#our baker street boys

[zingaplanet]

Don't be afraid, for in a thousand years,

in any version of reality,

I'll find you,

And I'll always be there

[5point2atrocities]

"You're an Open Book, Dr. Watson."

“I think I want to try it.”

“It?”

“Right.”

“John, ‘it’ can mean many things.”

“Erm… you’re going to make me say it?”

“Even the world’s greatest detective can’t deduce without context.”

“Right…”

John and Sherlock sit opposite one another in their respective armchairs. In his attempt at finishing the day’s clinical notes, John has found his mind drifting to activities quite unrelated to the unfortunate case of Guillain-Barre Syndrome he encountered earlier in the day.

Sherlock appears uninterested, however, and hasn’t even attempted to pick up on the subtlety of John’s suggestion. Instead, Sherlock remains intently fixated on his self-imposed task of translating by hand Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment” from the original Russian into Latin.

“Sherlock.”

“Hmm?” Sherlock replies but doesn’t shift his gaze from the texts before him.

“I think I want to try… switching roles.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor, John.”

“What?”

“And being a chemist doesn’t make me a medical expert.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sherlock.”

Sherlock continues to pore over his texts, oblivious to John.

“By the way, you’re not a doctor.”

“I could be.”

“You have a master’s degree. You’re not even close.”

“I don’t need school to know more than the average PhD.”

“Have you ever actually worked as a chemist?”

“I do. Every day.”

“No, like, in a lab. And not Molly’s lab.”

“We’ve been through this. No one would hire a sixteen-year-old chemist, John.”

“So, you’re not a chemist.”

“I received a master’s in chemistry before you were even accepted into medical school.”

“But you’ve never officially worked as a chemist. So, can you truly call yourself a chemist?”

Sherlock finally looks up from his work, glaring at John. This has been a point of contention in their relationship since the beginning. Sherlock cannot bring himself to accept that John is objectively more educated than he is.

“Maybe you need to get some work experience. Build up that resume.” John taunts, pretending to be more interested in his computer than their conversation.

“I have a career, John. An impressive career that has afforded me many opportunities.”

“I’m sorry, have you ever actually had a paycheck?”

“I’m self-employed.”

“Sherlock, have you ever even paid taxes?”

Sherlock doesn’t reply to this, returning to his translations.

“I have a hard time believing you make less than £12,570 per year.”

“Are you going to tell HMRC, John?”

“Is this why you refuse to open a bank account?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “I can’t be bothered, John.”

John tries his best to hide his amusement. It’s always fascinating to see further into Sherlock’s worldview. He truly thinks himself above the rest. Taxes are for the average man, “doctor” is merely a meaningless title… Sherlock really is the most irrational genius.

Then, John comes to a less amusing realization.

“Is this why you have our pay made out to me? Bloody hell, Sherlock. I give you your half in cash, as requested, and pay taxes for the both of us while you sock away your share?”

“I suppose so, John. Thank you for that.”

“We don’t need a role reversal, I suppose. You’ve been fucking me all along.”

“Role reversal?”

“You didn’t actually think I was referring to our roles as colleagues, did you?”

Sherlock slams his books shut, his interest piqued, and crosses his legs, observing John with his best attempt at a cool expression.

“But I suppose it’s not worth it, being that I’ve already discovered how intolerable you are on top.” John says, failing to hide a smirk in response to the detective’s now dumbfound expression.

“John, if I knew this is what we were talking about, I’d have begun paying taxes years ago.”

Over the past few months Sherlock had repeatedly expressed his interest taking top. He loved “bottoming” (he’d learned the word from an online forum while researching how best to administer an enema) but was still incredibly curious about how it felt to be the one inside. John, however, had put up quite the resistance, even going so far as to knock Sherlock off the bed when the detective had attempted to reach around and tease the doctor’s asshole with a single finger.

John liked to be on top, like to be in control, even when he was still sleeping with women. But John was also curious. He couldn’t help but wonder every time he pumped into Sherlock and saw the ferocity with which Sherlock came with John’s cock inside him. There must be a biological reason why the prostate has evolved to become so incredibly stimulating. He knew the prostate’s function from a medical perspective, but the way he could make the detective twitch and moan with just a gentle stroke was infinitely more fascinating.

And so far, their sex had remained relatively vanilla. Sure, their near-daily sodomy wasn’t exactly vanilla by biblical standards, but they hadn’t yet begun to explore new positions, locations, or introduced toys. They hadn’t even attempted oral and rarely touched one another’s erections, electing to masturbate themselves if needed.

And except for that one time at the crime scene, John continued taking Sherlock from behind. Both appeared satisfied with their current methods, but the ever-curious duo couldn’t help but consider there might be more.

Sherlock especially was beginning to find himself wanting to explore more. More of John and more of himself. He had attempted to watch porn but found it did nothing for him. He only wanted John Watson and couldn’t lose himself in any of the videos he viewed. Instead, he watched the videos for research, studying oral sex methods and finding himself inexplicably drawn to the graphic concept of “eating ass.”

“But then again, maybe I’m just bored.” John says, returning to his notes.

Sherlock stares at his flatmate—who indeed has become more of a roommate or even a bedmate—and decides to try something new.

The detective stands and stretches, yawning and sighing dramatically. John ignores him, tapping away at his computer intently. Sherlock drops to his knees, knowing full well how much John enjoys him in a submissive position. But John holds his ground, remaining fixated on his notes.

Sherlock edges forward, replicating the evening that he had gotten John so riled up that they had finally fucked. He stares expectantly at John, whose eyes finally flick up to meet his. Sherlock slowly pushes the computer in John’s lap closed, pleased to find that John does not resist.

John sets the computer aside and spreads his legs a little further apart, allowing Sherlock to come even closer and position himself between the doctor’s knees.

Sherlock proceeds to unbuckle the doctor’s belt and undo his trousers. John leans back embracing the handjob he’s about to get, assuming this is Sherlock’s way of apologizing for the whole taxes thing. Sherlock, however, unveils John’s rapidly swelling erection and, without a second thought, runs his tongue from base to tip.

John looks up with a jolt, just as Sherlock is reaching the tip. Before he can comment, Sherlock sucks the head into his mouth and swirls his tongue around for a burst of stimulation. John gasps and trembles slightly, leaning back once more and raising his hand to intertwine his fingers with the back of Sherlock’s curls.

Now, Sherlock had been studying oral sex techniques intently. And knowing the approximate pressure, friction, and rhythm that made John tick was relatively easy to translate into oral.

To Sherlock, oral sex on a biological male seemed much more pleasant than a biological female. Fewer secretions involved, except for the big finale. Sure, he wasn’t exactly excited for the lukewarm splash of ammonia to come, but now was as good a time as any to explore.

He continues teasing the doctor’s eager erection, taking as much of John into his mouth as he can.

John leans back, tipping his head over the back of the chair and slowly grinding his hips forward, relishing Sherlock’s tongue tracing over his cock. The detective continues working his magic, and just as John begins to feel that familiar glow, pulls back abruptly.

“Not yet,” Sherlock says, licking his lips.

“I don’t even want to know how you know.”

“Respiration. You’re an open book, Dr. Watson.”

John resists the urge to touch himself, silently cursing Sherlock for stopping so suddenly. But the detective knows how to get him worked up and is milking it for all it’s worth.

“So, what do we do now?” John inquires, hoping Sherlock will initiate something more.

“You said you wanted to switch roles.”

“Now?” John knits his eyebrows together worriedly.

“Why not?” Sherlock gives him a devilish grin, tracing one finger over the head of John’s still-stiff erection.

“I—I’m not so sure. I need more mental preparation…” John admits.

“Fine.” Sherlock almost pouts, shrinking away from John and reclining back onto the carpet.

“You’re not going to finish what you’ve started?” John says, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“I’m tired and now my jaw is sore.” Is the detective’s only reply.

“For fuck’s sake, Sherlock!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39990888

[thefanfictionfairy]

The likeness is good for base game honestly, props to the person who made these, I got the the boys in the gallery made by Ukai29 if anyone is interested.

I'm so obsessed they talk by themselves a lot in each others room when I leave the controller and chill, and the Sim Sherlock is always fucking naked, even goes outside to water his experiments in his knickers 🤭🤣✨

[raginglesbian2006]

Who's a good boy?

Lucifer x reader

A/N: I've wanted to write a romantic scenario for my second best boi (first is Alastor, obvi) so here we go. Look at how cute he is :3

It was another day in hell, just as hellish as the day before. You couldn't complain though, having found a home at the Hazbin Hotel.

You were there at its doorstep the day the princess of hell proposed her idea on the news. Despite its bad reception, you knew you had to go visit. You had no clue why you were in hell in the first place, having made sure you were good when you were alive. So, a place in hell that was made for redemption and a chance to go to heaven meant the world to you.

Being in hell helped you get used to the manipulative and cruel sinners that walked down the streets like they hadn't just killed off a bunch of people two seconds ago.

Even though Charlie was an exception when it came to the people you'd usually meet, you hadn't expected her dad, the literal king of hell, to be such a sweetheart.

⊰──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ────⊰

You were with the other residents of the hotel, decorating the place the moment Vaggie got on your asses about making the best first impression for Lucifer's arrival.

You had been tasked with baking cookies. Given your affinity for the culinary world when you were alive, you started on your task right away. You pulled out the glazed soft apple cookies, your favorite, from the oven and left it on the kitchen table to rest. You stood there guarding the dish, just in case Niffty tried to take some for herself.(She did but you held her back pretty easily).

"Ok guys, it's showtime!" Charlie yelled suddenly. You rushed to the hotel lobby with your tray of cookies and stood there with the others. You wished you had more time to tidy up but your flour-caked hair and apron would have to do.

Charlie opened the door to reveal a short pale man with a ridiculously large hat. That...was Lucifer?

"CHARLIE!" the man exclaimed, wounding his arms around his daughter's frame and hugging her tight.

"H-Hi Dad!" Charlie stuttered as she struggled for breath. Once she was finally let go, she took a deep breath in and showcased the somewhat okay-ish decor of the hotel and its residents.

You saw Lucifer bend down and give his attention to the little kit "Kee Kee" and then turn his attention to "Razzle" and "Dazzle". You chuckled at his behavior. No way was the original bad boy of hell this adorable.

After his unsavory introduction to Alastor, Charlie started introducing him to every one of you.

"Annnd, this is our resident baker! They make amazing treats for everyone from time to time!" Charlie said, introducing you to her dad.

"Greetings your majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you," you gave a little bow, "I made some cookies for you to try, if you like."

Lucifer picked one cookie from your tray and inspected it for a bit, before taking a bite. You did not know whether you held your breath because you were scared of his critique or because you did not realize how gorgeous he looked up close. He was an angel, alright.

His eyes lit up and he looked up at you, "This is excellent! You really have a talent in this."

Your face heated up at his compliment and you mumbled out a small thank you.

This was your very first interaction with the king of hell.

⊱ ──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ──── ⊰

After the fight against the angels and the rebuilding of the hotel, Lucifer started spending more time at the hotel to help out his daughter.

While searching for Charlie, he found you bustling around in the kitchen, preparing something.

"What are you doing?"

Your head hit the underside of the cabinet at the sudden interruption. You emerged out with a whisk in hand, nursing your wound.

"Y-your majesty, I was making a strawberry rhubarb pie...well, at least trying to," your eyes glanced over at the mess that was your creation. Instead of a flaky solid crust, you ended up with something that could only be described as "a lump" and your fillings decided to make themselves known outside the crust, spreading all over your pie- almost resembling a massacre.

You were usually good at stuff like this. You wondered what you got wrong with this particular recipe.

Lucifer hummed and asked for the recipe.

"I suppose it's only best to start over, shall we?" he said, as he started walking towards where the bag of flour was kept. You could only follow behind him, your face flabbergasted. You suddenly felt very nervous.

What you would come to find out, during this little interaction, was that Lucifer was really good at baking. Like, really really good. His hands were swift but precise when handling the dough and his instructions were clear and concise as the two of you worked through the steps to create the perfect rhubarb pie.

