#ɪ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇxᴛ ﹣﹣﹣﹙ answered. ﹚

[toldabetterstory-archived]

♗

Send me a  ♗ and I’ll use my icon style to make an icon of your muse

[gjengivelse]

tag dump 2 / ?      →   ooc / rp specific

[decrypteurrarchive]

tag dump 2 / ?   →   ooc / rp

[toldabetterstory-archived]

✎

✎: you miss me

Dear Molly,

Sentiment has never been a strong suit of mine, as you perfectly well know. When I began writing you these letters, I had framed it in my mind as a logical task. Attempted to separate the calculated move with the emotional response. In truth, this letter wasn’t part of the plan. I feared that if I allowed myself to think feel deeply at a time like this, that I would be vulnerable. Susceptible to failure due to a chemical defect known as love.

I do, Molly. I do love, even if it’s not in the romantisied way you wish for and deserve. I also know that I don’t deserve to do so. I know you must have a lot going mixed feelings about what I have done and what I might be up to. There is a good chance that you might never want to open to this one; perhaps you’ll never reach that state.

However, if you ever do — I hope perhaps this can make up a little for the anger you felt by my disappearance. I cannot tell you where I went or why; in truth I don’t know if I will ever come back. I just want you to know that, despite anything that might lead you to believe the contrary --- I did care about you Molly. I trusted you and you mattered. Our friendship, even if you might not have categorized it as such, was important and perhaps I should have tended to it more. 

The point I am trying to make, is that I want you to believe me in my next statement, because if you are reading this letter than it means that you miss me: I just want you to know that I miss you too. I miss the morgue, the ginger cat hairs that lightly coated everything. Even at my worst and blackest of moods; you were always eager to help me. Even as I took advantage of your kindness, something I do hold guilt over, I was grateful for it. Perhaps, these letters are more sentimental that I thought. Perhaps I wished to make it up to you someway. 

I should have been better, I just was never very good at knowing how. I wish you were here, sometimes you appear as the voice of reason in my mind. That’s not the kind of thing you can casually say to a person --- but it doesn’t feel so strange to enclose it in a letter. This is what I mean, you matter to me. When I’m stuck or in trouble, your voice is in my mind. It helps me think. Helps me focus. When I was shot, it was you who appeared to me and helped me save my own life. I owe my life to you because you’ve always held it at a higher value than I do. 

I hope one day you can forgive me, I don’t know anymore if this letter will bring comfort or cause you more distress. Maybe it’s unavoidable to have both.

SH.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

"Please just let me forget.."

The ability to forget; something you held in spades it seemed. All your life, picking & choosing what was worth retaining & what you let slip down the drains; coupled with a remarkable ability to rewrite what wouldn’t leave the confines of your brain. Memory was blight, forgetting, a curse. Forgetting was something you struggled against ever since you realised you didn’t always have control over what was deleted --- considering things more carefully before banishing it for eternity. Then again, there were some things you remembered that you wish had stayed buried. The details of childhood trauma, living inpatient, the padded cell --- so when Irene pleads, begs you to let her bury her own memories; you aren’t sure how to respond. Memories hurt, but sometimes not knowing them hurt more. Even if Irene was thinking for the short-term; waking up tomorrow cold & sober, with it all flooding back might be worse. It’s not your place to decide. “ i won’t tell you what to do --- just think about what you are doing... ”

[toldabetterstory-archived]

15.

Smut Starter Call - M/F: 15

Damn Mycroft; serves him right you thought as you climbed into the back of his car, holding the door out for Molly. You had demanded a ride home, done with the people & boring conversation inside — only to be told that you would not be taken home until 10 o'clock as the agreement ( one you had your arm twisted into agreeing to ), so you could either ‘grow up or sit in the car & pout’. The answer had been obvious, so you had been sure to crack a window so keep oxygen flowing into the vehicle. For a bit, you two had just sat & talked. Then you had stopped talking, perhaps encouraged by the wine or the want to take your mind off of the party inside — possibly both. Your jacket discarded carelessly onto the floor of the vehicle, fingers carding through hair, tongues engaged in a friendly duel, reaching for one another. Previous sexual encounters had been enjoyable, but filled with the uncomfortable barriers of inexperience & controlling his senses. Sex appeared to be something less calculated & more instinctual; you had never been good at turning off your mind. However, right now your transport was certainly reacting positively; hearts racing as arousal swelled in your lower extremities. A reaction that couldn’t be help as hands mapped out the body of Molly Hooper.

