bone hook

It continually baffles me that Elementary isn’t mentioned very often on tumblr. It’s like four seasons of televised, well-done Sherlock Holmes fanfiction. Just for starters:

  • It casts the criminally under-appreciated Lucy Liu as the show’s version of Watson
  • The show’s creator has been holding the line for four years that Sherlock and Joan will NOT hook up because “it’s too easy,” and the show “doesn’t need it.”
  • It doesn’t downplay Sherlock’s (canonical) addiction to heroin, and in fact turns his recovery and continued sobriety into an issue he constantly struggles with
  • Sherlock’s character is well-balanced as a rude, arrogant, anti-social misanthrope who is still capable of being kind and treats those few he considers friends with respect
  • Likewise, Joan is intensely empathetic and nurturing to people in need, but does not tolerate bullshit (Sherlock’s especially) and is perfectly capable of beating up grown man a hundred pounds heavier than her with a police-baton
  • Sherlock teaches Joan cane-fighting (a fighting style he had in the books), and is an avid beekeeper (another detail from the books)
  • Sherlock and Joan share a pet turtle named Clyde. He paints.
  • The cast orbiting Sherlock and Joan are diverse, three dimensional, and exist as more than cannon fodder for Sherlock to prove his superiority at every turn.
  • Ms. Hudson is a trans woman (played by a trans actress) that cleans up Sherlock and Joan’s place when she’s not cohabitating with her sugar daddies
  • The mysteries are pretty cool and creative detective stories
  • Lucy Liu herself has said that a non-sexual relationship is more “dynamic” and “interesting” to play and considers the lack of romance between them a “sacred” part of the characters
  • The show is unabashedly practical when it comes to sexuality: Sherlock has arrangements with women that are non-romantic but respectful, and has suggested that Joan is “dissatisfied” with traditional relationships and might be more inclined to an open or even polyamorous relationship
  • I can’t even ruin it but just…Moriarty is magnificent
  • Again: a male and a female lead in a deep, significant platonic relationship based on mutual respect.
exhausting pt. 2

A/N: as per popular request and my own plans, here is part 2 to exhausting! hope you guys like it as much as part 1 (: also this is the last part!

genre: angst/fluff

words: 2,673

member: taehyung (v)

previous


“I can’t say I didn’t mean what I said that day,” he said quietly, his words searing into your skin and burning you.


Originally posted by pangguk


You’d been laying in your bed for what seemed like an eternity. You had stopped crying after the first three hours of the sleepless night, your tears dried around your eyes and your cheeks, making your skin feel cracked and dry. You had managed to fall into a restless sleep, but woken up after two hours when all your subconscious could focus on were the words Taehyung had said to you.

Now, it was a week later. You hadn’t contacted any of the boys, including Taehyung. Jimin and Hobi had sent you numerous texts to assure you that what was said wasn’t the truth, that Taehyung hadn’t meant any of it and he’d just been very tired.

But you knew the truth.

He was right.

Keep reading

The words are on the tip of his tongue, sweet like the sugar on Andrew’s lips from the donuts he had nearly swallowed whole before dragging Neil in for a kiss with his powder coated fingers gripping at Neil’s collar. He doesn’t need to say them outloud, but he presses them into Andrew’s skin. Neil traces them over Andrew’s pulse, a steady beat that spikes in speed from the touch.

The words are on his fingertips, as they push through Andrew’s pale hair and tickle over forearms. It is in the ‘yes or no’ Neil whispers against Andrew’s lips before every touch. It is in every sigh passing his lips as Andrew’s teeth work at his skin, quiet but loud to Neil. His heart thumps in time with the three words, and he knows Andrew feels it every time he brushes a thumb over his pulse to check his heartbeat.

It is in the cup of coffee he places on the counter each morning from his run. In the way their fingers brush as Andrew passes the cigarette he holds. The words float through the air every time Neil comes home with a bag of sweets, and they coat the mocking ‘junkie’ he says to Andrew as he hands the bag to him.

Andrew doesn’t say them either, but he feels it in the way he slides his thumb over Neil’s scarred cheek bone or hooks it under his chin. He feels it in every finger ghosting over his scars. It is loud in the way he let’s Neil crawl over him and crowd his space. It is in the quiet moan Neil knows he is trying to hold back when their lips stitch together, and even in the sound of his name that comes out like a warning when Neil gets too close to saying them out loud.

