#Irene's Recount

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Can u believe it's been a year since we won a wc 😭😭😭😭

I cry that day it's was beautiful day

Wore my aitana Bara jersey and people still came up be like ' campeonas del mundo '

❤️🏆😭

and what a year it has been! future generations will talk about this world cup as one of the foundational moments in the tide turning for the better for women's football in spain. there is still so much to do, but this set off a cascade that could not have been ignored.

and these three women, in particular. 🥹

sandra riquelme shared a tweet recounting a story from laia codina from the world cup that was especially meaningful.

laia codina: "i would tell you about the moment when it all started. we went for a walk in the mountains, it rained, we got dirty. i'll remember the conversations i had with alexia, irene, jenni, mariona... misa and i talked a lot about how lucky we were to be able to hear them."

[shortboxcomicsfair]

Irene Maillard has been practicing lucid dreaming for over 6 years, recounting her experiences daily in a successful blog. But something goes wrong when she meets someone who appears to be her twin in a dream- or is it all more than just an apparition? New 100+ page comic from one of France's rising cartooning supertsars, Bolzemo!

This comic will be released digitally in October as part of ShortBox Comics Fair, an online-only event that will see the release of over 100+ new, original comics from artists around the world!

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Chapter 15 is now on AO3

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson.

Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

Chapter 15: Molly Hooper

“Have you reflected, my friend, how many people in that house stood to benefit by Sir Emory’s death? Mrs. Amat, Miss Irene, Miss Hooper, Mrs. Hudson. Only one, in fact, does not. Major Sholto.” 

Holmes’ tone in uttering that name was so peculiar that I looked up, puzzled. 

“I don’t understand you,” I said. 

“Two of the people I accused have given me the truth.” 

“You think Major Sholto has something to conceal also?” 

“As for that,” remarked Holmes nonchalantly, “there is a saying, is there not, that Englishmen conceal only one thing—their love? And Major Sholto, I should say, is not good at concealments.” 

I feared we might be straying uncomfortably close to something I, too, wished to conceal…

I’m tagging some folks who might be interested. Please let me know if you’d like me to tag or untag you.

@mydogwatson @totallysilvergirl @bluebellofbakerstreet @sarahthecoat @helloliriels @daisyfairy1 @imnova @kittenmadnessandtea @missdeliadilisblog @marta-bee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant @jobooksncoffee @peanitbear @bakingsherlycakes @kettykika78 @stellacartography @shelleysprometheus @iamjustreading @chinike @sgam76 @loves-to-read-fanfic @inevitably-johnlocked @johnlockismyreligion @riversong912 @calaisreno @7-percent @lijahlover @thegildedbee @naefelldaurk

[traumei]

Irene x Male Reader

genre: Fluff

Irene was already mid-ramble when she glanced across the room, noticing the gentle, attentive expression on the man's face as he sat on the edge of their bed. The soft evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a serene glow over the bedroom that had become their shared sanctuary. Her words tumbled out in a steady stream, detailing the grueling dance practices and the relentless pace of her schedule.

“It was just one thing after another, you know? And then the stylist had to redo my hair three times because it just wouldn’t sit right," Irene explained, her voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion as she kicked off her shoes and sank beside him on the bed.

She paused, suddenly conscious of how much she'd been talking, her eyes flickering with a trace of worry. “. . . sorry, I talked too much,” she muttered, looking away slightly.

He turned towards her, his hand finding hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No, no, no, not at all. Keep talking. I like hearing about your day, no matter how tough it gets,” he encouraged warmly, drawing a relieved laugh from her.

Encouraged, she scooted closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “And then, during the live performance, my mic almost slipped off. I had to catch it mid-song without anyone noticing. It was like a stealth mission in one of those spy movies you love,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, imagining the scene. “You’re my superhero, you know that? Always saving the day, even on stage.” His words were light, but the admiration in his eyes was earnest, making her smile soften.

Comfortable in the familiarity of their room and the quiet understanding between them, Irene felt the weight of the day lift slightly. She continued to share, her voice steadier now, recounting both the trials and the trivial moments that peppered her day. As she spoke, it wasn’t just about unloading her burdens anymore; it was about sharing her world with him, knowing he cherished these insights into her life as much as she valued his presence.

“Sometimes, I just wonder if I’m doing everything right. It’s all so overwhelming at times,” she confessed quietly, her voice nearly a whisper as she leaned into him more.

“And every time, you’ll find you’re doing better than ‘right’, you’re doing amazingly. But remember, you don’t have to carry it all alone,” he murmured back, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. He then stand up and close the curtain.

The night get dimmer, the room was soft with shadows as he returned from the window, a blanket in hand which he gently wrapped around them both. Irene nestled closer to him, her eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and relief.

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m just going through the motions, you know? Like I’m on stage but not really present,” Irene confessed, her voice a whisper as she found comfort in his closeness.

He nodded, understanding her struggle. “I can only imagine how tough that must be. But here, you don’t have to perform or pretend. Just be Joohyun, the one I love, not the idol everyone else sees.”

She smiled at his words, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders. “I love that I can just be me with you. No cameras, no expectations. Just us.”

“Exactly, just us,” he echoed, his thumb gently tracing circles on her hand. “Tell me more about what’s on your mind. Whatever you need to share, I’m here.”

Irene took a deep breath, comforted by his invitation to open up further. “During Yesterday practice, I kept messing up the steps. Everyone thinks I handle pressure well, but today, I felt like I was crumbling under it. It’s so frustrating.”

He squeezed her hand gently. “You’re human, Joohyun-nah. It’s okay to have off days. They don’t define you or your incredible talent.”

Hearing his reassuring words, Irene felt a surge of gratitude. “Thank you for reminding me of that. It’s easy to forget when you feel like you’re under a microscope.”

“That’s what I’m here for—to remind you that you’re amazing, just the way you are,” he said with a warm smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind filled with mutual understanding and affection. Irene then broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. “Do you know how much these nights mean to me? How they help me recharge and face another day?”

“I hope they mean as much to you as they do to me,” he replied, his voice just as soft.

“They do. More than you can imagine,” Irene assured him, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently. “Being here with you, it’s my favorite part of the day.”

As they settled deeper into the night, their conversation flowed naturally, each moment building the foundation of their bond. It wasn’t just about sharing the highlights and low points of her day, but about sharing life itself—raw, unedited, and real. With each word, each shared laughter and consoling whisper, Irene felt her spirits lift, fortified by the love and understanding that filled their small, sacred space.

[eirinstiva]

All the world's a stage: His Last Bow

Today I received the last story of the year from my dear friend Watson. Did he write it? Apparently he didn't. It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? Billy again? Mycroft Holmes? We don't know, but at least I'm sure the author wasn't Sherlock Holmes because there's not a single cry of "my Watson would do this better". We know our drama queen. My theory is that Mycroft wrote it after hearing Sherlock and John talking about this case, and then ACD edited it.

