#anyway good news is ill prob finish it tonight and get it posted in the next few days

[josecariohca]

me: hm this fic im writing is getting long and i feel kinda stuck im gonna take a break and play around with this other idea i have. shouldnt be more than 1 or 2k, just something easy to get the ideas flowing

also me, staring at a fic now bordering 10k: by talos this cant be happening

[illuminating-dragons]

Dreams and Visions (42/51): The Eventual Appearance of a Carriage, pt. 2

Time Period: BBC

Chapter Summary:  Kitty and Stan have yet another question for Sherlock, and a storm brings a new member to the Baker Street Clan.

Note:  This is about a year and a half after the last chapter.

Read it on AO3

           “And how’s Mrs. Hopkins?” John asked.

           He was on the phone with Stan as Sherlock typed up their latest case (ever since they got married, their readers had begged for both of them to post about cases to compare them. Sherlock obliged, though he still got stroppy when people said John’s writing was more ‘relatable’).

           “Kitty’s doing well—she took Lily and Jacob shopping for Christmas presents today for their families.” Stan paused a minute. “We were thinking of dropping in later, is that alright?”

           “Sure. We’ll just have to hide the ponies we got you.”

           “Da, no, I wanted a hippopotamus,” Stan groaned.

           John shook his head. “See you soon, son.”

           “We’ll be over in an hour or so,” Stan said before he hung up.

           “What was that about?” Sherlock asked.

           “I dunno,” John answered. “They just want to drop in.”

           Sherlock put his laptop down. “If it was just dropping in, then why didn’t they just do it? They’re home now, they live just down the road. No, something’s up.”

           John frowned. “He seemed alright. I don’t think it’s a row or anything.”

           Sherlock went back to his typing. “Perhaps it’s money troubles.”

           “I don’t think it’s that. Suppose we’ll just have to wait.”

           They didn’t have to wait long. Less than twenty minutes later Stan and Kitty walked in, bundled up against the ridiculous snow storm outside.

           Sherlock put his laptop aside. “What is it?”

           “Sherlock, at least say hello,” John scolded. “Hello, you two. What is it?”

           Kitty bit her lip. “Can we…I can’t do it, you ask them.”

           “How the hell am I going to explain any better?”

           “How about you both sit down and spit it out,” Sherlock suggested. He and John sat in their chairs, pulled close to the sofa.

           Kitty took Stan’s hand. “Well, I’m in my thirties.”

           “Yes, we noticed that your last birthday.”

           Kitty didn’t even smile. “And…well, I’m getting a bit older, and we thought that if we wanted to have…I mean we’re doing alright now and…”

           “We’re thinking about having a child,” Stan interrupted.

           “Really?” John couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “That’s wonderful! So what’s the prob—oh.”

           Stan’s eyes went wide. “Did you just—Da, did you just forget?”

           John covered his face with his hands. “I’m so, so sorry.”

           Stan laughed. “Not at all; that means the hormones are really working.” He stroked his beard. “Anyways I…well, I can’t. We can’t have our own baby.”

           “So are you thinking adoption, or…”

           “We thought about it, but we’re not exactly Mike and Molly.” Kitty smiled a little sadly. “I don’t think even Uncle Mycroft could forge enough documents to make us look like suitable parents, especially when there are so many couples that are infertile.”

           “You’ll be brilliant parents,” John said gruffly. “Don’t be stupid.”

           “If I can halfway manage it, you two can,” Sherlock added.

           “You do a bit more than halfway, Da,” Stan replied. “But Kitty’s right—I don’t think adoption is something we’ll be able to do. At least not right now.”

           “So…a donor, then?”

           “Yeah. Molly was very kind and got me an exam so we won’t be wasting any time—I’m fertile enough that it hopefully won’t take too many tries. We started looking through potential donors today.”

           “Do you want us to do some background checking?” John asked. “I’m sure we can hack in—”

           “Da, that’s illegal!”

           “John, we can deduce the pertinent information from the file anyways.”

           “Okay, shut up you lot!” Kitty was suddenly very tense. “The problem is…well, we couldn’t find anyone we liked. Not really.”

           “You’ll find someone,” John comforted her.

           Kitty met his eyes. “What if…we already have?”

           John froze.

           “I know…I know it’s a lot to ask, and I swear, it’ll be mine and Stan’s baby, you can be involved as little or as much as you want—”

           “Kitty,” John stopped her. “You want one of us to donate?”

           “If you wouldn’t mind.” Kitty looked desperately hopeful. “Then I know—it won’t be a stranger, and I won’t be worrying the whole time, and you could count it as a million Christmas presents—”

           John swept her into a tight hug. “We won’t count it as one,” he promised, voice thick. He turned to look at Sherlock. “Suppose we’ll have to flip for it, right love?”

