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@riddledtiger

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OKAY SIT DOWN SHUT UP, WEāRE GONNA TALK COLORS
THIS IS SAPPHIRE
THIS IS TEAL
THIS IS PERIWINKLE
THIS IS AZURE
Ā AND THIS IS TURQUOISE
WONDER WHY THOSE ALL DONāT LOOK LIKE THE SAME COLOR? BECAUSE THEY ARE NOTĀ
OTHER THAN BEING PART OF THE SAME FAMILY OF BLUES, THEY ARE NOT ALL THE SAMEĀ FUCKING COLOR! WHY WOULD THEY ALL BE THE SAME FUCKING COLOR! DO YOU THINK WE JUST NAME NEW COLORS FOR KICKS!?!?!?
WHEN DESCRIBING A CHARACTERāS GOD FORSAKEN EYE COLOR, PICKĀ ONEĀ YA GODDAMN HIPPIE
As someone who is colourblind this post is fucking hilarious because they are in fact all the same fucking colour
things heating up in the fuckin uuhhhhhhhhh BLUE fandomĀ
So uhā¦.. fun fact about turquoise
They come in varying degrees of blue and green.
THIS IS TUMBLR
@hellsite-hall-of-fame
do it scared. do it stupid. but most importantly, do it bitching and moaning the entire time
It's a little demotavating to post art and get no Interaction c I don't put hashtags but I do it on purpose right now so I can learn to just be happy with my art even if it gets no traction n yapyapyap
Losing the motivation to draw and noticing my art slowly getting worse is awful so im forcing myself to make atleast one doodle everyday, I think I'll post them here starting with ms-paint mouse-drawn riddler

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watching the 60s series n I got reminded of how dear he is to me (along with the rest of the cast)
A pair of precious shoes
English added by me :)
Itās labeled mature because a single glance at these heels will kill you
Itās labeled mature
because a single glance at
these heels will kill you
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
the face of a man about to tell a joke
Oh yeah, this makes sense because when he finally tells the joke and John looks away, he laughs and laughs and laughsā¦
Oh no, wait, actually he looks like his heart has been smashed into a million pieces, because he knows this is the last time he will ever make John laugh.
What I love about this moment is that weāre given a parallel in TEHĀ
(actually, two)Ā
to explicitly show us that Sherlock uses humour to defuse emotional situations.
He has trouble showing emotions, and knows John struggles as well, so he tries to make jokes to break the tension, to give them an out for having to deal with their emotions. This doesnāt always workā
ābut itās the only way he knows how to protect them both against too much intimacy.Ā
It gives them both an emotional release, sometimes through anger, sometimes through laughter, but either way, lets them avoid the true underlying emotion, the one neither of them can voice.
By comparing these scenes, itās painfully clear how much of āa jokeā this is to Sherlock. He doesnāt have the emotional release of laughter or adrenaline in this scene. Heāll seek his release with other, more dangerous methods on the plane. Itās telling that in TAB, when heās in his own mind, he is unable to diffuse the intimacy confrontation in the greenhouse. MP!John doesnāt take the bait, doesnāt relent when he ājokesā about revolvers or murderous ghosts. Sherlock desperately wants this intimacy with John, but is still so afraid of opening himself up to it. I hope that TAB is a turning point, an MP dry run, and in S4 weāll see him confront his emotions with John head-on, rather than retreating with humour.
tagging @inevitably-johnlockedĀ @jenna221b and @monikakrasnorada because I know they love meta and pain <3
I've noticed my older mycroft drawing gaining traction again so here is the re-draw !! Thank you for that one person who informed me that Mark is ginger n that he has grey eyes bc I would have not known.... BUT YES ITS THE GUY !!
Mycroft Holmes.
That's it, that's the post.

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ā” ąø ā½(`Ė Ā“ā¼ć.į
Idk it's just really frustrating that every other proposal on public transport is constantly met with "that would be too expensive" and meanwhile billions are spent on a gaslighting chatbot that no one asked for
GORETOBER DAY VIII - Voices.
What harm could one more possibly do? It's to serve a greater purpose...
Then again,
What difference could one more possibly make..?
-Nixš
Iāve finally finished āThe Riddler: Secrets in the Dark,ā and I was thinking about how different (and similar) this riddler is to the Rogues! riddler. All thatās left is to draw the BTAA riddler. Happy Halloween!

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My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.
do they smoke weed?
Yes, actually.
you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?
Itās called a buntā¦. Not weed cigarette⦠And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)
They donāt look like they smoke weed.
Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Iām so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down Iām so mad.
YourĀ āweed smoking girlfriendā has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerpā¦. Donāt ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Donāt wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNINGĀ
Well that escalated quicklyā¦ā¦
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they arenāt worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. Iām yelling so loud and now Iām crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I canāt take anymore. Iām opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
haha oh my god
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that āI HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDSā, āTHEY ALL KISS MEā, and āTHEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURRā.
and letās not forget the āBlaizā and her āwicked tatā, or that he doesnāt āwanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever againā, and that this is āthe FINAL FUCKING WARNINGā.
āthe goo pile that is now your bodyā
iām dying over here, jesus
please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, itāll be fun.
*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot⦠*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*
this dude playin omgĀ
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. Iām clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and heās muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals Iām still Ā at the bar. You look to the exit, thereās still time. But thereās not, thereās not, thereās not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. Ā I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I havenāt shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and Iām missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, itās like that only instead of boots itās my muscles and instead of walking itās punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family⦠Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insultedĀ theĀ Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing⦠no playing you fuck. No playing⦠it was real.. the realest thing Iāve ever know.. felt⦠Love. I loved them⦠Blaizā¦. Chas-Chas⦠Funk⦠I loved all three of em⦠but theyā¦*My face is wet with tears and Iām blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me⦠left⦠*Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?!Ā *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging.Ā āPft, you brought this upon yourself dude.ā He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me⦠* I fall to the floor and sob.* Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Leonid Pasternak Ā (Ukrainian, 1862ā1945) - The Torments of Creative Work
oh leonid, we're really in it now
Leonid, you really understand it.
Save me Leonid, from my empty Word document
Leonid what should I do about the emails
Babe are you okay? you reblogged Leonid Pasternak's Torments of Creative Work again