must you be brilliant in all that you do

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PT.1 | PT.2 | PT.3| PT.5| PT.6| PT.7| PT.8| PT.9| PT.10| PT.11| PT.12| PT.13

They ate in pleasant silence. The only noise in the flat was the movie, and occasionally Rosie’s whines for some of Sherlock’s food. She found her place back in his lap and decided to join them in their movie-watching. The men laughed at her lip covered in drool from the sight of their food, eventually, Sherlock gave in and let her have some of the rice which he softened for her. Every other bite, John would put his fork down and watch Sherlock. He looked on fondly as the man would sigh and give Rosie more rice, when a particularly exciting scene happened in the movie and Sherlock stopped moving to watch it, he was happy to see Sherlock happy and content. He was excited at the fact that Sherlock was happy and content with him. The lights were off and John couldn’t help but bask in Sherlock’s silhouette from the TV light. How could a man be so beautiful and find someone like him worthy of their time?

“The dragon is starting to grow on me, John…John?” Sherlock turned to face him and John’s cheeks reddened at being caught staring.

“Oh um…yeah, Smaug. He actually reminds me of you.”

Sherlock smirked at John’s reaction and replied, “Oh yes, because I too have a penchant for breathing fire, and, as others so helpfully point out, my voice is quite deep.”

“Well, yeah, that stuff too but I think, for me at least, it’s because you protect things so vehemently. You go through all these lengths to protect things that are important to you, whether it’s a person or thing.”

“If we’re drawing parallels then, just like Smaug, I’m protecting just one thing with my life.”

John’s eyes met Sherlock’s and they both stared at each other smiling, Rosie the only one firmly attentive with the movie. John turned to the television and shoved another forkful of food in his mouth. “Or, you know maybe it’s because you’re just a hotheaded hoarder.”

Sherlock snorted and took another helping of his food. “Maybe, John.”

It was then that John realized that he missed Sherlock so much. The house felt different without him, even when Mary was still alive. There just wasn’t that banter that he was so accustomed to with Sherlock. The thought left him smiling into his food for the rest of the film. John took care of the food as Sherlock put Rosie to bed. She had fallen asleep halfway into the marathon, but the two were so comfortable laying on each other that they didn’t move until after the third movie. John stood in the doorway of his daughter’s room and watched as Sherlock gently set her down in her crib and rubbed her back when she stirred. Thankfully, she stayed asleep and John could let the breath out that he was holding.

“Ready for bed, Mr. Holmes?”

“Just let me change and I’ll join you.”

John perked up at the very real and very exciting prospect of sleeping with Sherlock Holmes. He nodded and walked into the room to prepare the bed. It had been so long since he’s slept with another person in the bed, and the fact that it was Sherlock, his best friend, best man, the…the man he loved, it made the man simply giddy. Was Sherlock just as excited as he was? He hoped so. As soon as John was dressed and ready for bed, Sherlock came in wearing his classic grey t-shirt and striped pants.

“So, this is where I’ll be until further notice?” Sherlock was joking as he walked to his side of the bed and lifted the covers.

“There’s always the sofa, if you want to be picky.” John was just as playful with his response.

They settled in under the covers, and John closed his eyes letting the warmth from his bedmate lull him to sleep. It would have been the fastest he’s ever fallen asleep until he heard Sherlock’s small voice whisper, “John?”

“Yes?” Their voices were made gentle and soft by fatigue.

He could see Sherlock’s form sit and he too propped himself up on his elbows to listen to what the man had to say.

After a long bout of silence, he heard Sherlock say, “You called me great today.”

“I did.” John then thought back to the context in which he said it and then immediately he felt like an ass, maybe they weren’t back to that level of joking yet, he overstepped his boundaries, he fucked up, he fucked up bad… “I’m not great, John.”

“Sherlock I’m sorry…”

“Let me finish.” Sherlock’s voice sounded so painfully raw and John’s instinct was to sit up fully and place a hand on his back. He would listen to whatever it was that Sherlock had to say, they would stay up all night if that made him feel better.

“Yeah, of course, whatever you want.”

“…You called me great today, and I’m not, John. I’ve never been great. No one’s ever referred to me as such, therefore I must not be. But I’ve never truly felt ‘great’ until I met you.”

John’s breath hitched in his throat at that.

“From the day we met you never once failed to call me every variation of the word ‘brilliant’ or ‘extraordinary’. You’ve always made me feel like I belonged, like it was okay to be me, that I am doing good…even when I have trouble believing it some days.”

John bit his cheek to prevent any noise from escaping his body. Sherlock wasn’t finished.

“When I’m with you John, I think I really am ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and it makes me happy. But then I realized…I wouldn’t be great if you weren’t amazing.”

John cupped a hand over his mouth to let Sherlock finish. Even in the darkness of the night he could see Sherlock’s smile, so warm, so bright, so wonderful. God, he was so pretty.

“So, let me say this now. John Watson, I think you’re the most amazing, and bravest man that one could ever hope to meet and how lucky I am to have met you.”

John didn’t respond. How could he? What did he, a worn-down war vet, ever do to make a man like Sherlock Holmes, find him worth his time? As if Sherlock knew what he was thinking, he simply wrapped his arms around John’s small body and pressed a kiss to his forehead when he heard John’s tiny whimper into his shirt.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, I just wanted to tell you that before I scared myself into never telling you, like so many other things I’ve been meaning to say but never have…”

They fell asleep like that, embraced and inhaling the scent of the other. The last thing that John remembered thinking was that he didn’t want Sherlock to leave.


Oh boy, this was 1k words guys! Hopefully you guys were satisfied with this chapter, it was a pleasure to write, and hopefully the next parts will be just as good! 