           Sherlock had gone very still. “Why bother? You’re the obvious choice.”

           “What are you talking about?” John let go of Kitty. “You’ve got more to offer than me in terms of good genes.”

           Sherlock laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Ah yes, borderline sociopathic tendencies, addictive tendencies…”

           “Impeccable family medical history, tall, attractive, amazingly intelligent…” John took his husband’s hand. “Dear, don’t be stupid. It looks bad on you.”

           Sherlock turned to their children. “You can’t tell me you don’t have a preference.”

           “Only for cosmetic reasons. John looks more like Stan. But…” Kitty tapped her face. “I think there are certain genes that are just going to overwhelm the others. I don’t mind either way. And just to stop either of you worrying, think about it like this. If one of you was a woman, and you were having a baby, you couldn’t control which person the baby takes its genes from anyways.”

           “Excellent point,” John agreed, not letting go of Sherlock’s hand. “Right let’s say this—we’re both willing. We should probably do some tests of our own, make sure that both of us are able.”

           Stan blushed. “Yeah. Um, no rush or anything.”

           “We’ll let you know by Christmas,” John promised.

           “Now go home or your scallops will have been in the freezer too long,” Sherlock said, waving his hand.

            Kitty and Stan leapt up. “Damn it!” They rushed out the door, calling hurried thanks over their shoulders.

           John glared at Sherlock. “You guessed.”

           “No, Kitty had the receipt sticking out of her purse.” Sherlock’s gaze unfocused, and John sighed. He got up and sat on Sherlock’s lap. “Sherlock Holmes, don’t ever say something like that again.”

           “You’d be a much better father than me.”

           “Dear, we are fathers, remember? And that was by our children’s choice—they didn’t need to pick us.” John was still proud of that, still in awe that people like Kitty and Stan wanted him in their lives at all, much less as a parent.

           Sherlock leaned his head against John’s chest. “But we didn’t have a chance to fuck their start up.”

           “No.” John paused. “But Sherlock, think about Kitty’s biological family. From what she’s told us, they’re quite fortunate they’re dead and out of our reach. But she’s brilliant with kids.”

           “And she’ll make a wonderful mother.” Sherlock was quiet for a minute, playing with John’s fingers. “So if she has the courage—”

           “You can too,” John finished. He kissed the top of Sherlock’s head. “Anyways, we’ll be the grandfathers. It’s our job to spoil the little one.”

           Sherlock cracked a smile at that. “I suppose.” He looked over his shoulder at the table. “Well, I have the necessary equipment to do those tests you mentioned.”

           John smirked. “Tonight?”

           Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s neck. “Why not?” he replied, dropping his voice an octave. “Could be rather fun.”

           Of course the test didn’t solve anything, and there were several more arguments before it was eventually settled. John did have to fight hard to convince Sherlock that Kitty and Stan would prefer actual baby clothes to the…physical proof of John’s donation.

           Years after, when he confided in Kitty, Kitty told him that deduction was exactly correct.

           It took two tries, but Kitty was pregnant by April. Pregnancy was hard on her, but she refused to let it show, up for consulting at all hours until Stan put his foot down.

           “I’m not having you get ill when you’re already taxing your body,” he told her. “Relax. The world isn’t going to end because you can’t consult.”

           Kitty fumed, but she eventually gave in, helped along by Mycroft agreeing to step in. She spent most of her maternity leave at Molly’s, looking after the children. Stan painted the spare bedroom a bright, cheerful jungle, with animals peeking out from the trees.

           Sherlock said nothing about the inaccuracies of having only happy, cheerful herbivores.

           Kitty was due in the middle of December, but John and Sherlock got a frantic call from Stan the last day of November. “She’s in labour!” he gasped. “And she thinks the baby’s coming now!”

           They were out the door before Stan finished talking, out into a wild winter storm.

           Kitty was indeed in labour, face rigid with pain. Stan held Kitty’s hand tight while Sherlock dialled Molly and Mike. John settled her comfortably on their bed and starting preparing for a home delivery.

           It was over before Mike and Molly could get there with pain relief and paramedics, but John never forgot that hour. He’d treated friends and family before, treated Sherlock with hands that stayed steady until it was over, but this was something different. This pain had a purpose; the real agony had been the years of suffering his daughter had endured, the despair his son had felt. It was terrifying, delivering without tools, in a still messy bedroom, but somehow John knew everything was going to be alright.

           And it was. Despite being two weeks early, Stan and Kitty’s daughter was a perfectly healthy weight. The Hoopers arrived just as John finished cutting the cord. Tears in her eyes, Molly wrapped the baby in the blanket she and Lily had made. Then, cooing over the small curly head, she tucked her back into Kitty’s arms. Kitty rocked her baby, tears in her eyes. “Oh look at her, Stan,” she whispered. “Oh, she’s lovely.”

