what is this rubbish

Another 2Doc Moment
  • 2D: Hey, Murdoc.
  • Murdoc: *sighs* What is it, Face-Ache?
  • 2D: I just realized something. How come your lips don't touch when you say "touch", but they do when you say "separate"?
  • Murdoc: 2D, that's like me wondering how you manage to live without a brain. It can't be answered. Now, go away!
  • 2D: Wait, wait! I got another one! If you're waiting on the waiter, wouldn't that make YOU the waiter?
  • Murdoc: ...
  • 2D: What?
  • Murdoc: You were looking at those rubbish memes again, weren't you?
  • 2D: YUP! *runs out of the room laughing*
  • Murdoc: *growls and runs after him with a Converse shoe* GET BACK HERE, FACE-ACHE!!

aaronsmrshifty  asked:

Could you maybe do number 44: “You’ve always felt like home.” :)

Absolutely ignoring current story lines and all that rubbish.

“This is weird,” Aaron said quietly.

“What’s that?” Robert asked distractedly.

“There’s no noise. There’s nothing…” Robert frowned, moving to turn the light on and looking at Aaron. “It’s so quiet.”

“You missing the pub?” It was their first night in The Mill, and Robert had been near to sleep, after a couple of rounds of sex, and an exhausting day of lugging boxes. He wasn’t sure why Aaron had felt that now was the time to go into the novelty of owning their own house, but he wasn’t about to complain. And he had noticed the quiet, no sounds of punters drifting up from the bar, no gang of Dingles in the back room. It was noticeable, but he liked it. He liked laying in bed with his husband, almost like they could be alone in the world.

“You don’t find it strange?” Aaron asked. He’d never really lived alone before, always on top of a few dozen other people. Or that’s how it felt like sometimes anyway. No space, no room to breathe.

“What, living in a house with none of your relatives near by?” Robert asked. “Being able to enjoy you in the shower for as long as I like without Charity bursting in?” Aaron laughed, kissing Robert‘s chest briefly. “Can’t say I’ll miss that.”

“No,” Aaron said. “How do you feel? Isn’t it a little… I don’t know. You just slotted into my life when you moved into the pub, you never complained and now…”

“Aaron,” Robert said calmly, stroking a hand through his hair. “You’ve always felt like home to me.”

Babygirl

Summary: Dan is an innocent virgin and Phil is the bad-boy who likes to make him flustered. High school Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil AU

Genre: Smut that’s kinda kinky but mostly cute

Word count: 4,039

Kinks: Feminization, daddy kink, dirty talk, a little verbal humiliation

You can also read on AO3 here.

Keep reading

'Oh no.'

‘Oh no.’

Tucker hadn’t meant for this to happen. Honestly his tight ass would have paid any amount of money in the world to PREVENT this from happening.

But it had happened. He had looked over at his life long best friend sleeping against his shoulder and had been struck by the very INTIMATE urge to kiss him on his adorable little freckled nose.

This wasn’t a good thing, because said best friend’s GIRLFRIEND was sleeping against his OTHER shoulder, and every time her hair fell across her face he had to nearly bite his own fingers to stop himself from brushing her fringe aside out of her long lashed eyes.

The three of them had sat down for a movie at Sam’s place, it was one of those few calm nights where the ghosts were chilling in the Zone and NOT causing any trouble for once. Danny was absolutely delighted to spend the night with his friends doing something that DIDN’T involve ghosts.

The two lovebirds had sat beside one another on the lounge, holding hands and being, quite frankly, UNBEARABLY adorable. Tucker warned them that he’d sit on them if they didn’t stop being so mushy and things predictably escalated until they were all but a tangle of goofy limbs hanging precariously off the two seater lounge.

By the time Tucker awoke it was late morning and he was seated firmly between Sam and Danny, both having cuddled right up to him in the night, his left arm was warm under Sam’s weight, but his entire right side was borderline numb beneath Danny’s clinging arms. Boy was a leach, he had always been clingy when they shared beds as kids but back then he didn’t have a big ol’ chunk of freezing cold ectoplasm sitting pretty in his chest.

But cold be damned Tucker was squished up with BOTH his crushes practically sleeping on top of him, no force on Earth or in the Zone could possibly make him move right now. He was staying right here where he could stew in his delight and guilt for the rest of eternity.

Until Danny stirred and an arm pressed against his bladder. Heck. He needed to pee, like, really REALLY needed to pee.

Tucker stayed nestled up in the cuddle pile for as long as he could stand it before heaving a sigh so heavy even Thor couldn’t lift it. Somehow he managed to wrangle himself out without waking either of his friends and he waddled to the bathroom to relieve himself.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he stood in the cold tiled room. Why. No seriously, WHY. How in the fresh hell did he manage to fall head over heels not only for ONE of his best friends, but BOTH of them, and to top it off they were both DATING each other. He literally could not have picked a worse scenario.

He could wake up one morning with 'Bad Luck Tuck’ tattooed to his forehead and he still couldn’t possibly feel more unlucky than he did in this instant.

It took all of his willpower not to always end his and Sam’s constant meat vs vegan fights by smooching her on those enticingly smooth cheekbones, and Danny was even WORSE. Every time that asshole so much as SMILED Tucker’s heart would start thumping like it was trying to put him into cardiac arrest, it was just all those freckles and that little chip in his tooth and-

Oh God stooooop. He needed to stop, he needed to stop right the heck now before he became the first human being to pass out from overexposure to adorkableness. Honestly? Fuck his friends for being so cute. This was all their fault, they could at least have considered his feelings before growing up to be so adorably kissable.

He’d tried so hard to deny it to himself, he tried SO hard to fall back out of love with them but after waking up that morning nestled between those two precious asshats he realised that he had lost this battle, and he had lost it HARD.