@sappylock @vitruvianwatson @fortheloveofjawn @watsonsanatomy @the-three-garridebs @justsherlythings7 @bronzedviolets @aconsultinghobbitinthetardis @ink-in-murder @the-john-to-your-sherlock @froggie95 @angel-loving-star @sirarthurcanondoyle @sspectacularlyignorant @jazziejexbird @purplejayee @chulia25 @teeeffdee @deathishauntedbyhumans @im-batt-mellamy @thegameisgay @usuallynotusual @sairyn-noc @gimmeastartoreachfor @toooldforthissh–stuff @willasherlyscottholmes @beekeepers-in-love @jubalya @akablue24 @worthless-dude @random-nexus @imworkingonit86 @buckynotbuchanan @mycroftpotter @funkychickzz @superspringles @theelephantin221b @now–what @maikanna @johnandsherlocks @deathfrisbee-221b @orphengesic-tab @wholockian16 @certaincollectiontravelerlove @enchanted-captainswan @justinmymindpalace @masterofhounds @fallingoffbarts @sherlock-totally-loves-john @missmuffin221 @shayspieterse @loveismyrevolution @loveteaelephants @tealfox-10-24 @vaticancameos-andtea @cow-mow @reallyimpossibleartisan @lets-play-muuurder

Please tell me if I forgot anybody and let me know if you would like to be tagged! Thanks! 

seeing as today is a special day for me (my birthday!!) and monsta x just recently completed their “the clan” album series, i figured i’d do a giveaway of all parts and versions of the album!!

Prizes (1 Winner~!)

  1. The Clan Part. 1 Lost (Lost Ver.)
  2. The Clan Part. 1 Lost (Found Ver.)
  3. The Clan Part. 2 Guilty (Guilty Ver.)
  4. The Clan Part. 2 Guilty (Innocent Ver.)
  5. The Clan Pt. 2.5: The Final Chapter (Beautiful Ver.)
  6. The Clan Pt. 2.5: The Final Chapter (Brilliant Ver.)
  7. The Clan Pt. 2.5: The Final Chapter (Beside Ver.)


  1. Must be following me (if you just unfollow immediately after the giveaway you’ll be blocked from entering any future giveaways)
  2. For an extra entry you can follow any of my side blogs or other accounts. If you follow any of my other accounts make sure to send me your url so I can count your extra entry!
  3. Reblogs are unlimited (please don’t spam your followers) and likes do count.
  4. No giveaway blogs are allowed
  5. Make sure you have your parents’ permission to give out your address if you are under the age of 18! International shipping included~
  6. I will be using to choose a winner and the winner will have 48 hours to reply or another winner will be chosen
  7. If you have any more questions make sure to message me!

This giveaway will be ending on August 21!!

Me on my death bed...

Me: Tell my family that I love them

Grandkid: Yes, grandma.

Me: And tell telanu that Truth and Measure is the best novel I’ve ever read.

Grandkid: I think you mean fanfiction, grandma.

Me: Did I fucking stutter?

People of Ghirapur,

I have been a consulate functionary and I have been a renegade. But today I speak to you as nothing more than a fellow citizen of the greatest city in the world: Ghirapur.

Ghirapur was founded on the spirit of cooperation, optimism, and ingenuity. As a community, we grew and thrived through the exchange of ideas, enthusiasm for learning, and passion for creating inventions that bettered the lives of all. This spirit was at the heart of the Consulate for countless years, but recently it was broken.

When Tezzeret arrived in Ghirapur, he demonstrated incredible ingenuity and power. Some of the greatest minds in the Consulate, Dovin Baan among them, were blind to the cruelty at the heart of that power. By falling under his influence, the Consulate betrayed the public’s trust and turned against everything Ghirapur stood for. The Consulate failed you. I failed you.

For that, I am sorry.

I am also determined to ensure we do not let one tyrannical man destroy what we have spent decades building. Ghirapur is the promise of thousands of brilliant minds working together. We must find a way to come together again.

Today the Consulate announced that they will begin a new path forward. Effective immediately, they are lifting the curfew, reinstating all aether access privileges, and returning all confiscated inventions to their rightful creators. I entreat each and every one of you to accept their offer to move forward.

It is time to stop referring to each other as “Consulate” or “renegade” and start seeing ourselves as a united Ghirapur. This is what the founders of our city would have wanted, and it’s the only way to reclaim the spirit we have lost.

Let’s move forward. Let’s rebuild. Let’s invent. Together.

Yours in the spirit of Ghirapur,
Sekar Rabi

anonymous asked:

i really love your writing and i was wondering if you have any malec/jimon fic recommendations?

Awwwww, thanks anon. You’re so sweet! Well, I’ll always recommend anything written by @abloodneed cuz Izsak’s writing is A++++++. Plus, he also writes the occasional Jimon which is just as brilliant!

Then there’s Anger Management  by @latinalightwood which I started beta’ing like three chapters ago, and which I love! Ana loves her angst and I love screaming, I love you and I hate you all at once. Trust me. She’ll have you doing both.

I won’t Let You Fall by @jezthemadficster is this dancing fic that god, every time a new chapter is out, has me grinning like a loon as I go, “gimme gimme gimme goddamit!” and trust me, she never disappoints. And the way she describes the dance, it’s vivid poetry that just takes my breath away. Honestly, great stuff if I must say so myself.

I love Knights and tales that reimagine fairytales so Destiny Calls by @clockworkswans also ranks pretty high on my list. It’s brilliant writing really, and has me hopelessly hooked.

Then there’s Under New Management by @highwarlockkareena which woah, got me hooked even before I knew that it was Kareena that was writing it. The plot, the pacing, the writing, all amazing, and Kareena’s take on the Downworlder council has me in awe. I’m not going to spoil it for you but it’s really good.

Cradle Songs of Comfort by @theonetruenorth because frankly the story’s slept on. Like woah! The plot is based off a game. The characterization is excellent. The pacing has me biting my nails like crazy, waiting to see what will happen next, and the writing is excellent. 

