ioweyou-a-proposal

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doctor who has gotten too complicated. remember in the second episode when nine said “i bring you air from my lungs” and breathed in the aliens’ faces? that was good. bring that back.

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I wonder how many of us, Sherlock fans there are out there, in the big world,

so if you consider yourself belonging to the Sherlock Fandom family, reblog this post and make it float around.

Let’s count our poor souls.

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so... is it a date?

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I want BBC Sherlock to end like this - version 2! (x)

It’s the split second before they finally kiss, time literally stands still - and we get thrown into Sherlock’s mind palace.

Sherlock’s suddenly finds himself in the oh so familiar hallway which looks like the one inside the Roland Kerr Further Education College, and before he can move or speak - or even think - all the doors fly open.

And there’s John.

And John.

And John!

With the depth and complexity of his jumpers.

Who does the thing with peas. (x)

Has a great singing voice. (x)

Reads his morning papers.

Might (or might not) be the floral kind of guy.

Who has mourned his Holmes too often.

Yet, saved him all the more.

But still has to learn, that it’s okay to let oneself be saved.

Because he, too, after all, is only human.

Imagine all those Johns - including stand-ins for the other actors - so many Johns, too many, too many, crowding the place, bustling around… and all those memories and ghosts from the pasts suddenly stop, look up, and make way for Sherlock to walk through.

And at the end of the corridor stands John.

Sherlock’s John.

They’re apart, but as Sherlock starts to run to him, he suddenly remembers that he already feels John’s arms around his waist, John’s breath on his face, John’s forehead against his, and how could he even forget that John’s lips are so close to his that Sherlock doesn’t even need to take a step further to finally make them… touch.

And finally Sherlock reaches John, embraces him, cups his face and the movement melds mind palace and reality together, Sherlock and John ending up in the exact same position as when time had stopped just now, and all the other Johns are gone.

They are back in Baker Street.

And the John who’s left is the only one that matters.

“You. It’s always been you.”

John Watson has always kept him right.

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no iT’S NOT!

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Can we all admit this scene was bad*ss?

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nOt hIs dAtE

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Reblog if you ship Johnlock!

I wanna know how many Johnlockers exist on Tumblr.

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How To Hit On The Sociopath You Just Met - An Illustrated Guide By John Watson

1. Forcibly proclaim not to be his date. You met the sex god only yesterday and do not want to come off too keen.

2. Go slightly cross-eyed with delight as he hands you the menu. This is the man of your dreams and you are very hungry.

3. Seductively flick out your tongue for a split second to show that you are secretly interested. Send him reptilian vibes.

4. Look away casually with your eyes bulging out of your head. Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen.

5. Open proceedings with a statement about arch enemies and hatred. It will be very natural to turn the conversation to his sex life from here.

6. Glance away shiftily with your mouth open to encourage his interest. You got this.

7. Ask if he has a girlfriend. Attempt not to look as though your entire future happiness hinges upon his response.

8. Once it has been established that a girlfriend is non-existent, take a moment for this happy information to sink in. Immediately jump to the conclusion that he is gay and eagerly ask if he has a boyfriend.

9. Remind him that homosexuality is a-okay with you. You want there to be no uncertainty that you are down for some serious hanky panky.

10. Give him a sweet smile to show him that your high sex drive does not inhibit your sweet and sensitive side. You can take emotional baggage as well as his baloney pony.

11. React calmly when he replies that he does not have a boyfriend. Allow the wedding bells to do the chimichanga in your head.

12. Keep your cool. Lick your lips to very subtly let him know that you would be only too happy to change that. Stare into his soul excitedly as if you’ve just spotted a ‘40% off all jumpers’ sign.

13. When he rejects you, keep your face impassive and backpedal vigorously. Do not let on that your heart has been crushed and you are slowly dying.

14. Over the next 3-5 years, pine after him constantly until he fakes his death and you rush into an unhappy marriage with a murderous psychopath. Life is good. Only show your intense dislike of her when she can’t see you.

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2 + 60!

@hogwartsfirebolt I hope you’ll enjoy this! PS: I love you omg

2. Royal AU + 60. Poorly timed confession

“The Malfoy Prince, out of his palace? How lucky am I,” Drawls a voice.