But, at the very least, living with a superhero as your best friend taught you some pretty useful life skills. One of those skills being how to Lie Like a Motherfucker to Everyone You Care About. So without further ado Tucker washed his hands, took a moment to stare his lovestruck gaze away in the mirror, and went back out to throw a shoe at his best friend’s head for making his arm numb through the night.

He loved his friends, he loved them with everything he had and that was why he could never tell them how he felt.

————

'Oh no.’

Sam was honestly pissed, no scratch that, she was more than pissed. She was FURIOUS. Her rage burned with the intensity of her mother’s artificially whitened teeth, and she couldn’t even take it out on anyone, because the focus of her ire was her own stupid stupid brain.

She had always been equally close to both of her friends, in fact she had only very rarely hung out with one or the other alone, and every time she did it felt just… so uncomfortable. It took a long time to really sort out what that feeling was, but even when she did it made no sense.

It was GUILT, she felt GUILTY. Why did she feel guilty? Danny and Tucker sometimes hung out together without her, and that was fine, she was fine with it, they’d been friends since before she came along, but why couldn’t she do the same?

Every time one of them was over her house without the other it almost felt like she was cheating on someone, and that only got MORE disturbing after she and Danny started dating. Because suddenly? It very well COULD have been cheating.

But it wasn’t. And she kept telling herself it wasn’t. She had never kissed Tucker while she and Danny were dating. They had never even held hands.

But God damn, the realisation that had just struck her was enough to make her want to slap herself for ever becoming such a cliché piece of romance movie tripe.

She had just been sitting there, sipping on her smoothie when Tucker did that Thing. She hated that Thing. That Thing where he’d say something that he knew full well was the vocal equivalent of a tumblr shitpost but he ALSO knew she’d found it fucking hilarious and while she tried her damnedest not to let a smile loose he’d send her a big shit eating grin that made her stomach roll and her tongue feel dry. Yeah, THAT Thing.

She was crushing on Tucker, she was crushing on Tucker so hard. She was head over heels for her best friend, her BOYFRIEND’S best friend. Literally EVERYTHING about this situation was the reason she hated 90% of the movies she ever saw. Love triangles were the worst plague fiction had ever suffered and suddenly she realised it had spread it’s nasty little friendship killing tendrils into her life.

She was determined, however, not to fall into the awful trap that so many would think was inevitable, and she did so by keeping her mouth firmly shut about it. She had the willpower to go face to face against ghosts twice her size, and had been through more than one bout of emotional and mental manipulation by others of the ghostly kind. She was not about to lose this battle with herself and destroy not only her relationship, but also the much more valuable friendship she held with both boys.

Sam got up and gathered everyone’s Nasty Burger food scraps to throw into the bin, taking the brief moment to let her face twist in grief over what she’d have to do. With the rubbish gone and her resolve hardened, she slathered her face in smiles and ease, walking back to the table and acting with the skill and grace of someone who had been lying to protect her best-friend-turned-boyfriend for years. Her true feelings shoved somewhere deep between a pit of self-loathing and the core of her love for the boys she cared more about than anyone on this earth, including herself.

———-

'Oh no.’

Danny was in trouble. Danny was in so so so so SO much trouble.

Honestly? At first he hadn’t even realised he was doing it, Tucker had been his friend for such a long time, it had only seemed natural to invite him out everywhere when he and Sam made plans. But Danny was starting to realise the tension it was causing.

Neither of them said anything but sometimes Danny could pick up on… something. Of course he knew what it was, since he’d started officially dating Sam, Tucker had become somewhat of a third wheel.

Danny had never considered his friend to be out of place or unwanted, but he wasn’t sure Sam felt the same way. Maybe she wanted it just to be the two of them, maybe she just wanted some alone time with her boyfriend. She wouldn’t say anything, Danny figured she didn’t want to seem clingy or harsh but, why else would things suddenly start feeling so… weird?

He tried to make the effort to go on at least a couple dates with Sam without inviting Tucker, but honestly he just couldn’t help but think something was missing, and it really didn’t seem to be helping with Sam’s tension. She tried to hide it, she really did, and it wasn’t as though she was bad at it, Danny just knew her too well. Her and Tucker, he was hiding something too.

And Danny was starting to think he knew what it was. They had NOTICED.

He thought he was doing such a good job keeping his feelings from being too obvious, he was used to acting differently around certain people by now (having an alter ego did that to a guy), but obviously his friends knew him too well.

It might have been the touching, yep, yep it definitely could have been the touching. Danny was an extremely touchy person and his gentle caresses and nuzzles weren’t particularly picky about which friend received them. He definitely remembered a time when he straight up snuggled his face right into Tucker’s neck during what was probably an EXTREMELY un-platonic hug.

Other events on the 'Danny is a two timing doofus’ calendar included:

'Holding hands with both Sam AND Tucker while walking down the street.’

'Very delicately running his fingers over Tucker’s leg one time when he’d thrown them on Danny’s lap and honestly there was absolutely nothing heterosexual about that moment.’

'Every time Tucker laughed so hard he snorted Danny thought his heart would straight up melt into a puddle of goo, and then SAM would start doing that super adorable giggle that she was really self conscious of and her trying not to laugh made her pull this fACE and Tucker would lose his mind and start snorting all over again and-’

Danny had to stop himself right there before his heart completely dissolved because for the love of the Ancients his friends were both way too hecking precious for their own good and he loved them, he loved them sooo much. He loved them both.

And they probably knew it.

And boy that meant he was in deep trouble.

Would Sam break up with him? Would this ruin their friendship? Nobody was SAYING anything but Danny knew that stewing over something like this was just going to lead to an explosion of awkward raging teen angst worthy of a place on an MCR album.

If they weren’t gonna bring it up then Danny would just have to… get it out of the way.