It is in the way Andrew never puts too much space between them when they are out. He can hear it whenever Andrew makes sure his phone is charged before they part, and the way Andrew stays awake while Neil stays up watching old exy videos, even though Andrew hates it. It is in every key Andrew has given him, and the way Andrew’s fingers curl around his wrist to stop him every time he digs the key into his palm too hard. It is in the hand hard at the back of his neck whenever it feels hard to breathe sometimes. It is in growing percentage of hate, which always makes Neil hide his grin. He always fails, and the number always increases in response. 

It is his favorite song, a quiet melody tracing through the front of his mind as he soaks in the warmth of Andrew’s body against his. Andrew only allows the soft and slow for a few minutes before his grip on Neil’s hips tighten and his kisses are more urgent.

Neil’s tongue licks behind his teeth, dipping the words into his mouth. Andrew’s palm presses down at his lower back, stitching them together. He digs his fingers in, pressing those same words into Neil’s skin.

He doesn’t have to say the words, he doesn’t have to hear them. They surround him and fill his chest whenever Andrew is near, and that is enough.

anonymous asked:

So are we supposed to think that Kaplan loved and cared for and helped Raymond all these years knowing that he had killed Katrina and stuffed her in a suitcase. She has known about those bones being at the farm and the secret behind them. I'm buying into the "bones of the real Raymond Reddington theory". And as for those interviews, the writers have always lied in every single one they ever gave, swearing that Liz was really dead, etc. Megan seems reluctant to say anything about what's next!!!!

Yeah I tend to believe the bones could be the real Raymond Reddington. Red is terrified for Liz to find out. Don’t you think Red would be more scared for Liz to find out he took her father’s identity and (probably) played a role in his death than to find the bones of her mother?  He and Dembe made it sound like they were on a mission. So this is something big. And you are right, no way would Kate be comfortable knowing after all these years that Red killed Katarina and rudely stuffed her into a suitcase.

Regarding your interview comments, Megan just goes with the flow, only confirming what is going on in the now. In the past she has said Red is not Liz’s father, that she killed her father, and in one interview said she couldn’t understand why people would think Red was her father. So the storyline now is that Red is Liz’s father and that is what she is going with for now.

However JB is a different story, always talking out of the side of his mouth and confirming nothing but allowing you to read through the lines. As a matter of fact his interview last night with EW leaves the door wide open for the impostor theory. He says the bones represent the ultimate hook of the show - so this is huge!

Here is an excerpt of the interview:

Isn’t this the obvious answer the fans have been expecting from the beginning? Why confirm what everyone has basically said since season 1?
Because it is part of the truth, but not the entire [thing]. There is a larger reason for him entering her life, a bigger secret that is also revealed in this episode, so while it is part of the story, it is not the entire story.

Talk about that bigger secret.
That bigger secret involves, in part, some bones that were dug up by Mr. Kaplan, and that Elizabeth Keen is unaware of, and that Red is desperate to keep Liz from finding. That bag of bones represents a much larger story that is the ultimate hook of the show. So yes, the paternal issue is something that perhaps one might have expected, but in hindsight, when we look back on the entire series, it will make sense in a way that perhaps it doesn’t now. All I can really say is, it is a piece of a much larger puzzle.

How does knowing that these bones are out there affect Red?
He’s incredibly conflicted, because there’s this enormous emotional bombshell, and yet, at the same time, he has always withheld partial truths. He’s withholding the biggest secret from Liz, so not only is there a lot of conflicted emotional things happening between he and Elizabeth Keen, there’s always this much larger secret that has him entirely on his heels, terrified and presents a problem in a way that he’s never dealt with before.

This impostor theory is one that’s alive among our fan base,” Bokenkamp says. After all, the DNA results proving Red’s parentage come from a decades-old sample that is not necessarily from the man we know now.

But it’s My Birthday**

Request


SMUT WARNING**

Another year had came and gone and Joseph Sugg was turning another year older. As an annual tradition for every member of the Buttercream Gang, the boys were taking Joe out for the night with the main goal of not letting him go home alone. 

The boys had been planning Joe’s birthday activities for a few weeks leading up to his birthday, in hopes to make the oldest member feel young again. 

When the night of Joe’s birthday finally rolled around, the boys started the night off with a nice dinner, ordering a few pre drinks before their night really took off.