Under the Bleachers by @bi-magnus which to me is A+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Think it’s a lot of pluses? Hehehehe. Well, it’s because the story’s damn good! That’s so damn good Jimon right there.It’s cute and fluffy and hot and will leave you smiling till the very end. You know what, just look through the rest of her fics on her AO3 because they’re all so good, and Alice’s Jimon Week fics are classic!

Never say Never by @mel-iorn because it combines Mel’s brilliant, beautiful writing (really, if you’ve never read anything by Mel, you don’t know what you’re missing) and glorious beautiful Jimon. Honestly, the story’s brilliant. 

Only Fools by @aleclwb which was is funny and cute and hot and has Simon dating Jace in order to teach Jace how to date Clary. Yeah trust me, it’s as good as it sounds. So damn goooooood. 

And finally, I would of course recommend the first fic I ever wrote in the SH fandom: It’s Time To Lose Your Virginity Brother Dearest. You can also find my Tumblr drabbles on here

All His - Part 5 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Fluff / Future Smut

Characters: You X Kyungsoo

Description: You are hired as an interpreter for a tour in Europe where you join forces with EXO and soon grow closer to one member in particular, Do Kyungsoo.

A/N: sometimes its best not to rush things. This still isnt over.

All His part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

The song practice dragged on. Snacks and then meals were brought in by managers and you could hear the improvement in their performance and pronunciation. After a few hours several of members called it a night, opting for sleep over yet another run through of the song. The members had decided to slip it into the acoustic portion of the concert and Chanyeol worked hard perfecting the chords on his guitar.

Eventually Junmyeon kicked everyone out of his room and you lingered close by Minseok and Kyungsoo as they made their way down the corridor. They had been discussing something and your mind wandered a bit as you followed, not close enough to eavesdrop but still very much available should either of them need you.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you do a fluffy scenario whit kuroo, something realy really sweet please, thank you!! You are the best , i hope you can pass through everything easly

This was a pretty vague so I did my best with what I was given. Hopefully this was sweet enough! Also guys, please spread the word that I’m taking commissions as well as accepting donations to my gofundme account to make money for my classes so I can graduate. I’m no where near my goal and need help! :’(

-Admin Lana

Love was something breathtakingly beautiful in its own way, opening your eyes to new opportunities each moment you spent together. Kuroo only seemed to bring out the best in you and he became a better man because of you. It was only a matter of time before your long-standing relationship reached a head, both of you desiring something more permanent along the lines. You didn’t need to verbalize it, Kuroo was already two steps ahead. He knew you well enough by now to tell what you were thinking.

Phase one of his plan had long been completed seeing as he had found the perfect ring that was a representation of his love for you. The next part was simply to lure you out to the rendezvous point where he’d finally ask the question your ears have been longing to hear. With the help of Bokuto, Tsukishima, and Kenma, hopefully it’d prove to be successful. 

Kuroo waited anxiously at the edge of the pier where he waited, glancing at his phone every few moments in hopes of seeing a text from Tsukishima. “God, I hope Tsukishima doesn’t slip up and let her know what’s waiting for her down here.”

Kenma arched an eyebrow, pausing from stringing up the tea lights around the pillars to patio at the end of the pier which was meticulously decorated in delicate lights and your favourite flowers. He only hoped it was enough to make this moment memorable. “Do you really think Tsukishima would let such details slip? You know better than anyone how tight-lipped he can be.” He watched as Kuroo wrung his hands, a conflicted expression crossing his features. “You’re worrying to much.”

How could he not though? His life was about to change for the better because of four small words. It wasn’t that he doubted that you would agree to marry him, but rather if this would be good enough for you. There wasn’t enough words that could accurately describe the emotions he felt when he gazed at you in the early morning light or when your lips quirked up in the slightest fashion when he’d crack a corny joke. In short, you were everything to him.

The sound of his phone ringing was enough to shake him out of his stupor, looking at the screen showing a text from the blonde. They had just arrived. “They will be here any moment! Take your places!” 

Bokuto crossed the cobblestone to his best friend, offering him a soft smile. “You’re going to make _____ very happy. You deserve each other.” It was warming to hear those words, Kuroo falling into the male’s hug, grateful to have him at his side. The two moved to take their places, Kuroo moving to hide behind one of the pillars.

“Kei, please tell me this is the last stop. You’ve been dragging me around all day, and quite frankly I’m tired.” You whined, grasping at the tall male’s arm in a dramatic fashion. It wasn’t unusual for you to hang out considering you were good friends since childhood, but normally there was a point of destination in mind.

“Quit whining, you’ve been moping all day. Do you not like to hang out with me?” Tsukishima flashed you an incredulous look, striding down the boardwalk slowly, fingers discreetly moving across the screen of his phone.

You nearly snorted at that, surprised that he was even capable of looking incredulous. “I’ve think I’ve had enough of your snarky comments all day. Sometimes I can’t tell you and Kuroo apart.” At that he rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of your lover, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.” The cryptic message didn’t slip past you as Kei fell behind you, urging you forward with a sweep of his hands.

“What do you mean? He’s not-” The air that lay captured indoor lungs rushed out in a flurry of your amazement. It was unlike anything you had seen before, something more along the lines of a romance movie. Beneath your feat were rose petals strewn across leading to the pillars of the patio, tea lights strung around the railings and the columns, illuminating the night. But that wasn’t what was most prevalent, but rather the man standing in front of you dressed to the nines. This must be why Tsukishima had urged you to ‘dress appropriately’. 

Kuroo said nothing, but offered out a hand. Your heart fluttered, having an inkling of what this could possibly be about, but still in awe nonetheless. “So this is what you’ve been up to when you said you were busy.”

“Do you like it?” He breathed, gently taking your hand into his own. 

You gazed around once more before a brilliant smile broke out across your face. “It’s gorgeous,Tetsu.  Did you do this all by yourself?”

“I had a little help.” At that a few shadows moved forward to reveal Bokuto and Kenma. Tsukishima stepped towards the sidelines to join them. He was taking a knee before you were processing the significance of this gesture, ears finely attuned to the words spilling from his lips.

“We’ve been together for years and you’ve put up with a lot from me. There isn’t a word that can accurately describe the emotions I feel towards you nor can I express them in a manner that suits you.” He reaches behind him to grasp the velvet box that has taken refuge in his nightstand prior to this evening. “I love you and I will continue to say this until you grow tired of it. I want to wake up next to you each morning and hold you in my arms at night. I want to see you cheering me on in stands at games not as my girlfriend, but as my wife. If you’ll have me, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” 

The breath hitched in your throat, eyes already beginning to gather tears. This was something you have been dreaming of for a while, and the fact that it was becoming a reality was far too much for you to handle. Finally you tore your eyes away from those golden hues to take a peek at the ring. 

“Tetsurou…?” You were still transfixed on the ‘ring’ as you spoke his name. Your boyfriend was a dork and had quirky tendencies, but this went beyond him. “Is this a joke?”

Kuroo froze, glancing down at the box in shock, not quite believing what  he was looking at. The diamond ring that was supposed to be nestled between the folds was replaced with a ring pop. “What the he-”

Laughter was not what he expected to grace his ears, peeking up at you as you giggled gleefully, wiping the tears from your eyes. “You know me too well. This is the perfect ring for me.” 

“So…is that a yes?”

“Of course I’ll marry you.” He slipped the candy onto your finger before he rose up to meet you in a tender kiss, the three clapping from the sidelines, although internally Kuroo was nearly at his wits end. Where did the real ring he was supposed to give you?

A boisterous laugh resounded from behind you, and you turned with a huge smile tugging at your lips. “Congratulations you two! I couldn’t be happier for the both of you.” Bokuto pulled you in a big before turning to Kuroo, squeezing him tight. “Thought you might want this back.” He slipped a small box into his hand before stepping away.

Kuroo couldn’t help but sigh in relief, rolling his eyes at his antics. “I swear, you almost made me have a heart attack! What was I going to tell her if I couldn’t find the ring?” He whispered before pulling away with an exhausted expression.

“As much as you like that ring pop, I think you’ll like this one even better.” He slipped the metal ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly against your skin as if it was meant to be there. 

A shriek of joy escaped your lips as you dove onto him in a firm embrace, meeting his lips over and over in a series of tender kisses. “I can’t wait until the day that I become Mrs. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“That day is coming sooner than you think, baby.”

fic: the trace of pleasure or regret, (5/5)

Previous: One - Two - Three - Four


When Rose had agreed to come to Shareen’s wedding, she was excited - not just for her friend, and to see her old mates, but for where the evening reception might lead. She’d considered that maybe she’d get the Doctor flirting with her, get him up dancing, show him off a bit to her mates. She’d hoped that maybe, when they got home, he’d give her a kiss goodnight again.

Keep reading

Imagine: Peter can’t stop flirting with you, in front of Hook.

Warning: extreme leaves of sass

“You’re cute.”

“Well, thank you?”

“Can I keep you?

“N-no!”  You had only been on Neverland for five minutes and Peter has already managed to make you feel small and strange.  Not that it took much, it was easy for others to make you feel insecure and when you did you became defensive and sassy.  Most girls would think it was a cute attempt at flirting but you knew better.  You knew no one would ever think that you were attractive.  Although you looked confident your Captain could see your change in mood and stepped in.

“Pan, my crew and I are done here we just need permission off the island.”  You smile glad that Hook diverted Peter’s attention away from you.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

   “Cute, but no.” you couldn’t help the words that flowed from your mouth.  For a second you were afraid Peter would get mad at you.  Or at least until you saw him smile.

   “Fuck me if I’m wrong, but do you want to kiss me?”  You could hear Killian beside you groan, probably feeling extremely awkward and just wanting to leave.  For a second you panicked you couldn’t say yes or no.  But what else was there to say, unless.

   “Maybe, I always keep my options open.”  

“There is definitely something wrong with my bed.”  You look between Peter and Killian trying to understand what is even going on.  Peter is smirking waiting for a response, and Hook is rubbing his eyes with his hand clearly annoyed.

“Are you seriously just going to stand there until I ask what it is?”  He continued staring at you.

“Just get it over with, I want to get out of here,” Killian has lost his patients with Peter and hopefully not you.

“Fine, what is wrong with your bed?”

“You’re not in it.”

“You are impossible Peter.”

“Did you buy your pants on sale because at my house they would be 100% off.”  Okay now he has gone beyond making you uncomfortable.  You were getting mad.

“Screw you, Peter.”

“That is a terrible idea, let’s do it.”  All of your brilliant comebacks flew out the window.


“Why?  I am sure I could make you very happy.”  That stupid smug smirk.  It’s infuriating.

“How, are you leaving?”  There was that comeback.  Where the heck did it go a second ago.

“You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

“You must be the Pied Piper then.”

“Why is that, love?”

“Because you are a massive douchebag and I want to punch you in the face.”  Not as clever as you could have been but still it got your point across.

“What is it like to be the most beautiful girl in the world?”

“What is it like being the biggest liar in the world?”  He could at least try to be believable.

“Stop being shy go on and ask me out.  You know you want to.”

“Okay.  Go out.”

“Ouch that hurts.

“I hope it hurt as much as when you crawled out of hell, bloody demon.”  He paused and simply looked at your face.  You would think he was thinking of a comeback except he seemed to be studying you.  When he looked back into your eyes you were certain he had you memorized.

“You are perfect.  Where have you been all my life?”

“Hiding from you.”  you smirk hoping you won this stupid little argument.  But Peter continues to act as cocky as ever.

“What are you doing this Friday night?”  You pause taken aback by the fact that he is actually asking you out.  For a split second you almost consider his offer before you come up with a brilliant comeback.