Oh boy, he did not want to do this, nuh uh, no sir, he did not want to be standing in his bedroom shifting uncomfortably before his two beautiful, patient, wonderful friends. He would have loved to be sitting BETWEEN them however he deemed such a position to be quite, how the professionals would say, INA-FUCKING-PROPRIATE considering the subject at hand.

No, standing in front of them was slightly better, only slightly because Danny felt like an absolute nervous piece of half human trash. Maybe he could just jump out the window and throw himself into a dumpster, that would speed things along. He would probably end up there by the end of this conversation anyway.

He decided to just do it, stop beating around the blood blossom bush and just get it DONE. Unfortunately Danny hadn’t practiced what he was going to say beforehand, so when he finally resolved to just blurt it all out he literally did… just that.

“I’VE GOTTA HUGE CRUSH ON TUCKER AND I DUNNO WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT.”

By the time his brain caught up to his words his dumpster diving plan was sounding significantly more appealing. There was probably some kind of banana skin pun he could have used there but he was far too stressed to figure it out.

Tucker didn’t respond, he appeared to be trying to bury his face into his hat. A kind of wheezing noise was coming out of him, Danny couldn’t tell if it was a good sound or a bad sound. Sam let out a long breath that whistled between her lip piercings.

“Holy shit me too.”

The Tucker sound continued, raising to a nearly imperceptible level. Danny was just beginning to think it might have been a Bad sound when Tucker pulled his face back into the world, his glasses were all fogged up but he stopped making the noise.

Sam and Danny both waited for him to say actual words but Tucker.exe seemed to have stopped working. Once he’d gained his breath he was back to wheezing into his hat. Sam hesitantly put a hand on his back.

“Are you actually okay or are you like, dying?”

Muffled words were said into the hat, none of which could be repeated around children. Danny was juuuust about to start attempting to will himself into spontaneous combustion when he recognised a very distinct sound emanating from the hat.

Snorting, Tucker was snorting like a god damn pig. Danny’s shaky legs gave out below him and he sat on the floor, shoving his face into the carpet as he laughed along with his best friend. He didn’t know what was happening right now, but he was Having Emotions and the floor just seemed like the right place for that.

Also he needed to look somewhere that wasn’t Sam. She was trying not to laugh and she was pulling That Face and Danny just couldn’t handle it right now and really the floor was great why didn’t he spend more time here.

Tucker felt as though he was finally ready to leave the comforting world of Hat Land and face the unbeLIEVABLE realisation that all of his dreams had just come true in a ten second span of time, he felt like he had just been blessed by the gods, his skin was clear, his crops were flourishing and world peace had been established. Today was a good day to start ugly sobbing in front of the two most important people in his life.

“I love both you guys too!!” Tucker half laughed, half cried, and then just straight up cried, “I’ve wa-wanted to smooch you both sooo bad for like, MONTHS!”

The moment his snorting turned to sobbing he was immediately accosted by a pair of equally snotty emotional wrecks. Danny, still on the floor, had plopped his head on Tucker’s lap and just started balling his eyes out, like he was really going for gold in 'Most Tears Shed on One Lap’. Sam, on the other hand, had commandeered Tucker’s upper half for a simple bone breaking, teary hug.

The next few hours were just chock full of used tissues, an inappropriate amount of snacks and some deep, heartfelt discussions about what the fuck their relationship was gonna be.

Honestly they were just happy to be so open and at ease with one another again, the sun poured into Danny’s bedroom window as the three of them dozed in the warm pool of light. Laying across one another, their imagined boundaries finally broken, they could finally talk shit about each other for making them feel so mushy.

——

“Oh NO.”

Paulina said out loud at the scene before her. Those three dorks were sitting together at their usual lunch table, all bunched up ridiculously close together and if she wasn’t mistaken she had just seen Danny turn around and KISS TUCKER ON THE MOUTH while Sam, his GIRLFRIEND, just watched?!

“Oh yes.” Star deadpanned, not seeming too fazed by the weirdness happening before her.

“I didn’t think those three could get any more confusing, but I have no idea what’s happening over there right now.” Paulina sat back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Really?” Star raised an eyebrow. “You seriously didn’t see this coming? Those three,” she pointed with a delicately painted pink nail, “have been perfect polygamy material for like, three years.”

“Perfect what material?” Paulina’s face was all scrunched up in confusion, her little nose wrinkled up and her lips pursed in just the cutest little pout-

Star’s stomach fluttered alarmingly.

'Oh no.’

meetmyinnerdemons  asked:

Hi, I wanted to ask you if you know any fanfictions about Johnlock texting/letters/internet messages, something connected with that? :)

Hi Lovely!

I thought I didn’t have many of these, so I was so excited that I would be able to get this done in 10 minutes… it’s now 4 hours later and I finally got a rough list done for you and I STILL can’t find the one I wanted to add to this list! I’m so angry, because I THOUGHT it was an FFNet fic, but i can’t find it urg. Oh well. I hope you like what I have picked for you instead!

