#sherlock's pretty eyelashes

[moonyflesh]

-> ROBERT DOWNEY JR. as TONY STARK [a.k.a. IRON MAN] - (eye study)

[ultopias]

(thisis just me rambling) the ask before this reminds me of the manga dojo miyoshi sensei and takeuchi sensei did for jump sq december issue 2022

(jump sq's caption saying something like "how to make destined rival" is sending me like bro now everyone in china knows they're soulmates)

anyway i never really read it so i finally went through it using google translate a few days ago, and most of it was just sensei going through the thought process behind william and sherlock as yuumori characters, why they're different from the original characters, how to leave certain impression on the readers, etc.

she also went over some points about the visual/character design, then there's this part from the 'point 1' on 3rd picture (once again, i used google translate!)

and this is making me ctfu because with liam's design she was like "oh a beautiful beautiful angel" and then when it came to sherlock it was almost like "just some guy i guess" 😭😭 it makes me feel super validated though because he's meant to be babygirl in the first place (´⌣`ʃƪ) (??)

it's also kinda funny because when yuumori: the remains chapter 2 dropped the other day, when i checked the japanese fans' reactions on twitter (they sometimes do nice analysis about the chapter so i like reading them) they were all just saying things like "william has a really nice face" "he's so beautiful" and i hope sensei knows people are saying this because it's all according to keikaku 😂😂 but he really is so pretty though!!! (i guess because it's basically a story that people who read the novel already knew, people probably didn't have a lot to say lol)

i also realised that sensei deliberately designed them to look the opposite of each other was because they were rivals at the beginning... but now they're on the same side so this doesn't apply to the current sherlock anymore so sensei changed his design to look more similar to liam in terms of style??? what do i know 👀

anyway i just thought this was interesting, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[strangersails]

katsuki hates valentine’s day for several reasons, but he loves shouto so much that he doesn’t care if it goes against his own beliefs of said holiday, cause there’s just no way he’d waste a chance to spoil him a little (he already does on a daily basis).

but.

there’s also no fucking way he’d give him some embarrassing teddy bear with a heart stitched to its paws saying “i love you”, or some shitty chocolate box. he will bend to make his boyfriend happy, but he will not give him just the most basic gifts that everyone receives.

no, he won’t write no sappy as fuck love letter like he’s sure shitty hair did for the shitty nerd. he’ll do this his own way and get him something he will actually enjoy, besides, obviously, the fact that he’ll spoil him rotten like shouto loves to be — fucking princess.

that’s why he shows up in class, he lets shouto kiss his lips quickly and he eats one of the stupid, fancy chocolates he deposits on katsuki’s desk. he makes sure to let him know that it’s actually good, even though katsuki’s not really much of a sweet tooth.

and then he waits for shouto to sit at his own desk to give him his silly but healthy little gift — or at least an anticipation of it.

“close your eyes and open your mouth.”

“hm. what is it, katsuki? i don’t think i can trust you.”

“huh?! i’m not putting shitty things in your mouth, little fucker. just open that damn mouth, or i’ll keep this to myself.”

shouto pouts a little (the fuck’s he so damn pretty for?) but then closes his stupidly pretty eyes and parts his even prettier lips.

and katsuki puts the tip of a strawberry he washed meticulously at the dorm’s kitchen this morning on his bottom lip.

shouto gasps a little, probably cause it’s cold.

“bite” he prompts him.

shouto gives the strawberry a tentative lick first, and it makes katsuki’s face go a redder tonality than the stupid fruit.

but then he closes his mouth and bites. it takes him about two seconds to hum in approval and look at katsuki with sparks in his eyes.

“it’s so good, katsuki.”

“bet it is, huh? you got a whole basket of ‘em back at the dorm, baby.”

shouto’s eyes are even bigger now, the corner of his shiny lips curls happily.

“happy valentine’s day, asshole” katsuki says, extending the strawberry he still holds in his hand.

shouto doesn’t speak and doesn’t move, just parts his lips again expectantly.

fucking spoiled brat.

he feeds him anyway.

shouto bites, never taking his eyes away from katsuki’s.

“i knew that you loved me” he says once his mouth is free.

“no shit sherlock, i’m your fucking boyfriend. tch. fucking smartass.”

“you gave me a valentine’s gift.”

“so what?”

“it’s embarrassing.”

he’ll kill him.

“shut up, you literally gave me chocolate, dumbass.”

“yes, it’s because you don’t like chocolate, and you’ll just let me have it.”

“you little sh—”

“feed me.”

shouto opens his mouth and katsuki blinks.

he can’t believe this.

he lets him give the final bite to the red fruit anyways, and shouto’s lips touch the tips of his fingers.

oh, he hates him.

“i hate you.”

shouto lifts his hand and grabs the back of katsuki’s head, fingers slipping between the blond, wild spikes. he looks at him intently.

“katsuki.”

“hn.”

he lets his hand pull his face closer enough that he has to cross his eyes a little to look at him.

“thank you” he says softly on his lips, before pushing against them, gently but firmly.

the sourish, sweet taste of strawberry lingers on his lips, he doesn’t even have to drag his tongue on them to feel it.

shouto pulls back, just enough to break the kiss, but still close to his face, he could count his bi-color eyelashes.

“i love you.”

“tch. brat. i love you too.”

[sherlockholmes-real]

Kinktober Day 1- Praise Kink

Sherlock BBC- Johnlock

Sherlocks parents weren't really the type to tell him that he'd done a good job as a kid, mostly because they assumed he heard that enough at school and from other kids. Most likely, they just thought other people liked people like him, but they didn't really. Actually, most people and kids his age thought he was a pretentious prick.

Now he was older, and people still thought he was a pretentious prick, but he'd mostly gotten used to John telling him how smart he was about twenty-four seven. Sometimes, though, it still got to him. It was like the teenager in his brain wasn't quite used to it and got a bit riled up every now and then. Right now seemed to be one of those times. The two had just gotten done with solving a cold case, something Sherlock was proficient at. John seemed to be still astonished every time he did it, and this was definitely one of those times.

"Sherlock, you're just amazing." John threw his hands up in the air. "You're so good at this."

Sherlock pauses in his tracks for a moment he turns away from John before responding cockily with an "I know."

"No, I mean it, this time you just, wow, you're so good." John smiles in amazement.

"Right." For the first time in his life, Sherlocks' brain feels like it's malfunctioning. "Uhm, tea?" He asks quietly.

"Sure, yes, I'll go make some" John sort of prances towards their shared messy kitchen. Sherlock sits on the couch still wearing his coat to cover what seems to be his problem in his pants.

John walks back into the room while he waits for the kettle to whistle, "Why are you still wearing your filthy coat on the couch."

"It's cold" for someone who's supposed to be a good liar he's not really doing so hot, and he knows it. John peers at him suspiciously.

"Right. Sherlock, it's not cold in here. Take off your coat." John walks over to him and pulls on it from behind.

Now, what does he do? He has a raging boner and his best friend is trying to take off the only thing that's hiding it. "I can't"

"Why?" John sounds genuinly concerned at this point.

"Because." Sherlock says

"Because why, Sherlock?" John rolls his eyes visibly.

"Because I said so, leave me alone." He sounds pretty annoyed, and he stands up and storms off to his room like a little kid, leaving John standing there confused.

The kettle whistles and John decides that bringing his friend a cup of tea was a good way to apologize for being way overbearing. John makes the cup and then sets off towards Sherlocks room knocking on the door lightly.

"What?" He responds to the knocking.

"I brought you your tea." John says quietly, pausing for a moment, "Can I come in?"

Sherlock sighs, "Yes, I suppose." John opens the door to see Sherlock under a blanket, not an unfamiliar sight, but it was strange. Considering he was still sitting up. He hands Sherlock the cup, and as he leans the forward to grab it, the blanket falls just short of his crotch.

John's eyes fall for just a second and then double take, and then instantly fly away once he realizes. "Sherlock." John says, not trying to make it obvious he knows.

Of course, though, Sherlock knows he knows, and maybe it was all part of his plan. He's smarter than that to just let it slip. He wasn't expecting John to ask him about it, though. "Oh!" Sherlock exclaimes with an almost false sense of shock. He quickly covers himself back up, "I'm sorry."

"No!" John says quickly, "I mean, you don't have to be sorry. Well, I mean... I should just go." John sighs a little bit embarrassed, seemingly more embarrassed than Sherlock was.

"Please don't." Sherlock bats his eyelashes at John, and grabs onto the sleeve of his shirt. Sherlock had already set his cup of tea on the side table. He was sure it was going to get cold.

"What, uhm, what do you want me to do?" John asked him, taking a step closer, still nervous, Sherlock had never done anything like this before.

"Help me, I don't do this sort of thing, I don't... masturbate." He said the last word a little awkwardly. John realized what Sherlock was really asking him, and he was on board for it. He had realised he was in love with Sherlock a few months ago, but he wasn't really expecting Sherlock to ask him something like this. Not that he was against it it was just unexpected.

"I can help." John smiled at him, "Do you know what causes it, or was it just random?" He asked before sitting down on the bed next to him placing a hand on Sherlocks thigh.

Was he supposed to tell John it was his constant praise or just keep that to himself, he was already this far so why not, that is something people do when they're in a situation like this right? "It seemed to appear when you called me "good.'" He said just like he was having a normal conversation.

Finding out that Sherlock had a praise kink wasn't really on John's bingo card this year, but it doesn't seem unexpected. He always seemed a little off when he did that. "Okay, then. I'm gonna need you to sit back for me. Can you do that?" John slid his hand up a little higher towards Sherlocks hip to push him back slightly.

Sherlock then adjusted himself to he sitting up against the back of the headboard. John got a little closer to him, starting to close the gap between the two of them, "Good boy, you listen to instructions when we're in here then, don't you?" John noticed the way Sherlocks eyes seemed to glaze over. He smiled slyly before leaning in to kiss Sherlock. He assumed this was okay because the taller man seemed to be very eager to kiss back.