Draco turns back, hand already reaching for his sword.

The man is twice the size he is, with a black hood and a scar across his face and - and -

“Harry?” He asks, disbeliving. Harry laughs, and Draco shoves him, trying to calm his racing heart. “You’re a prick.”

Harry laughs, pushes back his hood, and Draco can only see his impossibly green eyes, the reason he’d recognize Harry anywhere.

“You love it,” He says. 

I love you, Draco’s brain supplies. He reminds himself it’s not like that. They don’t date, they fuck. That’s it.

Harry grabs Draco by the waist and pulls him close. His hair’s longer now, pulled back into a bun, and he has a beard. 

Draco runs his fingers against Harry’s cheek softly. “You grew a beard.”

Harry grins cheekily, turning his head and pressing his lips softly against Draco’s palm. “Do you like it?”

He does. He so, very much does.

“No,” he lies. “It makes you look like some sort of - of - criminal.”

Harry’s grin gets wider. “Baby, I am a criminal.” He pulls Draco closer, pushes him against the wall and into a deep kiss just as some guards walk by, probably looking for him, or Draco, or both. Draco for running away, Harry for being the leader of the underground group against the king, Draco’s father. 

He pulls away, breath soft and warm against Draco’s hair. Tall, Draco’s brain supplies uselessly.

“Could probably get thrown in jail just for touching you,” he murmurs, kissing Draco’s hair, hands pulling him tighter against him. “For kissing you.”

Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. “Then why do you?”

It’s something he’s been wondering ever since they started this. Harry’s risking everything, and for what, a shag? Draco’s sure he could get that anywhere else.

Harry hums, makes Draco yelp when he lifts him off the ground. The blond immediately wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, arms tighter around him to steady himself. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” Draco says immediately. “Gods, no.”

Harry grins and kisses him again.

They end up in some hotel, in bed. They always do. And every time, he swears to himself it’s going to be the last one. Everytime he doesn’t see Harry for months at a time he thinks he’s strong enough that when Harry’s message comes to meet him at whatever dark alley he’s in now, Draco will say no. 

But then the message comes, and every time, ever single fucking time, Draco’s heart flutters, his brain conjures up thousands of images of what he and Harry could be together, and he doesn’t even consider refusing.

It’s pathetic.

“This one’s new,” Draco murmurs, tracing a long, thick scar across Harry’s chest. They’re lying in bed, Draco’s head resting on Harry’s chest, their legs tangled together. Draco’s sore in all the best ways.

“It wasn’t too serious.” Harry says, even though Draco can see how deep it used to be. Harry must’ve been close to dying, and the thought sends a pang of bitter pain through Draco’s chest.

He sits up.

“I can’t keep doing this,” He says.

Harry sits up then, frown between his brows. Draco wants to kiss it again, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Did something happen?” Harry asks.

Draco laughs drily, pulls on his clothes. “Did something happen? No. Will something happen if we keep doing this? Yes. You’ll be killed.”

Draco right along with him, probably. Not good for selling for marriage anymore, not once he’s not a virgin. And Gods know that that ship sailed long ago, the first time he fell into bed with Harry.

“I knew what I was getting into when we started this.” Harry says.

Draco crouches down, tightens his boots roughly. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Harry asks.

I’ve fallen for you, Draco thinks.

“Things,” he says, vaguely. “None of which are any of your concern.”

He can see Harry frowning from the corner of his eye, can see his throat work. He stands up.

“I’m leaving.” he says. He can’t bear to be here a moment longer, with the way his heart is shattering. He can’t look at Harry again, so he opens the door, doesn’t look back. “Au revoir, Harry Potter. We won’t be seeing each other again.”

And he leaves, closes the door behind him.

Two months pass without Harry. It’s not an unusual amount of time to go without seeing him - there’s a war, after all, and Harry’s leading one of the sides - but Draco feels worse and worse every day, because this time, there’s no ‘when’ he sees Harry again. There’s not even an ‘if’ he sees Harry again.

He hates it.

He’d resigned himself to unhappiness when he’d said goodbye to Harry, though, so he’d expected being miserable. He wasn’t going to see Harry again. That was all there was.

