I wrote Valentine’s Day fic but it turned out to lack much less fluff than Valentine’s Day fic has any right to.

posted:4 months ago, 0 notes

• the hour • freddie/bel • gloria i was going to send this to you but then it turned angsty • terrible valentines day thing • fic

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◢ A Study in Eskimo Kisses (A Subject In Which John Has Prowess)

spookyloafs:

otterystbarts:

Woo! Dialogue fics to help the feels, they’re like shock blankets. (Fluff requests welcome)

“John.”

“Mm.”

“John.”

“Yes, idiot?”

“Your face.”

“Yes, it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“No, your face, I mean. It’s on my face. Particularly your nose.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s called eskimo kissing. Just a thing. S’nice being close.”

“Rubbing noses does not constitute kisses.”

“Just a name for it. And it’s considered sweet, you git.”

“Pointless, you mean.”

“Oh, shut it. You like it.”

“Lies.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re humming.”

“Am not, John, that’d be ridicu-“

[Five minutes later]

“I think that’s my favorite way to shut you up.”

“I suppose I’m rather fond of it myself.”

“Love you.”

“Tolerate you.”

“Sherlock.”

“Alright, fine. I reciprocate.”

“You’re an arse.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do.”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

(Source: kneehighspocks)

posted:8 months ago, 24 notes

• sherlock • 'love you tolerate you' • nice • Fic • johnlock

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i’ve got one friend laying across from me i did not choose him, he did not choose me

Stiles is breathing. Derek watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest like it’s the only thing keeping him alive and aware. Maybe it is.There’s a butterfly bandage across Stiles’s cheek, and a row of black stitches down his neck. Under his shirt, his chest is wound around with thick layers of gauze. A rust colored spot of blood marks the back of his hand, a hand Derek holds in both of his. He’s alive, he’ll be okay. But right now all Derek can focus on is Stiles’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart. He wants to keep it from ever faltering again.

i’ve got one friend laying across from me
i did not choose him, he did not choose me

Stiles is breathing. Derek watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest like it’s the only thing keeping him alive and aware. Maybe it is.

There’s a butterfly bandage across Stiles’s cheek, and a row of black stitches down his neck. Under his shirt, his chest is wound around with thick layers of gauze. A rust colored spot of blood marks the back of his hand, a hand Derek holds in both of his.

He’s alive, he’ll be okay. But right now all Derek can focus on is Stiles’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart. He wants to keep it from ever faltering again.

(Source: pembroke)

posted:10 months ago, 1260 notes

• i'm sorry i'm not sorry • it just came out onto the keyboard • stiles gets a tag • because he's cute • and hurt • sourwolf • fanart • Fic • that show about werewolves which is eating my life

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i’m filling a teen wolf prompt what is my life

posted:10 months ago, 0 notes

• that show about werewolves which is eating my life • Fic

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◥ Asked by
silenceofthelecters

plastic container into the sink with a clatter, Sherlock sat down on the floor and placed his back up against the side of the bathtub, closing his eyes slowly as he dripped a bit more blood onto the tiles. Now all he had to do was wait, and in due time, every headline about his death would no longer be a fairytale. THE END Shit, I only made the first anon...I was curious as to people's reactions to this from an anon, but I screwed that up...oh well...ha ha ha sorry about that...

The last line…

But honestly, I’m really happy because this is the first time somebody has done this and now I’m conflicted because hello, dying Sherlock, but I’m still happy.

As I said, awesome.

Also, about my feelings.

I did mention I love you, right?

posted:1 year ago, 0 notes

• weepingangelcastiel • fic

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◥ Asked by silenceofthelecters		from the short time before, he opened the medicine cabinet and scanned the shelves for something that would prove sufficient for his cause. Spotting a large opaque bottle, Sherlock grabbed and then shook it, listening to the soft rattle. Yes, it was full; therefore it would do quite nicely. He removed the top, poured some of the contents into his hand, turned on the faucet, and began consuming the pills as quickly as he was able, not stopping until the bottle was entirely empty. Dropping the (co

posted:1 year ago, 0 notes

• weepingangelcastiel • fic

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◥ Asked by silenceofthelecters		only control he had. Someday, possibly today, he would go deep enough to end it, and this deception of his only friend would no longer have to continue. After standing in front of the sink for some time, Sherlock opened his eyes, having made his decision. He was going to end his life, but not with a blade; no, he wanted his death to be quiet, unlike the last one, with all of the unnecessary noise and attention it had gained. Reaching up, the blood flow from his arm greatly reduced from the (cont

posted:1 year ago, 0 notes

• weepingangelcastiel • fic • seriously • awesome

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◥ Asked by silenceofthelecters		blood began to drip into the sink, spattering over the shiny white surface. It had been nearly three years since his faked suicide, though Sherlock is now beginning to wish that it hadn’t been a trick after all, for seeing John fall deeper and deeper into a pit of self-destruction was renting his supposedly non-existent heart into pieces. The self-induced pain was the only way that Sherlock felt he could deal with having to stand off and watch John fall apart. He felt as though it was the (cont)

posted:1 year ago, 0 notes

• weepingangelcastiel • fic • you're awesome

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◥ Asked by Anonymous		Standing over the sink in Molly’s pristine bathroom, Sherlock rolled up his left sleeve, his hand shaking as he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. Flicking the blade open, he ran is eyes up and down his arm, which was covered with cuts and scars, some prominent and some nearly healed. Slowly, Sherlock drew the blade over his arm, cutting slightly deeper than he did previously, though not deep enough to cause death quite yet. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back as vibrant red (cont)

posted:1 year ago, 0 notes

• Anonymous • fic

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itsanexperimentjohn replied to your post: SuperOmens fanfic. SuperOmens fanfic. That is…

HOW CAN THAT BE ALL. Is this real? Is it a plan you have? Is it something you read? You can’t just tell us SuperOmens fanfic and then leave us hanging with our pants down!

*snickers* Sorry, I never remember to explain things like this. It is both a plan and something I am reading. A glorious thing I am reading.

This glorious thing.

I’m just kind of reeling happily right now.

posted:1 year ago, 1 notes

• itsanexperimentjohn • superomens • fic • supernatural • good omens