I apologize. But I see a lot of discussion about scars / wounds on the hands of Sherlock. But in reality it is simply a vein at the hands of Ben. it's not scars.
Hmmm, after comparing several pictures of BC’s hands, I see what you mean, Nonnie. I’ve mostly found skinny, but smoothe hands, but there’s been one photoshoot where the veins stick out pretty much at the same part of his hand as in the shot from the teaser trailer:
I’m still not entirely convinced, though.
His veins stick out visibly at times, but in the trailer the indentation on the back of his hand looks even more pronounced to me (green).
Plus, there’s the part towards his thumb I’ve marked red, where his skin looks extremely lumpy, almost as if covered in festering sores:
In any case it’s a point worth keeping in mind. After all we’ve got just one short scene where his hands are visible. Perhaps we all got carried away too easily with speculations about scars and their causes.
Anyway, Setlock is speculation 95% of the time, and with what little actual footage we have either side could be right.
Let’s see, if we find out more whenever the next trailer is released.
Calum’s daughter hiccups against his chest, her eyes droopy as a result of a solid half hour of crying. She mumbled something incoherent, wrapping the fabric of Calum’s sweater around her thumb and putting it in her mouth.
Calum was still in awe that it was his daughter who was crying all over him, the curve of her nose so reminiscent of his own that he couldn’t stop himself from lightly running the tip of his finger over it. She yawned at his action, finally drifting off to sleep. At six months old, she had a surprising amount of hair, all soft and curly and messy atop her head, and Calum smoothed his hand over it carefully.
He was trying his best to be a parent, he really was, but when his little one mumbled something that was dangerously close to ‘mama’, he nearly had a panic attack. Calum watched as her bottom lip started trembling, a telltale sign that she was about to start crying again. Rubbing his hand on her back, Calum shushed her gently, rocking her slowly.
‘I know you miss mama,’ he murmured into the empty room. ‘I miss her too bub, but you know what?’
Her sobs had subsided a little, and she stared up at him, her eyes glistening.
‘Mama wouldn’t want you to be sad,’ Calum said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, smiling wistfully. ‘Mama would want you to be happy, okay? I know it’s hard right now but I promise, darling, I promise it’s going to get better.’
Calum watched as his daughter babbled and grabbed the front of his sweater, giggling a little.
‘That’s the way,’ Calum said, grinning a little himself. ‘Mama’s probably looking down at us, and she’d be so proud of you. Of us.’
In the way that she stared at Calum, he could see you, and he fondly noticed that her lips were the same shape as yours.
‘Mama loves you very much, bub,’ he said. ‘You’re so, so loved.’
You came down the hall slowly, brushing the bangs of the black wig you were wearing out of your face. You were careful not to brush your fingers over your eyelids, which were now covered in dark black liquid eyeshadow.
Dean turned as you came into the bunkers library and his eyebrows knit; his head slowly tilting as he took in everything you were wearing. His eyes widened as his eyes swept from your feet to your face, back to your feet again.
“Well?” you said, watching him as he looked at you adorned all in black. Your belt, the only thing that wasn’t black, was a string of tarnished metal skulls, and it hung loosely around your waist.
“I, uh…” Dean smoothed his hand down his face, hiding a smile that had grown unexpectedly. “You look…”
“Pick a word, Dean. Any word.”
Dean’s hand left his face, and his smile was big on his face. He shook his head.
“Scary,” he said finally, laughing. “But it suits you.”
An outfit conversion set! Of course these are seperates so you can actually use them with whatever. There’s @the77sim3‘s oversized T-shirt converted from Sims 3 to Sims 2 for adult males; no morphs; smooth hands. The four designs shown are my textures and there’s also a blank grey texture for recoloring (or your sims could wear it too!) Then there’s also @s4seze‘s 07 Pants converted from Sims 4! Same deal, adult males, no morphs, four colors. I paired them with my conversion of @sims4-marigold‘s cross hightops, but shoeswaps are welcome!