So, of course, he’s reasonably surprised when, while sitting on his throne beside his mother, Harry’s brought in, struggling between four guards.

Draco stands. Harry meets his eyes and freezes for a second, before he snarls and resumes struggling. Draco’s mother pulls him down by his elbow.

“Well, well, well.” Lucius says, a sneer on his face. “What do we have here?”

The guards throw Harry at Lucius’s feet - which Draco thinks is mighty stupid of them, since he knows just how good Harry is at improvising - and Harry’s face twists with fury.

“Lucius,” he spits.

“Potter,” Lucius cocks an eyebrow. He stands, grabs his sword, and Draco breathes in sharply. Lucius gestures around the room. “Welcome to the palace. Like what you see?”

Harry’s jaw clenches, and he doesn’t respond.

“Very well,” Lucius says calmly. “Any last words?”

He raises his sword.

“Wait!” Draco yells.

Everyone turns to look at him.

“What, Draco?” His father snaps impatiently.

Draco opens his mouth, closes it again. Open, closed. His throat is dry, and he tries to swallow. His heart is hammering against his ribs.

“I - I -” He thinks he might be close to sobbing. The panic’s coursing through his veins wildly, and he doesn’t have a plan, but he needs - he needs to save Harry. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?” Lucius’s nostrils flare, and Draco’s mother looks at him with a mix of horror and concern.

“Not now.” Draco says. “It has to be public.”

Yes. Yes, this is it. This has to be it.

“What?” Lucius asks.

“Well, make an example of him, right?” Draco asks, speaking too quickly and too unevenly for it to be casual. He stands, cautiously moving to Harry’s side. He can see Harry looking at him with something Draco can’t quite recognize, Lucius looking at him suspiciously. “For - for the other rebels. It - it needs to be public. Tomorrow morning. For your birthday, it’s perfect!”

“Draco’s right, sweetheart.” Narcissa pipes in. Draco, Harry, and Lucius look at the queen in surprise. “Besides, the maids have just cleaned the rug. Blood on it is going to be just impossible to get out.”

Lucius looks between the three of them, and Draco prays to every single god he knows that it will work. It has to. Otherwise he doesn’t know what he’ll do to save Harry.

“Fine,” The king says, annoyed. He throws Harry a disgusted look. “Throw him in the dungeons.”

The guards carry Harry away once again, and Draco very nearly sobs with relief.

“We should announce it to the people, darling,” Narcissa says kindly. “The sooner they know the better.”

Lucius nods and begins walking away. Narcissa stands and follows him, stopping for a split second to hug Draco.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she murmurs, impossibly quiet against his ear.

When she pulls away, he blinks at her, surprised. She merely follows his father out the door.

The execution is to happen the next morning at first light, Draco finds out. He needs to get Harry out before then.

Just after midnight, he pulls on a dark cloak and grabs a lantern, breaks it against the ground, lights his curtains on fire. He walks down to the dungeons. There are eight guards on Harry’s door, and Draco knows they have orders to never leave.

Fuck.

He walks towards them as confidently as he can, hides his shaking hands by gripping one wrist tightly in the other behind his back.

“What are you still doing here?” he barks out, in the best impression of his father that he has.

It must work, because the guards flinch before they see him. They relax.

“We’re guarding the prisioner, Prince,” one of the guards says. “It was your father’s orders-”

“There’s a fire spreading through the north wing,” Draco sneers. “It’s become top priority, and you eight are still here, with someone who’s sitting behind bars? Bit useless, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not, Prince,” Another guard says. “We just-”

“I don’t care,” Draco snarls. He signals out the tiny window, where he can see his room on fire, violent and contrasting against the night sky. “Go!”

The guards scramble down the hall, and as soon as they’re out of sight, Draco breathes out a relieved sigh.

Harry’s green eyes still on him, and Draco can’t breathe.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He says, finally.

Draco thinks he just might cry. 

Instead, he reaches for the knife in his boot, begins to work on the lock, prays to all gods that he can open it before the guards realizes he was tricking them.

“Why did you?” Harry asks, awfully calm for someone who’s scheduled to be executed. “Come, I mean.”