“Not you.”  Simple sweet and ego destroying.
“Are you two done?  I honestly want to go home now, so can we just leave?”  Hook tapped his foot in annoyance.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any really good 100k+ or 200k fics? I've read all the classics and am in dire need of another long fic. If you could help a girl out, that would be so much appreciated!💖 (of course, Bottom!Louis is a must) thanks again lovely!!!! Hope your Valentines Day was good.

I’m not sure what qualifies as a classic, but I’ll rec some of my favorites, if that works.

(and I assume TIF is a classic but.) TIF - not on ao3

Swim in the Smoke

As You Are (not BL but brilliant)

Into the Blue (I don’t think this one is BL either but it’s zarah so)

Speaking of Marvels

Say You’ll Remember (a little under 100k but it’s an angst fest so naturally I’m here for it)

Empty Skies

Never Be (yes I am reccing myself)

and I haven’t read these works yet, but I know @lucystarkid, @anhcor, and @tvshows-addict have all recently published/finished some HUGE fics, so check those out, too!

*also I apologize, because with the exception of my own fic, I’m thinking all of those are classics… it’s hard to find lengthy, well written fics that no one knows about! if you find some more, let me know ;)

Happy Valentine’s day to you, too! xx

Arrow fic: The Room, Please (Explicit, Oliver/Felicity)

@machawicket​ requested a cavalcade of Oliver kicking the newbs out so they could, um, have a more intimate discussion. I can’t manage a cavalcade, but I can get things started, as it were.

Lemony PWP ahead.

It’s too much. Felicity’s too much, standing there in that damned leather jacket. She looks defiant and angry and suddenly so unbearably sexy–why, why is irate Felicity such a turn on?–and it’s too much.

They’re in the middle of the lair, surrounded by Curtis and Rory and Rene, when Oliver thinks: Fuck it.

A second later, Rene glimpses Oliver’s face and groans. “Come on.

“Can we have the room, please?” Oliver can’t help it; his mouth is dry, all his desire seeming to coalesce all at once, so he licks his lips. Felicity’s dark eyes flicker down and back up, and goddamn it, there are three too many people in this space.

Keep reading

And They Had Cake

A/n: Ok so….this originally was going to go in a slightly more sexy direction. And then it became deep. Sue me. I feel like I really want to do really emotional, wordy, well done smut for them now but I just don’t have the brain focus at the moment. But if there are any ideas for prompts for these two, smutty or otherwise, please send them to me. I love some Adlock ideas. Enjoy. Set immediately after The Lying Detective.

How was the cake?-IA

That was certainly not what he expected the text to read. And furthermore, it probably isn’t what she really means to ask. With the Woman, there’s always a code. A subtext. They say more than they say, more than they type.

But still, he feels his brows furrow, confused. He wasn’t going to ask how she knew that John had dragged him out for cake. He had long since stopped asking questions like ‘How did she…’ with her. No, what confused him was why she had not shown her face. Not that he desired for her to. Absurd idea. But if she knew about the cake, he can presume she was watching them, meaning she has to be in London. On the rare happenstance that they both end up in the same city on his birthday, she usually shows up at 221 B, in his thinking chair, asking him to have dinner with her. He never says yes. They had dinner in Karachi. And Montengro. Possibly once in Wycombe. But he never gives in and says yes when she specifically asks. It has to be, at least partly, his idea.

But every time he says yes, his head is left spinning afterwards. All this science and research done to figure out how the human body reacts to sex. Physically. But he has not read nearly enough on how it affects the mind. He would compare her affect to a drug. Not cocaine, no. That leaves you feeling wiped out afterwards. Destroyed. More like ecstasy, ironic as it sounds. Because it leaves your senses vibrating and anticipating more.

So one could easily deduce why he had not responded to that question. The confusion of why she sent it instead of appearing. The impossible deductions about what she actually meant by that question. Any path he could take concerning the text all lead down very distracting, very frustrating roads. Tempting, but…he had other pressing concerns. Or he thought he did. In his present state of withdrawl and being babysat, he couldn’t seem to remember what case he was supposed to be focusing on. Oh yes, the serial killer. Done. John came back.

He walks past the skull on the mantel, old buddy, to his room and sits down on his grey, rumpled sheets. His phone is in his hand and the screen has her text pulled up, but he doesn’t know how that happened. He sighs at himself. He’s found that sometimes his hands go on autopilot, starting to answer her before he’s decided if he wants to.

He lays back in bed and his fingers hover over his phone. He kept having the annoying desire, itching at him, to talk to someone. For them to tell them he was not a monster. He was human and made a mistake. But he also wanted to be assured that being human was also alright. That he hadn’t lost his touch, wasn’t a common person. He couldn’t even stand the idea. He had considered John, for half a second. But John was the epicenter. He was too close to the disaster. Molly was coming to watch him soon, but she was almost too sympathetic. She would indulge him too much. No, he needed a mix between the two. Not angry, not overly kind. But honest. And someone that knew and understood the way his brain worked.

That’s why his fingers kept going back and forth between typing out a reply and throwing his phone to the floor. He knew who he wanted to talk to. She was the only person he really could talk to about this. But it would open so many doors he didn’t want to walk through right now. He was not emotionally capable at the moment.

Sentiment, he cursed at himself as he sighed and called uncle, typing out a reply.

Vanilla with cheap frosting. But edible-SH.

He wasn’t sure how she would interpret that. Or if she would even reply. Sometimes she answered rapidly. Sometimes she never answered at all. He assumed it depended on her schedule. And whether she was running for her life.
But the moan sounded out in his silent bedroom, cutting through the flat.

Does John not know that you don’t like vanilla?-IA

He pauses at that, maybe just a tad surprised, an uncommon emotion for Sherlock. He does not remember ever mentioning his cake preferences to her. And he remembers everything he has said to her. Not nostalgically, but the way a computer copies files to a back up drive to keep them safe.