When you pulled out a successful pie from the oven, your eyes gleamed with excitement. You looked over at Lucifer, who was already getting ready to slice up the pie.

"Thank you for helping me out, Your Majesty, " you said, giddily, "Your baking skills are honestly out of this world!"

Lucifer laughed, his smirk widening, "Well of course! Just because I rule all of hell, doesn't mean I can't bake a mean pie!"

He looked at you and said, "And please, do call me Lucifer."

⊱ ──── 《∘◦♡◦∘》 ──── ⊰

Over time, the two of you bonded over your love for cooking. He would frequently join in on your cooking/baking escapades, sometimes acting as the taste tester for your new creations. You enjoyed his presence and grew comfortable with him as the days went on. Safe to say, he felt the same way.

One day, you decided to visit him in his workshop with a plate of freshly prepared caramel apples --something Lucifer himself taught you.

You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival, "Lucifer! It's me! May I come in?"

You heard a loud crash on the other side of the door and a very distinct "shit shit shit" coming from the king of hell himself. Your brows scrunched up in worry. What was that man up to?

You were about to barge into the room yourself but you were interrupted by the door opening to reveal a very disheveled Lucifer.

He called out your name, "Welcome to my workshop! What brings you here?"

As you entered the room, your eyes gazed upon the innumerable rubber ducks that spread across the area. You almost stepped over one as you made your way inside.

"Pray tell," you turned towards him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, "What was that loud crash I heard?"

"What crash?" Lucifer chuckled uncomfortably, his eyes looking everywhere else but yours.

You sighed and placed the tray of caramel apples on his work desk.

"You do realize I've spent enough time with you to know when you're lying, yes?" you enquired.

He tsked, "Lying? pshhh, I don't lie!"

You have a half-hearted nod, clearly not believing his bullshit. He ignored your obvious sarcasm and moved closer to the delicious treats laid out on the desk.

"Oh my! You managed to make these all by yourself!" his hands reached out to one of them, taking a bite, "And they're delicious!"

You chuckled, "Well I did learn from the best, didn't I?"

His pale complexion reddened as he avoided your eyes once more, focusing more on the treat he was munching on.

You were about to ask him about the crash you heard again, but you were interrupted by a loud oink at the door.

"Fat Nuggets!" you cheered, as you got down on what little space was available to you at the mercy of the overbearing amount of ducks in the room.

You patted your knees which signaled to the little pig to come bounding towards you. You giggled as he jumped into your lap and snuggled into you.

You scratched his pinkish skin, "Who's a good boy?"

"Me."

Your hands paused, resting on the pig who let out a single oink. Your face started heating up as you looked up towards Lucifer, who was still focused on munching on the caramel apples, already having had two.

"I-I'm sorry...w-what?" you stuttered.

Lucifer turned around to look at you , mid bite. His face scrunched up in confusion, "What?"

Silence occupied the room for a few seconds, save for the pig oinking every now and then.

It was as if the light bulb popped up on top of Lucifer's big hat and his face started turning the same colour as the bright red caramel-dipped apples he was chewing on.

"I-..." Lucifer trailed off, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his meal.

Picking up the pig into your arms, you got up. Unable to meet his eye, afraid that he would see your face flushed in embarrassment, you said, "Welp, I guess it's time for me to do..the thing I was...supposed to be doing!"

Before you could turn around on your heel, Lucifer reached out, "W-wait a minute-"

You gasped as he stepped on one of his rubber ducks and stumbled to the floor, his hat falling off his head.

"I'm okay!" he grumbled, as he got up, his hands dusting over his garments. He picked up his hat and brushed over it once, before putting it on his head. He looked towards you, confused to see your eyes trained on something lying on the ground.

His eyes followed yours and landed on a rubber duck. A rubber duck that bore a very similar resemblance to well...you.

Lucifer fumbled, picked up the duck, and hid it away from your sight,.

"Oooh boy, how did that get there, haha!" he laughed, awkwardly.

Your face might as well start boiling at this point.

"D-did you make that....for me?" you enquired, the pig already having jumped out of your hands and on his way back to his owner.

Lucifer's eyes widened as he sheepishly said, "Maybe?"

You walked closer to him.

"M-may I see it?" you asked.

Lucifer gulped once, before moving his hands from behind his back, to reveal the duck he had spent so much time working on.

You gently took his creation from his hands and held it in the palms of your own, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the mini-duck version of yourself.

"I-I promise, I wasn't being creepy," Lucifer started, "I was going to give this to you once I worked on it a little more. I know it looks a bit undone and-"

"It's lovely," your voice interrupted him.

His golden heart started beating impossibly louder at the sight of your widening smile. You were smiling...at something he made... for you. He worried if you could hear his heartbeat.

"I- I'm still not satisfied with the product, " he looked towards the floor, fixing his bowtie out of nervousness.

You let out a chuckle, "Is that what the loud crash was about? Did you fall out of your chair trying to hide this from me?"

He looked towards you, embarrassed that you'd guessed right. You laughed louder at his silent admission. Watching the king of hell squirm under your gaze as his face turned fully red, was indeed a sight to behold.

You tiptoed closer to him, took off his hat, and gently lifted his tomato-faced visage. His eyes widened as you cheekily smiled at him. Then you kissed his forehead, relishing in the way he stiffened. He was too adorable for your own good.

You stepped back, putting his hat back on his head, and placed the incomplete duck version of your likeness into his trembling hands.

"Do keep working on it till it is to your satisfaction, hm?" you said.

He nodded his head fervently. His face still held the same shade of red.

What came next was something he swore would be his undoing.

You leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "Good boy."

It took him a while to recover from that assault.

[writingmysanity]

Commit to the Bit (1)

Pairing: Sanji x Baker!Reader

Word Count:

TW: ummmm nothing really, perhaps slightly creepy man.

A/N: Not beta'd... well, not fully. dying on this hill lol thank you @stray-kaz and @sordidmusings for listening to me ramble about this and helping me find some direction with it, considering I sat down to write with "baker" and a vibe. You're amazing.

Early mornings were always your favorite. 

The gentle risings paired with the lingering silence in the streets as you wander towards the building resting in center square. Though silent, you're not alone. Wandering shadows linger in groups as the various vendors trickle into the square to begin their daily set up just as the sun begins to kiss the horizon. 

Your family has long since owned many of the buildings in the square. Before the last revolution on the island, your grandparents ruled it with an iron fist. You have since taken over the duties, your grandparents being some of the few taken in the onslaught, your father left with permanent injuries that keep him from working any longer. 

You often feel as if these things should trouble you, the knowledge of what happened. The passing shadows flickering in your peripheral should bring you some sort of unease, even as one darts towards you as you turn the key to your shop. Instead, you turn towards the small body, quickly accompanied by that of his mother, a smile hiding the exhaustion on your face as they call your name. 

“Yes?” stopping abruptly before you, Peter moves to shove a small sack into your hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He is excited, firm in the knowledge that he is often treated to a fresh pastry from your ovens if he behaves. His mother pauses behind him, hand resting on his shoulder as she attempts to hide her unease.

“Our rent,” she states softly. You nod, but she continues. “I understand it is two days late…” she sounds winded, panicked. “I will earn the rest today, I swear.” Slowly, your smile slides from your face as you shove the door open, motioning to the young boy to hurry in. 

“You know where you may go,” you state softly. He takes off like a bullet into the darkness, easily able to navigate the layout by now. You wait until he is out of earshot before you turn back to the woman before you, softening. 

“You owe me no more,” you assure her. She moves to dispute it, but you raise a hand, the glistening light of the dawn making the whole world around you dusty, hazy. “No late fees, no worries.” you assure her. It has only been a year, and still the fear seems to have settled firmly in the hearts of those around you. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forces a kind smile on her son as he comes barreling back out of the shop, arms full of loaves of bread. 

“Peter,” she warns, gently. “That is too much. You are allowed a snack.” Again, you wave her off. 

“They were going to be fed to the birds anyhow.” you assure her. “Day-old bread doesn't sell as well.” she pauses before nodding. 

“Thank you”

Watching as they wander away, you can't help but sigh. Golden rays filter over the open sea, casting the island in brilliant hues of pinks and purples as it chases away the last of the shadows. Steadily, more bodies clamber into the square, limbs clumsy with sleep. The ever lingering scent of salt mixing with the warmth of fresh bread coming from inside the shop. 

Taking a deep breath, you swing around, heading into the building with a smile. 

“Angie!” you call with laughter in your tone as the short red head appears before you. She smiles brightly at you, her normal lopsided smile fading with sleep, her face and hands covered in various spots of flour. 

“You’re late,” she accuses, scrunching her nose to chide at you playfully. Shrugging slightly, you smile apologetically, nodding at the door. 

“Sorry,” you start with a hum, lifting the bag that Peter had shoved into your hands. “I got stopped.” she just nods with a laugh. 

“I saw,” she hums. “Little thing scared me, I thought another dog got in.” 

“Nope, just Peter.” you muse as you go to put the berry away. “Though, I can't say there is much difference.” you both laugh when you catch a glimpse of the cabinet you keep stocked with your day-old goods.

He didn't clear it out, you notice, softening. Angie follows your eyes, smiling softly. 

“I still don't know why you dont sell those.” she hums. “They won't earn as much, but more than giving them away for free.” you shrug, settling on the floor, looking at the remnants as you try to plan what lunches you can make with what is left. 

“We make enough, Ang,” you say softly. “And there are people who go hungry. The island is still healing.” 

She doesn't push. She knows of your guilt, even if there is nothing for you personally to feel guilty of. Your family has done a lot of damage, and she can't find fault in you wanting to fix as much of it as you can. 

“They are doing well,” she assures you, hand resting on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Now if you don't mind,” she grins, winking down at you. “My shift is over. I would love to get some sleep.” laughing softly at her, you nod. 

“You've helped me so much, I appreciate you.” you say softly, standing to see her off. She just nods, wiping her hands to rid herself of as much of the white gloop as possible, heading towards the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she calls. “Love you, too. There is a new batch in the oven, don't forget them. I'll beat you if you ruin my work!” she states as the door slides shut behind her. Huffing a laugh, you start loading the fresh pastries and breads into the displays’ as the sun lifts higher in the sky. It won't be long until the market is filled with locals and guests alike. Pirates and marines looking to stock their ships and merchants trying to sell their wares to the locals. 

By the time you finish stocking the first of the pastries, the door dings as it swings open. The distant hum of life swarming the market makes you smile as you rise to greet your first customer. Jeff, your biggest regular, and an unfortunate thorn in your side, strolls in with a large grin. You can't help the slight twinge to your smile, threatening to twist into a scowl. 

“Jeff!” you call as evenly as you're able. “You’re early.” 

His laughter echoes strangely in the small area as he settles into “his” spot next to the window, shifting to rest his heels on the opposite chair as he leans back. Far too used to getting his will, either by throwing money at it or with sweetened words dripping with honey, you have found the man incapable of accepting your favorite two lettered word. His ways may get him places with those of the odd house wife who married much too young in fear of being alone, but you can't help but feel sick when he turns his charms on you. Still, you could do worse, as far as your father is concerned. He is hoping to settle you into a life of luxury, free of having to work yourself to the bone. 

You'd rather work yourself to death than allow him to rest a ring on your hand, though. 

A prize, you realized long ago, is all he views you as. You own land, and by marriage, it would become his own. 

“I couldn't wait to see you again,” he coos, his whole body seeming to lean into his wink as your false smile tugs down at the corners. “I've been gone, haven't you missed me?” he calls loudly. As if you couldn't hear a whisper or the drop of a pin. His boisterous voice makes you cringe. Sighing, you prepare him his regular – a strawberry tartlet and a cup of coffee. 

“I miss the peace.” you grouch to yourself, back turned to him. Even turned away, you can feel his eyes on you, raking down your form. 

You don't have to check to know that the exact amount is already waiting for you on the table top, resting in neat piles. Setting his order before him, you go to pull away to grab the money when his fingers slide over your palm to grab your wrist. Clenching your teeth, you bite back your knee jerk reaction to slap him. 

