Ever since Sherlock had come back from the dead, things had felt different.
how thick about us root -
Though Sherlock had never been the sort to believe in a higher power, she constantly wished there was someone in particular she could blame for the four letter word she had ‘tattooed’ over her ribs.
Guide Me in the Moonlight (witchlock, sherlock is a demigirl <3) -
John had easily claimed her place in Sherlock’s home and heart and cast such a spell of affection that left the witch aching.
Honey And Amber (witchlock, wip) -
Sherlock runs a little magic shop, with her trusty friend Hamish, the Glaswegian skull, who talks and interferes, and is a constant matchmaker. Johanna it’s-a-mouthful-call-me-John Watson takes a wrong turning and discovers the shop, as well as a friend, and the love of her life. (sherlock deals with a lot of insecurity, but the fic is very soft and lovely!)
Jane Watson and the Room of Requirement (potterlock) -
Sherlock figures something out about a particular room on the seventh floor that only sometimes seems to exist. She shows it to Jane. Fortunately it’s a good place for figuring things out.
a little odor that to me is metre (potterlock) -
There are a lot of disturbing things Jane is almost used to coming home to. Sherlock leaning over a cauldron isn’t one of them.
translock: (well its not really an au but i will put it on any list)
Like A Pillow -
John doesn’t like the bit of softness on her stomach. Sherlock does.
Making the Cut -
Sherlock is genderfluid, but hasn’t told anybody yet, afraid that they wouldn’t be accepted. However, feelings of dysphoria make it harder and harder to hide.
There are two secrets Sherlock intends to take with her to the grave. They are, quite plainly, unutterable.
Keeping You Safe -
After the end of her disastrous marriage, Joan moves back in with Sherlock and learns - quite by accident - what happened to Sherlock’s wings.
The Bee Charmer - au of fried green tomatoes, but less sad (contains mcd at the very end, read the tags please!)
Another Character Profile :: Flavien de Valleritignon
FACE REFERENCE: None NAME: Flavien de Valleritignon AGE: 19 HEIGHT: 6′3 SPECIES: Wildwood Ishgardian Elezen
GENDER: Male BIRTHDAY: 8th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon RESIDENCE: House Valleritignon Manor, the Pillars, Ishgard
MARITAL STATUS: Single and especially ready to poetically mingle ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good DRINK: Alcohol, tea, coffee, water FOOD: Ribs, steaks, dodo, vegetables. DAY OR NIGHT: Day SNACKS: Sweets. SONGS: Keep Your Head Up (Ben Howard), Only Love (Ben Howard), I Will Wait (Mumford & Sons), Candles (Daughter), Mr. Brightside (The Killers), This Is The Last Time (The National), Humiliation (The National) PET: None. Though he is interested in getting one. COLOR: White, black, brown. FLOWER: Rose, a lot of roses. So many roses. He probably has a bed full of them.
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Monogamous, dedicated. BODY TYPE: Elezen. Long and gangly, yet shorter than most Elezen males. He has muscle definition and tone, but not much else and is far from being considered as built. EYE COLOR: Bright Amber HAIR COLOR: Brown
I have three tattoos: one is an arrow up my spine, another is a stack of books and a coffee cup on my ribs and the third is confused Zoro and Luffy on my thigh
OH! Is that the one that I reblogged recently? I think that’s why I started following you! I got really excited about that one because I want to be able to do tattoos like that on people. The linework is reallllly impressive! Also the other two sound really cool lookin too!
This is a snippet from the Stonehenge Apocalypse crossover/fake husbands fic I’m writing for guusana. It takes place in a haunted motel on Route 66.
“There’s the happy couple,” Sam announces over a glass of orange juice. Flecks of pulp stick to the sides, and it’s a rich, vibrant color—the hand-squeezed kind. Do they have pie for breakfast? He’ll get to hunting in a minute, but first he needs something in his stomach.
Cas settles in across from Sam. “Would you bring me coffee?” he asks Dean.
“The machine’s right there,” Dean answers.
“You said you’d be a model husband,” Cas reminds him.
“Yeah, when Jacob is around.”
“Dean,” Cas says. “If you expect me to play along, I expect you to uphold your half of the agreement.”
“When we’re in public, you’ll act like we are in a committed relationship,” Cas says, folding his hands together. “In exchange, I won’t tell Jacob that you fabricated a relationship with me because you are uncomfortable with his flirtations.”
“That sounds fair,” Sam says.
“Nobody asked you,” Dean snaps.
“Cas needs coffee,” Sam reminds him. “And I’ll take a refill,” he adds, handing Dean his mug in a bid for silence.
“Fine,” Dean agrees and stomps off.
He’s square in front of the coffee pot and can’t remember what Cas takes in his—doesn’t he usually drink it black?—so he throws a handful of creamer pods and sugar packets on the tray, fills the three cups to the brim, and marches back.
“Your coffee, dear,” he ribs.
“Thank you,” Cas says, drinking before it’s cool. He looks enraged but takes another sip. Sam fusses with his coffee until it looks like a barista had his way with it.
Dean leaves them in favor of the buffet. He loads up on bacon, French toast and sausage, half a plate of potatoes. There’s a whole platter of danishes, bagels, cinnamon rolls and muffins. He helps himself to a couple for now, pockets a bagel for later, snags one of those single-serving cream cheese packets and an extra knife.
“Don’t know about you two, but I’m digging this place so far,” he declares, settling in across from Cas and Sam. They give twin grunts. He ignores them, plants both elbows on the table, and goes to town on his plate.
“Is that all for you?” Cas asks when Dean’s got his cheeks puffed full of grease and starch.
“By all means,” he says. Cas peruses the selection with a serious look and plucks a danish from the middle.
“It’s sticky,” he decides, pondering his first bite.
“It’s delicious,” Dean corrects and winks as Cas takes another.
“Good morning,” someone says behind him. Dean has to double check that Cas’s mouth is full, and that he can’t possibly be the one speaking. That’ll take some getting used to.
“Hey,” he says without turning around. He stuffs more potatoes in his cheek. Sam brightens and points to the empty chair next to Dean.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Jacob says with hesitance, coming into Dean’s peripheral vision, but Sam waves off his comment.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Sit down.”
Dean tries not to bristle as Jacob settles in beside him. He polishes off his potatoes, the rest of the sausage, and offers Cas the last strip of bacon. Cas eyes it, then parts his lips. That fucker. But Dean’s not gonna let Cas outplay him. He reaches across the table with the whole damn strip.
“It’s too long,” Cas tells him. Dean smiles through clenched teeth, snaps the bacon in half, then quarters, and presses a bite-sized piece to Cas’s lips.
“Sorry, baby,” he coos, which makes Cas blink in surprise. He tongues the bacon into his mouth.
“More?” Dean asks sweetly.
Cas nods, so they repeat the farce until the strip is gone, and his finger is in Cas’s mouth, thumb tracing his lower lip. Dean wants to die a little. His cheeks scald when Cas licks his fingertip.
“Maybe you need to go outside, Dean,” Sam urges. “You look a little flushed.”