Words spilling into her mouth & overflowing out them, intending to make your intentions quite clear. “ molly… ” your words interrupted by delectable kiss swollen lips & it’s all you can do not to bite down them. “ …molly, i would really like to have sex with you right now in this car.“ Testingly, you place a hand on her thigh where her skirt has lifted a bit — awaiting a sign to be allowed to venture further. The answer comes almost immediately & you don’t ask twice.

Unlike before, where Molly had guided everything, there is something grounding about being the one in controlthat encourages you . Hands caress her thighs, sliding underneath her skirt as you slide off onto the floor, kneeling in front of her. Long fingers brushing curiously across the elastic band of underwear, thumbs swiping across — exploring & reacquainting themselves with this newer area of Molly. Lips brush against her inner thigh, more a nuzzle than anything before your fingers hook into the band and slowly pull. The fabric falls loosely into your hands once it’s released from underneath her, guiding it past her thighs and over her knee until it makes itself at home on the floor next to your jacket. Your hands glide back up her legs, her skirt bunching at her hips. Your eyes shine in the dark moonlight as they look back up at her; she has never looked better. “ i’ve never done this so feedback is going to be very important here, ” you muse, nudging her knees apart with your nose “ the clearer the better so please, don’t hold back… ” if all went well, the entire ensemble inside would know what you were doing in your brother’s car & you don’t care. Serves him right, you think before your forefinger makes a teasing swipe across her labia.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

Daddy-

“ i don’t have any children. ”

[toldabetterstory-archived]

12

SMUT STARTER CALL: M/M - 12

There is a reason you don’t typically invite John into your shower, its far too easy for your very specific cleaning rituals to be disrupted by distractions. However, you never put up too much of a fuss because once he is in — it’s very hard to remember why you were trying to kick him out, & end up accepting the fact that your hair will be unruly in the wrong way. However, you’ve never been opposed to the reverse — in fact, you often find that hopping into John’s shower to be the perfect past time. He is so much less structured during his wash; much more simplistic in his grooming which leads to more time for distractions.

If you weren’t so possessive, you’d recommend the sight of water hitting John’s shoulders, falling down his back & rolling off his magnificent arse as something everyone should see; but you are, so instead you savour that sight for yourself ( especially when a case has kept you divided for much too long ).  Every touch was always more sloppy as every bit of skin was slippery — it just meant that when you slipped in after him that evening ( after observing the view for moment ) that you wrapped your arms around him tighter before tugging at him to face you. Long fingers reach for him, cupping his jaw; filling the space between you with a desire to feel close. A small steamy corner of the world where nobody could bother you.

 Your lips capture his own, holding them prisoner to your own. There’s desperation to pour every ounce of desire & trace of affection into his kiss. Refusing to let them go until it’s known. Some time apart was fine; healthy & needed most times. You know this, but it doesn’t curb the growing amount of longing when it occurs — making the best part of the trip always the return home. Later, your hands might take advantage of the access the shower provides to him & his body ( which is almost like another home ) but for now they just hold him, steadying you as your force yourself to pull away just long enough to say in an amused sing-song tone: “ honey, i’m home. ”

[toldabetterstory-archived]

“The universe is big. It’s vast and complicated and ridiculous. And sometimes, very rarely, impossible things just happen and we call them miracles.”

