she plays now

finally had some time to play Awakening so doodled my two favorites: Grumpy Thief Boy and Perky Dead Girl

HC that since Molly Hooper has succeeded in getting Sherlock to say ILY and mean it, her next level will be- 

“Go on, kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it.”

Originally posted by lady-dark-time

And then he does ❤️ 

Lily is beyond ecstatic Harry brought someone with good taste home.
.
For the sweetest anon that requested this 💕

2

every hour, every minute 

I really hate the generic ¾-facing-left, eyes-to-the-right profiles but it’s so convenient, I can’t help myself.

I put Cassandra in a dress
(now I run for my life)

2

Felt like spying on them to see what they’re up to which is work and not thinking about boys.

youtube

Anchan, Rikyako, and Shukashuu advertise SIF in a mini-commercial!

I’m really loving the theme lately with big budget film and TV projects in the ‘nerds and nostalgia’ genre having White Male Entitlement as the villain

like

Mad Max asked who killed the world

their answer was 'toxic masculinity’

Jessica Jones answered with 'rape culture’

and Star Wars threw in 'entitled, privileged white dudes with nostalgiaboners for eras of extreme oppression for everyone else’

could we ask for a more accurate unholy trinity, or a better group to be putting this shit on blast??

elegy in two

(post-4x20 pseudo-speculative.)

i. ophelia.

‘don’t, please don’t touch me,’ he says, flinching back, sparking hurt in her eyes. she shows off her new skin and thinks he’ll find her beautiful. she can’t understand that she has burned a lifetime of memories he doesn’t want against the backs of his eyes. she stands in front of the mirror and sees an angel; he cowers from the devil.

‘please let me go,’ he says, because he knows and she knows this room is not his prison. because the ghost of a hand on his is enough to choke him. if she lets him go it’s because she knows he’ll never escape.

‘everything is so new and i am infinite,’ she tells him. she learns with lust, relishes the taste of even minor annoyances on her tongue. he sits in her shadow and wonders what it must feel like to start over. he imagines his brain unfurled like parchment: what would he erase first? he prays for a magical place.

she can’t reprogram his revulsion, the way her presence makes him retch. she can no longer draw promises from his lips. she doesn’t understand.

‘someday you will understand,’ he says.
‘but i understand the universe now. what else is there to know?’
she doesn’t understand why he craves the knife more than her caress.

to be human is to break and this is what breaks her: when his only action is to lead the team to her door, when he allows another woman to lead him out, when he does not once look back.

ii. jemma.

‘don’t, please don’t touch me,’ he says. she is still perfect but he has lost the right to the intimacy of her hand in his. her body is a warzone and he reads on her skin a mapping of his sins. here, he thinks, is where i betrayed you. here is where i will never forgive myself.

‘please let me go,’ he says, because this room cannot hold the weight of his grief, and she never agreed to share a bed with his demons. she does not touch him but remains tethered to his side, a string connecting their hearts, pulled as taut as it will go.

‘what i feel for you is so old and infinite,’ she whispers, ‘like we’ve been wrapped up in each other for so many lifetimes we don’t know where we begin.’ she is luminescent; he watches from the shadows and wonders what it must feel like to have only the burden of a single history. now he will always have lived a lifetime without her.

he begs her not to try; someday she will understand.
‘what will i understand?’
that her touch burns through him like consecrated water. that he’d never known rebirthing could be so painful. that he will pass through a thousand karmic cycles and never deserve the tenderness in her eyes. 

she stands on the shore as waves crash against his body. he wants the feeling of saltwater filling his lungs, but she lifts him back up every time. he can’t let her keep rescuing him; soon they will both be too exhausted to fight.

‘we promised we’d get through anything together.’

‘yes,’ he says, ‘but not this.’ these are not in the wedding vows i planned, he thinks. you’re meant to be so much happier.

‘yes,’ she says. ‘this.’

to be human is to break. to break and to break and to try again. he hands her his heart, because she has always kept it safe. because he has lived without it before.

he says: ‘take it, jemma’ and so she does.

Imagine Sam finding your daughter talking to Sully

“I’m telling you, she’s talking to herself.”

Sam laughed as you walked back into your bedroom, a towel around you as you dried your hair.

“I’m not kidding,” you told him. “I just walked by her room on the way from the shower, she’s chatting away to herself in there. Talking through the plot of Moana.”

You allowed yourself a small laugh at that. The kid was obsessed with that movie.

“Do you want me to check on her?” he asked, and you shrugged. “Alright.”

He kissed your cheek on his way to Katie’s room.

“An’ then she was the chief an’ then they all went voyagering on the ocean,” your daughter was saying, and Sam laughed slightly until he heard an all too familiar voice respond.

“They were voyagers? For real?”

Sam pushed the door open, frowning when he saw his old imaginary friend sat on the floor with his daughter, playing with Lego.

“Sully?” he asked, confused, and the two of them looked up at him. “What- ah, what-?”

“Daddy!” Katie gasped, “You can see him?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah sweetie. Can I speak to him alone for a sec?”

Keep reading