SEXTING / TEXTING:

  • Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2799 w, Ao3) - John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can’t find words big enough to thank her for saving John’s life at the warehouse. For afters, there’s a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of Unkissed
  • Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3772 w., Ao3) - John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.
  • A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w. Ao3) - John sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes. **MUST READ**
  • Come Home by hudders-and-hiddles(E, 3763, Ao3) -  When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.
  • A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb  (E, 32,690, Ao3) John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX **MUST READ**
  • The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., Ao3) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.
  • Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8737 w., Ao3) - "I am not agitated. I’m just tired of it. The insinuations, the comments, that I have no… no interest in relationships, or sex.“ John and Sherlock muddle through a relationship. **FAVE!**
  • Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3218 w., Ao3)On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots. Lovely pining Sherlock fic. Love this one!
  • Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., Ao3)Throughout his life, Sherlock Holmes has always taken facts and held them close like treasures, because in a world of complex emotions, unpredictability, and the unknown, logic has never failed him. Puzzles can always be solved and equations will always have an answer; he seeks and finds comfort in the steady absolution of facts and the knowledge that everything has a definition: an unchanging, consistent meaning. However, at age thirty-five he discovers the exception to all of his neat, tidy logic when he meets John Watson, the one person who evades definition and refuses to be easily categorized—and who makes Sherlock question his own previously unshakeable ideas about everything from life to love. (Apparently a WiP, but it feel complete enough, as the “last chapter” has been waiting for over 2 years)
  • Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6090 w., Ao3) - Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.
  • Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed (K+, 1K+ w., FFnet) - After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.
  • Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., ffnet) - A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.
  • Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w. ffnet) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?
  • Iunctum by Fudgyokra (K, 221 w., FFNet) - He stood still for a long time, staring not so much at the words he’d been sent, but at the signature that marked them: A simple ‘SH,’ neatly tucked at the close of the words ‘I’ve missed you.’” A 221B ficlet; Sherlock’s return from the fall.
  • The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1 (T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when “John went out for milk” was followed by a terse “two hours ago,” Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.

LETTERS / EPISTOLARY

  • Letters by Jenna Flare (T, 2K+ w., FFNet) - John leaves letters on Sherlock’s grave as a method of coping. Sherlock reads them every week. Sherlock/John, John/Mary. T for swearing. Post-Reichenbach
  • Letters From Beyond by LittleBabeBlue (K, 637 w., FFNet) - A letter for John was found in Sherlock’s coat after he jumped. Post-Reichenbach.
  • Dear John by starwarsfreak95 (T, 601 w. FFNet) - Not all Dear John letters are bad. Sherlock tries to explain to John why he did what he did and how much John means to him.
  • Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2K w., FFNet) - Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?
  • In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., Ao3) - John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.
  • There’s Something Living in These Lines by teahigh (orphan_account) - (M, 4676 w., Ao3) - Two men, complete opposites in almost every way, who speak only in letters and pages torn from books.
  • Correspondence by Cleo2010 (T, 8031 w., Ao3) – Sherlock’s been spirited away on a case for Mycroft. Part of the deal was that he and John could communicate via letter until the case was completed. Maybe the cliche is true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or perhaps something is growing on the feet in the fridge. Read their letters month by month. Written after series one.
  • White Blank Page by SarahCat1717 (M, 11,936 w., Ao3) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty’s crime web. He finds he misses John. He can’t divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been “writing” to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?
  • Get It All in Writing by aceofhearts61 (T, 2423 w., Ao3) – Sherlock and John write each other love notes. Part 8 of A Love with No Name
  • and stand there at the edge of my affection by coloredink (G, 2683 w., Ao3)
  • Winter of Life by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 5178 w., Ao3) – It was an experiment, really. On Christmas, Sherlock wrote to Santa asking for a friend. He got a broken toy soldier instead. This is the story of how he finds him again and again.
  • Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 3 Parts, 30,802 w. Ao3) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.)

BLOGS / SCRAPBOOKS / JOURNALS

  • The Case of the Vanishing Blog by Hekateras (K+, 2K+ w., FFNet) - Sherlock is in it for the hunt. John is in it for the action. Even so, the events at the Pool leave a mark on both, unwilling as they are to admit it.
  • One-Way Mirror by StormyNight108 (K+, 830 w. FFNet) - Post-Reichenbach one-shot. It’s been months since the incident, where a man lost his best friend. Slowly but surely, John’s life is starting to turn up a little. That night, his blog is updated to share good news to his followers, and one anonymous commentator is quick to share his happiness. It’s about as close to his friend as he can get right now.
  • Don’t Go Without Me by MirabileLectu (T, 1K+ w. FFNet) - Deep in the recesses of the cluttered space under John’s bed, far from the prying eyes of nosy landladies, there is a box.
  • To Sleep, Perchance to Smother Your Flatmate with a Pillow by Linpatootie (G, 5308 w., Ao3) - Sherlock wants to conduct a sleep study of sorts. John contemplates smothering him with a pillow. Part 1 of Two Coffees One Black One with Sugar Please
  • Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night (T, 2317 w., Ao3) - When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret…that he has kept secrets in. What he sees when he opens it is nothing like what he expected. He expected scrawling notes of observations, or maths equations, or drawings of plants…anything but what he actually finds: confessions.
  • You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w., Ao3) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock’s study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn’t entirely mind.
  • Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (E, 10,669 w., Ao3) – John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times.
  • The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w., Ao3) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

POST-ITS / LISTS

  • I Believe In Sherlock Holmes by Cennis (K, 2+K w., FFNet)When John came to Baker Street one Sunday about six months after the funeral and found an elegant wooden cane, expensive-looking yet sturdy, stuffed away in the shoe cupboard, he began ‘blogging’ again. It began with post-it notes. POST-FALL.
  • In case of emergency by AlessNox (K, 520 w., FFNet) - Sherlock is charged with making a list of what supplies they would need in case of an emergency.
  • The Three-Word Tin Collection by TheBookshelfDweller (K, 1K+ w., FFNet) - What happens when Sherlock has to store the things he wants to say to John while deconstructing Moriarty’s web, but the Mind palace proves an inadequate place to store them?
  • 206 Reasons by whitchry9 (K+, 1K+, FFNet) - John won’t wake up, so Sherlock lists all the reasons why he should. Because he appears to be a bit besotted. How inconvenient.
  • Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb (E, 4,578 w., Ao3) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he’s pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.
  • The Trouble With Being Subtle. by VictoryCandescence (NR, 5429 w., Ao3) - In which Sherlock experiments, John misinterprets, and everyone else stands back and waits for the light to turn on.
  • The Importance of Torn Papers by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock (G, 2427 w., Ao3) – Little things make a big difference, even little notes of thanks. Small reminders to show he cares.
  • Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., Ao3) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts’ now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.
  • See Recipe for Details by pandoras_chaos (E, 4,981, Ao3) – John knows Sherlock’s mouth will never water over the sweet smells of baking chocolate biscuits or a lovely roast chicken, but he’s watched Sherlock nick mince pies out of Mrs. Hudson’s fridge often enough to deduce that the man does have taste, albeit confusing and obscure.
    So John makes a list: Things Sherlock Likes