No. How is it that you do?-SH

We had dinner on your birthday once. Do you not remember?-IA

He can tell when she means dinner and when she means dinner. They never had DINNER on his birthday. The memory floods his mind palace now. They were in a run-down French restaurant, right outside of London, after he had first showed his face again in the country after being presumed dead. They were trying not to be seen. The waiter had come around with a desert cart. He had been feeling particularly hungry that night so he picked up a slice of cake.

You got chocolate cake. I had crème brule.-IA.

He raises one eyebrow to himself, impressed.

That is an astute observation, Miss Adler.-SH

I had already guessed from our other dinners that you don’t like vanilla things, though-IA.

He has to put the phone down and pinch the bridge of his nose, attempting to prevent a headache. Just as she showed her intellect, she had to fire back with innuendo as well. That time, he knew, she did not mean dinner.

You were not in my chair when I returned-SH.

Did you want me to be?-IA

It was an observation of a broken pattern. You are in London. But you didn’t come to violate my chair.-SH.

I can violate whatever you like.-IA

Avoidance is not appealing.-SH

Some time passed before her next reply, the clock ticking.

I am giving you time. To detox.-IA

I would rather have a conversation.-SH

He had to curse himself as the three little dots appeared on his phone, indicating she was hesitating about replying.  He had never openly told her that he needed her to just….talk to. She usually came to him. And even then, half of what they spoke was code.

But sure enough, her reply came in not seconds after his doubt.

Oh whatever about? I’m sure the great detective has all the answers.-IA

Maybe, as horrendous as it is to consider, sometimes I am human.-SH
Of course you are.-IA

Now that shocked him. So much so that he had to put down his phone. Those words on the screen haunted him slightly…..what did she mean? She, of all people, knew how disastrous he was at emotions. He swallowed thickly, unused to the very uncomfortable tightening in his throat. He had heard it described as panic….but what was he afraid of?

Finally, on a crazy whim, he decided it would be better to just call her for this. And so for the first time, her ringtone for him rang out. Not his text alert. But the ringtone of an incoming call from Sherlock Holmes. Oh, a girl could be so lucky at times, she thought to herself.

She picked up the phone with a red manicured hand and couldn’t suppress the curl of her smirk, “Mr. Holmes.”

“Irene,” he sighed, her first clue that something was amiss with him. Seriously. The only time she remembers him saying her first name by itself was during dinner. It was Ms. Adler in public. It was a disgruntled Woman when he was upset with her. It was Irene Adler when he was proud. But only ever just Irene during intimate times….

So, quite appropriately, she frowned at his response, “Sherlock? What is the matter?”

He let out a humorless laugh, “Surely, you have updated yourself with the goings on of my life. Or your sources have. You know what they like after all.”

His voice cut, hurting her because he was hurting, “Don’t. Darling, you know deflection won’t work on me.”

He snorts in disbelief and he can almost hear her responding eyebrow raise of annoyance.

“You have never successfully lied to me, Sherlock.”

He wanted to deny it, to snap at her out of grief. But ultimately, he was too smart for that. He knew she was right. They were too similar to get away with lying to one another. One side of the coin cannot deceive the other.

“What did you mean? When I said I might be human, you said that of course I was,” he sounded slightly bewildered. He was hiding it with a gruff tone, but his voice was colored with a hint of something else.

She refrained from rolling her eyes as she would normally. This was serious. And rare. Something she understood that Sherlock did not. She had to explain it carefully to him.

“I have always known you were human, darling. You act like it is a recent development in your life, but Sherlock Holmes, you have always been just a man. Brilliant, maddening, slightly crazy. But human none the less. Perhaps more so than any other man.”

“No,” he spoke slowly, “That’s….not sensible. I have never quite understood all the pesky human emotions clouding all the people around me. With John and….with Mary….I started to. They were my friends.”

There was conviction in his voice. And pain. She noted the pain. It must be why he called.

“….Dear, why do you do what you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you solve crimes?”

He laughed at that, “Because-the game…the thrill of the chase, the high of the mystery and deductions. I enjoy it. You know that.”

She laughed at him, like the way a mother would shake their head at a child failing to tie their shoes, “No. I’m sorry, but no. Well, yes, that’s a part of it, but….with your brain, Sherlock, you could have been….a Nobel Prize winning scientist….a world renowned neurosurgeon….but you CHOSE to be a detective.”

He blinks, his brain trying to process her point, “Yes….I did. And?”

She sighs, almost frustrated that he isn’t getting it, “There is only one reason someone solves crimes, Sherlock Holmes…”

He did not respond.

“To help people,” she finally explained, “You have one of the greatest minds of our age and you chose to use it simply to help. Not to invent new technologies, not to get fame or money. But to get justice for the wronged in this world. And, I’m sorry, Sherlock, as much as it may ruin your image you have of yourself….that is the most human desire a man can have.”

Ah…he understood the panic now. Calling Irene meant he would have to face a mirror, stop lying to himself. If he wasn’t quite human, abnormal….then he wouldn’t have to feel the loss of his friend as intensely. But now that she’d let loose his secret, he had to feel it.

“….You know, don’t you?” His voice was low.

She almost wanted to play dumb and ask ‘know what?’, but it would be insulting him, “….Not the details, but, yes. You lost a friend. Not John, or you’d be on the floor. But someone almost as close….I surmise his wife?”

He swallowed the bile coming up his throat and nodded uselessly-she couldn’t see, “Yes. Mary. She was, uhm…” he trailed off, overwhelmed and somehow still sounding dignified. The posh boy.

“You don’t have to tell-“

“She died protecting me, took a bullet, as it were…”

She inhaled sharply, stunned by how much his voice broke during the admission, “Sherlock, I…”

“Please, Irene, you’re too smart to be sorry for something you had nothing to do with.”