The last thing you expected was to be in a cabin, with Dean hovering over you. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, but it turned out to be more. Sam told you about this place to stay in, until both of you figured out exactly what exactly was going on. Plus the last sign you seen said ‘Welcome To Indiana’. The bunker was obviously out of the question.
Doctor gently smoothed his hand over Rose’s hair, moving slowly to try and
soothe her into sleep. His shirt was damp from her tears and he knew she had to
be exhausted. It had been a rough day for everyone.
He exhaled sharply through his
nose, the closest he could come to laughing derisively at himself without
moving. Calling the day “rough” was probably the biggest understatement of his
He knew he should probably leave
so she could get some solid rest but nothing short of a universal crisis would
even make him consider leaving her side right now.
Even that would require careful
The day had started out
brilliantly. Flirting and a visit with Jackie that had made Rose happy and by
association made him happy. but now every time he closed his eyes all he could
see was her falling towards the Void, screaming while he watched, helpless,
unable to do anything, unable to save her.
The Void had collapsed in on
itself closing a mere 0.573 seconds before Rose hit the wall with a sickening
He’d run to her, barely aware of
the fact that he was still calling for her, saying her name over and over even
though his throat was raw from screaming.
She was here, she was here, she
was here, was all he could think, was the only thing going through his
Requester, I apologize so very much for taking forever with this! Anyway, it’s @sintiklia‘s Sharp Nails converted from Sims 4 to Sims 2! They come in 13 solid colors and are for young adults~elders; males and females. I’ve also given them @remussims’ retextures; there are 5 of those. They should look decent on both smooth hands and regular hands - smooth hands are shown.
Please note that these may have some clipping/placement issues with certain poses and animations. If there’s any way to fix this, please let me know! For example, the peace sign pose in the first picture caused some of the nails to shift off of the nailbed… the picture is Photoshopped because I’m a cheat. Non-shopped picture is here! Luckily however, the nails liked the second pose just fine, so this may be more of an issue with poses than the nails themselves? I’m gonna warn you anyway!
CS AU Week - Day 6: Another Time Period - Salem Witch Trials
It’s the spring of 1692 and witchcraft panic has reached an all time high. From his harbour-side shop, Killian Jones manages to avoid the worst of it, the spectacles in the town square day after day. That is, until he catches a glimpse of the latest procession into town and recognizes the woman in manacles.
He remembers Emma Swan well, though they haven’t spoken in years. He remembers her hands smoothing across his mother’s shoulders and down her arms, the soft words she spoke as she eased the pain that never seemed to abate, and it was something like magic, yes, the way she managed to bring a measure of relief not just to his mother but to both of them. He also remembers her warm and solid next to him at the burial, hand soft but steady on his forearm, the one real thing in a world that suddenly felt too uncertain.
Breaking her free is no small task but he manages it, and they’re making their way through the forest and far from town in short order. Neither can go back – they both know this – but neither much cares, and the journey to a life free from suspicion and fear soon leads to them both discovering quite a different kind of magic.
10 Things I Hate About You [Part 2] - Theo Raeken Imagine
A/N: I’m so glad I was able to get this posted tonight! I’m hoping I can post a chapter/part each night until this short series is finished up! I’m starting to think it may be closer to four parts instead of the two/three I estimated yesterday. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! Send me some feedback!
Not knowing what to say, you stood, unmoving, on the middle of the dock.
The night breeze picked up loose strands of your hair, blowing them haphazardly across your face. The goosebumps on your flesh had become amplified, spreading now to the exposed skin of your chest. Never before had you felt insecure in his presence, but now with Theo standing so dangerously close to you, the rough palms of his hands smoothing over the soft of your cheeks, you were growing increasingly conscious of the thin, flimsy pajamas you were wearing.
You weren’t exactly sure if he had been expecting a celebratory kiss or a congratulatory handshake, but apparently your reaction wasn’t satisfactory.