And I have a few on my Marked For Later List which also have this theme. I HAVE NOT READ THEM, so I don’t know what they are like; I was waiting for them to finish before I do. As well, Alexx has a tonne of lists you can check out too!

When I watch these movies and I compare them to what happened in ca cw I am like …the main plot of these movies is the love of a child for their mother.

In legend of Tarzan


Tarzan kills the chief’s son because he killed his mother. The son killed kala. The chief and tarzan talk in the end.

Tarzan shouts, “ he killed my mother.” He is not over her death.

The chief said how was he supposed to know. And yes the son  didn’t know.

But tarzan killed him because his mother died in front of him. Kala was a mother to him. In rage, anger and grief he killed the son of the chief.

She was his mother dammit.


Erik lehnsherr in x men first class. He agrees with shaw about mutants. He agrees with shaw’s ideology. But he kills him because of his mother and he says this.

“The thing is you killed my mother.”

Shaw was a villain and  in the end erik became magneto and a villain too but the reason he kills shaw is because he had killed his mother in front of his eyes.

Erik killed lots of people in apocalypse but he is not treated as a villain. I like him too but I am not blind I can admit he was a villain.

Man of steel, Clark beats  zod to ground when he hurts Martha. He literally says “how dare you hurt my mother?”


Batman vs superman


The reason bruce stops is because he hears his mother’s name and when he realises what’s going on he saves clark’s mother.

He did not get over his parents death who were killed in front of him. The incident changed his whole life.


I just can’t understand how  people can be so callous and indifferent to the way Tony reacted. It’s not a post about whether Bucky was innocent or not. Yes he was, he was tortured for seventy years. I love the guy but Tony had the right to properly grieve for his mother, for his parents. He had the right to know the bloody truth the moment those hellicarriers crashed.

Howard Stark in comic beats up Tony. He is a bad father. But that’s not the case in MCU. He is shown to be a cold man. Indifferent to his family and son. There is no indication he beat up Tony.  I am not going to imagine that he beat him up. Tony says it himself in Iron Man 2,

“ he never even hugged me, he never even told me liked me.”

But the man did not beat Tony up. Tony did care for him. It’s shown clearly the way he closes his eyes as the winter soldier smashes howard’s skull.

The tremor that goes through Tony at the time is not of a man who doesn’t care about his father.

The father may have been indifferent and cold to the son. The son wasn’t. He cared for howard.

He said it in BARF session “I love you dad.”

In Iron Man, he says to stane, “I never got to say goodbye to my father.”

Those are not the words of a cold son. He did care for howard. Howard did not beat him up. He was a cold man that’s it. In his own stupid way he did tell Tony he cared for him. You are my greatest creation.

Maria says it in BARF session ,“you know what’s about to happen. If you don’t say something you’ll regret it.

He says, “love you dad.”

It tells clearly he regrets not telling that to his father.

He literally closed his eyes as the winter soldier killed howard.

Now let’s come to Tony’s mother. He loved her. That’s it. I am not going to say anything more.

He cared for his father but he loved his mother. He says it, “I don’t care he killed my mom.”

Why is it so hard to understand Tony’s reaction to bucky and steve.

The winter soldier choked the life out of Maria Stark and Tony saw it.

What exactly was he supposed to do Bucky after seeing something like that? Then he discovered Steve’s blunder and web of lies.

Leave Tony alone, he reacted as anyone would.


You don’t get over something like that. So its rubbish what some people say Tony should have gotten over it.

No. He did not get over it. He developed the tech to deal with it because he did not get over it.

These characters from the movies don’t get shit but Tony does. Why ? His reaction was completely normal. He watched them die damn it. He watched his mother die.

Why is it so hard to understand that.

The Arrangement: Part 2

Title:  The Arrangement: Part 2

Summary:  He’s a mechanic. She’s a lonely woman with more money than she knows what to do with. Fate brings them together and sparks fly. But only for six weeks. That’s the arrangement.

Author: Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 2421

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst

Author’s Notes:  This is part two of a multi-part series. Read Part 1 here. Shifts between multiple points of view.

Originally posted by im-bigbrother-dean

Keep reading

An open letter to recast owners

I’ve been debating with myself wether or not to post this because I’ve been away from the hobby and this ‘discourse’ for some time doing my own thing and generally trying to get my shit together but then someone had the bright idea of posting that delightful list and attempting to brand myself and some 700 people as bullies and stalkers. Not cool bro, not cool at all.

So this is my open letter to the recast owning community, particularly those like the admins of the above blog. I always welcome discourse, if you want to discuss any of this or any of my points then I more than welcome you to my inbox, it’s always open.


Greetings fellow doll lover,
The thing I really, really want to emphasise above all else is that we get it. We really do.
Who wouldn’t want something they’ve been wanting forever and a day for cheaper than usual? It’s only natural and we’re a generation (or two) of people who’ve been brought up to search for a bargain every chance we can. So we understand the temptation. But the issue of recasts vs supporting artists goes much deeper than just the price tag and that seems to be where the disconnect is, at least from what I’ve observed the last few years.