[ID: Cover of The Strand Magazine vol. 65, no. 321, September 1917. And illustration of a street in navy blue. Crossing the middle of the page there's a red band with Sherlock Holmes profile that says "Sherlock Holmes outwits a German Spy]

There are many reasons of why I love this story: Holmes has the chance to use chloroform:

[ID: Sherlock Holmes (as Altamont) with a goatee, using chlorofom-soaked rag to sleep Von Bork. Illustration by Alfred Gilbert]

Holmes and Watson working together once more:

[ID: Holmes and Watson walking Von Bork slowly. Illustration by Alfred Gilbert]

Holmes in disguise with longer hair and a horrible goatee, the references to professor Moriarty, colonel Moran and Irene Adler Norton, Martha the housekeeper (Mrs. Hudson? I don't know) there's a cat! but what I really like is how Sherlock Holmes used all his knowledge, talent and expertise to work as a spy.

This is his last case. This is his last play. That's why the title of this story has been translated into Spanish as Su último saludo en el escenario, El último saludo (as in my copy of Todo Sherlock Holmes) or La última reverencia. The detective works incognito for two years: he changes his appearance, he speaks with American accent and he travels to another places. Sherlock is an actor and all the world is a stage, and for his last show he calls his friend Watson to work with him at his side for the grand finale. Holmes takes the time to drink wine with Watson and to talk about everything and nothing while Von Bork is tied (somebody is third-wheeling here, or as we say in Chile, Von Bork is playing the violin). The detective takes the chance to steal £500, use his own book Practical Handbook of Bee Culture as a decoy, and make a dramatic identity reveal because Holmes loves to be dramatic, and he really loves to be dramatic when Watson is at his side. The previous short stories are the evidence.

What happened after this? my friend Doctor Watson answer this question in the preface of the book His Last Bow:

The friends of Mr. Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn tha he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism. He has, for many years, lived in a small farm upon the downs five miles from Eastbourne, where his time is divided between philosophy and agriculture. During this period of rest he has refused the most princely offers to take up various cases, having determined that his retorement was a permanent one. The approach of the German war caused him however, to lay his remarkable combination of intellectual and practical activity at the disposal of the government, with historical results which are recounted in His Last Bow. Several previous experiences which have lain long in my portfolio have been added to His Last Bow so as to complete the volumen JOHN H. WATSON, M.D.

It's been a year since Letters from Watson reunited old and new fans to read the short stories on Sherlock Holmes and next year it's time to read the novels!

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

There's some stuff to say about MCD ep36, but i want to talk specifically about Matilda.

We don't know a lot about her until this point, all we know is what we hear from other characters, and from Malik's diary (in which she is called 'milfina'), and it's unsure how much is still technically 'canon' or not even to this point, because we do get that name change and not much elaboration on her backstory or anything up until this point.

What we do know is that she abandoned her old village and came to Phoenix drop, where she met Malik, fell in love, so on. From Malik's diary, he says she was already there when he arrived, so we can't be sure of the timeline, but we know she 'quickly fell in love'.

Matilda also says that Malik (and other lords) are responsible for SKs being released onto the world, and i want to yap about SK stuff in another post, but this is significant to me because earlier in the episode Aph reads a note that seems to implicate Matilda in this too. Or at least implicates her in *something*. Either way, she has done something she feels guilty for, that Zenix was blackmailing her with, and whilst we can assume it's the SK thing, we can't really be sure.

There's also a quote by Matilda where Jesson kinda fucked up what they were saying and idk if they're saying Malik couldn't communicate with wyverns or that Matilda is also a descendant of Irene but cant communicate with wyverns, but.... y'know, that's not something i'm gonna speculate too greatly on. I'm the Aphblr reacher but I will give myself some boundaries.

Also, I want to bring up the 'Does Garroth remember me?' line again because it is one of the most repeated lines of evidence in favour of the dadroth theory, and whilst i can accept a multitude of reasonings for it, it is a line that will always stick out for me.

Matilda was never lord, it doesn't make sense for her to assume that Garroth would remember her, despite the magic of the king. Of course, she says he's 'noble', but we know from Burt that the only reason guards who are of 'pure heart' are exempt from being affected by Sk magic is because of the bond they have with their lord. Shadow/King stuff is sort of different as of this moment in the lore, but they are intertwined, and often used in place of each other even when recounting the same piece of lore. And so for Matilda to ask this isn't logical, because there isn't the lord/guard bond that would give Garroth that exception.

Unless, of course, it isn't a lord/guard thing, because (despite the complaints about jesson's writing) the story seems to be implying that there is a lot of religious deception and lies and misunderstandings about magic. And the lord stuff is very heavily intertwined with descending from Irene. Maybe the Lord/Guard bond isn't that, but some kind of bond formed between Descendants of Irene, and people they are close to, which does lean into the little 'is matilda a descendant of Irene' spec i said i wasn't gonna look into, but... still. Maybe Matilda and Garroth were, somehow, very close, and she assumed the bond between them was close enough to make the magic not work on him, but his heart just wasn't pure enough, or they just weren't that close, or the little bit of Irene blood she had wasn't enough to keep that connection.

Really i've been thinking this because there is no magical basis for lords. And i want to talk about this in my SK post, but Lords aren't... a magical thing. They're not being killed by knights because the breaking of that bond is completing that transformation, it's because The king wants all descendants of Irene dead, and Descendants of Irene typically take positions of lordship. So the idea that lords are only special because descendants of Irene are special is something that has just clicked to me. and it's so crazy.

idk im crazy and stupid. don't listen to me.

i have like quotes and screenshots if people want them for certain things im saying, i just think this post is long enough lol.

i need an insitution.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: February 2/24

It's Finally the First Friday in February, and that means it's Five Fics Friday! I hope you enjoy the fics I've chosen for y'all this week! And please give the boosted fic some love! <3 Enjoy!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Talk down your DNA by avalanching effect (T, 5,384 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements AU || Witches, Cannibalism, POV John, Spooky, Death, Suicide Attempt) – When him and Harry are 11, their parents take them to an abandoned sawmill for their birthday, and leave them to their own devices. After they learn how to turn it on, Harry pushes him in. Part 1 of Not dead, not alive, but a secret third thing

RECENT MFLs

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 14,364+ w., 5/27 Ch. || WiP || Murder of Roger Ackroyd Fusion / 1925 AU || Surprise Ending, Case Fic, POV First Person John) – A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson. Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

Hand In Hand by LipstickDaddy(G, 2,847+ w., 3/? Ch. || WiP || Nail Salon AU || Fluff, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – John Watson is home from Afghanistan, and he hasn’t felt entirely himself, entirely human, for weeks. He bumps into Stamford, and John makes an offhand comment about his friend’s “soft academic’s hands.” Stamford slips him the address of a nail shop near Bart’s, and John wonders if something as simple as a manicure might actually help him. Turns out, it’s the best impulse decision he’d ever make.