“ except… ” You choose your words carefully; there’s no telling what the game is here. what she is trying to gleam from you by speaking of foolish notions & false hopes. You’re sister is clever, too clever. It’s unnerving how she can make you dance; desperate to prove yourself — just like when you were children. Wanting to impress her so she will keep wanting to play with you. When had she wanted to, she could always make you smile & laugh — the concern was when she had no longer found amusement in that. You’ve grown since then, forgotten & remembered her all over again — here you are, acting like a child. “ …we both know that miracles are not truly real. they are just occurences that are entirely plausible, just unlikely.  ”

[toldabetterstory-archived]

🕶 *grabby hands @ ashlock*

Send me 🕶 for an aesthetic board of our muses ( selectively accepting )

HERE YOU GO!!!

[toldabetterstory-archived]

🕶

SEND ME 🕶 FOR AN AESTHETIC FOR OUR MUSES ( accepting selectively )

Here ya go!!!

[toldabetterstory-archived]

Yellow, violet, white (I know we have a thread and we've talked OOC but still)!

White: I’m really shy to talk to you, but I would like to write with you sometime!

Awww, don’t be shy!!! You can always hmu!!!

Yellow: Your writing us great! Keep it up! 

You are too sweet!!!

Violet: I wish you would write more. 

SAME. I WANT TO BE ON MORE TOO & GET MORE STUFF DONE. YOU & ME BOTH.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

“You want weapons? We’re in a library! Books! The best weapons in the world!”

Your mind shouts at you; pushes & forces you to stop being stupid & figure it out. Eyes darting around, scanning the titles on the shelves. Something. There has to be something. There is always something. Today is not the day you lose; not if you had anything to say about it. JUST THINK; use that bloody brain of yours. FIGURE IT OUT.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

“ Posh boy. ”

“ posh boy?! ” an amused scoff escapes him, arching an eyebrow at John. It was a name you had heard before; but it wasn’t one you often heard outside of the flat or occasional hotel room post-case. It’s not a name you dislike, despite your protests, it might sound mocking & unkind from another but from John it felt more like a game. A challenge of sorts; daring to be proved otherwise. Lowering your voice so it’s lost in the noise of the other guests, “ is that my name now, captain? shall i inform our friends & colleges of this change, that everyone is to call me such?  ” 

[toldabetterstory-archived]

“beg for it.”

You never grovelled before. In your mind, it’s the weakest act of defeat. You don’t practice the art of losing often, but whenever it has happened you’ve always made a point to do so with dignity. That was before, however. Before you caught yourself wondering what those crimson lips tasted like; before you glanced the skin you wanted to run your fingers across. Intellectually stimulating & emotionally consuming --- those had been a shock to your system. 

What you hadn’t prepared for was physically desirable --- an experience you have little knowledge of first hand. Never had you wished for it to be otherwise; not until you met her --- craved her. You are weak; but this time it doesn’t feel like shame but a blessing. Caving in has never brought such relief, as you fall on your knees, looking up at The Woman with eyes wide & unguarded. Never before have you grovelled; but for her  & the promise of her lips, you will perfect the art. “ please... ”

[toldabetterstory-archived]

❝ tell me how to move on. ❞ (from john but i was too lazy to move blogs)

@cansprainpeople — the laziest person ever ™

Words fail you as what should be a simple plea is anything but; the fact he is coming to you for this — when you are the very reason this need has arisen, seems unfair to all involved: yourself, John or the memory of Mary. What right do you have to this? “ i don’t believe that’s something i can do, john.  ” You are not used to being speechless, it’s not a feeling you particularly enjoy especially as you cannot help but sense that this is crucial moment & you fear of failing it. The luxury of presuming John Watson will always be there & always forgive you your shortcomings is not one you can afford anymore. In fact, you never had been able to — you were just to stubborn to see it. “ i don’t pretend to know my way through these matters… but.. i can try to help you pass through them… ” This isn’t your strong suit, emotions. Never had you ever felt comfortable in discussing them, attempting to understand them but you’ve been trying to be better & if that’s what John needs — then you’ll do your best.