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4

THREE SILK CANOPY PARASOLS, 1820-1870

1 rare c. 1820 turned wood stick w/ repousee brass rings & bone hook, long brass canopy tip, whalebone ribs, brown silk pagota shaped canopy & cream silk fringe, L 37", (4 of 8 ribs detached from ends, couple bone ends worn down, tiny holes to canopy) fair; 1 1850s folding wood stick, brass slider, bone canopy & stick tips, whalebone ribs, wine & navy silk changeante silk canopy, L 33", excellent; 1 1870s wood stick w/ long carved bone handle & tip, black silk & lace canopy, L 20", excellent.

Dance Club Missions - Jason Todd Oneshot

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Themes: NSFW - Oral (Reader recieving), dirty words, public places, dance clubs

Summary: Anon requested: Jason todd giving shy reader oral for the first time: Jason todd is your target, you’re supposed to get into his inner circle and infiltrate his world.  You weren’t expecting a one way ticket into his booth with closed curtains and his mouth between your legs… but then again… first missions are always the most memorable. 

Originally posted by bolujem-godinama

Tags: @klbwriting , @mistressofcobblepot, @jokesterwrites, @taintedmarker, @alinacorday, @axelskitty 

~~~~~~

Keep reading

We slid the third bag across the floor.  Grue hooked it into the harness.

“We can’t put any more on here without it being a problem,” he decided.

“The weight is even?” Bitch asked.

“Close enough.”

This moment shows that these two have worked together for a while; Grue knows how much the dogs can handle.

Bitch stood and crossed the length of the vault to where her creature waited. She rubbed her hand on Brutus’ snout like you might see a horse owner do, except Brutus most definitely wasn’t a horse. She was rubbing her hand on exposed muscle, calcified tatters of flesh and bone hooks that jutted out of gaps and knots in the muscle. She managed to look almost affectionate as she did it.

This is something I like about Bitch - as horrifying as they might be and as antisocial as she is, she clearly loves her dogs deeply regardless of their form at the given moment. It’s not the first time we’ve seen this and I’m sure it’s far from the last.

“Go, baby. Go,” she commanded, pointing to the front door. Brutus obediently loped off to the front of the bank and sat, his prehensile tail absently coiling around the door handle.

The front is where the other two dogs are, along with Regent. I guess they’re planning on leaving through the front… I’d say door, but honestly the dogs might be to big for that by this point in time, so I guess just front.

In fact, they seem to be just about done here. If the Wards are to come and stop them from leaving, they’ll have to come fast.

I suppose that’s another way this could go - Armsmaster coming through after all by holding back the Wards for Taylor’s safety. That’s still not a great idea considering it’d potentially tip off Tattle to Taylor’s meeting with Armsy (if she doesn’t already know), but Armsy doesn’t actually know how Tattle’s power works and may have underestimated her ability to figure it out based on his actions.

At night when everyone is silent and everything is still, I lie in the darkness of my windowless room, the place where they exile me from the community of their heart, and search the unmoving blackness to see if I can find my way home. I tell myself stories, write poems, record my dreams. In my journal I write—I belong in this place of words. This is my home. This dark, bone black inner cave where I am making a world for myself.
—  bell hooks
Open Starter- Sun (Like Glitter and Gold)

I am Flesh and I am Bone
Rise Up, ting-ting, like Glitter and Gold~
I got Fire in my Soul,
Rise Up, ting-ting, like Glitter~

The song blasted over the speakers of the gym. It was early, maybe 6am. No one else was using the space, and so the monkey faunus had decided to take the opportunity to train on his own. His team was still asleep, and he had woken up with a strange surge of energy. It probably had to do with some disturbing dream that had shaken him awake, but he tried to put the thought out of his mind.

Instead, he focused his energy into his punches and kicks. But this wasn’t a regular regimen, and he wasn’t alone in the most literal sense. As the music continued, Sun would close his eyes and summon a clone or two to take turns beating up the hanging, swaying punching bag in front of him. It was obvious the boy had studied the rhythm of the song as his and his clones’ strikes to the bag followed the beat near perfectly: 

I am Flesh- (a roundhouse kick from one side) and I am Bone (a hook kick from the other)
Rise up, (he paused, aura glowing) ting (one clone appears)-ting (another apperates), like Glitter and Gold (the two clones find their positions and exchange a single strike each to the punching bag)
I’ve got Fire- (Sun uppercuts the bag) in my Soul (a left hook)