John was practically on top of him at this point. He put his hands in the other man's hair. He was clearly leading here as he had experience, and he assumed Sherlock didn't. He tugged on his hair slightly, and Sherlock gasped, allowing John to slip his tongue into the others mouth.

Sherlock had learned how to do this but he had never put it into practice, he would never admit to anyone that he had put in intense research on how to kiss someone when John had started coming around but he did. Now he was putting it to practice, and he hoped he was doing well. John pulled away for a second, and Sherlocks' hands immediately went to grab the front of his shirt, his eyes begging for more. John laughed slightly at the desperate Sherlock. "You okay?" John asked him.

"More than okay." Sherlock didn't usually have a hard time formulating words, but he didn't know how to ask for what he wanted.

"I'm gonna take off your trousers and pants now, okay?" John said it sounded like a question, and Sherlock nodded, agreeing that he'd probably allow John to do whatever he desired to him. John unbuttoned Sherlocks trousers, and he shimmied out of them.

"Can we get on with it, please? I'm going to die." He sounded so dramatic, but it was a little bit cute to John. He however wasn't going to let Sherlock boss him around, not in the bedroom atleast.

"Be patient, or I'll drag it out more." John said absolutely, and Sherlock gave him that look of defeat. He really was powerless in this situation. John used his hand to palm against Sherlocks erection his underwear still on.

Sherlock trusted up into it his icy grey eyes on John's deep blue, "Please, John." He was practically begging at this point.

"What happened to "I don't beg"?" John said, his palm still rubbing against Sherlocks ever growing erection.

"I lied, just please, touch me." Sherlock pleaded his head thrown back against the headboard, basically grinding against John's hand.

"Alright, alright, but only because you've been such a good boy and begged for me." John smirks as Sherlock closes his eyes and whines.

John pulls Sherlocks dick out of his underwear. It was so beautiful to John, getting to see the person he cares about the most like this. He decided that perhaps a hand job was the most Sherlock would be able to handle for right now, much more, and he might explode. John started out slow for him, just grazing his fingers up and down the shaft. Slow the tip of his thumb rubbing against the head every now and then causes Sherlock to whimper and buck his hips up.

John hadn't pictured that Sherlock would be someone who would make much noise, but now that he does, he would never want him to stop. "Pretty noises you're making for me love, keep doing that, okay?"

Sherlock nods breathlessly as John tightens his grip on the others cock. Sherlock hadn't really expected it to feel this amazing. It was like every touch was electric, and he was just reveling in it. John's touch was magical his hand was just sliding up and down Sherlocks cock and he felt like he was going to explode.

"Do you feel good, Sherlock?" John asked him. The way he said Sherlocks name almost sent him into more of a frenzy than he was already in.

"Yes, John." He was moaning the words, but he didn't even care. He was about to cum and John could tell, Sherlock couldn't keep still and John just kept speeding up. He kept doing that and teasing the head of Sherlocks cock until it started to twitch and John knew he was there. Sherlock came all over John's hand with a moan. He looked down at it, "I'm sorry." Sherlock started to say quickly.

"It's okay, Sherlock, are you okay?" John stood up, waiting for a response.

"Absolutely." Sherlock sounded offended, he would even ask. He hesitated for a moment, "Can I do anything for you?"

He smiled but shook his head, "I'm too tired. Remember, we just came back from a two day, long murder chase." John laughed, "I'll be right back." He goes into the bathroom to wash his hands and brings back a warm, wet, wash rag to clean up Sherlock with.

"You're sure? You don't want me to suck you off?" He sounded so casual like he was asking if John wanted a cup of tea.

John blushed and started to clean the cum off of Sherlocks thighs, "as wonderful as that would be, I assure you I'm perfectly okay." He paused for a moment to look up at Sherlock reassuringly.

"Okay, would you like to sleep together then?" Sherlock offered, and John happily accepted. Of all the things that John had expected to happen when he got home, this was not of them. He wasn't complaining. He did like having Sherlock all huddled up next to him. It was a little ridiculous, considering how tall Sherlock was to see him all snuggled up in John's chest. This was nice, though John thought, probably everything he had ever dreamed of.

[heartsoulspiritelite]

Saw the barbie move last Friday IT WAS AMAZING🫶

Matt Jackson x Nick Jackson

I cringed so many times writing this. IM SO ASHAMED. But likee :) jk but brooooooo. Maybe im projecting or sum (NOT THE INCEST PART) im sorry about this, Ive read too many fics on ao3..., I know it aint a big deal but i had to take multiple break while writing this because i felt like the ghosts of my relatives were watching, man i had to take screaming breaks ;-; the writing is terrible but still. ENJOY:)

Warning- Smut, spanking- punishment, slight smut, Sibling Incest

No Summary

~

Close Brothers

"Nick leave me the eff alone" Matt said sharply while trying to avoid the other bucks eye contact

Matt's been acting weird ever since they got back to their hotel and nows they're trying to pack up peacefully but Matt's attitude isn't helping.

"Matt just tell me whats wrong, Why do you have to be so frustrating" Nick almost yells.

Matt freezes at this and looks at Nick with a slightly hurt expression and runs to the bathroom and locks himself him. Why wont he just tell him whats wrong? They tell each other everything. Did he do something wrong?

"Matty please.." He pleads while sitting outside the bathroom door

Hearing the pleading tone in his younger brothers voice made him feel a tad bit guilty so he unlocked the door but didn't open it and returned to his previous position .

Once Nick heard the door unlock he took that as his cue to walk in.

The sight he saw before him made his heartbreak. He saw matt curled up in a ball beside the toilet with stray tears running down his pretty face, looking up at him desperately with his boo boo eyes.

"Please tell me whats got you acting like this?" Nick asked him as gently as he could while bending down infront of his older brother.

"W-why did you let her touch you like that" He whispered

"Who" Nick asked genuinally confused

"The girl we ran into while going shopping Nick dont act stupid" He said not even looking Nick in the eye

"The worker? Matt she was just talking to us about the shoes, why does it bother you so much?" He says standing up a little annoyed

"Nick she was FLIRTING WITH YOU, IDIOT" Matt yelled getting even more upset wiping his tears

About 2 hours ago the bucks went shopping, When they were looking for new shoes one of the workers came up and totally started hitting on Nick but Nick is god damn oblivious he didn't even think about her carressing his arm or looking up at him fluttering her eyelashes but Matt did. Plus she didn't even glance at him, she was a bitch.

'Matt you're jealous" Nick stated coming to a conclusion

"Well no shit sherlock thanks for pointing out the obvious" matt replied

"Aww Matt you know im yours, you dont needa be jealous, Im sorry darling, i didn't realise she got that close" Nicks apolagizes before hugging him

He picks matt up from off the floor, brings him to bed, sits him down and stands infront of him

"But you're not going to get away with this attitude you've been pulling Matt, You've been acting like a little bitch ever since e got back. You dont trust me huh?" he says to him looking him straight in the eye, using his finger to lift his chin up

Nick knows what Matt really want, its obvious he knows his brother better than he knows himself and he can also tell because of dent in Matts pants. Of course he's going to give it to him, but not without a few punishments.

Matt freezes

"Nick i-" He tries

"Nuh uh that aint gonna fly here. Strip."

"Nick W-what?" He tries again

''What you want a audience or something? Taking your effing clothes of Matt" he orders him watching him closely

"Well i mean-" He laughs slighty before standing up to remove his shirt, then his pants, and underwears and puts them to the side then goes to stand infront of his brother and waits for his next order like a good boy would.

You'd probably imagine Matt being the top right? Well your so far from the truth. Matt loves the humiliation from the punishments, He loves being submissive. He loves letting Nick take control of him.

Nick sits down on armless chair in the middle of room after locking the hotel door and grabs Matts arms and pulls him over slowly

"Bend over." he orders

Matts wastes no time at all and bends over his brothers lap but not without putting on a little show, He makes sure  his ass is perked up and bends over slowly, teasing Nick, Nick swats his ass hard and pulls him over her lap, Making him stop his actions.

He runs his hand over Matts ass and squeezes it causing Matt to moan.

"You know the safe word right" He asks just to make sure

"Yes its 'Stop' Nick" He replies rolling his eye

Nick sees this and pinches him in the side

"Ow im sorry, red means stop, yellow means slow down and green means yes" He rushes out

He doesn't want Nick to stop. he want's to be crying mess in his lap. He wants the aftercare, he wants the pleasure.

Without any warning he slaps Matt's ass. Hard.

"Count. We're doing 15, you miss a number and we restart"

Matt nods

He feels Nick pinch again

"Use your words"

"Okay daddy"

He feels Nick's dick harden beneath him and giggles

His laughter is cut short when he feels another smack on his ass

"1" he gasps

"You little slut, you love this dont you" He teases him then gives him another smack on the ass"

"2, Y-yes daddy. ohh i love it so much" he moans

He tries to hump Nick's leg to get relief

"Nuh uh, you dont get to do that get" He stops Matts movements with another harsh smack on the ass, making his own hand hurt.

"3, Oh my god oww" he cries

Nick smirks and undoes his belt, and then grabs it out of his pants

"Oh my god Nick-" Matt says watching his brothers every movement, his stomach getting worried, but his dick getting harder by the second.

Smack

"4" Matt sobs

he wants to so badly rub his ass but he knows he'll get in trouble so he refrains himself and bites his hand.

"You little whore, you love getting manhandled and put in your place huh, you love getting spanked by your little brother" Nick says to man over his lap, smirking

Matt just keeps sobbing

"Color?" Nick asks gently

"Green Nick oh my god its green please dont stop"  He begs

He smacks Matts ass once again with belt then gives him a few seconds to breath

"5"

He puts the belt away and just spanks him 10 times fast.

spank spank spank spank spank

spank spank spank spank spank

"6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15" Matt cries

he takes heavy breaths and sobs until the sting goes away a bit, his dick is still hard as hell

All he feels is pleasure. He loves this.

Nick gently helps him up until matt is straddling his lap and places his head into the crook of his neck.

He bends down and grabs lotion to rub on Matt's bottom to soothe the pain.

Matt sighs at the sensation of Nick rubbing lotion on his ass.