“Because I fucking love you,” Draco snarls, panic growing when he hears his father’s voice down the hall. “I’m fucking in love with you, Potter, and if you want to be a little less useless-”

The lock snaps open.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes out. He throws the door open - there’s an infernally loud sound, and there’s a yell down the hall. Fuck. Harry doesn’t move. “Harry, move, come on, you need to-”

Harry’s lips are crashing against his, suddenly, and it’s everything.

He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, kisses him fiercely before he pushes him away roughly. He grabs his hand, runs them to the stables and grabs Serpent, his horse. He practically pushes Harry on her.

“Leave,” he begs. “Please, leave, you need to get away, I can’t see you executed-”

“Come with me,” Harry interrupts. His eyes look a little wild, and he’s still holding Draco’s hand even if he’s on a horse, and Draco loves him. “Come with me. Let’s run away.”

“I-” Draco looks back. There’s no time. “I-”

“I love you, too, Draco Malfoy.” Harry says fiercely. “I don’t care that you’re a prince, and I don’t care what anyone will think. I love you, and I can’t lose you again.”

Draco doesn’t think. He lets Harry haul him up, wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s waist to steady himself, buries his nose against the back of Harry’s neck.

When they start getting away, he looks back towards the burning castle, sees his mother in a night gown, staring at him from the field.

“A bientot, mother,” he murmurs. “We will see each other again.”

And he pulls Harry closer as they gallop away.

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Drarry Award Winners!

In alphabetical order, here are the winning fics of the 2018 Drarry Awards!

Best Drarry Fics 2018

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered Dear Cousin, Love Regulus by @xx-thedarklord-xx

Best Drarry Fluff Fic 2018

A Holiday In Provence by @dracoismytrashson If The Fates Allow by Saras_Girl

Best Drarry Angst Fic 2018

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered It’s Friday (I’m In Love) by @punk-rock-yuppie

Best Drarry Fest Fic 2018

A Hag, a Hex, a Tale of Redemption by @aibidil Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by @norelationtoatticus

Best Drarry Crack Fic 2018

Harry Potter and the Curse of the Malfoy Dildo by @gracie137blogs Potter’s Snake Removal Services by thecouchsofa

Best Drarry Smut Fic 2018

Cabin In The Forest by @justdrarryme Hung Like A Hippogriff by Magnolia822

Best Drarry As Background Pairing Fic 2018

Dating Potters by @goldentruth813 Dear Granger, Love Pansy by @onlykatelyn

Best Drarry Alternative Format Fic 2018

Howlr by @partialtopotter Your Archrival, Draco Malfoy by @queenofthyme

Congratulations to all the writers!

It’s wonderful to see so many new names, as well as lots of familiar favourites. Organising the Drarry Awards has been a great deal of fun and that’s because of the wonderful Drarry community. We’re planning to come back next year, please consider subscribing to our tumblr for updates.

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draco: can you do the thing?

harry: what thing?

draco: you know, the thing that makes me happy

harry: oh *smiles*

draco, softly: thanks

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the nurse’s lines + the accompanying shots of sherlock/john to the lines

can you see? can you see what this scene is trying to tell us?

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Irene vs. John What might we deduce about his heart?

Bonus:

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Reblog if you ended up on this hellsite because of a gay ship.

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You know how I know Johnlock is real

Other than the obvious, of course. That fucking handshake.

Even the dudest of dude bros would have hugged their best friend if he was flying away never to be seen again. And those two idiots only had the saddest of handshakes, because if they hugged they would have never let go.

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I love how we still pretend to theorise and act like we all don't think that Sherlock being gay is a standing fact

(I’m sure people have talked about this before, but…)

Just a friendly reminder - John had a feeling Sherlock was gay the day he met him. A day before the “You don’t have a girlfriend, then?” conversation at Angelo’s.

Behold the comments on the blogpost about his meeting with Sherlock on the 29th of January.

John might not be a genius, but he is a very intelligent, savvy man. He wasn’t just making small talk at dinner, he knew very well what he was doing - he was testing his hypothesis. And what would you know? Girlfriends were not really Sherlock’s area.