing room because his whole balls were hanging out of it and he did not want to be fined with public indecency. He thinks it makes his ass look great though so he gets it anyway but what he does come out in is a nice simple red bikini. He’s more to then a little teasing as he leans in, asking if you like it on him as he straddles your lap. Eventually you are both asked to leave because Alejandro can’t stop kissing you, heavy and wet, and people are beginning to stare.

[am-i-interrupting]

Guys, guys, guys, can I just. . . Can I just rant for a minute?

Okay, so like this woman came in to see me last minute the other day. We spent a while getting off what was on her nails. It wasn’t my work. I am extra careful about taking off other people’s work ‘cause I don’t know what it is, right? Okay, so we spend like an hour getting this shit off. It was really fucking thick no matter how much I filed it down and it had rhinestones on it. The rhinestones didn’t want to come off and I couldn’t even clip through this acrylic with my clippers.

We finally get it off and this woman doesn’t know what she wants. Doesn’t know what she wants. We spend a while looking at nail designs together to figure out what she wants because she doesn’t wang just solid colors. We settle on an aura effect with five different colors total. Mind you she started off saying she just wanted two colors.

We put on her extensions. I get down the base coat. I start doing the aura. She doesn’t like it. That’s okay. Whatever. We try an ombre instead. She doesn’t like it. Context, this are both designs where you have to cure it as you go so once it’s ok there, it’s not coming off. Instead you have to paint over it or buff it off and then paint over the buffing if you don’t want it to be thick. Okay? Okay. She decided mid way into doing the ombre she don’t like it anymore.

Okay. Fine. We can take it off!

We take it off. She says that she wants the same colors, alternating with a double French. We do that. Then I ask her for, you know, any feedback she might have because I want to improve and I want people to be happy. She said that she wasn’t unhappy but that I need to do more practice because it took so long.

Girl! Of course it’s gonna take so long if you can’t make up your fucking mind! Like the fuck? The part that took the longest was getting those nails off. Because I don’t know what the fuck it is exactly and I don’t wanna fuck up your nails.

Did we spend another two and a half hours there? Yes. But that’s because you didn’t know what you wanted and kept changing the design! For doing three different designs on you, I don’t think that took long. With extensions and designs I average in taking an hour and a half. Like, that’s not long especially when I’m doing something in every single nail.

Then she also said that I should work on lowering my prices. Honey, they’re as low as I can go! I’m still struggling to pay my room rent. My room rent is $400 a month. I am in the shop every single day but people don’t come in every single day. I’m lucky to get two people in a week. I literally cannot go any lower.

She also mentioned that my prices were higher than the girl she went to by five dollars. The girl she went to was working from home, 17, and without bills to pay. She was also unlicensed and still in school for nails. She also said I had better products than the girl that she went too. Of course my prices are gonna be more!

This woman told me to price in mind that everyone will tip. Um, no they fucking don’t. Just because you tip doesn’t mean everyone else will. In fact, I’d say about 40% of people don’t tip and my tips average between $5 and $10. Like that’s not exactly enough to justify me lowering my prices. Also, people shouldn’t have to tip me in order for me to cover my cost of expenses!

She suggested I try to lower my prices down to $20 for EXTENSIONS! I can’t do that! That doesn’t even cover the cost of my supplies!

She said she’ll be coming back and if she does then you know, I’d appreciate it. Business is business and I’m not in a position to turn people away. But like, damn.

She wasn’t necessarily rude but fucking hell she was just— Eh!

Anyway, thank you for letting me rant.

Therapy is expensive and I have other more pressing medical priorities. Guys, I can’t cover the cost to go to a new primary care doctor, much less lower my prices.

I’m just like tired. So tired. After I got done with that woman, I was so exhausted. My mobility issues have been acting up a lot now and I am positive it’s because of dealing with her because they started the day after I had her. Just aaaah!

I’ve been like hyperfixating on BG3 to just like cops by looking and romancing pretty people. I’ll probably get back to my requests soon. I just don’t have the mental energy right now.

Anygay, have a nice timezone, my lovelies!

[yuriohni]

Please give me your wisdom on how the heck you draw ryoma. I love him. Ive been trying for so long but he looks either too tall or not bulky enought god.

i've also battled with things like that for a long time, to be honest i've been drawing him for almost 5 years now so its ok if he doesnt look perfect, i still have trouble with his proportions everytime i draw him. Anyway, past that i think i have something that might help

I made this reference sheet a while ago because he never looked the same as i drew him before, as you see i've decided a height of 4.4 or so heads for him this is VERY bare bones so i'll rework it and finish it and post it for anyone that needs it Of course the best thing will always be to reference actual people with dwarfism AND (not or) you can see how artists interpret shortness, dwarves and similars in rpg related series can be a good start

(by Ryoko Kui)

(Lalafells from Final Fantasy)

if you manage to get the proportions right his buffness will come easier to you, after all is the same process look at references of people and also how some artists portray it for example, i usually get in mind a pose i want to do and then draw it as if it was a cartoon character, not much detail and limbs are just cylinders focusing more on the pose and proportions than details (having the reference here helps a lot too,

(Kota Ibushi)

and then work from there adding details and fixing whatever needs it

You can also edit your references but keep in mind that it will not be entirely accurate

and also, just like with everything in art, be patient, as i said it took me almost 5 years to draw him like i do now so dont get too frustrated if it doesnt look how you want just practice and you'll get there

anyway hope this helps!