Maybe We Could Change His Mind by thalialunacy (E, 23,049 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Romance, Banter, Schmoop, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Matchmaker Irene, Late-Life Coming Out, Queer Issues, Queer Friendship, Conversion Therapy Discussion, Texting, Anal / Oral Sex, Parental Sherlock) – John now knows that Irene and Sherlock have been corresponding through burner phones and WhatsApp for years. What he doesn't know is that the 'Oo you're shiny and smart!' hormones wore off long ago, and now they're simply gay besties chatting about life, fashion, and, of course, John. But John doesn't know that, so when Irene appears in their life again just as they get called into a very personal case, he feels the sand start to shift beneath his feet and has no idea why. Luckily, Sherlock will always do what it takes to ensure John gets to solid ground, no matter the cost.

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED LOKIUS FIC

we can stay here (& laugh away the fear) by unintentionallyangsty (T, 11,100 w., 1 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Lokius, Canon Divergence, TVA Shenanigans, Attention Seeking Behaviour, Praise Kink, Touch Starvation, Pet Names, Angsty Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Shyness, Awkward Flirting, Crying, Misunderstandings, Cuddling/Snuggling, Blushing, Depression Mention) – Loki is bad with people and relationships, and tends to assume the worst of every intention and interaction because it's easier in the long-run. Mobius is good with Loki. (Or, two times Loki is spooked off by Mobius' unexpected gentleness and familiarity, and one (1) time the opposite is true).

[b14augrana]

So an angsty hc of our nena , nena will not do this but lets pretend,

So nena is invited to a party and her so called new friend forces her to go , she asks permission for it to irene and irene doesn't give permission because they have a match on the weekend. Nena accepts it but her friends peer pressure her into going so she sneaks out in the middle of the night and joins her friends. In the party she is given drinks mixed with alcohol which nene doesn't know that it contains alcohol, she takes drink after drink and she feels like something is happening and everyone is peer pressuring her. But she is saved by a girl who nena has a crush on who has come to search for her brother and is shocked seeing nena and nena is not enjoying it. She takes nena and her brother out of the house and nena is completely lost . She takes nena phone and doesn't know what to do so she searches in the contact and her latest phone call was to mapi so she calls mapi who is confused about nena calling her late but is more surprised when someone other nena is talking through nena's phone

Hello writer , hope you get well soon

I have no idea how to continue the hc more , so will you please complete it like the consequences of how mapi and ingrid brings her home and then telling irene and alexia and frido and punishments. Thank you

It’s a long one below the cut!!

Mapi and Ingrid pick her up from the party in the middle of the night but rather than being angry, they’re extremely concerned because they find her waiting on the curb wrapped in her jacket, tears streaming down her face. It’s obviously a party scene that she’s just come out from but they highly doubt that she went there for her own pleasure because they know she doesn’t drink, so they quickly usher her into the car and she bursts into tears in the backseat. Mapi ends up sitting in the back with her, consoling her the entire way home while Ingrid drives, because if Mapi drives she will break a speed limit and get violent

When they get back to Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment, Irene and Alexia are waiting for them outside the apartment, literally sitting in front of the door looking the most worried they’ve ever been, and as soon as they see Nenita with Mapi and Ingrid, they jump to their feet immediately

She runs to them and starts sobbing into their shirts, so distraught and regretful, saying that she never wanted to go and recounting all the events of the party to them in a tearful voice that breaks their hearts into pieces. They take her inside and sit on the couch, comforting her and rubbing her back to soothe her until she stops crying, and then she properly tells them about the night and how she was peer pressured into doing it all and felt like something bad would happen if she refused because there was one of her and many of them

The stern lecture about meddling with the wrong people lasts about three minutes, but they know that she didn’t want to go against Irene’s word and peer pressure makes people do things they don’t really want to do, so they prioritise comforting her and reassuring her that everything is okay

[naefelldaurk]

Penitence

by Amaruuk

May Prompts 2024 — Do Over

(Also on AO3, here)

He couldn't settle. The wrapping around his ribs was too tight, the pillows at his back inadequately stacked, the duvet out of his reach, leaving him chilled. And that was not to mention the remains of the cake lying heavy in his stomach, an undigested mass, far too rich after weeks of near starvation.

He was miserable. It was pointless lying in bed, in the dark, but it hurt too much to get up unless absolutely necessary—and he couldn't face Lestrade again; dealing with Molly's bright-eyed sweetness had been awkward enough.

The change-over of his minders had taken place at midnight, a few short minutes ago. He could picture Molly's sad face as she updated Lestrade. Sherlock's in his room. I don't think he can sleep, but he wouldn't let me help him. Their muffled, unintelligible voices continued for a few moments. Finally, the door to the sitting room opened and closed, followed by the creak of a single, heavier set of footsteps. They came slowly down the hallway, presumably on the way to the toilet.

Sherlock sighed and then inevitably winced. It had been a mistake leaving the flat to celebrate his birthday, and his not yet fully healed body was holding a grudge. But he had enjoyed it—at first, anyway, before the painkillers had buggered off and exhaustion and discomfort had sloped in to take their place.

Molly had been chipper and bubbly; pure Molly. But John … John had been watchful and assessing, his own expression unreadable. When Molly had asked how he had known that it was Sherlock's birthday, John had recounted, through tight lips, how Irene's message alert had given it away. At this, Sherlock had offered a wry smile. In return, Molly had rolled her eyes and given her head an indulgent shake. But John, his face only slightly relaxed, had nodded once and continued to watch him until it had become clear that Sherlock was beginning to fade. He had bundled Sherlock and Molly into a cab, and his hand had lingered on Sherlock's shoulder before pushing the cab door closed. It was that touch, the warmth of it sinking into Sherlock's chilled skin, that he focused on now.

John had spoken with such fierce intensity about High Wycombe and luck and last chances, about Mary and cheating and who he wanted to be. And then he had wept, and Sherlock had held him … and John—John!—had allowed it. Sherlock's ribs had burned, his lower back had spasmed, and the knot on his jaw had ached where it rested on John's head; but he would have suffered all of that, and more, for hours and hours to have the gift of John Watson standing willingly in his arms.

The squeak of the hinges and the slow swing of the door caused him to startle. He twisted to face the intruder, but the movement inflamed his already angry ribs and he froze, exhaling sharply. Between panting gasps, the pain spiked and his vision gradually cleared, and he discovered that John was supporting him with an arm braced behind his back.

"Only me," he murmured. "Let me sort this; then you can lie back."

"Where's … Grant?"