She scoffed, almost offended, “I am not sorry for her death. How could I be? I didn’t know her. I am sorry for your pain. I do know you. And…knowing you, you must not be handling it well. You said you and John were friends….are you not know?”

“That’s the best part,” he smiled without joy, “It was my fault. You see, I swore to protect them. I promised Mary that I would keep all harm from her and John and the small Watson…”

She scowled at his guilt, almost mad at him for it, “Dear god, don’t put that on yourself! What did you expect yourself to do? See her coming to shield you and shove her out of the way in that split second?”

“No, Irene, but I invited her! I kept inviting her into dangerous situations with me! Because she was clever and I liked having her around and she helped me!”
Irene pulled away from the phone, taking a deep breath to calm herself. He was raw. A raw genius is never a good thing.

“I know, Sherlock. Trust me, I’ve…dealt with similar situations. But you didn’t force her. If she didn’t want to endanger herself, she wouldn’t have gone with you. From what I hear of Mary Watson, she was the type that lived off that danger. Like you. That’s probably why you liked her. No matter what you did, she probably would have ended up in another dangerous place, of her own accord.”

“You didn’t…no, you didn’t know her. She had a daughter. She wanted a safe, normal life with her. And with John. And I wanted to give them that…”

“Has anyone ever told you that you can’t always get what you want?”

He actually laughed aloud. He couldn’t believe she’d achieved that. She smiled in relief and decided that the rest of the conversation needed to be in person, “Mr. Holmes, do you want to have dinner?”

And they had cake.

Watch Me (Fred)

Requested- Can you please write meeting fred and he knowing that moment that you are the one and makes like a promise to make you fall in love with him? Please please please, this is a need

- - -

It was right after Potions and you were chatting with your friends when you bumped into a particular, tall boy accidentally. Fred didn’t know who you were, but you were quite sure that everyone in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knew who he was. You glanced at him, about to apologise, but the ginger spoke first. He raised one of his eyebrows and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been seeing you around,” he started, “without knowing your name.”

You froze in surprise, “um I guess I see you rather often, too?” You tugged a strand of your hair over your ear and smiled awkwardly. You were in the same year as him, but a different house. Your friends were giggling beside you and you shot them a narrowed look. They ran away, leaving you completely alone with Fred. “I mean everybody knows you,” you let out a laugh at your ramblings.

“Haha, I don’t know about that.” He grinned in a way that would make any girl’s stomach filled with butterflies. “Mind if you tell me your name?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m y/l/n, y/n y/l/n.” You looked around, searching for the sight of your friends. You didn’t see them anywhere, so you figured that they must have gotten to class already.

“Okay y/n y/l/n, I don’t know if anyone had told you this before, but do let me tell you this, you’re really beautiful.” He said almost effortlessly, well, you would think that he said it effortlessly if it wasn’t the fact that his ears were in brilliant red. “And funny.”

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anonymous asked:

I just don't know why, but I don't like that in the cursed child Hermione is made Minister of Magic. I mean, the girl is the brightness witch of her age. But I think the law carrear was more appropriated for her. Cause it's seems like to me, it was a bit of something like ~look how clever she is, the highness position.

First, I must tell you, I haven’t read CC nor do I intend to. I did start but left before I finished the first page. Personally, I don’t like discussing CC simply because I don’t consider it canon at all.

Anyhow, I think I can respond to this ask because we aren’t discussing the plot here. I do really, 100% agree with you on this. I understand that some people might be extremely offended with my answer but I am entitled to my opinion. 

I really admire Hermione and am extremely happy for having a strong-willed and brilliant female character. However, keeping her gender aside for a while and just concentrating on her strengths and weaknesses, I feel, making her Minister of Magic was, just as you said, a little too over the top. I see her as a hotshot in Wizengamot or a personal preference would be a Healer who would incorporate muggle advancement with wizarding magic, but Minister of Magic? Nope.

True, Hermione is extremely resourceful but she is not particularly a people’s person. Even during her school life, the only people she befriends and works with easily(okay not so easily -remember S.P.E.W?) are Ron and Harry. I would count Ginny in too but rarely did we see them tackling high-risk issues by themselves so I’m counting her off for now. I agree she is compassionate and eager to help those in need. However, according to the books, and unlike the movies where she is just way too perfect, Hermione’s leadership skills are way below Harry who is a born leader. It is usually Harry who takes the call and, among the trio she is the one who panics. For example, book 1, she knows the theory about escaping the Devil’s Snare but needs Ron to remind her about the wand. Again, with the troll, she knows her spells better than the boys but forgets to use her wand (I am not holding it against her, she was 11 and a mountain troll would be a right scare. However, both Harry and Ron tried something, didn’t they?) Book 3, it’s Ron who challenges Sirius and not Hermione. I know there are more that I could quote but I’ll jump straight to book 7 when they are already adults rather than talk about their younger years. When the DEs find them at the Muggle pub, Hermione is the one who panics while the boys discuss the identity of the men. But she does get Harry out at Godric’s Hollow and saves their skin after Xenophilous calls the DEs. 

I am not saying that she isn’t brave or freaking out during such peril is a sign of weakness, all I am trying to say is that she might be resourceful and extremely bright, but book-smart people are not necessarily great leaders or else we would have only scientists in our Government bodies. That is exactly how I feel about her. And as great as she is with her planning, more often than not, she is a little too by the book. 

Even if all my opinions are biased and wrong, what I wonder is- would she prefer to be stuck in a bureaucratic job? We all know, being a Minister would not make it possible for her to get all that is wrong with the wizarding world fixed right away. If the Magical administration worked that way, Fudge would have dumped Harry in Azkaban for sure. But he needed the vote of the Wizengamot to pass that verdict irrespective of what his own opinions were. Wouldn’t Hermione be in a better position to fight for the rights by being in the field finding people/magical beings who needed their cases to be heard, prepare a strong case for them and fight it out in the court? As a Minister, all she would be able to do is cast a vote and the law would still be decided by a majority. Would she be allowed to argue the case? I am not sure. Plus, wouldn’t there be too much on her plate to handle and not just issues that she truly cared about?