"You okay love?" He whispers

"Yes, thank you" He whispers back

"You're welcome but we're not finished yet baby" Nick laughs slightly at Matt saying thank you

He lifts him up and carries him bridal style over to the bed and lays him down.

Matt hisses at pain of having his ass rub against the bed.

Nick removes his clothes and joins his naked brother on the bed and crawls overtop of him.

His kisses Matt and rubs his hands over his brother pecks making Matt moan loudly.

Matt grabs the back nick's neck and deepens the kiss until he feels Nick break the kiss and lower himself down until he's face to face with his older brothers dick.

He licks a stripe down his dick and slowly licks a circle around his tip causing Matt to arch his back.

"Oh fuck" he moans grabbing at younger brothers hair.

He feels Nick mouth around his cock and pushes his head down forceably until he feels nick gag and lets go to pull his head back up a bit.

"Nicky- f-feels so good" he yells

hearing all of the noises of pleasure he brings out of his brother made him cum right then and there all over the bed.

Nick bobs his head faster down Matt's cock feeling him come close to his release.

"Oh my- im about to" he cries before cuming down Nick's throat

Nick stays in place and swallows it all down before he brings his head back up and smiles at his brother.

They both breath heavily until their breaths even out.

Nick comes to lay beside his brother and pulls him close

"Wait do you need me to" He asks refering to Nick's cock

"No no im fine i kinda already did while.." he trails off making Matt laugh

"But look im so sorry about earlier i really didn't realise what was happening, i love you so much Matty" He whispers into Matt's ear while laying on top of him.

"Its okay, i love you too" His whispers into the brothers hair, running his hands through it.

~Cross-posted on wattpad & ao3~

[switch]

For the fate character thing: Moriarty and Vlad just bc I like hearing you talk about them

oh boy you're not getting any prompts skipped with this one! it's gonna be a long one.

Vlad:

favorite thing about them

everything. he's tall, he's 45, the eyeshadow, the eyelashes, the beard, the hair, the skirt, the thigh high boots, the cool tattoos, the aquiline nose, the turtleneck, the pointy teeth, the earrings, the fluff, the deep voice, the chest window that one time, the sewing thing, he's tsundere, he's scary, he's smug, he's cool, he's weird, he's cute, he has incredibly unique lore, he has fun gameplay, i have never loved any character more than i love vlad.

least favorite thing about them

HIS SPRITE SUCKS AAAAUGH I COME TO WORK AND I HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS MESS

favorite line

the legendary,

brOTP

vlad and tamamo, vlad and siegfried, vlad and shakespeare, vlad and moriarty, vlad and crane, vlad and carmilla... vlad needs more people to hang out with...

OTP

vlad and male mc........... and vladcha.......

that aside, i've also enjoyed vlad x siegfried and vlad x georgio. those are cute.

nOTP

i'm going to hunt darnic for sport. also, not a fan of him x carm, considering... his uncle-niece relationship with liz. but, i do also get that some people really don't like fgo mashing carm and liz together and prefer to interpret them separately, which is fair enough. just not my thing. i prefer their relationship as familial, i think it's nice.

random headcanon

he hangs out in mc's shadow a lot (based on his quick card animation i feel like he should be able to do something like that, i've seen other servants interpreted as being able to do this as well).

unpopular opinion

he's best husband

song i associate with them

WOE, CHARACTER PLAYLIST BE UPON YE

favorite picture of them

that's really difficult. there are a lot of very different, but still good vlads. honestly, maybe just his ascension 3 art if i had to pick one?

i mean, this is the vlad i see every day in fgo. that's my husband right there.

Moriarty:

favorite thing about them

once again pretty much everything. he's 50, the mustache, the eyeliner, the eyelashes, the glasses, the cool cape, i like how his outfit blends fantasy elements without being too made-up, ulysses butterflies are my favorite, the military touches are neat, he has pointy teeth for no reason, how deep his voice can get, the RAITA hands, the black gloves, the shoes, the skirt-apron thing in gray collar, the coffin, he's funny, he's cool, he's evil, he's weird, he's smug. he represents a real high point in FGO with shinjuku.

least favorite thing about them

do i even have to say it. well, he's pretty much in joke character hell now, his sprite is really outdated, and his kit is awful to play with. sigh. eh well.

favorite line

where do i even start lmao

brOTP

i don't think anyone actually really likes him but moriarty and vlad, moriarty and shakespeare, moriarty and babbage

OTP

moriarty and male mc. again. what do you want from me. and vladcha. leave me alone.

i've also enjoyed moriarty and moran. people have to make up their own moran for this one, though.

nOTP

it's not a proper "nOTP" as the kids would call it, but (and i must stress that this is my great mouse detective bias showing) i prefer moriarty and sherlock having a sort of "bitter exes" dynamic (even if they were never actually involved) instead of romantically pairing them.

for one thing i just think it's really funny, but also i do find the idea of moriarty trying to "get over" someone he was literally made to exist around compelling, and i think especially post-shinjuku makes that another viable route to take with his character.

random headcanon

autism.

unpopular opinion

they really need to let him be more evil again instead of just the funny endearing dad the audience likes. i get that there's only so much he can get away with in chaldea but come onnn they've been doing this for years now, i'm worried the writers are gonna forget at this point. i want him to do something fucked up again. i miss it. him caring about mc does not inherently preclude him from doing something fucked up.

song i associate with them

ditto, character playlist

favorite picture of them

that's also really tough since he has a LOT of official art. probably a tie between Eyelashes Book Cover VS Gray Collar Fuckhands

[annachibi]

liveblogging episode 2 of Twin Peaks

NO SPOILERS OR I WILL END YOU

uh Coop what are you DOING oh wow you really got some upper body strength huh

did they put mascara on this man or are his eyelashes just Like That

DONNA IS SO PRETTY oh my gosh I love how freckly she is

oh I see, so the Sherlock-ness is deliberate lol

well that was weird

please stop cheating on each other I barely know all your NAMES

well I see why so many of these kids are messed up

jesus...

oh y'all suck, what kind of an ending to an episode was that lol

I'm glad not all the episodes are as long as the 1st one cuz it's much easier to watch at this size

[almightyhamslice]

Insektober day 12: Mystery!

Kaboche tries to read Sherlock Holmes to Kretinus, but he passes out after a few chapters. Unity, however, is eager to hear the end of the story even though she's read it 10 times before!

If you remember, Unity is the former librarian of Krud City and a ghost inhabiting it in the present day. She talks to Kruds who care for the library and make offerings to her! Most Kruds are so careless with the books and shelves, but Kaboche is at least decently respectful. He likes to visit the library during his lunch break and even keeps a mini fridge in there for snacks of his. He offers them to Unity, but she can't actually eat them since she's a ghost and it'd go right through her! But she is flattered by the gesture.

I dunno if Kretinus can see her, but I'm sure Unity's happy to see her nephew again regardless! I think he would like to try to talk to her but often doesn't have the time... today's failed book club session not withstanding LOL. Related, Synapse and Kurkulie can't see Unity either!

Also I slightly revised Unity's design since the last time you saw her! I switched her color scheme around so now her face is darker and her eyes have brighter highlights to better reflect actual Boll weevils. I'm also RLLY tempted to draw her with pompoms on her shoes to match her eyelashes (which are meant to resemble cotton balls cuz boll weevils eat cotton) but I honestly worry it'll make her look too much like a clown LOL. Maybe I should just lean into it at this point smh... Boll Weevils are pretty funny. they have their own monument and everything!!

I dont think Kretinus likes Sherlock Holmes much. Maybe they should introduce him to BBC's version of the story... LOL! just kidding I never watched that shit lmao

[god-slayer-apprentice]

Alright! I’m just going to go with the non-human characters, since I don’t really have visual designs for the humans. Gill also doesn’t really have a visual beyond his basic physique (tall, thin East Asian man; black eyes, mostly straight black hair, looks tired, mole beneath right eye) because he can appear in a variety of circumstances, including at different ages.

Anyway, here’s the designs:

-Grass-Cutter, in any form, always looks freshly made and generally has a simple design. The spirits that dwell within it are largely invisible, but they can speak by causing stony mouths to appear from Grass-Cutter; they also sometimes appear as tiny spectral humanoids flitting around it. Any wooden parts in Grass-Cutter are always made of smoothed but unpolished chestnut wood.

-Kate is based on the Corporate Memphis art style, specifically with the unusually large arms and legs that some of those images tend to have. Her head is relatively small, but she’s large. She always wears a loose-fitting, but somehow almost never creasing, plain white shirt with long, wide sleeves; black pants of a similar style; and mostly featureless blue shoes. Her hair is long, black, wavy, and rounded. In fact, it’s not made of threads, though it otherwise acts like normal hair. Her skin is a neutral blue; her eyes are hazel. Her nose is notably pointed. In 2-dimensional form, Kate reverts to an animated image, and has no face (other than nose) in that form.

Kate’s my favorite visual design, and also the first one of these OCs that I made.

-The Frog is a frog (possibly a bullfrog?) of a species I haven’t been able to decide on, but it’s big and green. It is always sitting, and moves around through levitation; it bounces in place a lot, though. When looked at from the front, it is perfectly symmetrical. Its face is inscrutable, probably because it’s a frog. The frog’s abilities often cause waves to emanate from it, and tend to reduce gravity in its general area. When the frog causes an action to be repeated, it looks kind of like a lag spike in a video game.

-Quill is in his 20s and wears the odd combination of a suit and a hunting cap (think Sherlock Holmes for the hat). His eyes have glowing white rings around the pupils, and he doesn’t look tired like other instances of Gill. Writer tends to appear in concentric patterns, especially with a single large eye in the center, surrounded by smaller eyes, surrounded by tentacles. When interjecting in a conversation, it might just appear as a small lump of black matter with an eye, usually on Quill’s shoulder or covering his face.

-Sera’s visual design is based on sketches with unspecified characters, since I always found it fascinating how artists could pack so much expression into these featureless, bald humanoids. She has a slim and androgynous build. Her dress is sleeveless and has no frills. She has prominent eyelashes and eyebrows, and is extremely expressive. Her mouth is thin but can be pretty tall. She can also cause her mouth to just cease to exist, which is generally used as a neutral or serious expression (neither of which Sera expresses often). When Sera does open her eyes, they are black and filled with swirling galaxies.