“Are you not happy?” he questioned, carefully observing the planes of your face for a telling expression. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Burying your face in your hands, you let out an exasperated, tiny sob. Theo gently but powerfully removed your hands, his eyes glued to your own.
Rey’s hands aren’t smooth. They are dry and callous, skin thickened by years of gruesome work in an arid environment. The skin is tanned but marred with a multitude of pale, nearly invisible scars - scavenging isn’t really a safe profession. But her hands never bothered Rey. She likes them, they’re strong and trained and useful, her grip tight enough around her stick and her fingers flexible enough to work on the tiniest mechanisms. Besides, you wouldn’t encounter one person on Jakku whose hands (if they have any) aren’t as coarse as hers. It’s a necessary survival tool, on this planet.
Finn’s hands aren’t like Rey’s. His palms are slightly callous, hardened by the repeated use of blasters and other Stormtrooper weapons. But the skin of the back of his hands is smooth and soft, preserved by the mandatory gloves of the Stormtrooper suit. His fingers are smooth, too, and gentle where they touch Rey. Finn’s hands are warm and comforting and soft, so unlike the hardness Rey has known her entire life. It’s different, and unsettling at first, but she decides she likes it very much.
Rey loves Finn’s hands. She loves it when he holds her hand, when he presses his fingers gently on her shoulder, when he hugs her and she’s basking in his warmth. For the first time in her life she feels safe, and she knows Finn feels the same about her - even though she herself is more sharp edges and rough skin.
Rey feels special under Finn’s hands : when he rubs her hands softly but firmly, massaging her sore palms with tender fingers, when he gently cups her face and brushes his thumb againt her cheek, when they are fooling around and he has her tackled down, fingers pressed into her wrists - she feels herself melting, softening under his touch. He’s a sunshine and she’s like ice, melting under his light. And she hated it, at first, this new vulnerability, her emotions bared for him to see. And the more terrifying was, it’s not that Finn broke down the walls she built around herself to survive. It’s that he didn’t do anything but help her and care for her, and she herself took down these walls, brick by brick, just to get closer to him.
Rey is not scared anymore. She loves Finn, and he loves her, and she can’t stop marveling at this simple evidence. Before, when she was thinking of home, she would picture imaginary faces and silhouettes coming back for her, taking her away from the desertic wasteland. Now, when she thinks of home, she can feel Finn’s hand in her own, his lips on her skin, his bright and infectious smile, and his eyes always so gentle and loving when looking at her.
Finn is here, real and pulsing and living. Their lives are complicated and dangerous, but they are facing it together, hand in hand, and she won’t ever let go.
Imagine dating Darry and being nervous about telling him that you’re pregnant.
——— Request for anon ———
You take a breath as you move back into the bedroom where Darry was lying on the bed, not quite asleep, but resting his eyes with his arm leisurely strewn over them. How were you going to tell him that you were about to have a baby? After all, it was hard enough to keep food on the table for his two younger brothers. Would he consider it a burden, or would he be as excited as you wanted to be?
You crawled back onto the bed with these worries on your mind, the sheets dipping with your weight as you settled into his side, whispering, “Darry, I’ve got something I need to tell you.”
“Mm-hm?” he hums sleepily, unaware of your nervous pause as you reach to gently smooth your hand over his chest.
can you do hand headcanons for genji, mccree, and widowmaker? (warm, hot, cold, smoll, large, things like that!) I love hand headcanons for some reason lmao
Of course beb!