[oblivionbladetd]

Lily/Lorch’s video on Media Literacy is a lot to unpack, so I’m just going to start with the most important part —

She honestly believes that having a point is the exact same thing as being objectively correct, and that’s why villains can never have a point and still be villains in her eyes.

Do I even need to tell you how ignorant and dangerous this kind of mindset is?

Please explain to the youngsters in the audience why she’s utterly wrong in this belief.

I could preach ethics all day long, but who's to say mine are the same as yours? Or anybody else's?

If we want objectively correct, then we can just look at Ultron or Thanos. Statistically speaking, we will never know true, lasting peace. Also, statistically speaking, half our population just up and disappeared in an instant. As long as we can pull the inevitable socioeconomic collapse out of a 90-degree nosedive, it's still a net positive. The only problems they had were that for Ultron, it's that the save humanity by killing humanity is not exactly great for humanity. the world indeed probably would be better without us, but i will not be made to apologize for having a sense of self-preservation.... And with Thanos, the sticking point really is that when you are playing with true infinite, there are actually limitless better options than his initial one.

There are indeed a lot of problems if you just throw ethics to the wind and live in a world where the ends justify the means 100% of the time. Indeed, a lot of the greatest tragedies of human history are statistical non-issues, objectively unimportant. If the ends justify the means, then I guess eugenics and mass culling are hunky dory as well. It's logic that has already been used to justify horrible acts all around the globe from times modern to ancient.

If she wasn't just moving the goalposts in a stupid vendetta against a bunch of cheeky goobers, most villains have points. It's just good character writing. Outside of captain planet ass villains, nobody really sees themselves as a villain. There is a point to their cruelty, not always a great one, but a point nonetheless.

Let me tell you about a guy named Xykon for a webcomic called Order of the Stick. One of the protagonists, V, gets a humongous expansion to their spell list in a soul splice and fuck all else, full of bravado after nuking a dragon with a large amount of epic level spells gets it in their head the big bad ain't shit. After a brief bout of figuring out that hitting a spellcaster with far more practical experience and, more importantly, levels is easier said than done along with running a concentration based buff with a con of 6 means your epic super wizard transformation is good for all of three sturdy slaps being kinda ill advised. Proceeds to hit him with the single greatest speech in dnd fiction on how impermanent power is nothing and that whatever power you do have doesn't matter as long as you actually have it, proving it by showing that even the hail Mary of instant invisibility is nothing with little more than a higher than average spacial awareness and enough strength in their fleshless hands to crush a windpipe. Imagine being so outclassed an undead sorcerer that literally has magic imbued in his very bones switches to standard knuckle tossing just to put things in the ballpark of fair...

He has a good point and is very evil. Unapologetically so. If you are willing to let your mind explore and try to see through eyes that aren't yours, you will discover perspectives that will only ever enhance your understanding of the world. Hell, the very fact that there are war crimes is a widespread understanding that the only appreciable difference between the infantry of one country and another is a set of beliefs that might not survive the first time a soldier realizes he was a single inch away from being a corpse, so adding prolonged suffering is just needlessly cruel.

Hell, I'd welcome it as an open challenge to defend any villain as having a point because, again, short of stuff like has eaten bad vibes soup (chase young) or simply being a ancient force of nature. The list of bad guys that just are with zero explanation or justification is not as long as you'd think.

[honeydewandcake]

I'm actually crying omg youre so kind

(Tumblr fricking closed on me when I was almost done and I had to write this all over again AAAAAAH)

Uhhhh I guess I'll start with some game mechanics and info about my first OC:

"Twist" the Mobile

Name: Twist(Called Twisty by her friend Meta)

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Stats(Playing):

Health:

♡♡♡

Skill Check:

☆☆

Movement Speed:

☆☆☆☆

Stamina:

☆☆☆

Stealth:

☆

Extraction Speed:

☆☆☆☆☆

This is Twist. She's a mobile.(You know, the ones for kids? She's a planet mobile.)

She has a very close relationship with her chldhood friend named Meta,(who I'll ramble on about later)practically inseparable from her. Who knows what would happen if Meta were to just disappear…

Here are her game mechanics, both Twisted and Playing. Rest of the stuff will come after cause this is too long. Keep an eye out for bits of lore scattered in...

Game Mechanics(Twisted):

Rare

(Due to her song's hypnotising ability)

Speed: Average

Mechanic: Has a song that will temporarily hypnotise the player into going towards them.(More details below)

Attention Span: High

Detection Range: Low

Half of the planets that normally would circle around her head have been dipped in ichor, and the other half have pieces broken off of them. The once pure white hoop that holds all the planets has also been splattered with ichor. ...You can see smudges if you look closely.