Rise Up (an unexpected backflip, his clones aerial flip to his side, landing in unison), ting-ting (he blocks a move from both clones), like Glitter~ (he manages to strike them both back in unison, shattering his semblance into a spray of golden sprinkles around him. He gets back into position, continuing on in this way for the entirety of the song.)

He was so concentrated, he didn’t hear the door open, or the footsteps behind him. He had played the song over at least five times, now. He was starting to really wear out, but the music was consuming and he didn’t want to think of anything else at the moment. It was odd, he couldn’t even remember his dream in completion, just woke up with a sense of danger and crushing sadness. He should’ve expected the music to draw attention, but the boy continued his relentless fight against the punching bag as whoever had come to the gym found him shirtless, sweating, glaring, and lip-syncing to the all-encompassing music produced from his scroll (which sat on a speaker stand against the wall by the door).

[Mark] Mr and Mrs Tuan (Part V)
Part 4

Part 3
Part 2
Part 1

My hands are tied up in front of me, and I desperately try to pull on it, trying to free myself, unsuccessfully. I am on one of ISEG’s helicopter, and we’re flying across the city, towards the beach. Hudson’s sitting beside me, and two of his gunmen are in front of me, watching me impassively, holding their weapons to the ground.“ISEG doesn’t negotiate.” I say to Hudson and he smirks down at me, his grey eyes darkening. “Husbands do.” He replies. How dare he play with one’s feeling like this? Rage radiates inside of me.


“You’re going to kill me anyway. You’re just toying with me and Mark knows it, he won’t negotiate. He is going to kill you.” I articulate, hoping to make it sink into his skull, and hoping that it would be what will happen. Hudson chuckles and shakes his head. He tilts my chin up with his index. 


“With you with me, he won’t shoot a bullet.” I understand now, he’s using me as a human shield. And if Mark still loves me, then he’s right, he won’t dare to shoot, which will let Hudson enough time to kill him first. The thought makes me panic. Mark, dead? I can’t lose him, he can’t die. Another noise covers the one from our helicopter and as we all look out the window, we can see another helicopter, an ISEG helicopter, it’s Mark.


“Looks like he came to join the party.” Hudson jokes before getting up. He grabs me by the arm and sets me of my feet beside him, before sliding the door open, letting a strong breeze invade the whole machine. A short moment later, Mark opens the door of his helicopter, gliding a few feet away from me as we both head towards the sea. He’s here. He stands there, tall and strong, impassive, determined.


“Mark, what a pleasure to see you.” Hudson says sarcastically. Mark doesn’t take time to play along. “What are you trying to do, Hudson?” His voice betrays his worry. Hudson shrugs arrogantly, feigns innocence. “You’re going to shoot us anyway, whether you have the copy or not.” Mark shouts over the noises of our two helicopters.“That is what I’m going to do, that’s right. Y/N is just an insurance policy.” Hudson eyes darken as both of his gunmen come behind us and aim at Mark and the agents standing behind him. No! My heart starts to race. Their reaction is automatic, Mark and his agents pull out their weapons and aim back at Hudson. 

“Against what?” Marks asks and Hudson smirks. He pulls out a gun, that he places on my temple. I refrain a gasp and swallow. “Resistance.” Mark’s lips part and he slowly starts to lower his arms, we’re now above the sea. If he drops his weapon Hudson is going to kill him. I shake my head no, but Mark isn’t looking at me. I don’t want him to die I don’t want to lose him. There is only one way to save him, to save my love, to apologize for the words I said before, to say I love him. I jump off the helicopter.


“Y/N!” Mark calls after me and, to my horrifying surprise, jumps down to me. No, no, no! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! Mark was supposed to live. I hear gunshots from both of the helicopters, and they get smaller and smaller while Marks figure gets closer to me. My fall is long and torturing, I cry as my husband does his best to save me. It’s the end. More tears leave my eyes as I think about the last words I’ve said to him, and I’m terribly sorry. Mark comes closer and closer at the same speed at the hard surface of the sea does. Oh and my little bean, sleeping peacefully inside of me. You were just an innocent bean, torn from life. Daddy didn’t hate you, little bean. I believe it. Mark eventually comes close enough to wrap his arms around me, and then nothing, darkness.