Allow me to make an analogy;
Imagine, if you will, that you’ve got yourself a job cleaning floors, be it for a bit of money on the side or your sole source of income.
You’ve got yourself all set up, you’ve bought the brooms, the dustpan, the garbage can and bags. Not to mention you bought all those cleaning chemicals which weren’t cheap at all. So you’ve come up with how much you charge your clients based on the cost of your equipment and you manage to squeeze in a little on top to cover your labour and time. You come up with what you consider a very fair price considering the time, effort and cost involved in your work. Sounds fair right?
Now imagine you’re cleaning a floor, you’ve done a good job, you could eat off that floor. Some guy comes along, tells you what a good job you’ve done and even picks up a piece of rubbish for you but the second your boss appears to pay you what you’re owed this other guy, we’ll call him Mr R quickly shows him the garbage can, telling your boss at length what a wonderful job has been done and he’ll only charge half of what you where asking for.
Oh! Well your boss loves that idea, a perfect floor for half the price! Who wouldn’t jump on that deal! So MR R leaves with the money, having done a tiny amount of work compared to you. You’re left out of pocket and with nothing to show for all that time and effort your poured into your work.
How would that make you feel? Maybe you could let it slide if it happened just once but imagine that Mr R keeps coming back, he’s got the money now to follow you to your next job and the one after that and so on after all.

I’m hoping it’s obvious where I’m going with this… on a simplified level that’s exactly what recasters do. They make money off the hard work, skill and all that time an artist pours into making dolls and deny those same artists potential sales by poaching customers with an artists own work. I don’t know about you but I’d find that so incredibly beyond galling if it were me in the artists shoes. And if your work is constantly being sold out from under you, why bother to continue?

That is the crux of why recasts are so harmful to the BJD world. Creating a BJD from scratch takes skill (something which might have entailed formal education and the debts that go with it), a hell of a lot of time and development and a lot of money sunk into it along the way for equipment and materials. Why should anyone sink all that into making dolls when someone else is going to come along, make the minimum amount of effort and make money off that artists hard work?
And if artists decide they’ve had enough and it’s just not worth their time to make dolls anymore then we ALL loose out. Even recast owners. Because what’s there going to be to recast if dolls aren’t being made in the first place?

There’s been many good posts made about the costs of producing dolls and I encourage and implore you to go look for them. Do some research on what’s involved in producing the dolls we all enjoy and you’ll come away informed and hopefully with a good sense of what it’s like for the artists who’s work we all covet.


So much of the narrative being used by blogs like bjdrecastpositive and the people behind them relies upon is attempting to paint anyone who disagrees with them as bullies and stalkers.  I can’t speak for all 700 people singled out on that list they complied but I know that I’ve never stalked anyone in my life (who even has the time or energy for that?) and I certainly don’t bully anyone. Being vocal and disagreeing with something someone posts publically is not bullying.
And once again I implore you to use your own common sense and take that list and posts like it for what it is; an attempt to shift focus away from the real issues at hand.
There’s some very impressive mental gymnastics going on (which we’ve seen before) comparing recast owners and their side of the ‘debate’ to the struggles of the black community or the LGBTQA community among others, not to mention all that intersectionality but and I really must emphasise this as hard as it may be to hear it; recasts owners are not the victims, they are not being persecuted or discriminated against. That isn’t what being disagreed with in a debate is. That isn’t what having your decision to buy a fake doll called into question is.
And a decision is exactly what recast ownership is, with the exception of course of the poor people who get scammed, it is a conscious decision to put luxury wants above all else, regardless of whom it hurts. How ever someone wants to justify it to themselves on no level does deciding to buy a fake doll and having that called into question compare to being persecuted for your skin colour or sexuality. And I honestly cannot believe that’s even something I have to explain. The mind boggles.

Like I said at the beginning. I get it, I really do. None of us are pretending to be perfect or to have never made questionable decisions but the point is that we are all capable of looking back on our decisions, realising it was a mistake and doing the right thing. Be that by changing our ways or by making amends. Even some of the big name doll companies have made such journeys, Dollzone started out as a recast company, they decided to change their ways and they’ve since flourished into what they are today, likewise Fairyland fucked up pretty big by copying the designs for their steampunk weapons a year or two back but they realised they’d messed up and made it right. We are all constantly growing and learning. It’s part of life and learning from our mistakes is a fundamental thing we all share.

All I’m asking with this letter is to encourage recast owners and supporters to simply put themselves in someone else’s shoes, to think about the implications of buying fake dolls and to have a good hard look at their decision to do so. There are so many alternatives, be it layaways or this awesome list of dolls under $300 that @bluekitsune put together. The alternatives are there, you just need to look for them.

Here is actually the BIGGEST Easter Egg in The Last Jedi Trailer that no one is talking about. Those aren’t stars, those are KYBER CRYSTALS (crystals = The Whills = Rey)

The very first shot of the trailer. It seems to be depicting a night sky.

However.

I believe this to be a red herring, and that it is actually to do something much more important.

I don’t think that’s a shot of stars. I think that’s a shot showing stones.

More specifically, kyber crystals.

Why is this significant and why do I think that this is actually what they are alluding to? 

Here is the breakdown:

Rogue one (Jedha, Guardians of the Whills, Kyber Crystals) + Skywalker lightsaber + Force Vision = Ancient Order of the Whills = Rey

Originally posted by jesuschristnation

It’s okay to be confused.

This is a theory I have had for a while, and when I saw that first shot, I started to grin like crazy, because it slotted into meta so well that I became convinced that what I predict will happen, will actually happen.

I recommend to read my post for the full theory and then look back at the beginning of the TLJ trailer:

http://sakurau121.tumblr.com/post/154779656150/how-does-rogue-one-effect-the-future-of-star-wars

If not, I will try to make this theory explanation as short and clear as possible, but bear with me!