Has squarish and wide palms
Long and slender fingers
I find his hands a generally average size
His hands are always overly hot, holding his hand or even touching it is like putting your hands right next to a heater on the highest setting
Because of how hot they are they get really sweaty really easy -He probably gets a little self conscious about this since he doesn’t want others to think he’s nervous or it’s gross, so he’s constantly aware of others possibly touching his hands
Hands are really smooth tbh almost as soft as a baby’s skin -Probably uses the Johnson Johnson baby lotion to make them that smooth tbh
The kind of hands that bring about gentle thoughts and immediately make you feel calm because they don’t look dangerous or like they could cause harm to others (even though they certainly can)
Hands are very rough and in general have lots of scratches and wear and tear
Fingers are short and a bit thick
Palms are long and calloused
Basically has very Beefy™ man hands
I feel like all of his skin is naturally at lukewarm temperature and so are his hands
Has always got like bandages/band-aids wrapped around his knuckles from constant cuts not even made out on the field (e.g. papercuts, pricking his finger, basic cuts and scrapes really but it adds to his Bad Boi™ look so he just goes with it)
The kind of hands that when you see them you know there is so much history behind them and many untold tales that are easily visible on just his fingertips
Palms are long and petite
Fingers are skinny, if not bony and long
Hands are practically flawless looking, the type of hands you would see doing a hand soap commercial or something
Hands are oddly super clean looking (I kind of tie this with a hc of Widowmaker being OCD and so she really keeps up near perfect hand maintenance)
Nails are trimmed to the exact same size on each finger and aren’t painted or unnecessarily long so that it doesn’t interfere with her work
Hands are most definitely ice cold and she doesn’t notice it unless someone touches her hand and openly points it out that her hands feel like the glaciers in Antarctica
The kind of hands that make you hesitate to grab them out of fear or insecurity, but also protective hands. Ones that feel like locks around your own and are tight and no one can unlock them but yourself or her and sometimes this provides feelings of safety and comfort once you get past the icy surface
Marley had to admit waking up wrapped up in Kitty’s arms, surrounded by fluffy white sheets? It was pretty awesome. Not to mention, sleeping in! As much as she loved Scout, that little pup really needed to learn to sleep in. But the morning had been wonderful. They’d gotten up, mostly laid in bed for a long time, eaten the most wonderful breakfast! And Marley was pretty positive she was going to be on a waffle kick for this entire trip.
But now the late afternoon had rolled around and after bugging Kitty that they needed to wait before going swimming. It was finally time to head to the water! Tying the string on the shorts she had brought she smoothed her hands over her swimsuit. It definitely felt weird after not wearing one for so long, but surprisingly she actually felt okay. “Kitty! Are you almost ready?” she asked, a playful whine coming to her voice as she plopped down on the bed. “All the water is gonna dry up before you get out here!”
For a prompt, how about kylux holed up together in a tiny house on a planet they've invaded, trying to regroup and dress wounds so they can get back to the battle. They're exhausted and didn't expect this much resistance. The bodies of the family they killed to take the house are inconveniently in the way, too. How annoying.
Ren winces as Hux peels away the blood-caked fabric from his skin. His torso is already a mass of scars, and Hux wants to avoid letting him develop any new ones. Once Ren is naked from the waist up, Hux swabs his shoulder with bacta, and begins wrapping the wound. Ren whimpers, but not from the physical pain. His eyes are riveted upon the fallen bodies of the Togrutan family in whose house they are holed up at the moment.
“Their agony. Their fear. It still echoes-” says Ren. He winces at the sounds of the battle, still raging outside.
“It’s alright,” says Hux, smoothing a hand over Ren’s brow. When he first managed to steal Ren away from Snoke, he didn’t know it was going to be like this. Whereas Snoke could reach inside of Ren and smother his empathy, turning him into a perfect weapon, Hux has no such tricks at his disposal. With Snoke gone, Ren has woken up to himself. And now his heart is a constant inconvenience. Hux must coax him into cooperating- manually, as it were. He strokes Ren’s ribs, shushing him, trying to draw his gaze away from the corpses.
“I can’t do it-” Ren shakes his head.
“Of course you can,” says Hux. “You’ve been killing for me all morning, my Dear.”
Ren makes a noise of anguish, pressing his face into his good shoulder. “It’s different. When it’s civilians,” he says. Hux spares a look at the two Togrutan women and their child, cooling in a pool of their own blood.