-Theo is visually indistinguishable from a human, but I nevertheless devoted a lot of time to designing his visuals. He is white, with medium-length blond hair that surrounds his head, in a sort of mushroom shape. (Unfortunately, I don’t know what most hairstyles are called.) Theo has green eyes and a small mouth. He wears large earrings and round sunglasses. He wears an open white coat and a black crop top, little puffy white rings around his wrists, and black shorts. He makes a lot of flowery gestures with his hands. Overall, Theo looks pretty and manicured.

-The Beast is an aged adult male peacock. I don’t really have anything to describe that I haven’t already said.

-Mike Garden’s insect spirits are individually indistinguishable from normal insects. They include a wide variety of common species, but locusts, cicadas, butterflies, and ladybugs are the most common. They often group into large, wave-like masses, or swarm onto Garden to act as a sort of armor. In close-quarters combat, Mike Garden likes to form spears and blades from masses of hard or sharp insects.

-Alice is, like Kate, based on Corporate Memphis. Alice has red skin, blond hair in a ponytail, and yellow eyes. She wears a yellow shirt, blue pants, and black shoes. Alice’s pill spirits look like large capsule pills of various colors (like in Dr. Mario but less colorful). They can manifest tiny mouths, through which Alice can speak. Alice almost always has a wide smile.

-Tympan has long, wavy blue hair and blue eyes. He’s very muscular and has a strong face, but it’s hard to notice either due to his size.

-Cass’s triangle spirit has a solid, simplistic texture, like a 3d model. It starts with a hypotenuse of 4 feet. It often forms eyes, and occasionally mouths, on its surfaces, and babbles in a high-pitched voice when idle. The beams it shoots are usually short, round, and bubble-like.

That’s all! I’m very far from an artist, so I’ve probably missed a lot of details, and I’m having trouble explaining a lot of things, but this is generally what I have in my head for visuals so far.

OCs! I have a lot of them.

I have a tendency of listening to songs and making up cool imagery from them, and then that imagery turns into OCs. Sometimes it happens the other way around. There’s an odd variety of music involved here, but the whole thing is generally action-oriented. In terms of genre it’s like, modern fantasy punk action?

Anyway, my OCs are divided into factions because I like symmetry. I have a long playlist that covers the entire story which I might post later.

In terms of worldbuilding, it’s very similar to the modern world, including specific locations but not sharing any people or organizations. The supernatural element is entirely focused on spirits, embodiments of things, in a generally animist fashion. Spirits have various powers, appearances, and levels of intelligence. Many spirits form into colonies and/or bond with people. Spirits can telepathically communicate with their bonders, and many spirits are incapable of other forms of communication, leading them to seek out bonders to further their goals.

Anyway, the factions are:

-Merit Inc., a giant conglomerate founded by Mike Garden, current CEO. It started out with translation services, but now it’s reaching into agriculture. It has nefarious and supernatural things going on behind the scenes.

-The Rebellion, a group fighting against Merit and their schemes.

-The Pantheon, a group of powerful spirits in general alliance. Largely a neutral faction that serves its own various interests. It does occasionally do mercenary work in exchange for esoteric favors, though.

Now for the characters. This is going to be long.

The Rebellion:

-The protagonist, who is the only character I have not come up with a name for. He’s a young human and the newest recruit into the Rebellion. He comes from a rural farm. When it was threatened by Merit’s overreach, he discovered Grass-Cutter in an old shed and formed a bond with it. The Rebellion noticed this and came to recruit him shortly afterwards. Associated songs include: GoGo Penguin - Initiate; Eminem - Lose Yourself

-Grass-Cutter, a sentient weapon and host of spirits living within it. Grass-Cutter was first formed in ancient Japan, and its spirits are the spirits of river pebbles and dead bonders. (Dead people, being inanimate objects, may also form spirits.) Grass-Cutter has had many bonders over the years, and its use has always been associated with revolt, good or bad. Grass-Cutter changes form to reflect its current bonder, but it is always a handheld cutting implement. Its main ability is to cut through plant matter as though it were water. Grass-Cutter first appears as a weedwacker, and later as a sickle, then a scythe. Associated song: Yot Club - Japan.

-Kate, the spirit of an image from a corporate slideshow. Merit Inc. has successfully created many such spirits, which it is using as a secret work and military force. Kate, after seeing the secrets of Merit, escaped and founded the Rebellion, which she leads. She is mostly humanoid, though with disproportionately large arms and legs, as well as blue skin. Like other tsukumogami (spirits born from images), she is able to produce little floating marks upon making any strong impact, which she can then take and attach to flat surfaces; when she does, she can enter that surface, going into her 2-dimensional form until she leaves. Kate is also exceptionally strong, durable, and light (though not agile). Associated songs include: Bjork - Army of Me, David Guetta - Titanium

-Gill, an odd sort of spirit: the embodiment of a living human, in colony form. Gill, who appears as a tall East Asian man, is a hive mind; instances of him exist all around the world. Their experiences, knowledge, and personality are shared whenever one of him sleeps. Gill has no other abilities, but he has lots of experience in basically every subject; nevertheless, he remains physically weak. Before the events of the story, Gill was discovered by Merit CEO Mike Garden, who offered not to reveal Gill’s existence to the public in exchange for Gill splitting off part of the hive mind to work for Merit. Gill joined the Rebellion when one of his split selves discovered Merit’s secrets, similarly to Kate, and escaped, spreading the news to the rest of Gill. Associated songs include: David Bowie - The Man Who Sold the World

-The Frog, also known as The Messiah. Capable of reincarnation, it was, in previous lives, a spirit of revolution, change, and rebirth, leading many great historical revolutions (both good and bad), and wielded Grass-Cutter many times. In its current form, it is not sentient. It is a large frog. However, it remains extremely powerful; it is able to cause actions to repeat or reverse, as well as levitate things. The Frog was first discovered by scientists in a forest in Belize, heralded by a host of spirits; it quickly escaped, and was discovered by the Rebellion. It seems to have taken a liking to Kate, but it is rarely any help. Associated song: Shpongle - Dorcet Perception

The Pantheon:

-Writer and Quill. Writer is an elder spirit of a sun that died before the Earth was born. However, due to being formed from a dead object or something, it requires a bonder for most actions. Quill is that bonder. Quill is an instance of Gill, who was abducted by The Beast and formed a bond with Writer. Quill has a distinct personality, much more jovial than Gill’s general tiredness, and maintains this by being unable to sleep (something which Writer ensures). Writer manifests as amorphous masses of cuttlefish-like eyes and black tentacles without suction cups; it is able to reshape itself and Quill, dissolving into a slate-like material and reforming as desired. Associated songs: Tally Hall - Ruler of Everything

-Sera is a spirit generally identified as simply “fey”, Sera’s origins are an enigma. She has a curious obsession with humans, whom she finds fascinating and charming. She is able to turn invisible and incorporeal, though only both at once; she can do this extremely rapidly. She is humanoid. She is bald and wears a simple dress (which is part of her body). Her entire body is the exact same shade of pink. Her eyes are almost always closed, and her mouth is almost always open. Associated songs: Bjork - Human Behavior

-Theo Solberg (no relation to my name) is a tochigami, or genius loci: the spirit of a location. In Theo’s case, that location is Hollywood. Theo appears as a very fashionable blonde human, and is a celebrity actor. He delights in drama and controversy. He has a capricious romantic relationship with Gill. As a tochigami, he is completely invulnerable within his location. He also has the ability to create small, camera flash-like bursts of force in his vicinity. Associated songs: Duran Duran - Rio, Taio Cruz - Break Your Heart

-The Beast, though often referred to as a demon, is technically the only member of the Pantheon who is not a spirit. It is a peacock. It is a bonder, and has formed a bond with a colony of ink spirits. Its sentience is dubious, but its intelligence is not. It “collects” sentient beings, especially spirits, by trapping them in contracts made inescapable by its spirits, and this collection has formed into a cult. The Beast is a silver color, and has plumes covering its eyes. The spirits are floating, amorphous globs of ink with the general shape of a plume. Associated songs: Eagles - Hotel California, ERA - Ameno

Merit Inc.:

-Mike Garden: The main villain. He is a human, a ruthless, joyful entrepreneur who has worked his way from middle class to billionaire status with nothing but skill and a lot of subtle help from his bonded spirits: a swarm of insects that, with sufficient food, is capable of growing infinitely. Associated songs: Peter Gabriel - Big Time, Poor Man’s Poison - Feed the Machine. Associated song for spirits: Gorillaz - Empire Ants

-Alice: The leader of Merit’s secret team of corporate slideshow tsukumogami, as well as head of PR. Alice is crazed and unreasonably devoted. Despite being a spirit, she has formed a bond with a colony of pill spirits, which are capable of inducing dizziness, disorientation, and vertigo with a touch, but can also function as simple projectiles. Associated songs: Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit, Lemon Demon - Redesign Your Logo

-Tympan: A spirit of unidentified origin, Tympan looks like a tiny man with the lower body of a blue jay, as well as wings instead of arms. He is capable of causing internal fractures, both mental and physical, with his voice. He manages the captured units of Gill, and also as Mike Garden’s advisor. Associated songs: They Might Be Giants - Birdhouse in Your Soul

-Cassius “Cass” Holden is a grizzled human veteran who leads Merit’s military operations. He has a bond with a spirit of right triangles, which takes the form of a yellow right triangle that can divide itself in half repeatedly into more triangles; all of these triangles are freely controlled by Cass. Cass can fire beams from “empty space” created by assemblages of these triangles, and usually arranges the triangles into crosshairs for sniping, or around his wrists and legs as propulsion and rapid fire. Cassius is doubtful of Mike Garden’s cause, but does it anyway because of the favors he owes Merit. Associated songs: Linkin Park - Battle Symphony, Kula Shaker - Mystical Machine Gun

And, finally, that’s all. I might post more about these, especially the story. I know these notes aren’t very organized, so thanks for reading this far!