“When are you going to let me put a ring on that pretty finger, hm?” he asks, leaning forward, his hooded eyes in resemblance of what he believes to be a sultry look. Just as you're about to open your mouth to respond with your sentiments – over your dead body – the door dings again. Immediately, you take the opportunity to pull your hand from his grasp, turning to send the newest patron a relieved smile. 

“Hello,” you call, almost a little too cheerful. “Welcome in.” 

You watch in amusement as three bodies all try to enter at the same time, shoulders getting stuck in the frame. There is a bicker and a whine before one of them pulls back to allow the other two to stumble in unceremoniously. 

“What was that for, stupid cook?” The taller, green-haired man snaps at the blond who had stepped back, his hand wrapped into the back of the third man's shirt, keeping him from trying to lunge forward at the array of goodies before him. 

“We couldn't all fit through the door, Mosshead.” The blond states as if it should be obvious. It should be, you felt, but their bickering brings a smile to your face as you place yourself behind the counter again. And far away from Jeff. 

They look ready to continue to bicker, so you call out to them again, hoping to catch their attention. “How can I help you today?” they all pause, looking towards you and your expectant look. You smile as the woman that had been forced behind their shenanigans pushes her way through, coming to stand before you. 

“Your pastries are fresh?” you nod, motioning to them. 

“Made not even an hour ago,” you promise. Three of the other four come to join her at the counter, looking over the variety of pastries, breads and other baked goods you have come to offer. The green haired man stares intently, only moving when the smaller brunette beside him nudges him to the side. 

It doesn't take much to recognize them, their faces lie plastered on every bulletin on every island across the seas at this point. Luffy and his signature hat being the biggest tip off, shortly followed by the famed demon hunter shifting his swords at his side to keep from hitting the display. You appreciate the gesture. 

You've never been in the habit of turning pirates in, not unless necessary. They bring more revenue in than the entirety of the marine fleets that seemed to stay docked in port. 

“See anything you'd like?” you offer after what seemed like several minutes of silence. Out of habit, your eyes trail up to keep tabs on the other body lingering back. You may not make a habit of turning them in, but you know the lot. Oftentimes they are entirely too focused on their own gain and what they can get away with when they think you aren't paying attention. 

You almost expect his eyes to be lingering along your wares or the walls, seeing what they think they can steal without being caught. What you certainly didn't expect was for his eyes to be plastered to your face, a bashful, boyish look to him as he seems to try and shrink back and away from your gaze. Blinking, you feel the warmth of your flush touch your ears as your attention is brought back to Luffy as he nearly salivates over the counter, his eyes locked on the pastries. 

“Can I get one of everything?” he asks excitedly. Your eyes flick back to the blond man still hovering back from the others as you nod, moving to start pulling everything out. 

“Of course,” you say kindly, quietly cheering your ability to keep your voice even. “What about the rest of you?” Their voices ring out as they quickly order before their captain is able to try and swipe the remaining food. Once their orders are pulled, wrapped and packaged, you stand straight, cringing at the twinge that pinches your lower back in retaliation for staying bent over for too long. 

“Anything for your friend?” you ask quietly, nodding to Sanji. Breaking from whatever spell he seemed to be under, he strides forward. Nami stares at him oddly when his voice comes out entirely too soft. 

“Is there anything you recommend?” He asks slowly, eyes flickering back from you to the food before him. “Anything, of course, that my dear captain has not yet swiped.” He amends, earning a laugh from you, emboldening him. "As long as it is as sweet as you" His words start out strong, but taper off shyly when his eyes catch yours. You can almost see how he is kicking himself, the confused pinch in his brow and how he sends Nami a glare when he catches her curious look. 

“My special, coming right up.” you hum, trying to dismiss the flickering gazes of the two in silent conversation. His eyes linger longer, trailing along your skin. You hand each of them their orders, huffing in amusement when Zoro takes Luffy’s order without a word. Last in line is Sanji, his hesitation evident as he reaches out to take the neatly wrapped package from you. 

“Thank you,” he smiles, the warmth of it making you squirm slightly. It’s entirely too genuine for a pirate, you decide. Instead of shying away from it, you smile back, unable to help the warmth pooling on your cheeks. 

“You'll come tell me what you think of it?” you request, shuffling on your feet, mentally kicking yourself. Evidently, all it takes is a shy look and a pretty smile and you're suddenly unable to keep your composure. He pauses at the door, sending you another smile. 

“Nothing would bring me more joy.” 

It's not until you look around, reveling in the silence that their departure left, that you realize that the shop is empty. Jeff is nowhere to be seen, his coffee half gone and his tartlet untouched. Huffing, you shift around the counter to clean up his mess, deciding to give the tart to Peter when he comes to visit at lunch time. 

========

The rest of your day, and even the better part of the next is quiet. Patrons coming in and out, the gentle push and pull of business as per usual, marines and pirates alike. Being nothing more than a simple seller of wares, many merchants and marines ignore your presence and often talk freely. 

It seems pirates are the only ones who can recognize a person with any semblance of power – though they seem to understand your unspoken rules. The biggest being, don't cause a ruckus and there won't be any trouble. 

Instead, they sit simply and enjoy their food with relatively boring conversation in comparison to their marine counterparts who openly speak about the bounties they are looking for. Perhaps they are hoping some young maiden will sweep up with large eyes and tell them where their bounty is hiding, begging them to capture them to keep her safe. Perhaps they are just loud. Either way, you didn't like their newest conversation. 

The strawhat crew. 

As with every time you hear whispers, you send your favorite errand boy to collect the wanted posters. Peter is more than happy to help, racing around the island to tear down the posters while sneaking past the marines. 

They may be famous, and they may be memorable, but you refuse to help them be reminded of who they are looking for. 

Panting, Peter returns, thrusting the posters into your hands with a grin. You grin down at him, offering him his favorite tartlet, watching his eyes widen in excitement, though it seems much more mild than usual. His mother will appreciate his energy being spent tonight when she locks up. 

“Your payment,” you coo, ruffling his hair gently, earning a happy sigh. You pretend not to notice the stares of several of your patrons eyeing the pile of posters in your hands. In silence, one person from each table is waved out the doors, as slowly and inconspicuously as possible, to check the bulletin boards. 

Rule number two – if your poster disappears, so should you. 

It isn't two hours later that the distant echo of shouts reaches your door. Frowning, you lean out to see what's going on. Did another pirate try his luck against the marines?

Steadily, the shouts get louder, joined in by the various vendors cursing at the lanky body weaving through their stalls in effort to keep ahead of the slew of marines hot on his trail. Another leap and dodge through the vendor two stalls down and you finally get a good look at the pirate in question – Sanji. 

Successfully slowing the marines, he skips half a step to gulp down some air before he is yoinked into your shop by his collar. 

Immediately, he is on the defensive, yanking back from you. You let him, glowering up at him. Seeing that it's you, he relaxes some, eyes flickering back towards the door. 

“As much as i'd love to give your pastry the glowing review it deserves,” he pants. “I'm a tad busy at the moment.” rolling your eyes, you grab the arm of his jacket, tugging him to the kitchen. 

“Make yourself look busy,” you hiss. “Quickly.” he freezes, but only for a moment, as he all but throws his jacket off, quickly tying the apron you shove his way. As he finishes, the door dings. Freezing, you both stare at one another for a moment before you force a smile to your face, reaching up to mess up his perfect hair, motioning to the flour, hoping he'd get the idea before you swing out of the kitchen to greet your guests. 

“Hello,” you sing. “Welcome in.” 

Standing before you is the same slew of Marines, huffing and puffing. Their hair and uniforms are obviously askew, tugged and pulled from placement in their chase. You can't help but muse at the fact that while they looked a mess, you had to forcibly change the pirate's looks to make him look as haggard as these men look just from chasing him. 

“How can I help you?” 

“Have you seen this man?” The man in front shoves the poster in your face, his tone less inquisitive, more accusatory. Narrowing your eyes at him, you yank the poster from his grip, pretending to get a good look at it. Truly, you can say you haven't seen this man. The artistry of the image before you is laughable at best. They made his face wider, pudgy and his hair stringy and closer to that of the straw your neighbor feeds his hogs. The nose was completely off, much too narrow and flat. 

It seems the only thing about the poster that can even be considered “correct” is the name. 

“No, sir.” you state honestly, shrugging before making a show of trying to hand him the poster back. He doesn't take it, so you just set it down before you on the counter. He eyes you suspiciously motioning to two other marines to his right. 

“Then you wouldn't oppose us searching the premises?” he asks, a sickly sweet smile twisting his features. “To ensure that he hasn't… snuck in here without your knowledge.” Without waiting for your okay, the two marines immediately make for the kitchen. Huffing, you glare at the man who fancies himself in power. 

Before you're able to say anything, or even really move, Sanji comes through the kitchen door pretending to be none the wiser. The apron is properly dirtied, as if he has been trying, and failing, to bake all day. His long bangs are tied back, the tufts on the top of his head reminding you of a pineapple. His face is covered in flour, nose scrunched up as he walks in head down seeming to mutter to himself.

“Why can't I get this – excuse me… oh, I'm sorry” he pauses, reeling at the scene before him, eyes going comically wide as he hugs the bowl and whisk in his hands to his chest. “Am I interrupting?” he asks slowly, frowning. You shake your head slightly, offering him a weak smile. 

“No, it seems that the world government has just made it their goal to harass us today, is all.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as the marines all seem to zero in on him.

“I thought you said you haven't seen the man, miss” The leader snarls. Curiously, Sanji looks down at the wanted poster, his whole face scrunching up. 

“You couldn't possibly mistake… that… for me.” The distaste, the pure unfiltered dejection rolls off of him before offense kicks in. The marines are not amused, but you are, your laughter bubbling up. The sound brings a slight smile to his lips, forcing a pout. 

“This is my newest apprentice,” You start, motioning to Sanji with a smile.

“That is obviously a pirate.” he states again, your glare falling to him as he forces out the pleasantries that are expected of him. “Ma'am..” 

“He is no such thing,” you roll your eyes, looking rather unimpressed. They turn back to Sanji who is just watching them all with a raised brow. 

“What is your name, son?” you’re expecting something common, something easy to fake, but perhaps a strong background. You weren't expecting –

“Rudy,” he states with the utmost clarity, not even pausing for a moment to consider the possibilities. The men before you seemed equally as thrown back, perhaps expecting him to waffle for a moment longer in an attempt to catch him in his lie. 

“Rudy?” the marine repeats back to him, slowly, eyebrows furrowing. Sanji just nods, giving a noncommittal one armed shrug, making sure to not allow the bowl to tip over. 

“It's a family name.” 

Before they can try to wiggle themselves any further, you place your hands on the counter, smiling widely at them. “Now, gentlemen, if you have no further business here, you are invited to go harass those who deserve it.” Several of them go to open their mouths to speak up, but close them when your gaze falls to them, daring them to do so. 

After several moments of awkward silence, the Marines quietly file out of the door, each offering a mild apology as they duck through it. Waiting until the last of them have left, you march to the door and lock it – nevermind it is still mid-afternoon. With a degree of finality, you flip the open sign before turning back to the tall blond standing behind the display as he finally sets the bowl down onto the counter top.

“Uh,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” He can't seem to meet your gaze. If he had, he would see the amusement dancing in your eyes. 

“No problem… Rudy.” you jest. He groans pushing the awful wanted poster away from him, watching it as it flutters and flips to the floor. 

“It was the first name that popped in my head,” he defends. “Short notice.” His cheeks flush when you giggle, starting towards him with renewed confidence. Stopping just short of him, you press yourself up onto your tiptoes to run your fingertips over the tufts of hair jutting out from his head. 

“Cute.” 

=========

Night falls surprisingly quickly once you open your doors back up to continue accepting orders. Sanji stays in the kitchen, keeping up the facade of being your newest apprentice as the Marines continue to hover around, lying in wait for him to try and make a break for it.

He doesn't. 

Eventually, they retire for the night. This allows for the darkness that's settled over the town to act as a cover, swallowing the hurried shadows as they file into your little bakery through the back door. Angie is less than enthused to be sharing the space while she continues to busy herself with her job.

