what would gilles do

just from a science standpoint white, skinny, human looking, big titty mermaids don’t make any goddamn sense. even the fact that they have human-like skin and hair is just not gonna work.

get👏it👏together👏people!!!

mermaids are freaky, scary looking, deep sea predators! they are hairless and probably as blind as dolphins and NO WAY do they have a spoken language. you fools. you goddamn fools. they probably got big ass teeth to cronch on fish and never come on land. what would a blind, gill having, no leg bitch even do on land? die. they’d fucking die. Stop romanticizing mermaid-human relationships. and stop pretending you’d even want to fuck a mermaid when they are in no way conventionally attractive!! you are all FAKE ASS MERMAID FETISHISTS and I don’t even want you stepping foot in their oceans anymore!! have some goddamn respect

If I lost you tomorrow,
I would name a star after you. 
Just so that every time I see it
I know that somewhere
out in the vast universe,
you are alive,
you exist
and
you are happy.
—  “What Would You Do If You Lost Me?” He Asked | Nikita Gill

When Holmes talks about predicting his adversary’s moves because they’re clever enough to do what he would do, that’s what moftiss thinks of us. Like. The things we get up to do surprise them to some extent, but they know that we have soaked ourselves to the gills in research, because that’s what they would do. They know we’ve torn apart every speck and molecule of screen time because that’s what they do. They went from devoted and obsessive fans to creators, exactly like so many of us have or aspire to.

They adore us because we work so hard to be as clever as they are. That’s the best, most gratifying thing to encounter as a creator. An audience who tears your work up and gets into all its crevices and dissects all those painstakingly inserted hidden meanings and does research and spends hours gleefully discussing the symbolism packed into your peculiar turns of phrase. An audience who wants to really get to know your work, to feel every quiver of its beating heart. That’s the fucking dream.