[a-cup-of-earl-grey-please]

Beg For Forgiveness (BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 2,436 words

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead—just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?

Warning: semi-heavy angst, description of dealing with grief. references to the Reichenbach fall, failing to "move on," suggestive themes towards the end

Note: this has been in my drafts for so long and i'm not completely satisfied. but hey, i really needed to get this off my mind! so i hope you like it.

It was one of those nights where you felt like you were absolutely over Sherlock’s death. You felt fine. You did the dishes. You ate dinner on your own—Mrs. Hudson was out on a date. You felt okay. You finally brought yourself to send his coat away for laundry last week—even though you knew it wouldn’t smell like him anymore. There was one step left in your “getting over Sherlock” project: letting go of the engagement ring on your finger. You fiddled with the ring, slipping it way down to the tip of your finger and back down. The ring felt like it was heavier than an elephant, yet lighter than a single snowflake landing on your eyelashes. You grit your teeth together and pulled on it once more, and it came near your fingertips—

Knock, knock.

You sighed, your breath strained. You hastily slipped the ring off your hand and held it tightly in your hand. You could feel the jewel biting into your palm, but you didn’t let that undo all your efforts to erase him from your narrative. As you went down toward the door. Your padded footsteps softly echoed through the stairwell.

“Who is it?” You absentmindedly said as you glanced up toward the door. Your breath hitched—caught in your throat in incredulousness. That silhouette was all too familiar. But you knew it couldn’t be. It really, truly couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him turning up his coat collar against the November winds—the very coat that you sent out for laundry last week and hadn’t picked up yet. It couldn't be that very man who put that very coat around your shoulders when you shivered in the winter—tutting at you for trying to impress him with your skirts and blouses. 

He’s dead. You bit down on your tongue. This is all a cruel joke. I’ll punch them square in the face. That’ll teach whomever it is to not kid about things like that. No, they have no right to his death. You clenched your fists and opened the door in one angry move.

“You don’t get to joke about—“ Your chastising screams were stopped at the sight of him. Him. It was Sherlock Holmes. The curve of his lips, his pretty cheekbones, his fluffy hair, and oh, his eyes. 

“Hello, Y/N, my darling fiancée.” He gave her a smirk and a little wave. And his voice, his stupid voice. The rich voice you had tried for years now to rub clean from your memories. Oh, how every single thing he said to you had ruined you after his fall. A boiling anger surged through her and you slammed your clenched fist against his firm chest. He barely staggered, as if he had expected the blow. “I get the sense that you are mad—“ He said, his voice awfully clipped for a man who just had his chest slammed with a fist. Of course, it was not hard enough to bruise—but it was hard enough, oh yes, it was hard enough. A smug thought surfaced through your blinding anger. 

“Is it really you?” You cut him off. 

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Looking into the eyes of soon-to-be Mrs. Holmes.” He said, smug as always. So sure of your forgiveness. Watching him rub his chest—where you hit him—made you mad. Angrier, if possible. 

Your left fist still rested on his chest, just below his right shoulder. And you, seething with anger and sorrow, knew just what move would hurt him. Hurt him—let him feel a fraction of what the past few years had been for you. You looked him straight in the eyes. His eyes swirled with hope and desperation—as if he knew anything about desperation. Yet.

You unclenched your fist and dropped the ring—the precious little silver thing. It hit the ground with a small, yet cruel cling onto the doorstep. Sherlock flinched at the sound. He knew exactly what you had dropped, even without having to spare a glance. He was the greatest detective in all of Britain after all. You could see tears forming in his eyes—oh great, you reduced the supposed heartless man to tears. Tears welled in his eyes—daring to drip. Drip down those cheekbones you loved to caress. Maybe even graze those lips you loved to kiss before he left the flat in the morning. But most importantly, it magnified the emotions in his eyes. The hundreds of layers of feelings he always hid behind a cold curtain were all exposed, vulnerable to your attacks. 

You opened your mouth to speak—to spit the devilish words that you could come up with easily in your rage. But you couldn’t. You knew him too well. You knew how his mind carefully stored every word that had ever been spoken to him. Especially yours—you knew how he treated your words. A passing comment on a shade of blue you liked in a flower made him go on a wild goose chase for a dress that had the exact same shade once—just to see that smile on your face. A compliment on one of his shirts—yes, the purple one—had made him save it for special days. He remembered all your “icks” and avoided them, deliberately and lovingly. He learned all your childhood bedtime stories just so he could recite them to you when you suffered from nightmares. He knew your comfort meals and even attempted to cook them when you were feeling down. He knew you. And you knew him. Too well on both sides. 

You knew how to break his heart, and the knowledge scared you.

A ring was easier to let go of; the promise was easier to break than the love it represented. 

The ring was only a mere symbol for that night when you shoved all the furniture to one corner of the room and made him waltz with you in a drunken frenzy. It was just a reminder of the day he kissed you for the first time in a basement with a tied-up serial killer next to them—at least the serial killer cheered for you two. The ring was barely even representing a fraction of what you both felt on the day he knelt down on one knee to propose—he followed an obscure superstition from East Asia that love comes true on the day of the first snow of the year. He had carried around the ring box for a month in his pocket—just to make sure he did not miss the first snow because he was unprepared. The ring was just a shard of what you had seen in his eyes the first time you two met—surprise, curiosity, sharp intellect, and a warm heart. 

The ring was easy to drop, but it was not easy to let go of all that. When he left, all you had were the remnants of him. And they all slowly faded away. His clothes—you left all of them in the drawers—only opening it sometimes to feel his scent engulf you, only that faded away as well. His phone was already cracked during the fall. You left it on the mantelpiece— it lay there forgotten, collecting dust.

The last one to go away before your ring was the mug John convinced Sherlock to buy you—#1 Girlfriend in a pink, barbie font—you dropped it by accident one day. 

The mug cracked and so did your heart.

Stupid—you thought as you felt hot tears race down your cheeks, a sharp contrast to the cold outside. 

“I had no other choice—besides, I foolishly thought our relationship was strong enough to survive a few months. I was naïve—it took me this long to resolve everything. I think it’s fair though, I must admit, that I would say that you don’t love me anymore, judging by how you literally slammed me in the chest and proceeded to drop the most socially noticeable signifier of our relationship onto—well, a slab of concrete. That was your engagement ring—our engagement.” His words were harsher than the winter winds whooshing past them. His voice was unwavering despite visible tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes were wounded,

“Don’t lecture me about our relationship, love, if that word still means anything to you after 2 years of being dead? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent, touching that ring—imagining that it was actually your face? I couldn’t send your coat—which you’re wearing right now, heaven knows how—for those 2 years just because I was scared I would lose your scent in the flat!” You shoved him away, and this time, he stepped back, shocked.

“I hate you so, so much. Why did you have to do this to me? All this time, seriously? Are you kidding me? Surely you’re kidding me. Surely. You couldn’t even bear to talk to me, huh? To give me even the slightest hint that you were, you know, not dead?” Pedestrians were staring as they walked past, keeping a safe distance away from the surely maniacal you. You started sobbing uncontrollably. You wanted to turn around and slam the door in Sherlock’s face. But you also wanted to kiss him—feel him, remind yourself of that fading sensation. Kiss him square on the mouth until both of you couldn’t utter anything but sweet nothings and ardent confessions of love. You wanted to bang your fists against him, but instead, you ended up burying your face into his coat—oh, he smelled just the same. Sandalwood and a delightful touch of old books. Focus. You’re angry—you reminded yourself.

“Forgive me, Y/N. It was for your safety. I’m sorry. I really am. How can I make it up to you?“ He tearily whispered into your ear, caressing your hair. To your heartbreak, you could feel his tears dripping down his face, onto your forehead. Your anger dissolved—it would be a lasting grudge, just like how his “death” would be a lasting scar in your heart, but for now, you couldn’t do anything but fall for him once again. You cried into his chest—you could hear his heartbeat. You grabbed his coat lapels and brought his face down to your face—now just barely a centimeter away. His eyes were overflowing with love and fear. You didn’t like that look in his eyes. You wanted them to be full of the former only.

“Kiss it away. Kiss it better. Kiss me, Sherlock. Kiss my scars away. I love you and I hate you—so kiss my hatred away. Simple math: we’ll be left with just love.” You murmured. 

His mouth attacked yours with its familiar swiftness and accuracy. Your lips, salty with tears, answered with equal enthusiasm. His tongue grazed over your bottom lip—he was unsure if a kiss of passion was appropriate in that moment. Screw his manners. You needed physical confirmation. 

“You know, faking your death wasn’t so gentlemanly either.” You cheekily said into his mouth—only to gently push your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth just like you longed to do for the past 2 years. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. He reciprocated the action, cupping your face with his hands—and oh, you could melt into his touch and stay there forever. The door creaked open behind you as his body pressed against yours, causing both of you to stumble backward into the building. 

He let out a needy breath as he—quite forcefully—slipped your ring back on your left hand. Heaven knows how he picked it up without you noticing. You hummed against his mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you caught his hand—now retreating from your left hand—and pulled him flush against you. You did not want to allow a single inch between you two. Your hands were tangled up in his hair, pinky wrapped around a curl. Desperate to confirm each other’s physical presence, you two were hugging each other so tight that it was a surprise both of you were breathing—actually, you weren’t sure if you were breathing. 

All you could focus on were his warm lips on yours—the universe could have easily orbited around you two at that moment. As your heel touched the base of the stairs, he broke the kiss. He held you by one hand still entangled with your left and the other one on a suggestive spot near your waist. As you struggled to catch your breath, Sherlock opened his mouth once again. 

“Y/N, I thought about you every day, all day, even with the most dangerous criminals in the world—pressing a knife against my throat—all I could think of was you. But I couldn’t let my love come in front of your safety—you could’ve died. One text from me, and a sniper might have shot clear through your skull. Forgive me, Y/N. I love you so much—and I understand if you want me to go away, but please forgive me. I beg you.” Oh, how you couldn’t stay mad at this man for once. His sincerity bled through his usually sharp eyes, flowing down in teardrops over his cheekbones. You wiped his tears away and smiled through your own tears. 