“You’re kidding,” Nami tries to sound scandalized but her amusement shines through, earning a glare from the cook before her. Sanji is still wearing the apron you had given him, caked in flour and frosting, though his hair was no longer tied back. Despite his attempts to clean up, he still looked a mess. Usopp and Luffy stare at you and Sanji as you rest against the wall beside the door. 

“We still need a few more days for repairs, Sanji.” the orange haired girl sighs heavily, flopping into the chair she had dragged in from the dining area. “And you go and catch the attention of Marines. Great. Fantastic.” This earns a defensive look from the tall blond beside you. “I expect this from Luffy or Zoro.” She continues, her hands jut out at the men in question sitting before her. 

Luffy does well to look sheepish at the accusation – probably because it's a true statement. The boy can't seem to stay under the radar to save his life. Zoro on the other hand looks so exceptionally bored with the conversation that he could actually be nodding off.

Scratch that. 

He is nodding off. 

“Well,” you start slowly. “I may be able to buy you that time.” You offer, earning a clear resounding chorus of confused sounds and wary looks from the rest of the crew, minus Zoro, and a nervous look from the cook. Angie pauses in her kneading, watching you in curiosity. It isn't often you break your own rules. Rule five, don't fraternize with pirates. Get the job done and walk away. 

Shooting Sanji an apologetic look, you push on, ignoring the amusement in your friends eyes.

“The marines are stupid, but they are consistent in it.” Nami snorts, nodding. “Well, this afternoon was a close one. We were able to convince them that Sanji was not the man they were looking for. We can keep up the story, keep to the bit, and it should allow you to finish your repairs and restock…” 

“What do you need?” Luffy asks, leaning forward curiously. You shrug, jutting your finger at the man beside you. 

“Just your cook,” you state calmly. 

“What’s in it for you?” Usopp asks with a frown. 

“I just hate the smug bastards.” You grouch quietly, earning a snort from Angie where she is busying herself at the overs, muttering to herself. That’s an understatement. You try not to glare at the back of her head.

“Dare I ask, what is the con?” Nami asks, bringing your attention back to her as she stands up, moving to settle before the disheveled cook. He frowns, crossing his arms to mimic her own with a scrunch of his nose. 

“Guys,” you hum, tugging on Sanji’s sleeve, catching him a bit off balance in his stare down with the navigator. “Meet my new apprentice.” 

“So,” a huff comes from the back of the room. “The cooks’ been demoted?” Zoro’s voice rings out in the silence that surrounds the crew, clear amusement lacing every word. Immediately, Sanji moves to jump after the swordsman, growling. 

“Shut it, Mosshead.” 

Angie snickers to herself, sliding past the ragtag group to continue her duties. Pausing before Sanji, she offers him a pat on the arm, her hands dusted with flour only adding to the several layers already thickening his once nice shirt, mirth dancing in her eyes. 

“Welcome to the team, Newbie.”

=========

no pressure tag list: @stray-kaz @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @rainbowpitofdoom

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 12

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You feel a bit dreamy. Well, you always do. You sit in your bed, freshly made, fragrant with fabric softener, as you cut through the pages of old catalogues. Your fingers are sticky with glue as you arrange the images just so.

You can hear your mom downstairs, the bluetooth speaker playing Hall and Oates to her content. Your dad's outside trying to fix the fence post. You can hear him swearing through the crack of your window.

You hold out the scrapbook. You just need that globe right in that little space. Oh, the leather sofa is perfect.

You leave the book open on your bed to dry so the pages don't stick. You put on your dress with the daisies on white and spin in the mirror. Your yellow beret will go perfect. You put the hat on and a pair of matching clunky maryjanes.

You go downstairs and find your mother scavenging in the tupperware container you left on the counter. You squeal as she quickly closes the lid and covers her mouth guiltily. She backs away and giggles.

“I couldn't resist,” she says through a full mouth.

“Mom!” You stick your tongue out as you snatch up the container of cookies.

“You don't need all those,” she accuses.

“They're not for you.”

“I know, so… who are they for?” She tilts her head coyly.

“Someone,” you roll your eyes.

“A boy.”

You harrumph, “he's too old to be a boy.”

“Oh my gosh! That's so cute! Do we get to meet him?”

“No,” you pout and turn your chin up, “it's new.”

“Well, be safe. Don't get into too much trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you drag your feet and stop in the doorway, “mom, can you not tell dad?”

She laughs again, “sure, sweetie, our little secret.”

You smile, cheeks twitching. You don't need your parents nosing around. You're still figuring this all out.

🍪

You wait outside the club. It's almost seven. You thought he'd be there by now. The other bouncer is. Lee, that's his name.

You're not weird or anything. You've just been watching from across the street for an hour or two. Not your fault he didn't leave his number.

You cross the road as you see Lee come back out. He sees you and smiles. He's so friendly, you wish August would try that.

“Hi,” you hop over the curb, “is Auggy here yet?”

“Auggy? Nah, he's taking his time,” he eyes the container in your hands, “what's this?”

“Oh, just a surprise. You want one?”

“Depends. What's the surprise?”

You balance the container against the scrapbook beneath it and pop the corner of the lid up. You offer him one of the jelly cookies. They took you hours as you baked and waited to cool before adding the layer of jam and custard.

“Wow, you're a big baker,” he muses.

“Sometimes,” you preen.

He takes one and admires your craftsmanship, “my wife ain't so good about it. But she tries, bless her heart.”

“Oh, you have a wife?”

“Sweetest gal in the world,” he grins, “she's at home with the baby.”

“Baby?”

“Ah, just a cat, but she treats him like a child,” he chortles and takes a bite, letting out a hum.

“Ooh, I love kitties! What's his name?”

He swallows, “Hickory. He likes her better'n me.”

“Aw, adorable.”

“Maybe you can come meet em one day. You and Auggy. Like a double date?”

“Really!?” You snap the lid shut, “oh, I'd love that so much.”

You hear grumbles and the tramp of soles as a shadowy figure appears from the alley. Lee turns and throws a hand put derisively, “bout time.”

August stops short as he looks between you and Lee, his expression limned in the early hue of evening. His brows draw together as he coughs. He crosses his arms and glowers.

“What is she doin’ here?”

“Ask her,” Lee says before he tosses back the rest of the cookie and turns on his heel.

He pulls open the front door and disappears as you stand watching August. He drops his arms and marches towards you, past you as he goes to follow his fellow bouncer. You quickly get between him and the door.

“Sweetie, I brought you cookies!”

“What?” He reaches past you as you put your back to the door.

“I haven't heard from you in…. Like three days.”

He glares at you. You open the container and show your wares. He only pulls on the door, jarring you but not dislodging you.

“I got work–”

“And I brought you a surprise! So eat a cookie.”

He narrows his eyes. You stay locked in a stalemate as he tries to pull the door again. You lean into it and plant your heels.

“I'm being real nice here, sweetie, so take a damn cookie,” you feel a surge in your chest.

“Can't you take a hint?”

“Can't you?”

“What– look, I told you, this isn't a relationship or whatever you think it is.”

“I'm not stupid. This is real,” you insist, “get it? Me and you, Auggy Bear, together forever.”

“What are you–”

“Here,” you shove the container at him.

He doesn't move but you jam it into his chest and he finally relents and supports it.

You slide the book from beneath it and open it up, “this is our future. You see? Our home,” you show him the little touches of colour amid the neutral hues, a perfect melding of your personalities, “and our honeymoon. I'm open to change but I was thinking a cottage–”

“Are you insane?” He breathes scratchily.

“Insane?” You repeat and bat your lashes, “don't call me that.”

“We fucked. Once. There's nothing else between us–”

“There is!” You holler and slam the book shut, “and you know it. You would never have followed me home if you didn't mean it–”

“Shhh, shhh,” he waves you down, “hey, lower your voice.”

“That's what you did. You stalked me, sir, so… you want me too. You want me or you wouldn't have done what you did.”

“Please, just… calm down.”

“You won't even eat a cookie!” You accuse.

“Be quiet,” he hisses.

“Eat a cookie!”

“Would you listen, girl?”

“No! No, you will eat a cookie. I spent all day making them and– and– I'm not crazy. I'm not,” you clutch the book tight.

He sighs, his blue eyes gleaming as he slowly lifts the lid. He takes out a cookie, showing it to you before he takes a nibble. He swallows without chewing.

“There, happy? Now go home.”

You scrunch your nose at him, frustrated, “you could at least tell me you love me.”

“Love you?!?” He chokes and nearly drops the cookie.

“Yes, I know you do, because I would never give my virginity to someone who doesn't love me.”

He blanches and glimpses down at the cookie. His throat bobs. He raises his eyes and takes another deep breath, “I didn't realise…”

“That you love me, right?” You sneer as you step closer, “say it.”

“If I do, will you go?” He growls.

You nod and smile up at him, “I'll do whatever you want, pookie.”

‘Pookie… jesus, alright, I love you. Go home.” He nudges you out of his way and grabs the door with his free hand.

“Don't eat those all at once,” you call as you turn to peek inside the club, “oh, and you have crumbs in your mustache–”

The door slams between you and you pout, “love ya too…” you trail off. It's okay, it seems like it's new for him too.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday to the actor Tony Curran born 13th December 1969 in Glasgow.

Tony took to acting while still in his teens, he recalls the days in the Scottish Youth Theatre with Gerard Butler. Young Anthony Curran went on to attend the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama before gaining notoriety with a prominent role on the BBC series This Life. He would go on to make a name for himself in movies with a sci-fi/fantasy bent, like The 13th Warrior, Blade II, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Beowulf, of his small screen credits, our old favourite Taggart returns after not appearing on Kenneth Cranham’s CV yesterday!

Curran has made a name for himself in over the Atlantic in a number of US shows which include, Numb3rs, Medium, 24, Sons of Anarchy and Elementary. His most notable appearances over here have been in the ITV series Ultimate Force, Dr Who, as Vincent van Gogh , and more recently in the E4/Netflix original series Crazyhead.

Tony appeared in the 2018 Netflix film Outlaw King about Robert the Bruce and the Wars of Scottish Independence, where he played the part of Aonghus Óg of Islay, ( Angus Macdonald) chief of Clann Domhnaill. Back over in the states he has recently been in Ray Donovan, which is a great series series and few episodes of the CBS show SEAL Team. He also turned up in the mini series, Your Honor, which also stars the excellent US actor Brian Cranston of Breaking Bad fame, it’s great hearing Scottish accents in US shows, don’t you think?

Tony is another guy I follow on twitter, the guy has a heart of gold, I remember he tweeted “Me and my lass woke up this morning temperatures dropping compelled to help our homeless, loaded up some blankets pillows clothes, sweaters jackets, I’m sure we all have stuff we can donate, it all helps.” He was then out on the streets handing them out to the homeless, Tony was involved in a charity weekender with all funds raised going to St Mary’s & St Alphonsus and the great community work they do. He has in the past played charity football matches in Glasgow.

In the past couple of years Tony has been playing Despero in the Super Hero series The Flash, Tony has also appeared in the US movie, Two Deaths of Henry Baker where he plays a town Sheriff, this year he appeared in the US crime series The Calling, the show has some good reviews on IMDB with a 7.1/10 rating, and in an episode of the US show For All Mankind

Last year Tony appeared in a homegrown project. The two part “series”, Mayflies is set in a Scotland and Manchester in the 80′s Martin Compston co-stars along with new Shetland star Ashley Jensen, it is on BBC1 on December 28th. The show is based on a novel by Scottish author Andrew O'Hagan's book of the same name. It tells the story of Jimmy (Compston) and Tully (Curran) who ignite an “unforgettable friendship” defined by music, films and their shared rebellious spirit in a small Scottish town in the 1980s. if you haven't seen it, please look it up, and keep the hankies close by.

In the past couple of years Tony has appeared in a couple of US series, an unexpected second season of Your Honor and Secret Invasion.