I can’t see anything, I can’t feel anything. Suddenly I feel like choking in something. I cough.“Cough. That’s right.” I hear someone whisper, but I don’t know who. I splutter. I’m laying on something hard and cold, and I hear the sound of waves crashing on something, we’re on a beach. I cough some more and air starts to circulate again, I gasp for oxygen. I’m alive. I slowly open my eyes and see Mark towering above me, his hands on either side of my head, a worried expression painted across his face. He is completely wet, and his T-shirt smothers his torso, hugging each of his muscles, and his hair is completely drenched, covering his eyes. “Mark.” My voice is quiet, hoarse.  He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath of relief, dropping his head on my chest. “Oh, god.” He breathes. We survived? He saved me? Where are we? Tears pool at my eyes as relief radiates throughout my whole body. I am alive, he is alive, he is here. “Mark.” I bring my arms up to tangle my fingers in his hair, and I the same time I take a second to glace around: we’re in a cave, a few feet away from a deserted beach. I know this place, me and Mark had to hide there before, it’s not far from the coast. 

“They took you away from me.” I hear him snuffle and realize he’s crying. “I thought I’d lost you.” He murmurs almost to himself,  his voice barely audible. He kisses my collar bone, then the place where my neck and shoulder connect, then the crook of my neck and I let out a pleased sigh of relief of feeling him again. “I’m sorry.” I breathe before he kisses me warmly. “I thought I’d lost you.” He repeats against my lips, and is voice is vaporous and quiet. He kisses me again and the relief of him being there and the mix of all the emotions I felt today wake up a carnal desire inside of me. He kisses me more boldly, pushing his tongue inside of my mouth and pulling min into a sensual dance; I want him. I moan and he grunts in response, kissing me passionately, his hands coming up to cup and squeeze my breasts, making me moan again, the feeling traveling directly to my groin. He pulls away and leaves me breathless as his lips move down to my neck, leaving delicious kisses in their wake. “Y/N, my love.” He kisses my collar bones and hooks his fingers in the collar of my soaked tank top. “Y/N, my Y/N.” He kisses my chest and slowly rips my top apart, kissing the valley between my breasts. Oh my, he was scared. My top disintegrates and I’m panting, craving for more of his touch. He kisses me across my stomach and stops at the waistband of my jeans, and I realize my boots are gone. He undoes my jeans and hooks his fingers around the waistband of both of my pants and panties, sliding them down my legs swiftly. I am left with only my bra on, and I feel completely exposed, vulnerable, but horny. He leans over me, eyes burning with desire, and he kisses me, fueling my hunger. As he kisses me I fumble the button of his pants, but he grabs my hands and pins them down on the cold sand above my head, and I mewl. “Please.”

He unbuttons his pants himself and I hear the sharp noise of his zipper, and then he is inside of me. We both groan in union as he enters me, filling me up with love. He starts to move, slow thrusts sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. His lips are on mine, a hand on y breast as he supports himself with his elbow, all of his weigh on me, embracing me, feeling me. He thrusts away my doubts, my worries, my fear and makes me his again. And I take him, and take him, welcome him, embrace him, give myself to him until I can’t take it anymore. “Mark!” I cry out at the sweet, sweet pleasure, the delicious pleasure threatening to wash over me. “Just give it to me quick, baby.” He rasps in my ear and I let go, and he seals me with a kiss as he comes with me.

Cosplay 101

Cosplay tip of the day: harvest the reusable pieces from your costumes before throwing them away. Not only cosplay but also other clothing and bags.

This goes for: buttons, hooks, zippers, boning, pattern pieces.

I always throw out my cosplays after the conventions because I know I’ll never use them again so might as well destroy it all.

RIP Star Butterfly dress and farewell <3

Cite the final line of five of your fics – your favorites, or the most recent ones. Tag five writers who should do this next. 

Tagged by @abominableobriens. Because what better way to procrastinate on sleep, right?

“I should probably fix that,” he suggested, hands reaching up to cup Eric’s face and, just as he bent down, Eric pushed onto his toes and their lips pressed together and two lives began again.

Travelin’ Soldier

He’ll just have to wait a bit longer. 

We Plant Bones

By hook or by crook, Gävle was making it to spring this year. 

Gävle Snowman

“Oh Lord,” he mumbles to himself as his gaze was drawn once more to the tray picked clean, “I’m gonna have to start teaching y’all to defend yourselves.” 

Love is a Magic All Its Own

“We’ll see how the summer goes.” 

Welcome Home

I tag: @whiskeytangofrogman, @zimmermaenner, fack i don’t know it’s past my bedtime. Everyone.