“Sherlock, I’m not mad at you anymore—that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. But hey, at least I’m not mad at you anymore,” You let out a little laugh. “These are tears of joy. Of incredulousness. Of hopes and thankfulness.” You said, touching his face as if it were the most precious thing to ever exist in this world. Touching the curve of his nose. Following it down to his lips, wet from his tears and the kiss you just shared. All the way down to his chin. 

“I love you so, so much. Y/N. You do know that, right? Never doubt that, never. I don’t like saying never, as a detective, but this is the one time I’ll allow myself. Never doubt my love. Even when yours waver, mine won’t.” Sherlock hugged you tight, so tight you were afraid that you two might just become one—from what you felt, his coat was welding into your sweater and his ribcage was touching yours. 

“I love you more.” You said, a teary laugh falling from your lips. 

“That’s impossible.” He simply stated, holding your hands—leading you up towards your flat—your shared flat. The soon-to-be Holmes flat—as your ring, once again on your finger, reminded you.

“Be a sweetheart and beg for forgiveness again in the bedroom, won’t you, Mr. Holmes?” And it’s safe to say that he definitely begged for something in the bedroom—and not just forgiveness. 

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Henry characters and their preferred kink furniture... yeah dont ask i was up all night and my mind just wont stop so here we go, a shitty list that noone asked for!

@infinite-shite @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @spazzymamahenrylover @thelastsock @iloveyouyen @littlefreya @mary-ann84 @libbymouse @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @the-soot-sprite @foodieforthoughts @angryschnauzer @inlovewithhisblueeyes @viking-raider @sif-the-tsunami @luna-aestas @blakerogue @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @littlebirdofrivia @hisangelicdemon @fivequartersoftheorange @pussyverson

(Hiding under cut bc purity police might come and put me in tumblr jail 🙄😒)

August

August would have one of these bad boys! Not only can it be used for play with the convenient stockades and jump rings for chains but theres he neat little cage below. Once kitted out with some fairy lights and little matress and some food and water bowls its the perfect place to put his naughty pet princess if shes being a very very bad girl, the worst punishment is not being allowed to snuggle your master in the middle of the night! August doesn't need much else he is a tad old fashioned and like to pull you to pieces in his own bed, so this is the perfect all in one for him.

Napoleon

Now i know i know its a human bird cage but hear me out. This man is all about style, he wants the best of the best but also likes to be fancy~ and what better place to put his 'little song bird' then a bird cage, he even got you a little perch in the form of a swing~ napoleon loves nothing more then to cuff you to the bars and taunt you. A sunday of stuffing you full with toys whilst strapping you to your swing and swaying you until, you sing for him is a sunday well spent! Not only that but its a show piece, everyone knows exactly what its for and Napoleon loves to show it off, there's something about his guests knowing how kinky his little love bird is that gets his motor running~

Sherlock

Now speaking of fancy? This is the cream of the crop! Siege d'amore the comfy gilded sex chair used by kings! Sherlock has this tucked away in his office. He spends many hours working over his desk with you sprawled out over it open and 'accsessable' he likes to keep you there legs spread and pussy wet when he's working so he can 'fuck away the stress' and think clearly when he gets the urge. Which is pretty regular if you do say so yourself. Not that you mind, after all it is padded and the bottom bed area does allow for napping if you get exhausted whilst giving him easy access to your little slit even in slumber.

Walter

Okay i can't help it, I think walter would have a piece of dungeon furniture maybe a set? The man is in some dark shit. A hard dom with a capital D... or master with a capital M, not that he hasn't got the D becausethis man certainly does. And when its play time, its play time. He is practical and prone to changing his mind so would get something that is versatile, that can put you in any position that strikes his fancy. And with this bad boy? There are o many that he genuinely hasn't tested out all of them, and its not for lack of trying. He loves the fact that he can punish and reward you all on one handy little piece of furniture, though sometimes your unsure which? Because when Walt gets you on this thing you wont be getting off anytime soon... well thats debatable~

Sy

Now to say Sy was happy when he realised no one would bat an eyelash when he bought a padded saw horse to the ranch was a fucking understatement. Your spanking bench is his favourite thing on the entire ranch! And he had you on it as much as he could! Anything that kept you still and comfortable when he played with your glorious peach was perfect for him! Bent over, straddling, cuffed, tied down you name it! Sy was all over this thing- well he had you all over this thing~ and let's not get started on the fact he realised the front jump ring is to attach a collar to? Which was now used regularly to stop your squirming. This thing is a god send for sy, not only can he 'saddle up' and feast on your peach with out having to hold you still but there were never any questions about it, after peeling you off it and wiping it down he just threw a saddle over it useing it as a stand for polishing the leather!

[stickyhoney]

Running Water

Summary: You and Sherlock met months ago at the very same park you sat at now. When Sherlock comes to see you once again, do you let the teasing take a turn?

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) x Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language, 18+, smut, public sex, mature themes

“Hello Sherlock.” You sneered. You loved this little game the two of you had going. It was thrilling. You knew you had him on the ropes, probably the only one on this planet that does. 

“Hello [y/n]. Looking beautiful as ever.” He pulled his lips into a smirk. Giving your body a slow look over, stopping in all the usual places. 

This was the spot you had met some months ago, in a small isolated park. You had been reading next to a small creek, while he had been smoking his pipe under an old oak tree. Every Sunday morning, the two of you followed the same routine. The two of you would sit ten yards away from each other, but never speak. It took a month for him to come speak to you, blabbering on about how bad your taste in books were. 

“Would you like to sit beside me, Holmes? The water feels fabulous.” Your feet were bare, drawing figure eights in the running water. Spring had finally come, melting away the ice, leaving the water brisk. 

“Do I look like the sort of fellow to put my feet in a creek? Homeless men probably bathe in that water up stream.” The bright sun outlined his silhouette as you peered up at him, creating a foreboding figure. 

“Are you always so serious?” Teasing had become somewhat of a sport for you since you had met Sherlock. A sport that was more fun if you had a partner.  You ran your left hand through the blades of grass to your side, marking his seat. The other combing through your loose hair.

“Yes. Yes I am.” His fingers began unlooping the laces on his shoes, pulling them off in one go. His socks shortly after. Sitting down beside you, his hands fold out behind him in support. His large feet sank into the cool water, slowly moving in tiny circles. 

“Sherlock, I have a question for you.” You rested your chin on your shoulder, gazing at him. “My intuition tells me you will ask me whether I want to hear it or not.” He stares straight ahead into the tall oak trees, seeming unaware of where you were about to take this. 

You scoot over quietly, and rest your head on his broad shoulder. The contact making him finally look down on you. His breath hitches, unable to regain composure. You move your hand behind you, slowly moving and caressing his in the grass. His veins are prominent, his fingers somewhat calloused.

“Do you ever think of me?” He desperately tries to keep his cool facade intact. “It is difficult to have a conversation with someone if I don’t think of them.” That is not the answer you wanted to hear. Slowly you wade your feet over to his in the water, creating more friction between you. “Do you ever think of me outside this park?” Between every question grazing up his calf further. “Maybe when you are at home?” His breathing had now come erratic, unlike his usual demeanor.  “Maybe when you are lying in bed? All alone with no one there to please you.” 

Sherlock always welcomed your teasing, but now it had gone too far. You had gone too far. There was no turning back for the two of you now. “You would like that wouldn’t you? Imagining your lips around me while I chase my own pleasure?” Sherlock had never truly figured you out, only what you had let him see. If he knew one thing though, your teasing hid your true desire. To be dominated, controlled, manhandled. Your eyes were practically begging for him to take you right there.

“Oh I have no idea what you are talking about.” The two of you holding eye contact, while you batted your eyelashes like a naive little schoolgirl. The truth was that hearing Sherlock say that made your body react, in many many ways. Your clit was now sensitive enough to feel the friction of your underwear, your folds had slickened, your body was welcoming him in like a long lost friend. Your thighs pressed together to feed into your hunger for more friction, and Sherlock after all notices everything.

He bends down to your ear, his breath hot. “That isn’t what your body is telling me [y/n].” His body moves back from the creek, his arms pulling you onto his lap. His grip on your arms is so firm, you knew you would have to explain away bruises the next day. Your yelp only excites him more, giggling at the growl he makes when he goes in for your lips.

Your lips pressed firmly against his. His curls were being combed by your fingers, slightly tugged and his scalp kneaded. Sherlock’s massive hands now covered your back, pulling you closer onto him. This action perfectly places your already sensitive center on his hardened cock, causing the both of you to swallow the others moans. 

He was becoming hungrier with his kisses and hands, desperately wanting more. Mindfully spreading your skirt, you begin grinding against his erection confined by his trousers. 

“I am going to take you right here in this park. I don’t care if we are seen.” His voice gravelly and deep, the vibrations went straight to your core. All you could do to respond was nod. 

“Unbuckle my trousers.” Your hands complied, his stern tone stoking your fire. His fly comes open and you palm his erection through his underwear, causing his head to fly back until he fights to regain his composure. “Are you gonna be a good girl, and take me in your mouth?” Again, you nodded. Your hands guided his underwear down, and grasped his length. 

Twisting, squeezing, and pulling, your hands prepared him for your mouth. His size matched his frame, very large. Beginning at the base, your tongue slowly drew a line up to his time. Sherlock shuddered at the feather light touch of your tongue, his hands landing in your hair. Licking up his precum, you wrap your lips around him. Your mouth sinks down onto him as far as you can go without it hitting the back of your throat, and use your hands for the rest. You gaze up at Sherlock through your lashes, your eyes capturing the most erotic thing you could imagine. His face was so relaxed. His mouth was agape, his eyes peering down at you, they were dark with desire.

“Fuck, you are doing so good. Such a good girl, even with such a sassy mouth.” The hands behind your head lift you off of him and up to his lips. His fingers yank your underwear down sharply by the hips, so sharply you hear them tear. You lift off the ground, pressing up on your knees allowing Sherlock to press into you. His thick cock stretching your walls, your body adjusting to his girth. You both suck in a long breath as you sink lower and lower onto him. 