On fame Tony commented;

"I've been lucky. I don't for a minute take for granted the good fortune I have had. You don't like to get ideas above your station, especially a boy from the south side of Glasgow."

[calaisreno]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2024

This is my first year participating in FTH, and I'm excited to see what I end up writing! I'm offering one story, 5-10k words.

I write both ACD and BBC Sherlock. If you've read any of my stuff, you know that I like angst, but almost always write a happy ending for our boys.

I love writing AUs, anything from alternate first meetings (e.g. The Way Home, Case of the Missing Blogger) to fantasy (The Wizard of Baker Street, The Woods), horror (House of Grief), ghost stories (All Souls, A Chamber to be Haunted), and science-y fiction (Anomaly, Eye of the Storm). Canon Fixits are also on the table. And fluff, of course 💗

I will be happy to negotiate ideas/prompts. All my stories are Johnlock-centric, but secondary pairings are not out of the picture. I've written 151 stories, some of them sequels and series.

Take a look, and if you think you'd like me to write you a story, please bid on me! ❤️

@keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl @mydogwatson @chinike @peanitbear @ninasnakie @lhrinchelsea @sentimentalfuturist @loves-to-read-fanfic @lilithcroft @demonicangeling @kettykika78 @thetimemoves @raina-at @lololollywrites @starrla89 @grace-in-the-wilderness @discordantwords @mxster-jocale @loveismyrevolution @missdeliadili @itzmi @iamjustreading @7-percent @thegildedbee @princesse-lucrece

[anneangel]

Then Sherlock says: "The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule".

Also Sherlock:

"Watson, you have never yet recognised my merits as a housekeeper" (says after preparing the dinner with his own hands).

"Look here, Watson, you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep" (says Sherlock after picking up the violin and knocking Watson into unconsciousness sleeping, by playing impromptu for him).

"Except yourself I have none friend. And I do not encourage visitors." (says Sherlock, after Watson inquired whether any of Holmes' friends were knocking on the door given that Mrs Hudson was away, and it was too blustery a day for unscheduled client visits. The only other person Sherlock called a friend before Watson, that I can remember, was Victor Trevor. And they weren't close after Holmes solved the mystery involving his friend's father. As seen in that sentence, Watson is Sherlock Holmes only current friend).

"Watson, It's an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes my dear friend, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." (Say Sherlock, worried about sending Watson on a case alone).

"My dear friend, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come and examine the matter for myself" (Says Sherlock kindly, after sensing Watson's displeasure, anger and sadness at the thought that Holmes did not trust him enough).

"You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!" (says worried about an injury to Watson leg).

"By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive" (says in a threatening tone to the man who injured Watson).

"I feared as much. I really cannot congratulate you." (says Sherlock with a most dismal groan, when Watson tells will marry with Mary. Watson is so hurt by Holmes' tone that he asks why Holmes doesn't approve of the marriage! To which Holmes responds with: "love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment." But a good reader realizes that this is not an adequate answer to the Watson question! Holmes swerved! And remember, that's because Holmes tried to discourage Watson, claiming throughout the case that womens are not a reliable option) Lmao!!

"Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone" (says Sherlock needy lamenting Watson's absence by his side for one of his cases).

And, Sherlock Holmes only refers to Watson by his surnames, as was the decorum of the time, but he also uses the possessive pronoun "mine" a lot when addressing Watson. See: "my dear friend", "my dear doctor", "my boy", "my dear fellow", "my dear friend".

Sherlock also says in many cases that he has John Watson as a trusted man. He also drags Watson to concerts, outings and Turkish baths, enjoys Watson's praise, and even allows and encourages Watson to write about cases (although he says he doesn't like it, he never asked Watson to stop and even motivated him to do so), Holmes also seems to enjoy having Watson around him in Baker, cases or non-professional situations too.

John Watson can now, officially, change his name to "Holmes Exception". Lmao.

[ryuichirou]

Hi! So i was wondering have you guys ever thought of- danganronpa au for twst cast?

Anon, this is such a good question. Twst guys are the worst, they’d fit perfectly into the dangandonpa world.

Although the ultimate talents for some of them are a bit difficult to pinpoint, but then again, ultimate talents in the games makes no sense sometimes, so I’ll try not to take it too seriously lol

Wow, twst cast arguing about who is the culprit and killing each other off is a fun concept..

Riddle – Ultimate Housewarden, although I’m torn because there definitely must be another more fitting name for him. He is one of our main detective guys, at least in the first part of the game, but then he might get killed off… He worked really hard to get Ace executed before calming down and realising that their real enemy is Monokuma and they need to work together to find a way to escape the game.

Ace – Ultimate Card Trickster. Is that even a phrase? Anyways, he both shows tricks and cheats in poker lol He is also definitely the main suspect of the first case, but he is probably going to survive until the end.

Deuce – Ultimate Delinquent, but he doesn’t even look like one. He’s trying to get his status changed into the Ultimate Honor Student, but it’s easier said than done… So for now he just hides his status, even though once again, it makes no sense.

Trey – Ultimate Baker, easy. He seems either like someone who would try to go with the flow for as long as he could while hoping for the best (and helping out those in need), or just snap at some point and kill someone. Simply because the twist of Trey being the culprit would just be way too fun. But I guess the perfect balance would be to make Trey a suspect and then reveal the killer to be some other guy…

Cater – Ultimate Magicammer, although it would mean that he should have more followers than either Vil or Neige… Maybe it’s not about the numbers but about Cater’s knowledge of the latest social media trends? In any case, I’m afraid poor Cater won’t live for long, but he’s also very likely to try to kill someone.

Leona – gee I don’t know, Ultimate Magift Player? He could be very useful during the investigations if he wanted to be, but he doesn’t. He’ll try to trick his way out of the game, but ultimately get himself killed because he would miscalculate things.

Ruggie – Ultimate Hustler because it sounds better than ultimate pickpocket lol He works all the jobs and is very street-smart, so he’ll be surprisingly helpful at times. But unfortunately, he probably won’t last for long. Maybe Leona would throw him under the bus…

Jack – Ultimate Athlete. He is super against killing anyone, super against playing along Monokuma’s games, super aggressive about it, and could actually get killed pretty early on because of that.

Azul – Ultimate Entrepreneur (real: Ultimate Mafia Leader), the game wasn’t a part of his plans at all, so even though he’ll do his best to act as calmly and smugly as he always does,it’ll take a toll on his psyche.He’ll definitely try to trick his way out of there, probably with the help of the Tweels, but with the way the game is built, there is no way all three of them survive this. Azul knows it and gets more and more paranoid. But even if he gets killed (as a victim or as a killer), he’ll be around for quite a long time. He’ll also be very helpful… but still try to play mind games with everyone.

Jade – Ultimate Secretary (real: Ultimate Poison Master) and Floyd – Ultimate Bouncer (real: Ultimate Slaughterer) –while these two also aren’t very into the fact that they’re in danger, they’re way too happy with this chaos. They won’t kill anyone because that would be way too easy and boring: they kill people all the time. But seeing all the other boys, some of whom are all gentle and sensitive, get all murderous and stuff? This totally makes everything worth it.

Both Jade and Floyd would be smart enough to figure out some of the very important things during both trials and investigations, but they won’t share everything – only if they feel like it…  They also might backstab Azul at some point but only if the whole game gets suuuuuper boring and Azul himself stops freaking out (he won’t, so it’s all good).

I honestly can’t picture either of the two dying, but it would also be too easy of both of them survived until the end. I guess they’re just that good lol But at some point we could get a murder mystery where everyone would think that it was Floyd who snapped, because Jade prefers poisons and stuff, but then it’d turn out that it was actually Jade. Something among the lines.

Jamil – Ultimate Servant, and of course Jamil is absolutely ecstatic about this status (nope). I feel like he would act protective with Kalim, getting all nervous because the heir of the Asim family shouldn’t be stuck in a situation so dangerous. He’ll also join Trey in cooking stuff, taking care of others, trying to keep people calm… but then he’ll get executed because he’d kill someone. The truth is, his plan was to kill Kalim and trick everyone into thinking it was Azul who did it, thus winning the game and saving himself. But Jamil is super unlucky, so somehow he messed up… and it was probably also Kalim’s fault lol

Kalim – Ultimate Affluent Progeny, just like Byakuya, but of course with an entirely different situation. He’d try to keep everyone happy and relaxed despite the horrors happening around them, but then he’ll be  absolutely heartbroken about Jamil’s fate.  He could even try to sacrifice himself to save him (despite the fact that it was him that Jamil tried to kill), but this isn’t how the game works sooo. I can see Kalim surviving until the end, ironically.

Vil – Ultimate Celebrity. He is an actor, a model, a singer, a make-up mogul, and many many many other things. I honestly don’t know what kind of fate he would have in the game, but I can see him being a suspect in a trial. I could also see him getting killed right after the trial that proved his innocence, in a sick twist of fate. But maybe he’ll survive until the end….

Rook – Ultimate Hunter, duh. He would be SO HELPFUL during the investigations, but not really during the trials. He is the type of character to figure out what’s going on way before the main characters and keep quiet about it, just because he wants to see if anyone would figure it out too. He would probably get executed as a killer, but he’d be excited about it, so the whole thing would be… kind of yikes. He is the one to yell about the kibo-zetsubo thing in this cast lol

Epel – Ultimate Farmer, he farms apples! Unfortunately, I don’t think he’ll last for all that long, but you never really know with Epel. He might outlive all of us lol He’ll definitely try to avoid killing anyone or getting himself killed. He’ll also yell in his dialect during trials…

Idia – Ultimate Inventor/Hacker. God he’d be insufferable and amazing, he’d be such a big help during both the investigations and the trials. But sometimes he would be the pain in the ass, provoking everyone instead of helping because he is pissed and done and honestly quite scared about this whole thing. He is going to be a suspect of Ortho’s murder (someone kicked the robot down the stairs or whatever) and then we’ll get confused because well technically Idia did kill Ortho at some point, and then we’ll get their depressing backstory, and then we’ll feel super bad for Idia, and then we’ll find the true culprit, but Idia would honestly feel like dying himself, until Ortho (he’s an AI he can’t really die…) stops him. So yeah basically ch6 lol I hope Idia survives until the end…

Ortho – Ultimate AI and boy oh boy are we doing to get some bullshit about him being both dead and alive at the same time. Because he could get killed pretty early-on but he’ll still be around as an AI inside the computers… He could also try to kill someone in a way that would free Idia from the game, but that wouldn’t work.

Lilia – Ultimate Prankster (real: Ultimate General). He actually graduated a long time ago, and he definitely knows more about the game than the others do, but for some reasons he doesn’t share this knowledge. Maybe he wants the younglings to come to their own conclusions. He’ll definitely die in the middle of the game (or closer to the end?), but while he’s a part of the game, he’ll participate in the trials and be quite helpful.

Malleus – Ultimate Prince (or King). Leona is probably pissed about this one lol He is definitely the one who suggested to just destroy the whole place and escape, and is always the first one to get confused when he’s being told that there is no “brute strength” way to get out of the game. He’s not going to kill anyone, and he’s not going to let anyone touch him, so he is just enjoying the amusing situation, while also being kind of pissed about being treated that way. He doesn’t like Monokuma very much.

Silver – Ultimate Knight. His and Sebek’s Ultimates are pretty similar, but I guess Silver’s more about the Code of Honor of sorts, and Sebek’s more about protecting his liege. I want Silver to survive until the end, but he could be murdered at some point, probably trying to protect some other person.

Sebek – Ultimate Guard. Super anxious, super mad all the time, super nervous and protective over Malleus. He is even worse than his usual self, because the situation is too desperate. He could kill someone on accident and get horrified not because he’s about to get executed but because he wouldn’t be able to protect Malleus anymore… And you’d think he’d confess immediately just to save Malleus from failing the trial, but why is he hesitating to die like this?..

[a-freemaniac]

For @totallysilvergirl

My way to thank her for her kindness and support.

These two pages are done to honour the author, Sherlock, John and Roberto.

And one of the best novel like fanfiction ever.

Read here:

Thank you @totallysilvergirl and I truly hope you will like my way to see the Baker Street boys and their handsome intruder.