"Save your breath, Sherlock." John spent a few moments plumping and organizing all of Sherlock's pillows. "Greg was called out," he said, as he guided Sherlock back down. He reached across Sherlock's body to grab the duvet which had puddled around his upper thighs. The swift movement stirred the hair on his exposed belly and groin, which in turn caused all the tiny hairs on his body to stand up. If John noticed, he said nothing, his focus bent on easing the duvet up over his chest and tucking it lightly against his sides. The sudden soft warmth was exquisite, and Sherlock mumbled his thanks. John rested a hand on his arm. "I'm going to make tea. And then we're going to talk."

Sherlock rolled his eyes to follow John's passage out of the room. He had not expected to see him again so soon, especially as there had been time for him to brood over their last encounter at Baker Street. Indeed, he seemed preoccupied, and his terse, And then we're going to talk, did not bode well for a happy conversation. But John was here, and his solicitous manner and casual friendliness soothed Sherlock's doubts.

John returned a few minutes later, leaving the door ajar so that the dim light from the hallway spilled into the dark room. Sherlock gratefully took the offered mug and held it close, hoarding its warmth. "Pajamas?" John pointed towards Sherlock's chest of drawers.

"Middle right." Sherlock blew across his mug and took a sip. The welcome warmth helped to ready him for whatever was to come.

John rummaged for a moment and finally came up with an old, well-worn tee shirt and a loose pair of pajama bottoms. "This do?"

"Yes."

"Let's talk first." After draping the night things over the foot of the mattress, John picked up his tea and hooked one leg over the edge of the bed and sat next to him.

Sherlock took refuge in his tea. "All right."

John's shoulders slumped a little. "Well first, everything I said about High Wycombe and her was utter rubbish—though if that's what you wanted, I'd drive you there myself and wait in the car while you … did whatever you wanted to do."

"I don't want to go to High Wycombe."

Raising a pacifying hand, John said, "No. I get that." He brought the mug to his lips; a clear sign, Sherlock thought, of hesitation. But John gulped his tea, then dragged a huge breath into his lungs, rolled his shoulders back, and exhaled. "All that other stuff, all those other things I said—" He tipped his head, his penetrating gaze demanding Sherlock's attention. "I meant all of that."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "The things you said to Mary?"

A dark grin twisted John's mouth. "Mary wasn't there. It was just you and me."

"You meant for me to hear that."

John shrugged. "I haven't been what you'd call 'stable" these last few weeks. Mary died, and I … kind of lost it."

"It was my fault—"

"It wasn't your fault!" John snapped. "I knew that; of course, I knew that. But I was—" He nodded abruptly. "No more excuses. You're the most important person in my life, Sherlock. That has never changed. But I hurt you, and you let me. And that can never happen again."

"John …"

John shook his head again, a peremptory gesture, signaling Sherlock to be quiet. "Let me get this out. Let me try." His chest swelled on a ragged inhalation, and Sherlock's ribs twinged in sympathy. "I cheated on you, too. You did so much to keep Mary in my life, even though you must have known I was making a mistake. Even after she shot you and you died—you died again, Sherlock! And then, in the morgue, when I— Christ, this is hard."

"You don't need to say any more."

"Not done." He took another drink of tea and collected himself again. "I want to be that man, Sherlock." There was a rasp in his voice. "The man you think I am. And I do want more. I want more with you."

Sherlock stared up at him, wide-eyed. John couldn't possibly mean what he was implying. "Are you saying …?"

"Whatever you're thinking, yes. I love you. I've loved you for years. But I've done nothing but hurt you, and I—"

"John," Sherlock said fiercely, "Do you mean that?"

"With all my heart."

Unthinking, Sherlock turned to set the mug on the table. His ribs seized and he growled in frustration. Through the flash of grinding pain, he was aware of John taking the mug from his hands and then pinning his shoulders to the pillows. "Stop it," John ordered. "Lie still, Sherlock, before you do yourself more damage."

Groaning, Sherlock released his muscles, his body sagging into the pillows.

"Good," John said, his features set. "I'm not actually done."

Sherlock glared up at him.

"Better." John smiled, a small smile, but this time it was a true John Watson smile, shining in his eyes with a hint of pink in his cheeks. But then it wavered. "You see, I left something out."

Sherlock gave his head a tiny shake, demanding with that small motion that he continue.

"Just this." He bent closer, methodically slow, and laid his lips against the corner of Sherlock's damaged eye. "I'm sorry," he breathed. He moved, then, to the stitched cut at his eyebrow. "I'm sorry." Inch by inch, as the duvet was pushed aside, he anointed the wounds that marred Sherlock's body with a brush of his lips and penitent words. When he reached his flank and revealed the widespread bruising that ranged from the lower visible edge of his rib cage to the ridge of his hip, John uttered brokenly, "Oh god, Sherlock, I am sorry. So, so sorry." A terrible sound escaped him, and he lowered his head, the rush of his breath hot against Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock placed his hand on the top of John's head, fingers gliding through short strands of hair. "John, please. Please come up here."

John rolled his head in a short arc, No. He was weeping softly, catching his tears in his palm.

"Please. I'm getting cold."

That got through. John immediately scrubbed the wet from his skin and set to rearranging the duvet so that Sherlock was quickly draped in cozy warmth from collar bone to toes. When he was once more comfortably reclining and no longer at risk of catching a chill, John took a few seconds to gather himself, his posture less hunched, his features more composed. He raised his head, flicking a glance towards him only to look quickly away. The lines on his face had deepened, the circles under his eyes darkened. He said, in a very small voice, "How can you bear to be near me?"

Sherlock held out his hand. John's face threatened to crumple, but he recovered himself and accepted his grasp, their fingers meeting and squeezing tightly together. "You must understand, John," Sherlock said plainly, "it's the alternative that's unbearable."

Whispering his name, John bowed his head over Sherlock's hand and kissed it. "You … you need to rest. I should go—"

"Rosie?"

"She's with a neighbor." He swallowed hard. "But can I stay? In my old room, I mean."

"No."

Some of the color drained from John's face. "Oh."

Gazing up at him fondly, Sherlock explained, "It's Rosie's room now. Your old bed is gone."

"Rosie's room?"

It was Sherlock's turn to glance aside. "I hoped, eventually, that you would …"

"We will," John said firmly. "If you want us."

Sherlock leveled his piercing gaze at him. "Of course I do. Whenever you're ready. But you're not allowed to sleep on the sofa."

The lines in John's forehead began to smooth out. There was a lilt in his voice when he said, "No?"

"You said you want more. Then you will have to sleep here, with me. The sofa is too small for both of us."

John's face broke into a smile, and it was like the sun coming out after a run of dreary days. He kissed Sherlock's hand again. "It won't be easy, you know. Rosie's a handful."

Sherlock raised an amused eyebrow. "As are you. We've never really done 'easy,' John."

