Honestly, Sasuke should have never been redeemed. He put the konoha 11 through absolute shit and never gave a second thought about it. He only cared about himself and his revenge
And the way he treated Sakura only for them to get married?? Absolute bs
Here is a teaser for the comfort part of Pressure Points. It is currently called A pearl is a temple built by pain, which is a fucking terrible title, so if someone has a suggestion (Soothe, maybe? What do you think?) I’d really welcome it.
I think it’s going…rather well, actually. Did you know that the Holmeses have a secret basement spy hideout? Because apparently they do.
It’s got a lot of Janine in it, because it seems like Sherlock maybe needs someone with him who knows what he’s feeling but wasn’t actually there that night. Janine and Sherlock have a beautiful relationship in this story.
I’m not entirely sure where this story is taking me. I know there’s a discussion with Mummy in the offing, and Mycroft will cry, and there will be cuddles, but I’m quite enjoying the ride of finding out where the story goes as I write. At some point I hope to find out where Mary is, since she was at the Holmes house when they left, but I’m not sure if it’s relevant.
I revel in it, in her skin on mine, as I’d done
the first time she’d come to me after an evening of Magnussen’s attentions. She
was the one who asked me to help her become clean, to wash Magnussen from her
skin, and we’d crowded into 221B’s bath together, and I’d followed the soap
with my hands, overlaying his touch with my own, and we’d slept in my bed,
entangled. Before that, we’d gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed when she stayed over, facing
away from each other (though we always woke up vined together in the morning),
but after that we dispensed with unnecessary distance altogether. We were safe
for each other, Janine and I, safe for and safe from each other, because I
didn’t want women (had only ever wanted one person, and what a sickening irony
that is) that way and Janine, as far as she knew, had never wanted anyone that
way at all.
After a while, she’d spoken to me of something
called skin hunger, the human desire for touch. Babies died from it, she said,
and old people turned their faces to the wall because of it. I could see it in
me, in her. I’d never known the gnawing void for what it was, only that when
John moved into 221B and filled my life with casual touch and caring, the
roaring ache in my bones had seemed to subside. It had come back while I was
away, worse than ever, a constant hunger that seemed to burn in my very bones,
and it had become a blaze, a ravenous need, since my return. It was somehow
worse, the terrible loneliness, when I was in 221B without John Watson, than when I was anywhere else. It was
better, with Janine there. Janine, who curled up against me on the couch, in my
bed, who played the piano on the knobs of my spine, who woke me from nightmares
and held me close and chaste and beloved. She wasn’t John – she could never be
John, but she was there, and John wasn’t, and I desperately needed someone to
US Army Private First Class Tyler R. Iubelt. 12 NOV 2016.
Died of injuries sustained from an IED attack in Bagram, Afghanistan while deployed in support of Operation Freedom’s Sentinel. Iubelt was assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 1st Special Troops Battalion, 1st Sustainment Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division, out of Fort Hood, Texas.
[did no one ever tell you about the boy? (who fell in love and told it to the world)] ao3
Summer cannot come quick enough.
With the exams over, the professors had given up trying to control the fifth years and so, almost every lesson is spent lazing on the grass. Lily and her friends used to spend their time outside underneath the Beech Tree, but given recent events they’ve taken to sitting on the lake’s shore, paddling when it gets unbearably hot and making bets on how many pieces of toast the squid will eat when they’re bored.
Lily reckons her friends miss the company of the Marauders, who shared the spot beneath the Beech Tree, and though she won’t admit to it, she misses their company too. They never say anything though, so Lily keeps quiet about it, grateful none of them have pressed the matter. It’s embarrassing enough to even admit to herself she misses them.
She and Mary are the only ones out at the moment, Marlene and Tegan have both gone to the owlery to send letters home and Gemma is in the library, finishing a History of Magic essay for Binns, the only teacher still giving homework. The grounds are scattered with groups of fifth tears, but they’re in a secluded enough position that it’s quiet.
“I spy with my little eye -” Mary groans and rolls onto her back, flinging her arm over her eyes dramatically.
“No more. I’m shit. Also, you’re a cheat. How am I meant to know what specific type of cloud formation that is?” She says.
“Should have paid attention in Astronomy then.” Lily retorts, smug.
“Whatever.” Mary flips over again and props herself up on her elbows. “I can’t wait to never have to spend another midnight freezing my tits off on top of that bloody tower.”
“I can’t believe you’re dropping it.”
“Not all of us can be good at everything, Evans.” Mary grins. “I wasn’t blessed with clever genes -”
“Just big boobs ones.” They laugh, Lily looking forlornly down at her chest, remarkably flat next to Mary’s. She looks up when Mary’s laugh cuts off abruptly. “What?”
“Um…” Lily snaps her head around to see what Mary is staring at. The sun is behind him, but Lily would know that hurricane hair anywhere.
US Army Sergeant 1st Class Ryan A. Gloyer. 3 NOV 2016.
Died in Kunduz, Afghanistan, while deployed in support of Operation Freedom’s Sentinel, from wounds sustained while engaging enemy forces. Gloyer was assigned to Company B, 2nd Battalion, 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne), out of Fort Carson, Colorado.