“So tight for me. I am going to make you scream. Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He dips his face into the crook of your shoulder when you start moving up and down his cock, his breath tickling your collarbone. Your skin felt like you had stayed out in the sun for too long, all your lungs could manage was shallow breaths. 

“You make me feel so good baby. Just give it all to me, I can handle it.” You had started grinding down on him, letting him bottom out inside you. He was hitting a place, you had previously thought was unreachable. “Are you sure?” “Yes baby.”

Flipping you onto your back, he never exited you. The grass tickled the back of your neck and thighs. With rough motions, he pulled your skirt up to your shirt allowing him a view of your carnal actions. “So pretty for me.” He placed your legs being on top of his shoulders, and thrusted hard. So hard his balls slapped against you, creating a lewd smack. Your eyes screwed shut, and your mouth hung open. You were no longer a person, just a vessel of pleasure for him to fill. He exited slowly, and thrusted again. He did this over and over, gradually becoming faster and even harder.

His hands traveled to your swollen clit, rubbing in harsh circles. Your lungs felt as though they had been filled, making it impossible for you to even let out a squeak. Your legs were tensing. You knew your end was coming, and so was his. 

“I-I-”

“Come for me [y/n]. Come on, be a good girl.”

Your entire body tensed, unable to do anything on your own. Waves of heat ripped through your body from your center, even reaching your toes. You felt your walls gripping onto him, like your body never wanted him to leave. Sherlock’s eyes stayed locked on your face as you had come undone beneath him. He let himself go, shooting warm spurts into you. His jaw hung open, the only thing being released was his silent gasps.

Sherlock fell beside you down in the grass. You both lay there shocked at how amazing that felt. He pulled you in close to him, his chest still trying to calm his breathing. Your head laid on his chest, your hands feeling his hard stomach. 

“So… you do think of me outside of this park?” Your teasing would never cease, no matter what happened between the both of you. Sherlock released a deep guttural laugh that made your heart smile.

[fruitcoops]

Hi hello I would love to know more about this tidbit from your oher fic? “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.” “I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.” pretty please with puppy dog eyes?

Anything for you, Beyonce! Hope you enjoy your trip on the angst train >:)

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for couples arguments, self-isolation, mild anxiety

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

“What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”

 Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.

Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.

 Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

 Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?

 Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1.      You had sex before you went on a real date

2.      You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3.      You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4.      You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5.      Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6.      Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”

 Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Meet Drusilla Blackthorn (fan fic)

This is Chap 3 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story. 

I am introducing Dru & Jaime in this Chapter. 

And of course, Kit & Ty are being as gooey as ever.

AO3 Link here.

*****

“Look at you trying to flee from the crime scene.”

Jaime startled and his hand froze on the doorknob. He whirled to face Dru, who was watching him with a glitter of amusement in her Blackthorn blue-green eyes. She was lying on her side, arm angled upwards, head on hand. Her large black shirt hugged her soft curves and barely covered her thighs, revealing a criminally vast expanse of her smooth milky skin. A message was printed at the level of her chest. Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234. Apparently, it had been a gift from Jace. Her long dark brown hair was pulled in a braid, crossing over one of her shoulders. He knew from staring at her beautiful face while she was sleeping or otherwise unaware, that tiny freckles sprinkled her rosy cheeks, that her long dark eyelashes - not unlike her brothers’ - followed a perfect curve as if she was constantly wearing mascara and that the luscious red of her full lips deepened when she bit them. As she was doing right now. He gulped and hoped with everything he had that she couldn’t hear the loud thump thump of his frantic heart.

“I am not-”

“Relaaax. You look like you just hid a corpse in the cupboard and are trying to make a run for it.”

How could she not understand? When he had met her three years ago, he had thought she was cute, sweet, funny, dependable and - admittedly - already a badass. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had occurred but, over time, sincere friendship had turned into deep affection and deep affection had somehow turned into lust and… love? In any case, there definitely was lust. He fought the urge to cross himself reflexively.

She had never looked her age, and that hadn’t changed with the years. She had entirely grown out of her baby fat, her features sharpening and her limbs lengthening, but she still had a voluptuous figure. She looked like a sexy grown woman, and certainly not like a sixteen-year-old girl. But she was, he reminded himself.

Even if the mundane statutory rape laws dit not apply to Shadowhunters, he still felt like he was breaking some kind of unspoken rule, thirsting after a sixteen-year-old. It didn’t help that the package came with an army of very scary brothers. The villains from Dru’s favorite horror movies had nothing on them. The thought of Julian Blackthorn alone discovering the truth was enough to keep him up at night.

“You know what it will look like if I bump into one of your brothers. If they find out I have spent the whole night here…”

“So? Nothing actually happened. And you did nothing wrong except fall asleep in front of “Old Boy”...”

“Dru- I am serious…”

“So am I! This movie is awesome! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dru…”

Dru sighed and moved to a sitting position against the headboard, knees up, arms encircling her legs. Jaime tried not to stare as her shirt lifted higher over her thighs.

“Jaime. You know what your problem is? You still haven’t gotten into your head that it’s not my brothers you should be afraid of. The Blackthorn women are much scarier.”

“I can believe that…” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, don’t worry about them, they’re probably going to sleep in since they’ve been very busy last night. Mark with Cristina, Julian with Emma, and Ty with… Kit.”

Jaime’s eyes widened.

“You think Ty and Kit…?”

Dru lifted both her dark eyebrows at him. “Are you seriously asking me to confirm or elaborate on my brother’s sex life?”

“No, no, of course not…” Jaime felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Why did everyone get to have sex but him? Maybe because you've been pining for a sixteen-year-old for months now, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He wanted to punch himself.

“Just kidding, Jaime. Look at you blushing… Wait- I hope you don’t have a problem with my brother being with… a guy?”

She suddenly leaned forward, her gaze piercing.

Jaime knew how fiercely protective of her siblings Dru was. She had quite a reputation at the Shadowhunter Academy, as someone not to be messed with or rubbed the wrong way. She had somehow found a way to acquire knowledge on people and discover their most dirty secrets. She had no qualms using the intelligence when it came to protecting her family or the Blackthorns’ reputation. Although she did not hesitate to break a few arms and ribs to prove her point, most of the time, she operated in a more subtle way. With finesse, one could say.

A Shadowhunter student who had had the ill-conceived idea of calling Mark Blackthorn “the Unseelie King’s sex toy” was living proof of that. Jaime had not heard the full details of the story but it apparently involved a wide collection of dildos, very enthusiastic piskies, and had earned the boy several nicknames that he would probably never part from.

Judging by the look on Dru’s face now, Jaime’s life was hanging by the thread of his answer. She didn’t need to worry.

“No! Hey! What the hell? Of course not! You know me, right?”

She relaxed, leaning casually against the headboard, her arms crossed behind her head.

“Not as much as I would like to...” she replied, with a wink. “But yeah, I guess so.” A wicked grin split across her face.

Forgive me, Father, for I am this close to becoming a sinner, Jaime thought as he hurriedly escaped from the room.

****

Kit grabbed Ty by the arm just as he was slipping out of bed.

“Not so fast, Centurion.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Are you trying to sneak out? You got what you came for and now you’re tossing me like an unpaired sock? I am wounded.”

Ty just stared at him.

Hmmm. Maybe too early for humour.

“I don’t think I’ve had my fill yet, that’s all…” Kit clarified, as he stretched like a cat. Or a lion. Definitely like a lion.

Both Ty’s V shaped eyebrows rose.

“I thought… You said you needed your rest.”

“Ty, I was not talking about that, however tempting. There are other things in life than sex.”

“Is that a fact?” Ty asked playfully, a corner of his mouth lifting. Okay. Virgin Mary turned into the God of Sex overnight. How the hell did that happen?

“I want a cuddle.” Kit pouted as he snuggled up against Ty and encircled him with his arms.

Ty surrendered to his embrace, falling back on the bed. Kit rolled on top of him and pinned his arms above his head. He started alternating between brushing and pressing his lips over Ty’s face, tracing his beautiful features from memory, with his eyes closed.

“I… have… some… errands...to… run… Mysteries… to… uncover,” Ty gasped between feathery kisses.

“I am a mystery.” Kit nibbled Ty’s earlobe, before whispering in his ear. “Uncover me.”

“You are naked,” Ty rightfully observed, though his voice was quavering and his breaths short.

“I am. But have you explored every avenue?”

“Fair point, Watson,” Ty said in a husky voice, before swallowing hard.

“That’s what I am here for, Sherlock,” Kit replied. He kissed Ty’s eyelids, his nose, and started exploring Ty’s mouth with his tongue.

They rubbed against each other, their limbs entangled, as the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until both had to draw back to catch their breath.

“I love you,” Kit blurted.

“I love you too,” Ty replied softly, staring at Kit with his gray eyes half closed. He looked dizzy.

“I love you more,” Kit retaliated.

“How could you ever verify that?” Ty asked, his eyes widening with a look of genuine surprise.

“Easy. I just know that no one in the history of the universe could have ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

Ty looked - if possible - even more puzzled.

“I know it because my soul belongs with yours, Ty. If there are other worlds out there where I exist and you don’t, I don’t ever want to meet myself there. For what kind of empty shell - or monster - would I be if I hadn’t met you?”

They both startled as they heard a knock on the door.

“I am not decent!” Kit answered, as he reached hurriedly for a blanket to cover Ty’s body.

“This has never bothered you before,” Jace ‘s voice replied through the door. “Does this mean you are not the only one who’s not presentable in there? I just came across Mark running around naked in the corridors and I am pretty sure I have seen enough Blackthorns’ buttocks for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kit answered, his voice muffled under the blanket covering both his and Ty’s bodies completely, like two kids curled up under a makeshift tent. Ty was shaking with silent laughter.

“Sure you don’t,” Jace answered, but Kit could hear his footsteps receding.

[theunmappedstar]

TS!Sophie Headcanons

Sophie has Tourette syndrome, meaning she makes noises and movements which she can’t control because of a neurological condition in the brain. These repetitive phrases or movements are called “tics”.

She has a variety of tics, both vocal and physical.

One of her vocal tics at a young age was "suldreen" and she could never figure out why she kept repeating it. Her parents found it odd, too, because they’d never uttered “suldreen” around her - she'd just been blabbering it since birth. Her dad calls her “Soybean” because of it (and Sophie despises that nickname).

Sophie has a few tics that are in English, from the time she spent in a human environment. 

For example: Sophie has a tic that's an obscure line from Sherlock because her human mom and dad used to watch the show frequently and they loved it, so it’s emblazoned in her mind. In the first episode, Sherlock tries to convince a police officer that he's in shock because he's got a blanket, so he can't answer questions in an interrogation. So, Sophie ticcing, "I’m in shock! I’ve got a blanket!" over and over again. (She does an impersonation of his british accent and everything).

Sophie with a cursing tic, but it's in English so no one knows what she's saying and by god is she glad.

OR, alternatively, once she manifests as a polyglot, it's a curse in trollish or ogre or a different language and only one of her bodyguards gets it and they're thrown off guard by it.

She's being interrogated by the Council during a Tribunal or something of the sort, and out of nowhere she yells, "FUCK" and immediately turns red with embarrassment, but the Council is just confused as hell and tries to move forward-

Sophie develops a “no reason to worry!” tic. Alden thinks it’s precious and flattering. Sophie finds it anything but. (Especially since her brain makes it a point to impersonate his heavy accent when she does it).

After a long time with Silveny, she developed a tic where she just shouts Keefe's name. Keefe thinks it’s the greatest thing in the world, and makes it a point to respond even if he knows she’s just ticcing.

“Yes, Miss F?”

“Shut up, you know I’m not talking to you.”

Sophie getting a vocal tic of a food.. and it's super random, like, "ripplepuff". And she keeps ticcing and she doesn't know why she even developed that because ripplepuffs aren't that amazing to her - it's not like they're her favourites or anything, but her brain just decided "ooh, new tic!". 

Fitz hears her repeating it and one day brings her a little tin and says he has a surprise.. and when she opens it she starts giggling and her brain takes hold and she tics again and again and they're both smiley and giggly-

She ends up ticcing so much from the excitement that she reacts with physical tics and smashes them in with her hands or chucks them across the room.

Speaking of physical tics: a common physical tic that Sophie has always had is facial grimacing. She scrunches up her entire face and her eyes close tight and her shoulders temporarily lift before she’s released and she returns to relaxed position.

Keefe (lovingly) calls it her Scrunchy Face.

(It was originally “Grumpy Face” but then Keefe realized that might not make her feel too good and he wants her to know he’s not making fun of her for doing something completely normal. He just finds it cute!)

Sophie’s most common response to stress is plucking at her eyelashes. And Sophie is stressed a lot, so she tends to repeat the action. She does it so often that one day her brain is like, "haha!! new tic!!”. Not only that, but it spreads to her eyebrows and soon she’s plucking and prodding and ugh, she’s so frustrated because her eyebrows are uneven. (She has to take elixirs to make the hair grow back faster).

When she starts wearing gloves after manifesting as an Enhancer, it’s a texture she has to get used to, so she develops a tic where she clenches her fists super hard.

That one can really hurt at times because her hand won’t unclench and her nails dig into her palm-

Sophie getting tics when she’s flustered... Yeah, she tics super hard around Keefe and Fitz. She hopes nobody notices.

Sophie has a tic that’s her scrunching up her nose and squeezing her eyes shut and making a tiny sound... honestly sounds a little bit like she’s trying to fake a sneeze. Her shoulders also shrug when she does this.

Sophie ticcing when she meets the alicorn babies for the first time because she’s so happy they’re alive and well. And wow, they’re so pretty and cute. Her tics are all coming out at once though and she’s shrugging and scrunching her face and squeezing her eyes closed and her head jolts to the side every now and then and she’s shivering and she keeps yelling different vocal tics that have nothing to do with the situation.

Sophie getting a tic that’s her making popping sounds with her mouth.

Or blowing raspberries.

Spoiler alert: this one does not come in handy when she’s using a straw. There have been quite a few times where she’s ticced and blown into the straw, so her drink violently bubbles and splashes over. (It’s easier for her to leave her cup on the table and drink through a straw, though, as opposed to picking it up and risking throwing it on the ground).

Sophie getting tics in the middle of conversation and she gets embarrassed because they keep interrupting her, which makes her reach the conclusion a bit slower. (Obviously nobody minds, however).

All this being said, tourettes is not something that’s always light and happy - it’s not constantly a cute, smiley thing where she simply makes funny sounds or funny movements. It affects her life and can make her miserable.

One of her tics is holding her breath. This makes for obvious breathing difficulties. She sucks in her breath and won’t exhale for extended periods of time and she can't do anything to make it stop, which makes her panic-y (and that doesn’t help the situation anymore). She likes someone to be there to work her through it.

Most of the time it’s Grady and Edaline, but if they’re not home and it happens, her bodyguards are always willing to help lay her down on her back and hold her hands as she goes through it. And we all know the rest of her friends are also extremely willing to help!

Just think about Fitz and Keefe on either side of her, holding her hands. Fitz is transmitting to her, assuring her she’s fine and she’ll be through it soon enough... Keefe monitoring her emotional state sending her blue breezes in hopes to help keep her calm...

Sophie getting frustrated because she gets very emotional when the adults or authoritative figures in her life won't listen to her/don't trust her and she tries to speak to them, but they keep brushing her off and she keeps ticcing as she's trying to talk because she's getting so emotional and her tics keep getting more intense and frequent and she's trying her best to keep her cool and keep pushing through and trying not to cry because she doesn't want them to see her like some kid that can't control herself (even though that's stupid because you can't control tics, but she still feels self conscious about the way she's seen).

Sophie trying to bake with her parents and accidentally getting batter everywhere because she couldn't keep from ticcing. She feels really bad because half of it is on the floor for them to clean up and they had to take some utensils out of her reach, but Edaline and Grady don't mind; they're just happy to spend time with her. (Sophie still feels bad).

Sophie getting really nervous before going to sleep because the lights are out and she generally just has a hard time sleeping and feeling safe at night so her anxiety starts to rev up which makes her tics go haywire and she's ticcing so much that it's hard to settle down so she hails Dex or transmits to Fitz-

Sophie also has a tic where she hits herself or the things around her, so she gets a lot of bruises from that. She also destroys a lot of things with it, which makes her sad.

For example: Sophie accidentally ticcing and hitting her friends and she feels so horrible and keeps apologizing because she could just hear the echo of the slap, but they hold onto her hands and promise that it's okay, they know she didn't mean to.

Sophie being told to be quiet and sit still in detention, but she can't and the mentor doesn't know and snaps at her and Keefe stands up for her like, "Dude, she can't stay quiet, let her breathe.”

It would make it so much harder to walk around if her tics got intense because she can’t control them and sometimes the movements are jarring and throw her off-balance. That’s why she’s labeled “clumsy” by most people - and she hates it.

Sophie’s PTSD, Anxiety, and Tourettes generally like to work hand in hand. Say Sophie gets very anxious and emotional at the sight, feel, or thought of fire. Since she's so emotional from the trigger, she’ll tic more, and the high-intensity moment might trigger a tic attack. 

These can last from a range of minutes to hours.

Her tic attacks can not only include intense bursts of ticcing, many times without pause in between, but they can also include muscle tension and changing in breathing. Her joints usually stiffen and burn, and her breathing can either pick up speed or go drop to a slower, concerning rate. It’s a very uncomfortable place for Sophie to be stuck in.

Sophie panicking after a Neverseen encounter and she has a tic attack. 

Elwin just... holds her. He tries to keep her from hitting herself too much or bringing any more bodily harm.

Sophie ticcing while she's abducted and restrained in the first book, but because she's restrained and not able to really move, it makes her joints all achy and stiff and it burns and her interrogators get more and more aggressive in their handling of her because she isn’t answering (she’s ticcing so much that it’s difficult) and she won't sit still-

Sophie trying her hardest when Mr. Forkle picks her and Dex up to not tic and hold on to Dex so that Mr. Forkle doesn't set him down.

Sophie getting a really intense tic attack when she's forced to keep that circlet on her in Everblaze. She can't stop ticcing and it's hurting her head and she's sobbing and begging for a sedative because she doesn't want to be awake.

Sophie having to be lulled into sleep by Silveny throughout most of her recovery in Flashback, because if she tics too much, she sets back all the progress she’s made on healing her arm.

(UNLOCKED SPOILERS) Amidst the struggle, however, there is triumph, too. The first time she doesn't trigger a tic attack at the feeling and sight of fire is during Unlocked when she sets the warehouse on fire. Even though everyone is harsh with her about it afterwards, Sandor makes it a point to mention to the adults that he is very proud of her, in a way, because he didn't even have to carry her out of there like he usually does when she's around fire and is triggered - she walked out of there on her own.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Whaaaaaat you get hate? In our lovely quiet corner of the Tumblr? Who are these sad, angry people who will not allow you to exist in peace? Do they know you are one of the loveliest people in existence? Are they aware they don't qualify to even hold the door open for you? Why do they feel they have the right to speak to you at all?

Begone, foul Anon. Take your venom elsewhere, it has no power here.

Awwwwww, shucks @letterstosherlock - you're making me blush!

(no, really, please...don't stop *bats eyelashes*)

My heart runneth over with gratitude to you--such pretty compliments, thank you so much 😘--and to the many who've shown their support and love in some way or another over this entirely ridiculous attempt to make me feel 'bad'. We, at least 😉, are of an age to realize how pointless, and wasteful of the time we are alloted in this life, to spend it being hateful. And ofc, this only refuels my determination to be kind and sympathetic (and honestly, I am more so here than I have yet managed to be in the 'real world'). As well as strengthens my dedication to My Beautiful Obsession.

And as Sherlock Benedict himself might say...

Thank you, my dear one, for all your kindness, humor, support, and loving friendship over these many years!!