@keirgreeneyes @bewitched-bullet @johntrashwatson @watsonsdick @watson-holmes221b @holmesianlove @bencdaily @cheekbonesofbenny @discordantwords @free-martinis @martinfreemanseyebags @sannapersikka @sherlockspeare @bluebellinbakerstreetarchive @bluebox-123

@inevitably-johnlocked @ineffable-idiot-666

@lisbeth-kk @a-victorian-girl @mrb488 @grace-in-the-wilderness @gregorovitchworld @hum-apke-hai-kon

@our-future-is-up-to-us-2 @that-cinnamon-kid @whatnext2020 @semiprofessionalmom @eclectic-confusion

[skyedancer-rae]

TGAA 2 Spoilers

My second piece for TGAA Greatest Family Week (@greatestfamilyweek). The other prompt for Day 1 was Investigations. Wherein the 221B Baker Street family goes on an undercover investigation, minus Team "Would Not Get Rid of the Moustache."

This was inspired by the comment Iris makes in 2-3 about wanting to disguise herself as a lawyer with a fake moutsache. Except her clearly fake moustache is what got her banned from the investigation.

Team Cross-Dressing gets into many shenanigans, but it's Team Moustache that gets the information they need for the case they're working on (even with Iris wearing a clearly fake moustache the entire time).

Image description after cut:

An illustration of Sholmes, Susato, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, Mikotoba, & Iris standing in the foyer of 221B Baker Street, about to leave on an investigation. Sholmes, Susato, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Iris are all cross-dressing. The boys are wearing green, blue, and red dresses respectively with wide-brimmed hats with flower decorations. Susato wears a flat cap, and her slacks/waistcoat combo is reminiscent of Sholmes' indoor outfit. Iris wears a purple suit nearly identical to Miktoboa's default blue suit and has a fake mustache. Dialogue is as follows.

Sholmes: My dear fellow, let us disembark on our grand investigation. Susato, pumping her fists: Right! Ryunosuke, arms crossed: Kazuma, you can't take the sword with you. Kazuma, arms also crossed, looking away: Hmph. Mikotoba is face-palming & Iris is pouting, arms crossed. Text above them indicates they were banned from the investigation because they wouldn't give up their moustaches.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Who's That? Who's That? - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

A few shopgirls spy a pair of distinguished shoppers.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Today, the Skylight Commercia is an upscale amphitheater, licensed by Zaun's Cabinet and protected by its own army of blackguards. It also boasts a full complement of unionized staff: porter boys, seamstress girls, spoonymen, bakers, bartenders, watchmen, even medicks who specialize in the tragic malady known as shopaholism.

Already, the atmosphere is a profusion of bedazzlement. Clutches of people dot the pathway: early risers and late-night revelers. A few stop and stare at the couple strolling past them. An entourage of Enforcers follow them at a distance, footsteps echoing across the cobblestones.

"Lookit," are the whispers. "Lookit."

They make an unusual pair. A man and a woman, shoulder-to-shoulder. He is a blade of a thing: sharp in every facet. Sharp-dressed, sharp-eyed, sharp-built. He gives the impression that if you come at him wrong, you are liable to get sliced in half.

Yet he has a smooth, silky manner about him. A Zaunite's strut.

His companion is a lithe, languid, lovely creature in a charmeuse gown the color of midnight. It is intricately pleated and geometrically cut: a Piltovan style. Indeed, the woman is all Piltover, from the top of her beautifully gold-coiffed head to the soles of her shapely gold-sandaled feet. Some greet the sight of her with scowls; others with stares.

The woman pays no mind to either. Her head is held high. She appears serenely at ease in her strange surroundings.

"Who're they?" the shoppers whisper among themselves.

Rumors swirl. The man is none other than the Eye of Zaun, master of it all. Hard to credit. Most only know him by his trademark voice in radio broadcasts. The rest are still convinced the Eye is a myth, or a monster risen from the depths of shadow. This man is too real to be either. The scars on his face are crosshatched as deeply as mining seams.

And the woman? A Councilor, it is whispered. Harder to credit. Why would a Councilor dirty the hem of her dress across the pathways at this hour? Indeed, why would she bother to get out of bed (a bed the shoppers can only imagine is as sumptuous as a chocolate gateau) before noon, when most Pilties ring for their maids to serve breakfast?

"Who d'you reckon they are?" one shopgirl whispers to another.

"They say it's a Topside toff," her companion whispers back, "with the Eye of Zaun."

"Pffft. The Eye already owns the whole city!"

"Well, maybe he's out bargain hunting?"

"That's bollocks! Bet it's a chem-baron, giving his mistress the tour."

"A Piltie mistress? You're dreaming!"

"Am I? These days, every Topsider and their dog wants a sniff below."

A third shopgirl stares awestruck at the woman's elegant silhouette. "She looks a right prize, I'll say that."

"We'd all look right prizes if we never worked a day in our lives!"

They laugh in ribald unison—laughter being the main thing that has survived in the Fissures despite decades of hardship.

And so, inevitably, has gossip. In a few minutes, off on their break, they are at their usual haunt near the Big Brass, chattering away. The city bubbles with scuttlebutt: fads, fights, fancies. What is passe and what is posh. Who has gone up in the world; who has tumbled down. Who’s up to no good, and who’s met a bad end. 

News is impossible to separate from natter. It is the lifeblood that pulses through the city's arteries. It suffuses the air with its own magic. And no one knows that fact better than the Eye, who has spent much of his tenure collecting it, distilling it, manipulating it.

Knowledge is currency—and the currency is the only thing that can be relied upon in a world of shifting sands.

Today's fare is the juiciest of the week. The shopgirls, on their third round of cavernfruit juice, are already aflame. The upcoming Expo is off to a promising start: the streets are cramming with tourists, and the shopkeepers are rubbing their hands with glee. Hotels are seeing a surge in bookings.  Clubs have mandated fire sprinklers and escape stairwells.  The air has been pleasantly pure despite the periodic Gnashers.  A new dance, the Targonian Twist, is sweeping the Lanes. In Oldtown, rehab centers are running out of beds. The treatment programs are making headway. The Shimmer addicts are being weaned off their fix. And the medicks say a cure for Grey Lung is on the horizon.

The prototypes are currently undergoing tests at private laboratories. By this time next year, there could be a vaccine available for sale. No word on the cost, yet. Or whether the Cabinet will approve its mass-production.

But the talk is rife with optimism—the offspring of early progress.

What truly interests the girls is gossip to do with the Council. They lean in closer, their voices dipping to a hush. 

"You heard what happened to Heimy, then?" one girl says.

"You mean the old Yordle?"

"Who else, daftie?"

"What about him?"

"Well, seems he's gone missing while on sabbatical."

"On what, now?"

"Sabbatical! Y'know. It's what the eggheads call it when you take a holiday."

"And he just vanished?"

"His secretary got a letter saying he was heading up to Demacia. He hasn't been seen since."

"How'd you know?"

"My second-cousin's wife, she's a maid at his house. Said Enforcers dropped by. They told her to keep her lips zipped."

"Zipped why?"

"Said the Council are keeping it hush-hush. Heimerdinger’s their former head and all. Don't want folks worrying."

"He was on the Council, wasn't he?"

"Well, there's something else..."

"What's that?"

"My aunt, she works at the Boundary Markets. She says that before the Siege, she could've sworn she saw him wandering about."

"You mean... here? In Zaun?"

"Yeah! And not alone. She said he was with some bloke."

"Who?"

"Janna knows. He had a mask on. Personally, I think she's exaggerating. She's a bit of a lush. The drink must've gone to her head."

"But what if it's true?" one girl says. "Maybe the fuzzball's hiding out in Zaun? And who's the man with the mask, I wonder? Could it be the Eye?"

"Why'd the Eye help a Councilor? He calls 'em A lineage of leeches."

"Maybe he's trying to make nice after the Treaty?"

"Or he's holding the old Yordle for ransom?"

"As what? Jinx's new pet?"

They share peals of laughter. Absurdity is also a staple of the Zaunite diet, and the notion that the Eye would keep a Yordle captive in his penthouse is enough to make anyone's sides split. They can picture it, clear as day. The Eye in a dark silk robe, the Yordle in a pink bow, the two of them dancing their own strange waltz around the lavish rooms. Maybe Jinx would serenade them, as her devotees do her:  Come on, dance faster, just a little bit of energy...

"I keep hearing," a girl says, "the Eye's a vampire, and his flat's a dungeon."

"That's just the chem-burn talking, love."

"Well, I'd wager there's a grain of truth. Vampires don't breathe, right? And they don't need sunshine. The Eye's no different. Where else would he live but underground?"

"He's commissioned a dozen cultivairs' hothouses full of sunshine. Why'd he do that if he's a vamp?"

"I'm not saying he's a full vamp, for Janna's sake. But everyone knows the Eye has his fingers in the blood trade."

"The Shimmer trade."

"Same thing. I hear Shimmer's made of poro blood. That's why it's so dangerous."

"It's a drug, love. Drugs're all dangerous."

"Not always. My boyfriend got a thimbleful last weekend from the back-alley chemist. Cleared up his cough, it did. And gave him a cockstand so big—"

"Oh, shut it, I don't wanna know!"

"What I'm saying is, there's more to Shimmer'n meets the eye."

"Got that right. My uncle OD'd on it, remember? Died screaming. So did his missus."

"Didn't their kid run away?"

"Yeah. Joined the Firelights. Who are a bunch of crazies, if you ask me."

"Oooh. I can't stand the lot of them! Making a ruckus wherever they go!"

"I heard they're dying off. No one's seen hide nor hair of them since the Siege."

"That's not what my brother-in-law said. He's a blackguard at southside. He heard scuttlebutt that the Firelights were holed up in a secret lair. Somewhere down in Oshra Va'Zaun’s tunnels. The Eye's trying to wall 'em in—or starve 'em out."

"How long've they been there?"

"Don't know. Maybe years."

"What a load of bollocks. Where are their goods coming from, then? You'd have thought the blackguards would've sniffed out the supply lines."

"My brother-in-law says they've a secret way into Zaun."

"What? Where?"

"Dunno. Supposedly only the Eye knows."

"He's a crafty sod. Bet he's already filled it up with Jinx's bombs."

"Why not ask him? He was browsing for jar cakes an hour ago."

"That's not the Eye, you dumb tart!"

And etcetera.

Under the watery sunrays of the glass dome, pigeons flutter. The girls buy paper cones of birdseed, for the fun of watching the birds flock around them. They are still playing guessing games over who the enigmatic chem-baron and his companion are. But in fact, it matters little. The security detail has alerted them to the presence of bigwigs. They need to know nothing else.

Where the Gray sits, as the saying goes.

At the escalators, they spot the couple again. They have stopped with their entourage. A little girl lingers by the railing.  Too scared to climb aboard the steps, she is blocking their path. The shopgirls tense as one of the lady's guards move to shove the girl aside. 

That's Enforcers for you. Always throwing their weight around.

The sharp-dressed man stops the guard. There are quietly severe words exchanged. Then the man himself kneels. He is talking to the girl, a gentle hand on her shoulder. His manner is almost reassuring. Whatever he says is lost in the hubbub of the marketplace. But the little girl seems soothed by his words.

Politely, he proffers a hand. She accepts with caution, then smiles a little as they perform a box-step together, leaping onto the escalator. Playfully, the man lifts her off the last step at the top. The girl giggles and kicks her feet before he deposits her on the ground.

Below, the elegant lady claps. She has been watching with an intrigued eye. Her entourage, more grudgingly, follow suit. The little girl, titillated, performs a curtsey. She and the man exchange parting words. With a forefinger, the man taps the skin under his eye: the universal Zaunite gesture:

Fuck the police.

He gives the girl a finger wave. Beaming, she rushes off to her family, who've watched her progress with bated breath.  A chem-baron and Enforcers cornering a lone child? In the Fissures, it's the beginning of a horror story.

With a dismally familiar ending.

"That was decent of him," says one shopgirl, licking her fingers.