"We can start over," John offered. "I can—"

"No." Sherlock tightened his grip, John's hand seeming very small within his. "No do overs." It was important that John understand this, and that he agree. "It's not been all bad, has it?"

A relieved look rushed across John's mobile features. He shook his head and leaned forward to drop a kiss onto Sherlock's forehead. "Best years of my life, Sherlock."

"Then finish what you started," Sherlock demanded gently. When John only looked confused, Sherlock touched his own lower lip. "You missed a spot."

[orionsstory]

that kind of devotion can't be ignored | Anarcia (5)

A/N: did not intend to drop this today but !! surprise! also happy birthday to my dog :) don't forget to check it out on ao3!

-

"So, long story short she broke up with me because I forgot to text her for like, 26 hours! That's not even that long!"

"Amethyst, that's like a whole ass day. It was also the 3rd time that week."

Amethyst rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at Robin. "So what! I said I was a bad texter! Everyone knows that!" She retorted, gathering the four mugs from the kitchen and carefully balancing them in her arms. She made her way to the living room, setting the mugs in front of the other three girls gathered in the living room.

"I don't know, I think I'm on Robin's side. If a girl didn't text me for 26 hours, I'd think she's ghosting me." Luxx added in, Amethyst rolling her eyes at the other girl dramatically.

"That's because you're on your phone all the time! Come on Marcia, you get what I'm saying, right?"

Marcia gave her a pity smile, sending the other two girls into a fit of laughter, Amethyst faked hurt as she dramatically collapsed onto the chair. "No one understands me!" She whined, "She still has my glitter pen...I miss it."

"You know, for someone whose job is to answer phones all day, you kind of suck at answering yours." Robin hummed, sipping on her drink. "But that was a month ago, you gotta move on girl. What about that bass player from Peacock's? Didn't you say she was hot?"

Robin worked as a designer alongside Luxx, the two first meeting when they interned for the brand together back in college. Her black curly hair was tied into a ponytail with two thin braids framing her face, dressed in a white, long-sleeve crop top and baggy cargo pants. Robin was the most put-together of the friend group, she was ambitious and knew what she wanted, something Marcia found very admirable about her.

"Yeah, she was hot, but she's fucking my ex, so like..." Amethyst shrugged in response.

Amethyst was another one of Luxx's coworkers, an aspiring popstar who worked as a secretary for the brand in the meantime. She and Robin had been friends since high school, so when Luxx and Robin bonded on their internships, the group of four seemed to naturally come together and have been inseparable since. Her curly blonde hair fell just past her shoulder, and her bright and eccentric Y2K style was evident from the apartment decor and her clothes- today, a bright orange sweater and a pair of cow print pants.

"That hasn't stopped you before." Luxx cut in, causing Amethyst to groan. "Seriously girl, you need to get laid."

"Oh please, you're one to talk." Amethyst retorted back, Luxx raising her eyebrow in confusion. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! Robin and I agree you and Irene need to get it over with and just hate fuck already! Like oh my god!"

Marcia watched as Luxx's face changed from one of confusion to one of disgust in a near instant. She almost choked on her drink from surprise. "WHAT? You can't be serious. Irene?" She looked between the two girls, her tone dripping with disgust. "Robin, you can't be serious. I'd expect this from Amy, but not you!"

Robin shrugged as Luxx's eyes bore into her, "I think it would help your relationship. You two argue all the time, and I, for one, would like some peace and quiet around the office." She turned away from Luxx, who was rendered speechless from shock, to address Marcia, "Marsh, how much have you heard about Irene?"

Marcia paused for a moment, recounting all the times she'd heard of Irene. "Well, now that you mention it, Luxx you do talk about her almost every day-"

"MARSHALL!" Luxx interrupted, "I'm hurt! We argue all the time because she's insufferable, she's always making these little comments to rile me up!" Luxx briefly paused before she continued, "Let me be clear. I would not fuck her if she were the last person on this Earth. If she offered me a million dollars I wouldn't." Luxx flipped her hair behind her, crossing her arms as she huffed. Marcia giggled, ignoring the glare Luxx sent her.

"She told me she teases you because she likes to get a rise out of you," Amethyst chimed in, "I told her the same thing I told you, and she might have rolled her eyes at me, but she didn't say no!"

Luxx rolled her eyes and sighed, "Whatever, it's not happening in ten million years. Why are we so focused on me all of a sudden? What about you Robin? You have any exciting escapades lately?"

"Well," Robin hummed, sipping her drink, "I've met a very nice woman. But we're taking it slow, some nice classy dates, I wanna give it some time before we make it official."

Amethyst rolled her eyes, "She's lying. She's fucking whipped for Aura."

Luxx and Marcia both ooohed at the name drop, looking back towards Robin.

"How do you know her name? And I am not whipped, that's such a lie."

"Well, I met her when I was in the kitchen having a snack, it was midnight and you kicked the poor girl out. The second time it happened, I thought I should at least know her name if this was going to be a regular occurrence. Plus, you were baking her cupcakes a few days ago- you're down bad for her, you can't lie to me!"

Robin blushed, "Oh. Well, maybe we weren't as sneaky as I thought..."

"Aura's great though," Amethyst continued, "super strong, by the way. Like I think she's a bodybuilder or something. I made her move my giant mirror, you guys know the one, so she gets a pass in my book."

Marcia smiled, "Well that's great Robin! I'm happy for you, she sounds super sweet! We'll have to meet her sometime, preferably when Amy isn't using her for manual labor."

"Yeah, she sounds great, but..." Luxx smirked, "I have to ask...is she better than Amethyst?"

Amethyst and Robin both groaned, drowning out Luxx's cackling. "Oh my god, we dated for like two weeks when we were 14!" Amethyst huffed, playfully swatting at Luxx. "You'll never let us live that down, are you? I should have never told you." Robin rolled her eyes, sighing.

"Oh, come on Luxx- we've all had questionable crushes before!" Marcia laughed, growing a bit more nervous when Luxx shot her a mischievous smile.

"Oh, like the one you have on your 'one true soulmate', Lotus?"

Marcia's face burned bright red as Amy and Robin whipped their attention towards her. There was only a moment of silence before the other girls began to bombard her with questions, Luxx laughing the entire time. The girls continued to bombard her with questions, which caused her to blush more, which only amped up their energy.

"Guys, guys! Give her a chance to speak! She can't tell you about this mystery woman if you guys keep bombarding her."

Marcia sighed with relief as the two backed off, looking at her expectantly. She composed herself before she spoke, "Well, Luxx is being dramatic...I didn't say she was my 'one true soulmate', but-"

"Marshall that is such bullshit, you literally burst through the apartment telling me you had found the love of your life."

Marcia's face grew red, followed by laughter from Amethyst and Robin. "Okay, maybe I did. In my defense, I had a lot of adrenaline! But anyways, Lotus is this local superhero, she's super strong and sweet...she's also really hot."