           Stan sat next to his wife, doing his best to put his arms around her and their child. “I love you,” he whispered back. “And I love our baby, oh gosh…”

           The baby’s skin was just as dark as Kitty’s but her eyes were teal, the same shape as John’s—and oddly enough, Stan’s as well. And her curls…if John didn’t know better he could have sworn they came from Stan as well.

           As Kitty nursed the baby, Mike asked if they’d thought of names yet.

           “Well, it’s going to be her birth name, and she can change it if she likes,” Kitty answered with a glance at Stan, “but we thought maybe the best start for a name is one that reminds you of love. So her name’s Rachel Molly Hopkins.”

           John’s jaw dropped. When his eyes met Sherlock’s, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see his husband tear up.

           “We can use that, right?” Kitty looked up. “I thought about Jennifer, but her last word was Rachel, and if it wasn’t for that case—”

           “We’d never be here,” John answered hoarsely. Kitty held Rachel out to him and John cradled the baby—my granddaughter—close. He’d worried in the last couple of months that the baby would somehow feel like his, but it didn’t feel that way at all. This baby was family, certainly. But Rachel Molly Hopkins was his granddaughter. Certainly not his daughter.

           And if anyone wanted to fight him on it…well, he still ran rooftops twice a week. They were welcome to try.

           “Come here, dear,” he called Sherlock. “Come and hold our granddaughter.”

           Sherlock took Rachel very carefully from John, holding her in front of him, supporting her head carefully. “Hello Rachel,” he said. “You won’t remember this, but I’m your other grandfather. It’s very…very nice to meet you.” He cradled her against his chest, closing his eyes.

           The wind was still howling outside, and Rachel’s birthday would be stormy every year, but that little room was quiet as the family took in its tiny, newest member.

           That is, until Mycroft, Greg and Mrs. Hudson announced their arrival by Greg falling up the stairs.

[ricardosousalemos]

Grimes Starts New Instagram for Original Artwork

Grimes has opened a new Instagram account dedicated to her own original artwork, as well as fan art and “general Grimes visual art related stuffs,” as Dazed Digital points out. In a post on her primary account, she explained, “i get so much incredible art all the time from y’all, but i don’t want to spam people on my main account.” Currently, the new account (@GrimesArtOfficial) features fan art and some leg tattoos. Grimes encourages to tag the new profile if they would like to be included. See her announcement, as well as the latest @GrimesArtOfficial posts, below.

Grimes’ latest album, Art Angels, came out in 2015, but she still released a ton of music videos last year. See where those visuals placed in Pitchfork’s “The Best Music Videos of 2016.”

yo making a new insta for visual art --> @grimesartofficial where i will post my own illustrations but prob mostly sick fan art like this. tag that account w art if u want me to post. -------this one is by @kumbricwitch /-- im sad show posters r kind of an obsolete medium w promotions on the internet these days but i just love fonts illustrations and music uniting in an image and i love having memories of shows. looove this poster anyway, i get so much incredible art all the time from y'all, but i don't want to spam people on my main account so u can check stuff out at @grimesartofficial

A photo posted by Grimezsz (@grimes) on Jan 11, 2017 at 7:56pm PST

her name is quiet

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 8, 2017 at 4:48pm PST

here's hana's documentation of this tattoo saga. i want to post more after pics but it's in an insane bandage i can't take off for 3 more days

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 11, 2017 at 7:42pm PST

before the bandage but after the tat -- delphine p much did it freehand over her sketch. hana talked to her the whole time so i could focus on their voices and not succumb to the pain.. man tattoos are such a healing experience tho. always hates my legs cuz of stupid scars tats and brandings from my troubled years. now i'm just stooooooked not to have to wear tights all the time ps artists insta is @delphinenoiztoy

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 11, 2017 at 7:45pm PST

by @kumbricwitch /- im sad show posters r kind of an obsolete medium w promotions on the internet these days but i just love fonts illustrations and music uniting in an image and i love having memories of shows. looove this poster

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 11, 2017 at 7:58pm PST

see this actually completely intimidates me -- this is soooo good 👀. by @irving_m_art

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 11, 2017 at 8:00pm PST

getting tagged w a lot amazing art, ill have to post slowly over time, gotta go finish editing venus fly for y'all tonight tho blegh haha. thank u for all this incredible beauty 🌎👹🌎👹❤️❤️❤️ got a couple great images by @brianashingart -- it was hard to choose which to post. thanks dude

A photo posted by GrimesArtOfficial (@grimesartofficial) on Jan 11, 2017 at 8:13pm PST

Watch Grimes perform “Genesis” at Pitchfork Music Festival 2012: