awwww-cute:

Here we observe the feline displaying a rare, tender moment of appreciation for its slave

awwww-cute:

Here we observe the feline displaying a rare, tender moment of appreciation for its slave

280,729 notes

marauduhs:

"It’s just a mortality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose—"

The three of them spoke at the same time: Hermione said, “the cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.”

They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused.

33,035 notes

rageofthenerd:

——————————————————————-
Though Mycroft had warned him countless times not to venture too close to the surface (annoying, fat guppy that he was), Sherlock found himself, once again, trailing the wake of a great human ship.  He was alive with fascination, engaged like he’d never been by the dull, predictable dark of his home.  The parties, the insipid merpeople, and even his violin bored him to misery these days.  Finally, he had found something worth the focus of his raging mind.  Something worthy of him.   
And if Sherlock found the ship itself interesting, it was nothing compared to the obsession he felt for the one called “Captain” who rode astride it.  The strange sound of his voice when he called out orders, the crisp, sharp cuts of his garments, the aura of command set down his spine.  Everything about “Captain” intrigued him, drew him in, until he could scarcely think of anything else when the ship had passed and he’d, yet again, been forced to return to the palace.  Mycroft must have felt him drifting away, but lectures and threats would do nothing to dissuade him.  Sherlock was enamored.
And so he memorized the ship’s schedule, returning to watch and observe every time it passed.  Every day without it his mind ached in anticipation of the ship’s return, the extensive collection of human curiosities he’d acquired doing little to satiate his desire for the man with the blond hair and strong, human legs. 
When the fated day came that the sea grew angry, surging against a tempest in the skies above, Sherlock had no trouble in finding the frantic ship that held his love.  He watched, grey eyes sharp and calculating, as waves buffeted the vessel, plucking men from her decks in harsh strokes.  “Captain,” though, would not be felled.  He perched, straight and glorious on the head of the ship, his arm hooked around the wheel and rapier in hand.  He was like a god, a creature of bravery and strength.  It was the most beautiful image Sherlock had ever seen.
When the sea finally grew tired of the Captain’s fight and swallowed the ship down whole, Sherlock found him immediately.  He was sinking heavily, limbs unmoving, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around the warm, human body.  The Captain was finally his!  Fierce torrents of the need to possess, to claim, coursed through him, drowning out all other desires.  He felt victorious, sated, and complete. 
The Captain would be added to his collection, where he could observe him and study him and admire.  Forever.  He’d never part from him again.
With a hard, penetrating kiss, Sherlock took what was rightfully his, stealing Captain Watson’s last breath, and realizing too late that the only thing he ever loved was the only thing he could never keep.
—————————————————-
*slinks away*…

rageofthenerd:

——————————————————————-

Though Mycroft had warned him countless times not to venture too close to the surface (annoying, fat guppy that he was), Sherlock found himself, once again, trailing the wake of a great human ship.  He was alive with fascination, engaged like he’d never been by the dull, predictable dark of his home.  The parties, the insipid merpeople, and even his violin bored him to misery these days.  Finally, he had found something worth the focus of his raging mind.  Something worthy of him.   

And if Sherlock found the ship itself interesting, it was nothing compared to the obsession he felt for the one called “Captain” who rode astride it.  The strange sound of his voice when he called out orders, the crisp, sharp cuts of his garments, the aura of command set down his spine.  Everything about “Captain” intrigued him, drew him in, until he could scarcely think of anything else when the ship had passed and he’d, yet again, been forced to return to the palace.  Mycroft must have felt him drifting away, but lectures and threats would do nothing to dissuade him.  Sherlock was enamored.

And so he memorized the ship’s schedule, returning to watch and observe every time it passed.  Every day without it his mind ached in anticipation of the ship’s return, the extensive collection of human curiosities he’d acquired doing little to satiate his desire for the man with the blond hair and strong, human legs. 

When the fated day came that the sea grew angry, surging against a tempest in the skies above, Sherlock had no trouble in finding the frantic ship that held his love.  He watched, grey eyes sharp and calculating, as waves buffeted the vessel, plucking men from her decks in harsh strokes.  “Captain,” though, would not be felled.  He perched, straight and glorious on the head of the ship, his arm hooked around the wheel and rapier in hand.  He was like a god, a creature of bravery and strength.  It was the most beautiful image Sherlock had ever seen.

When the sea finally grew tired of the Captain’s fight and swallowed the ship down whole, Sherlock found him immediately.  He was sinking heavily, limbs unmoving, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around the warm, human body.  The Captain was finally his!  Fierce torrents of the need to possess, to claim, coursed through him, drowning out all other desires.  He felt victorious, sated, and complete. 

The Captain would be added to his collection, where he could observe him and study him and admire.  Forever.  He’d never part from him again.

With a hard, penetrating kiss, Sherlock took what was rightfully his, stealing Captain Watson’s last breath, and realizing too late that the only thing he ever loved was the only thing he could never keep.

—————————————————-

*slinks away*…

(Source: fallen-saintsam)

6,246 notes

voodooling:

Voulez vous coucher avec moi et mon ami, ce soir? ;]

more jamlock/johnlockary content here 

448 notes

holmesishome:

"Do you wanna join my crew?" 10-years-old Sherlock proposed loudly to the locked door of his older brother’s room. He hadn’t seen him in two weeks. He was only out of the room early in the morning, Sherlock knew, but he was fast asleep by then. He tried to stay up, but always…

144 notes

voodooling:


Do you want to play deductions?
Or play crime fighting British spies?
I think some company is overdue
I started talking to
my telescopic slides.
It gets a little lonely
Not having much of friends
I really thought you were mine….

Mycroft?
Please…
I know you’re in there…
I do not have no where else to go…
(x)

Sherlock x Frozen crossover from my livestream! The new episode of Sherlock gave me a lot of Holmes Bros feels so here are some more =) Thank you to everyone who came to watch my first livestream! It was a lo t of fun!
print

voodooling:

Do you want to play deductions?

Or play crime fighting British spies?

I think some company is overdue

I started talking to

my telescopic slides.

It gets a little lonely

Not having much of friends

I really thought you were mine….

Mycroft?

Please…

I know you’re in there…

I do not have no where else to go…

(x)

Sherlock x Frozen crossover from my livestream! The new episode of Sherlock gave me a lot of Holmes Bros feels so here are some more =) Thank you to everyone who came to watch my first livestream! It was a lo t of fun!

print

6,380 notes

voodooling:

voodooling:

I heard you.

please say yes.

38,583 notes