1. Rogue One = Introduction to The Whills, Kyber Crystals, Temples

It’s no coincidence that Rogue One introduced us to the idea of the Guardian of the Whills, Jedha and Kyber Crystals. Jedha is home to the ‘Kyber Temple’ a.k.a. Temple of the Whills, which actually tells you a lot, because it means that the Whills and Kyber Crystals are closely linked together.

The whole exploration of the force in RO has absolutely nothing to do with the Jedi but is actually tied to the Whills.


In other words, the Whills as an Order is older than the Jedi. Luke, I think, was searching for the first Jedi Temple.

But what he found on Achto wasn’t a Jedi Temple. What he found was the original Temple of the Whills. 

Why can I make this assumption?

The beginning of the trailer proves this, because, like Jedha, Achto has kyber crystals hidden underneath it’s rocky surface. Again, this is associated to the Whills, not the Jedi. RO explicitly points this out and it is completely deliberate.

Hence:

There is a rumor going around that one of these books is ‘The Journal of the Whills’ and that is what Luke was searching for. I think this is actually probable.

2. Rey + Skywalker lightsaber a.k.a. Kyber Crystal Within

I  believe that the lightsaber itself is actually irrelevant. It doesn’t matter who made the lightsaber or even who used it. It is the crystal inside which is the crucial point. The crystal, which has Force energy within it, called to Rey, and the way that she reacted to it when she touched the lightsaber, is unique to her and her alone.

Nobody else, not even Anakin, Luke or Obi Wan, has had a reaction like Rey has to the lightsaber. And in fact, it’s to do with her connection to the kyber crystal, not the lightsaber.

3. Rey + Force Vision

The vision that Rey experiences involves her hearing the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi, and unlike the other voices, what he says is new and most importantly, present. This is not a voice of the past, but a voice speaking directly to Rey.

“The ability to defy oblivion can be achieved, but only for oneself. It was accomplished by a Shaman of the Whills. It is a state acquired through compassion, not greed.“


So Qui Gon Jinn informs Yoda. He explains that he learned how to become a ‘Force Ghost’, a state of eternal consciousness, from a Shaman of the Whills.

The Whills were beings who had a close connection to the Force, and it is these beings who I think might possibly be the first known Force Sensitives in the galaxy.

I think Rey’s connection to the crystal [her force vision] equals to a connection to those who are in a state of eternal consciousness, because Kyber Crystals are connected to the Whills. ‘Whills’ in the earliest draft of the original SW film, according to George Lucas, was another word for the Force.

Kyber Crystal = eternal consciousness = Whills

So…. what does this prove?

It proves that Rey herself is actually a descendant or part of the Ancient Order of the Whills.

She is clearly a Force-sensitive, but perhaps her origins are neither from the light side or dark side, but from something infinitely more ancient….. It would explain a lot about that Force Vision, for if she was a ‘Whill’, then it would explain why the kyber crystal inside Anakin’s lightsaber called out to her, in a way that it hasn’t for any other Force Sensitive in the current films.

Perhaps she has the power to unlock other Force abilities from the crystals, and this is what Luke and herself are discovering, according to the rumours about some scenes in Episode VIII.

So?

Now, let’s look at the beginning of TLJ trailer.

We start with what we think are stars. Then the music changes as the shot transforms… from what we think are meaningless stars to…..

diamond-like stones, glinting off the screen….. surrounded by rock. They become more material and solid. I think this is deliberate.

then Rey’s hand connects to the glittering stones and we pan up to her shocked face.

This, is a visual description of her Force Back Vision in TFA.

The Kyber Crystal’s underneath the Achto Temple a.k.a. the Whills Temple, Rey connecting to it, as she did with the Skywalker crystal, and her shocked face, similar to her expression after experiencing the Force Back Vision due to her connection to the kyber crystal.

It’s clever, and if my theory is right, pretty meta.

in other words….

The Temple + Kyber Crystal + Force Back = The Whills = Rey

So hey? What do guys think? Is a load of rubbish or do you think this is a possibility? Let me know! :D

oh, and as for Kylo Ren?

im sure he ain’t happy with his cracked kyber crystal. What if he is after kyber crystals and not Luke Skywalker? He and Luke possibly found something out about the Whills and kyber crystals….

therefore he wants to get Rey because he saw her connection to the Skywalker crystal and wants to get knowledge over how to wield the kyber crystals true powers, such as force back visions? so far jedi have only managed to make lightsabers out of them, whereas Rey, a Whill?, is experiencing visions….

allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet-d  asked:

Angsty Sherlock headcanon coming your way: After the events of TFP Sherlock keeps on gaining more deleted memories from his childhood and starts to suffer from nightmares. Maybe one night John hears him screaming and goes to comfort him?

Er…so personally I think this is very bad, but I feel like you’ve waited long enough for your fill. 

In the Dark of the Night

Initially, John thought it was Rosie. A nightmare, maybe, or an earache - she’d had an infection the week before and her sobbing had kept him up all night, it was awful. But when he staggered over to Rosie’s cot she was asleep, her rosebud mouth curved in a tiny smile.

The sobbing doesn’t stop, though, and now that he thought about it, it didn’t sound like the unabashed wailing of a child. This was a shameful, muffled sobbing, the sound of someone who was trying their very best not to be heard.

John debated whether to make his way downstairs, but to his credit he didn’t actually debate very long before he found his way as quietly as possible down the creaky old stairs of 221B. The sobbing grew louder as he descended, occasionally interspersed with low whines like an animal caught in a trap.

“Oh, Sherlock,” he murmured as he took in the scene. Sherlock was scrunched into a ball on the couch, his face jammed into a pillow, his entire body shaking. He jerked when John spoke, and immediately sat up, trying to surreptitiously wipe his face on the sleeve of the dressing gown.