"The best men are good with whelps," the second says. “It shows.”

"Pffft," scoffs the third. "One good turn and you're already fitting him for a ring, eh?"

"I'm only saying! He was patient. A lot of kids would've started blubbering."

"Maybe he's a chem-baron who moonlights as a nanny."

"Chem-barons have whelps, too!"

"And they pack 'em off to boarding school soon as the tit's empty."

"Maybe this one's special."

"You're daft," the first girl says, tossing a pigeon a last pinch of seed. "He's the Eye, for sure."

"What's got you so convinced?"

"Well, he's got a whelp too, doesn't he? Jinx?"

"Pssh. Jinx is his dollymop."

"Don't think so. I read somewhere he'd adopted her."

"I read he'd had a child by her."

"That's bollocks!"

"They say it's why she went into hiding after the war."

"Well, I heard she'd—"

"Ssh," the first shopgirl hisses. "They're coming this way."

Sure enough, the couple are crossing the plaza. Their entourages follow. Hurriedly, the shopgirls clean the clutter of cigarettes and paper-cones, straightening up. They give the couple wide berth, nodding respectfully as they sweep past. The aroma of hothouse hyacinths and bottled bergamot lingers in their wake.

The woman stares straight ahead, indifferent to the scenery. The man, on the other hand, appraises his surroundings with interest. They converse in soft voices: contralto and baritone. The latter has a graveled pitch that seems uncannily familiar.

A radio voice. The Eye's.

The shopgirls are too intimidated to eavesdrop. But suddenly, the rumor—that the Eye and a Councilor are on an extended excursion of the Skylight together—no longer seems so far-fetched.

A paper cone, caught in a shopgirl's fingers, slips free. It skitters toward the man's gleaming leather shoes. He stops mid-step, and the lady follows suit.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the girl stammers.

The man stoops, picking up the cone. With an elegant precision, he hands it to her. For a moment, the three shopgirls are caught in his crosshairs. Up close, he's a fearsome-looking creature. The dapper clothes conceal a hard-edged physique like a miner's pickax. His right eye is the color of a lapis lazuli strung from the stalls. His left eye...

Roving across the girls, it gives off an acid-red glow.

The eye of a godling—or a devil.

The shopgirls’ skins break into gooseflesh. Their tongues go dry as Fissure-roots.

Idly, the man nods, and walks on.

"Shit," the first girl whispers, "what if that is the Eye?"

"If it is," the second whispers back, "then pray to Janna nobody gets their throat slit."

[helloliriels]

LIRIELS CHRISTMAS MASTERPOST

All of my collected holiday works (so far):

🎁 The Abominable Bride

The Christmastime special Rankin/Bass (totally) would have made for our Baker Street Boys!

🎄 The Cranberry Jumper on John Hamish Watson

A Jumper So Fine!

🎁 It's Boxing Day ...

Let's drink to Rosie!

🎄 Christmas in Honeycutt

John's publisher asks him to entertain a war hero at their idyllic estate in Somerset for Christmas? Only ... John doesn't have a wife ... or a daughter ... or an estate! He has a bedsit. In London. And some wounds of his own to recover from!

Meet the cast of our story here! Read the fic here!

UPDATE POSTING FOR XMAS!

🎄Sleepless in London

"I think my daddy needs a new wife ..." Rosie calls into a late-night radio program on New Years' ... while across London ... Sherlock and Molly have just tuned in to 'Your Feelings and You' with Dr. Irene Adler.

See the full movie cover here! Read the fic here!

ALSO HOPING TO UPDATE BY NEW YEARS!!!

🎄 A Place to Call Home

Sherlock gets a holiday postcard from a homesick stranger across the pond ...

🎁 The '12 Days of Johnlock' from 2022

🎁 The '25 Days of Johnlock' from 2021

Plus some Holmestice & FTH gifts shared from/to:

🎁 All Tied Up - not all gifts come with a bow!

🎁 In Spite of Myself - mystrade christmas fluff!

🎁 It's Detective Time! - adventure time crossover art!

🎁 Received Fics - OR SEE GIFT MASTERPOST!

[rainestorm05]

Ramshackle Origins Perditions/Head canons

First up, the somewhat easy one, Stone: Since us doodle followers for the Ramshackle fandom, we already know about Stone's sister Avrill. Knowing that our boy was from a rich family, I can guest two causes on what I think became his downfall to the streets. The first one being they lost their parents at a young age, giving big sister all the inherited money to spoil rotten. Leaving Stone resenting both her and the rich assholes he had to deal with for most of his life. And since he probably had no one else to talk about his problems, he resulted in one of adult's common solutions to cope; alcoholism. My guess is that during his drunken state, he did something so ridiculously embarrassing, Av disowned him into the streets to save her and the family's public image. Or two, parents never died and just favored Avrill more for probably being more sociable. And instead of being somewhat good parents and teach their son the ropes, they just expect him be like that and be disappointed when he fails. Same outcome would happen, only the parents diched him in the streets.

Next, the golden retriever incarnated, Skipp: I like to think his parents were good people who loved him very much, however, unfortunate circumstances happened. Mom was a sweet town baker until dying from childbirth, and dad was a kind and musician dreamer who tried to raise him as best he could but couldn't financially do it in the end and had to give Skipp to an orphanage for a better chance in life. Unknown to him at the time, that place became his son's number one hell until he met Vinnie, who both decided to take their chances at the streets knowing they're not wanted, and no one wants to adopt them.

Lastly, Vinnie, the goblin leader: Judging by her natural chaotic nature to scam as much people as she can, I like to think either both or one of her parents are wanted criminals. Why they gave her up? Either they didn't want their kid out on the run with them for all her life and wanted her to have a better life, or they got her by accident, and didn't want any parent responsibilities to distract them from their heists.

If I get right in any of these for the show's futures, then yippee! If not, then all when, I just did this for fun.

[asherloki]

My tiny

Sherlock x petite!reader

Request:- Hello! Fellow writer here :) 8 and 9 on the smutty one liners for sherlock x reader? Maybe he was thinking about her in his head (mind palace, whatever lol) and he called her to baker street and deducted she wanted him back? :) take this as far as you want or don't do it at all. Nothing but love <3 ~ @run-clever-boy

Smut

Word count:- 4144

A/n:- I'm not good at smut, I hope you still like it.

Prompt lists!

I walked upstairs almost as fast as I can and stood infront of Sherlock's door. As I came home after office I recieved a text from him "come at once, case ... Mostly - SH". Sherlock Holmes is the one who discovered my talent which I never knew I had. Solving mysteries. I was never into detective fiction either, until one day I met him he immediately asked me a few questions. He says he deduced I have an analytical brain, a brain to form thousands of theories, imageries which often are the reason for my distress, so he wanted to use my brain for something good. I started to tag along with him and John Watson. He took me to the cases which weren't dangerous for a woman. To him I'm rather a tiny woman, he even calls me tiny sometimes, which I first showed irritation to, but in my heart I know how much I like when he calls me that. So, the cases which are dangerous for a tiny woman like me he makes sure I solve, or help in solving them from their flat. As much as possible. He even let me talk to clients. I don't know what is the name of this relationship of ours, is he a guide, shaping me into a better person or ... I don't know but I actually like the fact that he doesn't care about women. Except for some, Molly Hooper his friend, Mrs Hudson his landlady, eurus his sister but it's complicated, and there's been someone else who intrigued this poor detective with her wit. He talks rather highly of Miss Irene Adler. His respect towards her makes me like her too, even though she's a criminal. Also that compliment, well I hope he meant it as a compliment when he said, "you're witty, like the woman". He likes my wit, intellectual debate. He sometimes brings up such topics of which I can speak of passionately, passion, he likes it. He also -

"Why didn't you knock?" The detective came opening the door, reminding me I've been standing there like a fool without knocking.

"Oh ... Sorry, I just-" I ran out of excuses, "let me in detective" I entered, his tall body couldn't stop my 5ft tall one to pass through the door.

"Welcome I guess" he said closing the door, "well it's my chair" he pointed towards his chair which I occupied.

"So? There's still alot of space there" apparently Sherlock himself is a lean man and I am petite as well, "anyway you said there's a case for me".

"Oh yes wait" he nodded and recalled about it, he went straight to his mantle piece and pulled out a letter which he handed me saying "here".

"From Mr Laurent" I read, "isn't he a detective too?"

Sherlock nodded in response.

"To miss... Wait it's for me?" I was stunned, a detective needed help but from me and not from.., "I don't understand".

"Seems like Mr Laurent has a crush on you" he said anything, I rolled my eyes and opened the letter,

"Let's read it" I said and read the letter contained the case Mr Laurent needed my help with, an old man was murdered in Venice, his four sons and their wives were in the house with three strangers, he's known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, Mr Laurent also sent me a ticket to Venice. I read the whole thing out loud and Mr Holmes, my friend, I hope I can call him so, listened attentively, "he needs my help? But it's rather clear, who did it."

"Who did it?" No comment was made on his part to the request of help instead he asked about my theory for the case.

"Isn't it obvious, three strangers at his house exactly at the time of his murder? I mean, look he was known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, which I'd like to believe involved women, who knows, how many enemies he harboured for himself and who knows how many illegitimate children, atleast one wouldn't surprise me, we need to check on the strangers, if the family members were to do it they would've done it anyday, won't even make a fuss about it, even though it's possible they chose this time to put the blame on the strangers but I believe the wealth of this old man would go to them anyway, they're the legal family but these strangers." I looked at Sherlock, he stood at where he was, staring at me, I know these eyes, he only stares like that when I'm making a point, a theory, a solution to the mystery, "we can check on these strangers I guess ".

He came closer to me, slowly, I didn't know why but the air was... Sultry, I didn't feel such things for him, never ever, he's not really... My type.

"Yeah" he said clearing his throat "are you going then?"

I shook my head "no, I don't know this person " I stood up, "I can't spent time with someone I barely know."

"I'd suggest the same" he said taking that ticket away from me, "he just wants to get into your..." He stopped.

"Into my?" I asked..

"Nothing " he said and put that letter away.

"Into my bed, I know" I answered making him chock, "was it vulgar?"

He glanced at me, it's not that vulgar, I said many vulgar things intellectually that just made everything less awkward for John, Sherlock and I never had an awkward moment, we have same vibe, same mentality, same everything.

"No it wasn't " he said coming closer, it's bizarre, he's like everyday, clad in his black trousers, white shirt, his same dressing gown, something hot surrounded us. I've barely felt any such tension after my fling with Thomas ended. It was all about Sex and Sherlock hated it, he never objected but he hated how we just banged wherever we got the chance, we didn't spare his bathroom. He doesn't know about it.

"What's in the corner of your lips?" He asked touching the corner of my lips, almost, I didn't move, consenting him silently to touch them.

"What's there?" I enquired, to my own surprise my voice came out as a sultry whisper, never happened with him.

"May I check?"

I nodded and I wasn't aware of what I was going to experience. His lips touched mine, the first time ever, we kissed? I couldn't believe my own senses we actually kissed.

He pulled away, smirking as he replied, "there was nothing".

Can you believe it?

"Very funny" I replied sultrily and walked towards the kitchen, "what was that supposed to mean ? Jealousy?"

He furrowed his brows as I said something impossible, "jealous of what?"

"Mr Laurent?" I replied.

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know, perhaps the fact that he asked me to come with him and if he's handsome then we might.."

I didn't have to complete my sentence when my detective came almost running saying,

"Don't you dare bang him all over Venice".

"I'm not a whore"

"I know you aren't, but Thomas"

"He was my fling so..."

"Shut up you're my tiny detective" he literally called me tiny and didn't let me act offended, rather crashed his lips on mine, bless Thomas for teaching me everything I needed to be good at this. I let our tongues dance as we parted lips to let them enter.

"I've been thinking of this, and more everytime you formed theories of a case, solved them, did some analytical research or simply said something intellectual with.." he said pulling away, "with passion, so much passion, you're a spark, a fire and I would be cold without you" my ears as if I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he was vulnerable, expressing himself however he could, "make me warm Sunshine, tiny little detective".