Brilliant people may not necessarily be great leaders. How many scholars and great scientists we know are into administration and leadership? That is what I feel about her. Wouldn’t she prefer a career that helps her make advancement to magic be it Healing or Law? She has brains better than most, why would she prefer being stuck in a glass cabin tied up to a bureaucratic job? There are many who could fill that post without having to be extremely intellectual. Wouldn’t she want to contribute in a field like research where her intellect would be more useful? 

Also, knowledge gathering is like a therapy for her, and I feel, she would choose something that would give her the opportunity to learn and grow continuously. A healer, a lawyer or even a high ranked Unspeakable seems to be the more likely choice. Being a leader of the masses might not be her heart’s desire- I don’t know, I would love to hear what others have to say.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: The Prefects' Bathroom

2.8k words, R rated

Scorpius takes Albus on a trip to the Prefects’ Bathroom, where general shenanigans including messing around with bubbles, making out, and more ensue. 

This is a birthday present for the wonderful @anthonyboyles. Happy (ever so slightly belated) birthday my friend. <3

Beta’d by @bounding-heart.

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So Coldplay’s new video for “Hymn for the Weekend” is set in Mumbai and it features a wonderfully vibrant city full of color, laughter and happiness on the day of Holi (the festival of colors). Beyonce wears Indian-inspired clothing designed by an Indian who wanted to depict India in a fun and different way. And you can tell that people commenting on YouTube know nothing about cultural appropriation. Me and my Indian friends loved this video. Hundreds of Indians loved this video. And yet, people are accusing them of cultural appropriation when the truth is, the video shows Mumbai in a fantastic way, portraying the vigor and life of Indian cities without stereotypes. It was a video about Holi, and all the elements were there: temples, colors, fireworks, mythical plays, oil lamps.

This is not cultural appropriation. This is not wearing a bindi cuz “it’s cool”. This is Beyonce wearing Indian-inspired fashion designed by an Indian designer in a video where she is herself in a movie called Rani (Queen). This is wonderful! It shows my country in a beautiful light, it shows Western singers and actresses actually respecting my culture, my fashion, my festivals, and being a part of it with assistance from Indian people themselves. This did not whitewash locals, or stereotype them into Mumbai slums. This portrayed all the brilliant and beautiful things that you see during times of festivities around India. Please, please stop acting as if you think it offends us when it doesn’t. And if it does offend some people, I’m extremely sorry. You must have your own valid reasons, but in this case I believe it’s a personal thing. However, please don’t speak “for the majority of Indians” because so many of us do like it and believe it’s a celebration of authentic Indian culture during Holi. Stop trying to force social justice on everything, especially when for a change India is represented in an authentic and non-Hollywood manner when it’s never portrayed well. I understand that she is not a part of my culture, but I believe in this case, it’s more appreciation than appropriation.

ozark gothic

-the mountains are everywhere. they surround like a cage. there is no horizon line. sky sinks into the tops of the mountains. they are endless, even underfoot, yet somehow you always seem to be in a valley.

-there is a book, an old book, that has captured all the stories of the pioneers and settlers who live here. their stories sound familiar, as if you have heard them all before, and the drawings of faces seem to follow you as you turn the page. you could have sworn you saw that old woman in town the other day, but that’s impossible; she’s ninety in this drawing. 

-you remember then that no one dies of old age here. they just wither and sink into the ground. 

-the rocks are all hollow, but so so heavy. the hills are riddled with caves. you do not want to go in, but something soft and as hollow as the space before you calls you deeper. your grandfather walked this way after all, and you must too.

-the colors are brilliant. unnaturally vivid. crystal perfect greens in summer shades of green that don’t have names. the woods exploded with pink and white blooms in spring. the mountains in the distance are variegated always in fall with turning leaves. even in winter the snow is broken with brown wood and grey stone. you have heard there are places where everything looks the same. you do not wish to leave this place to find out. 

- you saw a plain once. it was unsettling. you will not return to that place. 

-”when i was your age,” the old folks say from their rocking chairs, “we had to walk uphill to get anywhere. both ways.” you roll your eyes, but you believe them. you had to walk uphill to get to their home. you must walk uphill to get back. there is only one direction and that is up. 

-your whole family is here. your family has been here for generations. all the generations are here. you visit the graveyard and speak to their ghosts once a month. graveyards are all happy places, and all the ghosts know you by name. there is one cousin who escaped the mountains. you do not speak of him except in hushed tones, as if of the recent dead. 

-there are many farmers. there are few fields. the dirt is not dirt, but finely ground rock. nothing should grow here, and yet somehow everything does. 

-you call spring storm season, and any other twisters are “unusual for this time of year.” this is just for show. storm season never ends. 

-when you speak to outsiders your speech betrays you. there are no y’alls of the south or fixin’s of the west. you speak in the voice of the thousand rivers that run through the mountains. mark twain almost captured it, but his river speech is the wrong river. 

-sometimes you walk into appalachia, but when you turn around again you are home in the ozarks. you make sure to turn quickly before your sister mountains recognize you as lost. 

-there was magic here, running through rivers and bubbling up through springs and echoing in caves and rolling downhills, when your great grandparents were small. tourists speak of it and ask questions. you shrug and laugh and say “not anymore.” this is a lie; it is still there, but you cannot speak of it today. it must hide from outside eyes. 

-if you stand still in the woods you can hear the sound of ancient fiddles floating down on the wind. someday you must add to this song, or your bones will not take to soil. 

-”these are not mountains,” people say and laugh in your face. “these are hills. they are too small to be mountains.” oh how little they know. oh how little they know.