“John!” he said, pasting a smile on his face. From where John was standing, it mostly looked sick, and Sherlock’s mouth kept twitching. John had never seen Sherlock’s face so out of his control before. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, and jerked to his feet. “I’ll just…” he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his room. John did not miss that his other arm kept the pillow clutched across his midriff like a shield.

“No, it’s fine,” John said, and planted himself on the sofa. “Had a nightmare, won’t be getting back to sleep anyway.” It was a brazen lie, of course, but now Sherlock would feel compelled to offer comfort - it wasn’t as though John didn’t know how Sherlock’s brain worked by now. Sherlock sat down next to him, and they spent some time staring into the shadows of the living room.

“I used to dream of Afghanistan,” John says, and Sherlock looks at him from the corner of his eye, his fingers still digging into the couch pillow like it’s an anchor, or a lifeline.  “Before I met you. I’d wake up and I’d be crying, and I couldn’t stop. Not for hours. Some nights I was afraid to go to sleep.” He takes a breath, sighs it out. Sherlock doesn’t move. “Some nights I’d sit on my bed with my gun in my hand, and I’d…wonder. I’m still not sure if I would ever have gone through with it, but I wondered, sometimes. If…all this-” his gesture took in the world, his life, everything, “was really worth it.”

Sherlock sucks in a deep breath.

“What-” he stops, licks his lips. “What do you dream about now?”

John shrugs.

“It varies. Mary, Culverton Smith. Moriarty. Sometimes I dream about that damn cabby, even,” John says. “I’m always just too late. I dreamed of the morgue two weeks ago. Dreamed that nobody came in and stopped me.”

“You’d have stopped yourself,” Sherlock murmurs.

“Yeah maybe,” John says, but he’s not so sure.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the play of streetlights and headlights on the walls. It’s central London, there are always passing cars casting patterns into the flat. Even at fuck-off-o’clock on a Sunday.

They are quiet for so long that John almost jumps when Sherlock speaks.

“I killed a man in Tokyo,” he says. “He was one of Moriarty’s and he had information I needed. I…I had forgotten, until now. Well, until Eurus.”

John wants to ask how, wants to ask why, but he bites his lip and says nothing.

“I sliced off his eyelids,” Sherlock says in an eerie, distant voice. “I thought, if he could tell me what I needed to know, I could…he was strong, though. I could have admired him, if he hadn’t made it so much harder.” He holds out his hands in front of him and stares at them. They’re shaking like leaves. He clenches them into the pillow again. “I thought…I thought I could do it. I thought I could do it all and then come back, and there would be you, and-but. But now every time I close my eyes I see his face. He didn’t look human by the end. Just an animal in pain. I told myself it was mercy when I cut his throat.” The laugh sounds painful, jagged, a thing of edges and pain and bitterness. “I knew it was, in Serbia. In Serbia, god. I’d forgotten Serbia, too. Deleted it, locked it away. I’d have kissed the knife, then, if I’d thought it would free me. Just an animal in pain.”

John watches as Sherlock tilts his head back and swallows, but the tears are flowing free now, even though Sherlock’s face is completely blank.

Suddenly, he knows what to do. He turns sideways on the couch, reaches out, and pries Sherlock’s hand off the pillow to take it in both his own.

“You should go,” Sherlock says, but his long fingers are curling around John’s palm, giving the lie to his words. “You should take Rosie and…”

“No,” John says.

“I killed people,” Sherlock insists. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re an idiot,” John says, and yanks on Sherlock’s hand, hard, so that he falls over into his lap. He catches an elbow just left of his vulnerables for his trouble, but a moment later he has Sherlock - who has gone totally limp with surprise, tucked up against his chest, his curly head under John’s chin. “This man in Tokyo, you say he was one of Moriarty’s?”

Sherlock nods stiffly. His hands are moving restlessly, as though they’re not sure where to settle, but eventually one of them curls into the fabric of John’s t-shirt.

“He ran the Asian side of a human trafficking operation.”

“And did his information help you get home?” John asks, weaving one hand into Sherlock’s curly hair to stroke his scalp. Sherlock nods.

“Good,” John says. “Then I’m glad you killed him.”

Sherlock goes rigid in his arms.

“John, but-”

“No, I want you to listen to me for a moment, Sherlock,” John says quietly. “Will you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Sherlock says instantly, and John smiles into his hair.

"I’m glad that you killed him, Sherlock. I’m not happy that you had to do it, I know it cost you something, but I can’t say I’m sorry that you could. Because if killing that man was part of what brought you home, then I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”

Sherlock tries to twist to look up at him and John lets him.

“You really mean that,” Sherlock says, quietly amazed.

“Of course I do, you idiot. Losing you is my worst nightmare, of course I’m glad you could come back, even if it took killing someone, even if it took killing a hundred someones.” Sherlock looks stunned, but John presses on. “And if, you know, we ever come across whoever put those scars on you…just say the word, Sherlock. I learned a thing or two in Afghanistan that I bet you don’t know.”

Sherlock huffs a strangled laugh and hides his face in John’s neck.

“No need,” he says. “Mycroft took care of them. I’m told the person who found the bodies is still in counselling.”

“Good,” John says, and strokes Sherlock’s hair softly. It feels as though they’ve crossed some kind of Rubicon here, like they’re finally moving again in the direction everyone in the world thought they were. He has his hand in Sherlock’s hair, and Sherlock is holding on to his shirt with both clenched fists. “That’s good. Now let’s try to get some sleep before Her Ladyship decides its time for breakfast.”

And they continue to lay there in the dark, the two of them. Silent but not alone, twisted but not broken, until dawn starts to light the sky over London.