“What must I do to help you overcome this?” Hux sighs. Ren would be the perfect weapon, if only Hux could train this weakness out of him.
Ren bats Hux away, standing up from the bed. “I’ve tried everything,” he says. “But no matter what I do, I can’t banish the Light!” He cross the room, throwing himself into a large armchair and burying his face in his hands.
Hux frowns. He walks over and sits on one of the arms of the chair, crossing his legs. “I don’t care what side of the Force you use, as long as you use it to do what I ask,” he says, petting Ren’s lowered head.
“I can’t-” Ren sobs. The approaching battle shakes the room.
“Focus on me,” says Hux, lifting Ren’s chin. “The Light makes you feel weakness for others, yes? Focus those feelings on me.” Ren pulls Hux into his lap so that they are chest to chest, and squeezes Hux’s ribcage, burying his face in the join of Hux’s neck and shoulder. “There, there,” Hux whispers. “Focus the Light on me-” Hux gasps. Suddenly his body is filling with warm, glowing energy. He leans into it, unable to resist. His eyes widen in horror when he realizes what is happening to him. “Ren!” he chokes. “Ren, no-!” He seizes fistfuls of Ren’s hair, trying to stop it, but it’s already too late. The dead ember of his own heart, starved of oxygen for so many years, has flickered back to life. He trembles, shaking his head in denial- But it’s true. Ren has reignited the burning in his chest, the weakness he has labored since childhood to smother. All his training, all his efforts, undone in seconds. It’s so unfair. He beats his fists against Ren’s chest, tears springing to his eyes. “What have you done?!” he screams, his face turning bright red. “Ren, what have you done?!”
“I’m sorry,” says Ren. “I didn’t mean to- I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve cursed me,” Hux hisses, pinning Ren beneath him and baring his teeth. “How will I ever be able to do my work now? How will I live like this?”
“I don’t know,” Ren reaches up to pet him. Hux wants to slap him away. Moreover, Hux wants to seize Ren’s head with both hands and drive his thumbs into Ren’s eye sockets and puncture his eyeballs like wine fruits until the blood runs down his face. But he can’t. All he can do is nuzzle Ren’s hand. The sudden burning within him will not be slaked by anything but gentle touch. He is doomed now, doomed to crave this softness forever. “It’s alright,” says Ren. “We can do this. Together.”
Hux keens, catching sight of the bodies. Even if they never kill any others, they have already killed so many. He wants to claw his own flesh from his bones, because he can’t bear the feeling of being himself. This is guilt, the bane inflicted by the Light. As Ren cups his face to kiss him, he realizes it will never go away.
“No-” Hux thrashes in Ren’s arms. “You have destroyed me.”
“I’m sorry,” Ren whispers against his skin.
They clutch each other tightly, desperate to wring whatever comfort and pleasure is still possible for them from each others’ bodies. Hux hides his face in the hollow of Ren’s throat, flinching at the explosions. There are voices in the corridor. Their troopers have come to bring them to safety, to return Hux to his throne. It will never bring him the same satisfaction again, Hux realizes with a wail of misery. They are both going to be in constant pain, forever. There can be no solace for either of them, but in each others’ arms.
Iris is pretty sure it’s an accident when it happens.
They’ve only kissed a few times and it’s always been gentle lip locks, but they’ve never gone as far as that.
She surprises him, no big deal, it’s not his fault. His mouth is half open when it happens and it surprises them both. What’s meant to be a quick kiss before he bounces off to work turns smooth and heated when his tongue touches her teeth.
He’s caught even more off guard when she shoves his back against the door, pinning him to it. It’s a good cover up, making her look like she’s done it all on purpose, and the soft squeak that emits from his throat causes her to giggle when she pulls back.
Iris smiles up at him and smooths her hands down his chest, “Not bad?”
“But not bad?”
“At all,” he shakes his head, “No, no, not at all.”
Iris licks her lips and leans in to kiss him a little more chaste, “Good.”