Has a recording made for children to help them calm down that will eerily play once in a while. It’s become staticy and quiet since she was turned into a Twisted, and so is somehow hypnotising. If she's spotted you and the tune plays, you'll walk towards her for 1.5 seconds.(Keep in mind: walk, not run.) This event purely depends on if you have bad timing and how far away from her you are. If you happen to be playing the character Meta, you'll be drawn to her until she takes one heart of damage from you.(Lore?)

When she pauses in her walking(like Tisha), she'll stare at one of her planets and reach up to tug it. It's a habit(caused by stress) she's kept through becoming Twisted.

Game Mechanics(Playing):

Her skill, "Glow Stars" lights up the room a bit, making it easier to see. Doesn't light up you, only the room you used it in, so if you walk out of the room, it'll be dark again. Is permanent, but you can only use it once. Be wise with it. Especially handy for blackouts.

When paired with a another player who's using Meta, she'll get a speed buff of 10%. If there's a Twisted Meta on the floor, she'll get a -10% speed debuff. The player and Twisted(if on the same floor) cancel each other's abilities out.

Requirements to buy:

3000 Ichor

100% Research on Twisted Meta

Walk 120000 meters

I might draw her later but for now everything else. God this takes so long but I'm really excited to see people's reactions...will continue later. It's 1:49 am and I need to get a snack/drink.

-A

Wait I love this idea!! A mobile. . . Omg I would have never thought of that!! And the gameplay is cool too!! Oh, I want to see her design so bad!! :00

This is so awesome!!!

[itspkuwu]

Probably the first ever AxleCash post

EEnE fandom, I have a confession to make... I have a new OTP. What is it, you ask?

...yup. Eddy and Marie. Want proof? Sure.

1: Why would Marie try to flirt with Eddy on her own? Because we've seen all the Kankers "flirt" with all three Eds, but only when they were all together. This was JUST Marie with Eddy.

2: Uh... this. Yeah, I know earlier on in the episode she had stolen things from Double D's room and calls them "souvenirs". But with Eddy's undies, she actually takes some time to "admire" them. In a teasy way of course.

3: The trash can at the "wedding". Look at the paint she used. The perfect shade of pink to match Eddy's skin tone. Perhaps she's hyper-fixated on how Eddy views himself as a ruff tuff buff guy. I mean, if she REALLY liked Double D like that, wouldn't she want his "suit" to be something to match his personality? Like a doctor or a scientist? For example, we've seen May wear clothing related to the ocean, and the outfit painted on Ed's trash can was a sailor suit. That's proof that May really does have a crush on Ed. We've even seen May blush at Ed before in A Twist Of Ed. But, have we ever seen Marie blush at Double D? No. (oh and uh, I guess Lee does have a thing for Eddy too, but in a sick creepy way, not real love, which is why she doesn't blush)

4: This one isn't really ship proof. I just wanted to point out that Eddy knows that Marie likes car axles. So he's not completely blind to her interests.

5: I know at first glance, you can tell she was only dancing with Eddy to make Double D want to dance with her. But later on... we can see her and Eddy not even near Double D and Nazz. And she was smiling. She could've just given up, or start a real fight with Nazz, or something... but no. She kept dancing with Eddy. And she was enjoying it. :3 And finally, 6:

...do I even need to say anything? And once again, more proof that May really does love Ed. She wanted to wear, and WAS wearing his clothes in Out With The Old, In With The Ed. Did we ever see Marie wear Double D's clothes? No. And yeah, this might not be an exact copy of Eddy's shirt. Maybe this could be an old shirt Eddy threw out because it had a rip, and Marie found it and patched it up? Or perhaps she could've made this replica herself? I mean, I have pointed out before that she's into arts and crafts, so it's possible.

My theory: Marie really has a crush on Eddy, but knows that Lee will practically destroy her if they ever got together, so she goes after Double D just to mess with him. And Marie does blush, but not at Double D. She has little daydreams about Eddy, and THAT'S when she becomes all flustered. And as for all the pet names she calls Double D, like "Dreamboat" and "Oven Mitt", and the other ways that she teases him... that's because with a REAL crush, Marie is actually very shy about it. But she's a Kanker. She's suppose to be a "tough girl". So, by making herself believe that she finds romantic interest in Double D, when she truthfully doesn't, she'll be able to be "romantic" with Double D easily, without getting that shy, blushy feeling. Marie keeps telling herself, trying to trick her brain, over and over again, that Double D is her "hubby". She's taught herself to become possessive and jealous whenever any other girl goes near the beanie wearing boy. But from time to time... deep in her heart... she knows... she finds joy in thinking about a certain short, yappy, money seeking leader of the Ed trio. so much for her being a lesbian, oh well also yes their name is AxleCash. I came up with it. haha.