"I'm not.." I couldn't even object, he interrupted.

"Miss 5ft."

I'm tiny, his tiny... I did say his didn't I?

"Tiny one, hated when you banged Thomas" Sherlock said booping my nose lightly.

"Could see it in your eyes" I replied letting his fingers trace the features of my face.

"Pretty Little face, cute little exterior" he said out loud then leaning to my ears he whispered "only I know how much thirst is in there".

Yes, the thirst. Never thought I'd actually do it with him but..

"Guess we're gonna..." I stared.

"Do something else " he picked me up and I wrapped my legs round him as he carried me to his bedroom. I'm so petite that I fit perfectly in his arms. He has comforted me many times when some violent case triggered me, I love his embrace and I am loving whatever we're upto. He dropped me on his bed, and he climbed on top of me.

"So, what's your plan?" I asked confidently knowing he has little to no experience in bed.

"You'll see tiny" this time it hit a nerve.

"If I'm petite then why do you wanna fuck me" I said a little agitated. He smirked knowing he's successful in driving me up the wall.

"Because, your anger and passion turns me on" he said as his hands fumbled with my shirt button, "and your intellect is my porn".

Now that was a big sixer by Mr Holmes. Making a woman like me whimper. And that made him raise a brow.

"I see your body reacting to my comment." That was sultry just like his voice. No wonder I've always admitted one thing about him, he has a sexy voice.

"Because words are our thing detective" I played my turn as well.

"I see, tiny detective" we both are detectives. And we both get a bit excited by intellectual word play. He and I know how to trun people's heads with words. He did it Jeanine and I, too with some men to get information.

"What if we actually..." I began to touch his buttons, "do the action this time, without all the talk?"

"I like that idea" he said, he and I both unbuttoned our shirts. Tossing them to some corner of his room. As soon as we both sat half naked his lips attacked my neck. Leaving prominent marks, for people to know to whom I belong, for now or... Forever Mr Sherlock Holmes.

I brought him even closer as the sensation was different, special, we've solved many cases together and this does feel special. Alot special. His hand roamed to my back and unclasped my bra. My nails dug into his skin. I wasn't ready for him to see me like this. His tiny detective at his mercy, does sound sexy doesn't it?

"May I?" He whispered in my ear, asking for permission if he could see my breasts.

"Ofcourse, it's not like your tiny has the biggest set of boobs" I joked to which he raised his face and looked into my eyes,

"Good, then they'll fit perfectly in my palm" he said, still not for once looking down at me. As I nodded and gave my consent then only he looked down and took no time into brushing his fingers against my hardened nipples, sending shivers, a touch from a man I trust, the hands which keeps me safe, the safest touch.

"You've never been into bodies did you?" I couldn't help but ask. He kept marking my neck and in between pinching my tits as he replied,

"A good body will lose it's charm with time, but a charming personality as yours, a passionate mind as you, an intellect like yours will never."

He does have a point, we'll still be eachother's favourite even after we're old as a goose.

"Also.." he continued, "your eyes will also remain beautiful, bright, reflecting your charming personality, a mystery I'll spend my life solving".

I allowed myself to bring him even closer and kiss him more lovingly this time, as his hands started to undo my belt and then pulling my jeans away. If I knew something like this would happen I would've come prepared, but... Guess he doesn't really care about all that.

"Don't overthink it" he said, "you look fine, I..."

He trailed off, wonder what he wanted to say but yes, I won't be a spoil sport with my overthinking. I got up and treated his trousers the same way he treated mine. And the twitching member of him was making sure to make his presence prominent.

"Should I do something about it?" I asked kissing his neck, feeling his body reacting to it under my fingers. I made him pull his pants down leaving him in his boxers, preparing myself to finally be the person to see Mr Holmes's thing. Wonder if anyone else got a glimpse... Oh right, Jeanine.

I kissed his chest as I put his boxers down, his twitching member finally got a bit of freedom. He let out a soft whimper, his cheeks turned pink, so he's shy? It didn't seem so the way he kissed me. I looked his member, wrapping my hands around it making him let out a whimper again,

"May I?" I also should take permission if he did. He nodded and I brought my mouth to his tip, leaving a light smooch on it. I knew what I was doing, Thomas was a good practice. He stared at me, breathing heavily. I guess I smirked when I licked his length, then wrapping my mouth on it I started to work on it, with both my mouth and my hand. He controlled for sometimes but he moaned, finally he let himself be vulnerable, he liked what I did.

"I never kn..." He tried to speak as I made it incredibly impossible for him to do so, "never knew... You...ah" see? Incredibly difficult as I fastened my pace, "you could do ... It so... Ah... You're great".

That lifted my confidence and I...

"What the?" As I planned to make him cum in my mouth, I see he has something else in mind, he pushed me down and pinned me to bed.

"Let me return this favour tiny" his heavy voice whispered in my ear. I knew what he meant, I squeezed my thighs together, knowing there's a wet spot in my panties. His voice wasn't helping, rather was making it worse. Thomas was good, but I never knew he, Sherlock Holmes knows how to do to a woman. He got down and almost ripped my panties away. I really don't know whether I'd be able to wear them again after we... It's okay, I sometimes forget my pants at home. I still squeezed my thighs, keeping him from seeing what he wanted to.

"Are you eager?" I teased, I told you, I'm well trained by my fling. He smirked, but his smirk was innocent. My teasing was gone, I felt... I... With Thomas it was just good sex, but I... Felt safe with Sherlock. Never happened before, no one cared for me like he does, no one values my wishes like he does. He gives me more than I ask. And I'm not even talking about material stuffs, he... "My my". He forced my thighs to spread to give him a good view. He looked down and then at me,

"Tiny" he said seductively, "just like you" I was thinking of something sexy to say until he said, "I like it".

And then? He dived like a starved man would for food. His tongue touched my clit giving me shivers, making me moan loudly, thank goodness doctor Watson is married and out of this flat. Otherwise he'd have heard me moaning, as his tongue played with my clit. He didn't stop there, he let his tongue run through my slit, I tried to move upwards in his bed, his big hands grabbed my waist and pinned me in my place. I put a finger between my teeth to keep me from screaming. His tongue felt good, even better and I know now why. He kept on eating me out as I put a hand on his head, grabbing his curls and pulling it slightly. That's how horny I can get, don't go on my looks. He finally pulled away from my pussy, staring right into my eyes,

"Few more licks would've painted your face white Mr Holmes" I said panting.

"Guess you can paint my dick all white" he said stroking his dick. That's a sight I liked, the posh detective and his tiny childish assistant, newspapers called us "the detective and his sunshine", "posh detective and the tiny woman", "detective's childish assistant". Only if they knew, posh detective, cold detective and his childish, innocent, tiny, intelligent girl is doing dirty on his bed. He positioned his tip to my entrance, gave me a look, I nodded, ready to have him in me. And he did push himself into me,

"Ah fuck you're big" the only thing I could scream as his big cock entered me. But that's it, he's in me, I realised something I never did, now I want him, him.. I stretched my arms out, asking him to come to me. He wasted no time and leaned on me, giving me a kiss he stared to rock his hips, slowly and sensually. It felt good, my tall man, his face burried in my neck, his thrusts hitting perfectly. He protected me from bullies, showed me I'm extraordinary to worry about those ordinary people, made me realise he and I are worth better things and ... Now that I know all these, I'm not ever going to stray again... I hope. I'm staying Sherlock Holmes. He took his pace and fuck it felt nice, it felt perfect,

"My go- oh yes" I moaned, he raised his face to see mine,

"Oh, little miss tiny is about to beg" he said to tease me, I remember he told me about Irene Adler wanting him to beg, and ended up begging for protection from him, twice.

"I don't beg, men gives me anyway" I didn't wanted to be a self absorbed person, especially not now, it's just ... Came out. He replied with a sudden thrust that found the spot,

"Ah yes right there" I screamed, arching my back. He stopped, his cock in me.

"What if I don't fullfill your desire?" He does that to people, being rude but never to me. I showed my puppy eyes (which I always do and it works on him)but eventually my mouth spoke,

"Pretty please?" Which apparently means I begged for more.

“I told you, you would eventually start begging.” he said with a smirk and resumed his thrusts at my g spot. I brought him closer and wrapped my hands around him. The most intimate, he and I. I could stay like this forever, but he eventually got up and fucked me faster, the roomed filled with him painting, my moaning and our skin slapping. His cock worked fine in me. And we both knew I was close.

"So am I" he said between his pants. With some more thrusts I let out a scream, eyes closed, I painted his dick white. He pulled out of me immediately, shooting white strings to my belly.

-------

We got up, we cleaned ourselves and sat on his bed with a chessboard.

"Oops got your bishop" I mocked as I replaced his bishop with my pawn.

"Aww poor your queen" eventually he trapped me and got my queen that made me gasp,

"You did not" I, surely am offended by Sherlock's intelligent move, "not my queen, I can never win without it".

"Oh I'm sorry tiny" he didn't seem sorry at all, "be careful next time" his voice was gentle, soft as he explained how I should play and be careful next time, "you got it?"

"Sherlock?" I called him, not answering his question, I can play chess well, now if you play with Sherlock Holmes you're never good enough, but I wanted to ask him something else, "how was it?" He blushed, I'm too bold, I can ask anything without thinking twice, "anything you imagined?"

He nodded fumbling with my queen, "the world is filled with ordinary and notoriety you know tiny" he said looking into my eyes, "reality is often cruel, I... I saw your innocence and potentials in your eyes. You were wasting your time with Thomas, fling is useless, I hoped you'd find something better, worthy of your time, all I could give you is my adventures. You.. you're very intelligent, emotionally. You're an unique, creative thinker as well, you're hard to describe just like me. Can't let those ordinary people bully you, can't let those ordinary men lay finger on you, I couldn't stop Thomas since you consented but I want you to understand, you're here for something better." I just listened to his words, made sense why I always felt no one understood me, sitting here on his bed, wrapped in his white bedsheet with a chess board. If feels safe, he makes me feel... Understood.

"What I mean to say is I'm terrible at expressing emotions, yet I feel them just like you do, I saw you couldn't fit in with your dull boring, bimbo classmates who ultimately back stabbed you. But I see you here, with me, smiling, laughing, feeling safe I hope. This world is dull for people like you and me tiny, these people are cruel, boring for us, you and I couldn't settle down with any ordinary profession or people. We're too similar. The only thing though I believe you have extra is, your innocence. With you, reality is better than my dreams, my imagination. Because my imagination came with the reality of the world that I faced, but with you I saw a different side of it. You're different, innocent, you think differently, you're kind and you don't do things to please people. You don't want to be ordinary, you hate being boring, you're far more me than I am, you're far better me I must say, you're a better Sherlock Holmes, you bring out the better Sherlock Holmes in me, my tiny. This reality is better, and I am not just talking about sex."

Can you believe? His puzzled words did make sense, it's better here just him and me.

"I realised today that you love me" I spoke as a tear fell from my eyes, remembering how everyone treated me and how he does, I'm his better world.

"Glad you know" he said looking down at the board. I didn't know where we were at the game but I moved another pawn of mine.

"Sherlock..." I spoke, "if you wanted someone good, I believe there are many people who are... Good. You know I can't control my temper, I have no filter, I am also pretty childish and-"

"If by good you mean ordinary people, who doesn't have personality, who copies others, brags to you, lies to you, use you" he knows everything I've been through, he knows how people treated me, "ordinary people often thinks they're extraordinary, especially to those who actually are... Rare. You know my university life". I nodded, he was a lonely kid,

"So was my school life" I certainly was a lonely kid in my school, we're both eccentrics.

"We can live in our safe bubble, here, with our stupid adventures if you'd like" he proposed and I loved it, guess my grin proved so,

"And I" I got up and threw my arms around him, "love it".

He hugged me tightly, the sorrow we experienced, all was transformed into a certain joy, he always felt relaxed holding my head to his chest,

"But detective?" I had to be myself and make a proposal of mine, "I like your handcuffs." He looked suspiciously at me,

"Fine, my tiny's wish is my command".