"So how'd you guys meet? Come on, spill!" Amethyst prompted, bouncing her leg in excitement.

Marcia recounted the story to the two girls in front of her, from her attempted kidnapping to Lotus (literally) sweeping her off of her feet. Robin leaned back in her chair, "So you don't know her identity?" Marcia shook her head, "No...not yet at least. But we didn't meet that long ago, so it doesn't feel too important right now." Robin nodded.

"So how do you even talk to her? Do you send up, like, the bat signal when you want to talk to her?" Amethyst asked, Marcia rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I have to message her friend whenever I want to see her. And yes, I already stalked through her entire social media and haven't seen anyone that looks like her."

Amethyst hummed, "I don't know, I need to see her. Getting involved with a superhero can be dangerous, if you're putting your life on the line she better be smoking hot." Robin nodded along, "I agree, especially if she's the "love of your life"." Marcia groaned but obliged, scrolling through her phone to find the one decent picture she had of Lotus.

She passed it over to the girls, "So, this is from a few years ago, she looks a bit different...maybe I can take a photo with her." She suggested, watching in anticipation as Robin and Amethyst scanned the photo. Amethyst slowly nodded, "Alright...she's hot, I mean look at those muscles." Marcia blushed, "Well, I'm glad I have your approval. I think you guys would really like her."

"Just try not to get caught up in too much trouble, promise?"

"I promise, Robin."

-

A few days later, Marcia trudged into the apartment much like she had the past few days. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the couch. Luxx leaned over the couch, "Rough rehearsal?" Marcia groaned in reply, "Yeah...it was a really choreography-heavy rehearsal...my legs are so sore." Luxx hummed in understanding, "Well lucky for you, your best friend in the whole entire world made you pasta. So come on, get up!" She patted Marcia's shoulder, the blonde slowly rising.

Once they had sat down at the counter, Marcia recounted the trials and tribulations of her day to Luxx, who in turn did the same. "Have you seen Lotus recently?" Luxx casually threw in, making Marcia stop mid-pasta bite. She paused, her brain groggily trying to remember the last time she spoke to Lotus. "Oh god...no, I haven't spoken to her in like...a week. I've been so busy with rehearsal." Her mind raced- does Lotus think she doesn't like her anymore? She chided herself for her ignorance, burying her face in her hands.

"Why don't you just ask to meet her and explain what happened?" Luxx suggested, "I'm sure she'd understand. I mean, Broadway is a big deal after all." Marcia nodded, temporarily reassured. After she had cleared the dishes, she shot Sasha a text asking to meet with Lotus. By the time she was about to go to sleep, she still hadn't gotten a text back.

She lay surrounded by the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. What if Lotus hated her? Didn't want to see her anymore? She tossed and turned, trying to rid her mind of these thoughts. She huffed, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. She knew she was worrying too much, Luxx would tell her as much- but she couldn't stop overthinking. Soon enough though, exhaustion took over and whisked her off to sleep.

-

The blaring of her alarm jolted Marcia out of her sleep, fumbling with her phone to turn it off. She tried to stifle a yawn as she looked at her notifications, one in particular sticking out to her.

'Sasha Colby: Lotus said she'll be there ;)'

She felt relief instantly flood through her body, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. With that, she could go about her day a little easier. She found her day seemed to pass by faster as she waited for that evening. Even rehearsal seemed to be a bit easier- although she still found herself exhausted after.

She soon found herself back at her apartment, fussing over her hair as she put the finishing touches on her outfit. She glanced at the clock, quickly shrugging on her jacket and lacing up her shoes as she headed for the door. She gave a quick goodbye to Luxx before heading out onto the bustling street.

Marcia arrived at their meeting spot, the building beside the alleyway she was almost kind of kidnapped in. She had mixed feelings about it, to say the least- they should probably meet somewhere else, but she pushed those thoughts to the side. She fiddled with her headband as she eagerly waited and watched for the girl.

"Hi, doll."

Marcia jumped as Lotus' voice appeared behind her, "Why do you always do that?! Gosh, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days!" Lotus laughed as Marcia pouted at her, "I'm serious!"

"Oh c'mon, don't make that face! I think it's only fair considering you've been ignoring me." Lotus teased, leaning against the wall. 

Marcia flushed, "I'm sorry about that- I've been so busy with rehearsals, I just lost track of time. I swear I meant to talk to you earlier."

"Don't apologize, I figured it was something like that. I just wanted to tease you, you're cute when you're flustered."

Marcia felt her face go red as she struggled to form a reply, all while Lotus giggled at her reaction. Lotus spoke up instead, "Why don't you tell me all about rehearsals? You're doing that one show, the one about the blonde girl, right? Is it Mean Girls?"

"Legally Blonde, but you were close! Are you sure you don't mind? I can go kind of," Marcia paused, "well, kind of overboard when it comes to theatre."

"No, I don't mind at all! I want to hear about the things you're passionate about."

Marcia couldn't hide the smile creeping onto her face as she launched into the show's details- how rehearsal was going, trying on costumes, and the dreaded upcoming tech week. Lotus sat intently listening the whole time, nodding her head along and smiling at Marcia's grand gestures. She was talking about the new blocking they had received for the next number when Lotus interrupted.

"Wait, why do you have to learn two versions?"

"Because I'm Elle's, the lead, understudy. I basically have to learn her choreography and the ensembles just in case our Elle can't go on."

Lotus was silent for a moment, processing what Marcia had just told her.

"So you have to like...learn double of everything?"

Marcia nodded.

"That's fucking impressive. Seriously, I mean...wow."

Marcia beamed brightly at the compliment, "Thanks! You should come see the show, uh, if you want to that is."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, doll."

The butterflies in her stomach erupted, leaving her speechless and her face bright red. Lotus smirked at her state, which Marcia rolled her eyes at.

"Oh!" Lotus gasped as if she just remembered something, "I want to show you something. Um, if you want to. You don't have to, I get it-"

"Are you kidding? I'd love to!"

Lotus grinned and lifted Marcia into her arms before taking off into the sky. She wrapped her arms around Lotus' neck, cheering as they took off through the sky. They weren't in the sky for long, as they touched down on top of the Manhattan bridge. Lotus held Marcia steady as she set her feet down, laughing nervously at the height.

The wind whipped her hair as she looked down, the cars looking like tiny dots passing below them. She clutched onto Lotus without even thinking about it, who wrapped her arm around her waist.

"This...this is pretty cool." Marcia exhaled, laughing again in disbelief.

"That's not even the best part- look."

Lotus guided Marcia's face with her hand to look towards the sky- a beautiful pink and orange as the sun began to set. Marcia's eyes shone as she took it all in, gasping at its beauty. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had seen a sunset, or at least one with such a beautiful view like this.

They stood there, together, until the sun had set and the sky was purple.

"Pretty cool, right?"

Marcia nodded, "You know how to impress a girl."

Lotus smirked, very proud of herself. "I used to hang out here and watch the sunset all the time before my shifts. Gave me time to clear my head and focus on the positive. I'm glad I got to share it with you."

Marcia softened, leaning closer into Lotus. "I'm glad you did too."

Lotus rested her head on top of Marcia's, staying like that for a minute before she spoke again.

"I should get you back, I have to go on patrol soon..."

"Do you have to?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Quit pouting, you're gonna make me feel worse!" She laughed, playfully squeezing Marcia who giggled in return.

"Wait! We should take a photo to remember this!" She suggested, eagerly pulling out her phone.

"You're just trying to rope me into spending more time with you!" Lotus teased, yet she still leaned into Marcia and posed for the photo, throwing up a pair of bunny ears behind Marcia's hair.

The camera flashed, capturing this small moment in time. Marcia sighed as she took in the tranquility of it all. She wished the moment could last forever, just the two of them. But it couldn't, not for the moment anyway.

"Will you bring me back sometime?"

"I will. I promise."

-

Marcia drifted off to sleep that night thinking of the bridge, the sunset, and Lotus. She felt like she was on cloud nine, the photo they had taken now set as her home screen. Luxx teased her for it and called her a sap, and maybe she was, but it made her heart flutter every time she looked at it. She felt on top of the world as she fell asleep that night.

[hernamewasjonbenet]

The Ramsey family went to Atlanta to celebrate Thanksgiving 1996, which would become JonBenet's last. JonBenet spent the day surrounded by family and friends and prepared her own side-dish of homemade “jelly roll-ups” to share.

Irene Willis, John Ramsey’s former mother-in-law, fondly remembered that day. During a 1997 interview, she recounted a memory of JonBenet wearing a Christmas sweater that was slightly too big, with the sleeves draping over her hands, as she excitedly ran around with her cousins. Amid the holiday chaos, JonBenet found a moment to cuddle up to her. A guest captured this moment, and for Irene, that photo symbolized JonBenet's true spirit.

“She was just a typical 6-year-old, a very loving child.”

[zvahl]

Chapters: 1/9

Fandom: Minecraft Diaries - Aphmau (Web Series)

Characters: Ivy (Minecraft Diaries), Zane Ro'meave, Jury of Nine (Minecraft Diaries)

Summary:

“How fortuitous it is you stand here today. The opportunity to become a Juror is only permitted to the most capable and devoted to upholding our Lady’s principles.” It’s not an insult, exactly - flowery enough to pass as high praise to hopeful enough ears - but the implication hangs heavy in the air. It was mere fortune, literally, instead of skill and renown that landed her here.

She twirls a curled strand of hair around her finger, the perfect picture of snakelike innocence. “Of course, your Eminence. I consider myself more knowledgeable than most on the principles of Irene.”

-

or, the nine righteous hands of the Matron recount what they think it means to be holy.

[fourseasonscomeandgo]

The I is for "I hurt".

Pairing: Red Velvet Irene x fem!reader.

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff, a little bit of angst.

TW: Alcohol, Depression, Insecurities.

Wendy met Eunhee when she went to her radio show to promote VOIST's —a girlgroup under KQ Entertainment— comeback. Maybe because they had the same MBTI or they were both Pisces, something clicked, instantly.

There was nothing else for Seungwan to talk about in these weeks since she met her. She seemed happy to have found someone who understands her, who makes her laugh, and that made me happy.

A few days ago she proposed to go out for dinner with all the members. The smile on her face and the excitement with which she asked us made it impossible for any of us to say no to her.

We came to a grill. When Eunhee and the members of her group arrived, my eyes were drawn to one specific person. I had seen her before, VOIST has been promoting for years at the same time as us. I've seen her presentations, her interviews, but why is it only now that I'm noticing her?

We share greetings with each other, saying our names, doing small talk, deciding what we are going to order. As they share opinions and tastes, I watch y/n out of the corner of my eye. She's been reading the menu since she sat down and hasn't joined the conversation. I take a swig of my beer.

Now that I have her in front of me, the memory of when we were on Weekly Idol on a special episode at the same time came to my mind. y/n was beaming, whenever she appeared in my field of vision she was talking to her members and laughing, she was very eloquent, anything she said was funny and spot on, to see her that day was to see someone made for entertainment.

And now here she was sitting at a table full of people, but she hadn't even lifted her head from the cardboard with the dishes on it.

I take another sip of my drink as I think. Maybe she's just had a bad day.

The other members are otherworldly, like a comedy troupe, not singers.

The moment they appeared the words began to fall from their lips one after another, non-stop. Each phrase more comical than the previous one.

Eunhee is similar to Wendy, now I understand why they got along so well, they both don't know when to draw the line on what they say. They are so carefree about their images, so open with what's on their minds, they are the funniest people.

Hayoon is smart, sarcastic, she's calm and a bit serious, but everything that comes out of her mouth hits the target exactly, as if she calculates her words so that there's no range of error.

And for her part, Jihye was a ball of joy and happiness, everything excited her, everything surprised her. She was adorable.

As we recounted situations in which we've met before, the food arrived and we started grilling the meat.

Between the time we chatted, the food arrived and we prepared it, I made three glasses of beer disappear. While we ate, the girls ordered soju, of which I drank, of course. And now I'm drunk.

And y/n is still not talking. Excellent.

Yeri and Joy noticed that she doesn't talk much, so they tried to ask her some questions to include her, but her answers were too short, not helpful.

However, Seulgi did manage to grab her attention; they've been talking about movies for a while.

If Seulgi is talking to her, then she does talk, that means she can talk to me. Cool!

"What are you two talking about?" I shift a little in my chair, moving closer to them.

"Oh, Irene unnie watched Memento Mori too, in fact, she watched it with me" my member explains, integrating me into the conversation.

I swear I saw y/n's eyes sparkle for a second. Excited, she starts talking to me about the feature film and asking me questions. From one topic we move on to another, and another, and another. I don't know at what point Seulgi left the conversation and joined the one the others were having, but now it was just me and her.

A couple more glasses of alcohol and we all said our goodbyes. As we go back home I can't stop smiling.

"Hey, why is unnie so happy?" Yeri teasingly questions.

"Because she found out she likes someone" Joy quickly replies.

What a human I started liking.

A few days later, Jihye's birthday arrived. We all received a message from her inviting us. It was a small thing, with her friends, at her apartment.

Of course we attended. I wore something cute, casual, but it clearly said "I'm looking for a girlfriend". I don't tend to be very obvious in my emotions, so I could at least try to deliver my message through my clothes. But there's no point now, because y/n doesn't care.

We exchanged a few words, she asked me if I had seen the movie she recommended me, offered me a drink and then told me not to get drunk. Then she sat down next to her mates, and there she stayed.

If I would have liked a vase I would have had more action.

Then, we were invited to a movie night. I thought it would be the best possible situation, since it was what we bonded over in the first place, but again, she waved, offered me popcorn, said I would like this movie, and nothing else

For Joy's birthday everyone was invited, y/n even cooked, but that day she didn't even speak to me except to say hello.

That's how it was every time we saw each other, she would say "hello" and "goodbye", and that was it. She was like that with everyone, but I didn't understand how it could be that once we had such a nice conversation and after that I haven't been able to share a sentence of more than five words with her.

I guess she is extremely introverted. I am too, in the end. I try and try to talk to her, but it's merely because I like her, if it was any other human being I wouldn't try. And to her I'm just another human being, she doesn't have to try. So I understand her.

Recently both groups had a comeback, it's great because it's the first time we work at the same time since we became close. After we finished getting ready, we decided to come to VOIST's dressing room to hang out while waiting for our turn to record our performance.

As we have snacks and start a game of I Am Ground, I can't help but notice that y/n is quieter than other times. She's not even playing with us or eating anything, she's sitting apart, staring blankly at space.

Since everyone is engrossed in what we were doing, no one notices when y/n gets up and almost sprints out of the room. I stand up and quickly follow her into the bathroom.

y/n is resting on the marble where the sinks are, crying frantically, trying to inhale and exhale, but failing each time.

"y/n?" I slowly approach her, she turns to look at me, startled. "It's okay, it's me."

She takes a few steps back, getting away from me, and covers her face with her hands, keeping me from seeing her. She keeps trying to calm down, I notice how her breathing is getting louder and louder, almost forcing herself to be okay.

I stand in front of her, take her hands and move them away, I wipe her tears with my thumbs. As I look into her eyes, I begin to inhale and exhale myself. After a few seconds, when she feels secure, she begins to copy my actions. Slowly, she calms down. Once her breathing is steady, she throws herself at me and catches me in a hug. It's not romantic; it's a quest for protection.

"It's too much," she murmurs into my arms "I thought I could get on stage without worrying, but it's too much."

"I get you, this sucks, things sucks sometimes."

When she was encouraged to open up to me, I could understand a lot of things.

Since VOIST debuted everything has been difficult for her. The pressure of being the leader of the group, the fame, the exposure. She has been dealing for years with the insecurity that she will never be enough for her fans and her group, with the hate from those who are not so fans. Being a celebrity has caused an immense depression that she's been battling for years, and it's not that she's introverted or dislikes me, it's that she's unable to believe that people would ever want to be friends with her.

The human mind is the most complex thing there is.

I have spent almost four months trying to bond with her while she believed she wasn't enough to bond with anyone.

After the panic attack in the bathroom at that music program, I've been busy helping her. She doesn't open up or let her guard down with anyone, but I had already seen her vulnerable side.

I encouraged her to start therapy, who referred her to a psychiatrist who gave her medication to combat her depression. I say it so easily, but it has been a tedious and lengthy process, in which I have stuck by her side as her support. I don't do it because I feel the responsibility, I do it because I want to see her well.

It has been a while since I felt so much pride as the moment I saw her go on stage without crying before. The presentation was great, it's the return of a y/n with confidence, with energy. She's not in her best shape, she's not the best version of herself, there's still some way to go, but she's better than before, a little healthier and happier.

The members come down from the stage and upon seeing me, y/n comes almost running towards me. She has a smile on her face, which seems like an anomaly of life. I feel an intense urge to cry with happiness, but I don't get to that point,

because first I feel her lips on mine.

We try to keep the balance we lost thanks to the impact of her body against mine, with our lips pressed together and bodies surely holding on to each other.

"What was that?" I blurt the moment she pulls away from me.

"Something I've wanted to do for months now," she confesses "but in order not to hurt you I first had to stop hurting myself" she adds, tears peeking out of her eyes "thank you for helping me stop hurting myself."

—O—O—

Soo.. this was hard, i don't know if this will be satisfying for who requested ir or if they wanted something more.. intense (? i'm pretty proud of this one, must say, so i hope everyone likes it.

and, beautiful people, get help if you are going through a hard moment, talk about it, you're all important <3

—ica.

[chriscalledmesweetie]

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson.

Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

Chapter 5: Murder!

 “I must have a word with Miss Amat. She was the last person to see her uncle alive. Does she know yet?” 

Miss Hooper shook her head. 

“Well, no need to tell her for another five minutes. She can answer my questions better without being upset by knowing the truth about her uncle. Tell her there’s been a burglary, and ask her if she would mind dressing and coming down to answer a few questions.”

It was Miss Hooper who went upstairs on this errand. 

“Miss Amat will be down in a minute,” she said, when she returned. “I told her just what you suggested.” 

In less than five minutes Irene descended the staircase. She was wrapped in a pale pink silk kimono.

🗡️ The titular event has occurred!

Will Sherlock and John be able to solve the case?

Will you???

If you're wondering why Irene's last name is Amat instead of Adler, check out this video. It may—or may not—give you a clue.

I'm tagging some folks who might be interested. Please let me know if you'd like me to tag or untag you.

@mydogwatson @totallysilvergirl @bluebellofbakerstreet @sarahthecoat @helloliriels @daisyfairy1 @imnova @kittenmadnessandtea @marta-bee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant @jobooksncoffee @peanitbear @bakingsherlycakes @missdeliadilisblog @kettykika78 @stellacartography @shelleysprometheus @iamjustreading @chinike @sgam76 @loves-to-read-fanfic

[iconauta]

Twenty Minutes of Love (1914) Charlie Chaplin & Joseph Maddern

Twenty Minutes of Love is a 1914 film, directed by Joseph Maddern and Charlie Chaplin. It was the eleventh film starring Charlie Chaplin produced by Keystone and the first time that producer Mack Sennett let Chaplin try his hand at the camera and actively collaborate on the film with his ideas.

Filmed in just one afternoon at Echo Park in Los Angeles, this one-reel comedy, which Chaplin called "continuous laugh throughout" in his autobiography, is a variation on the theme of the park, the policeman and the pretty girl.

Chaplin recounted that throughout the afternoon of filming he played a newly released ragtime piece Too Much Mustard by Cecil Macklin, on whose notes Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers would dance 25 years later in The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

(sister-in-law and I discussing how BBC Sherlock is a terrible adaptation of A Scandal in Bohemia) me: and then Steven Moffat thought it would be hilarious for Irene to compare herself to John Watson in that she is gay but in love with Sherlock in the same way– 10-year-old cousin: I don't know who John Watson is but I'm sure he would want you to come play hide and seek with us and stop talking about his gayness sister-in-law (to me): oh if you recounted this interaction on tumblr in 2013 it would have done numbers