Because fanfiction is sexy

Fanfiction recommendations for BBC Sherlock. Why? Because I can.

An Alphabetic Glossary of LGBTQQIAN Terminology

crimesceneskyping:

This is something I got from the True Colors conference in Storrs, Connecticut. It’s from the “What does that even mean?!” workshop, and is also from the Western Connecticut State Uni GSA. I’m reposting it here for the internet’s benefit. THIS IS NOT MINE. IT IS A RESOURCE FOR YOU.

Agender: an individual who identifies as neither man nor woman

Ally: an individual who works to end oppression personally and professionally thorough support and advocacy of oppressed, in this context LGBTQ individuals.

Androgyny: When a person does not identify as specifically female or specifically male, but somewhere in the middle or neither.

Asexual: The sexual orientation of an individual who is not sexually active, or feels little ot no sexual attraction to other people. 

Attribution: What people assume about someone’s gender when they look at that person (“masculine”, “feminine”, “androgynous”.)

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(Source: clubs.wcsu.edu)

Bitter and So Sweet

so-you-wanna-read-fanfiction:

Fandom: BBC Sherlock.
Author: julieta.
Rating: NC17.
Pairing: Sherlock/John.

Summary: “Oh,” he whispers, sounding almost awed, “you were happy! You were happy she slapped me, you enjoyed seeing me so humiliated.”

“No, no, I didn’t,” John murmurs, affection throbbing in his chest at the wounded amazement in Sherlock’s voice when he whispers, “Filthy liar.”

My Thoughts: Okay, wow. This is absolutely amazing. It’s so beautiful and emotional that it’s teasing along the line of painful. And the sex is just… wow. Just wow. Like if somebody was making love to me like that, I’d be crying the whole time because it would be that wonderful. It doesn’t even matter that John calls Sherlock “baby”. It doesn’t even matter. I’m just over here drowning in my emotions, that’s all. Read this, you will not regret that decision.

phantom-quantum: pornlock: ishipjohnlock247: thescienceofjohnlock: timemachineyeah: twelvebats: concludes: ayamayamayam: do-you-have-a-flag: concludes: weavile: quick speedpaint ‘cause this has been in my head for ages. phone depicted above is Sherlock’s, not John’s. #I imagine there are days where John probably can’t even make the stairs and slumps against the staircase and holds his head in his hands #and wonders why of all the things that had to be taken away from him it’d be Sherlock  jesus chriiiist and some days he texts sherlock without thinking: ‘gone to tesco, what do you need? -JW’ and sherlock’s phone pings from inside his trouser pocket and if john could breathe from the ache in his chest he would scream stop it no stop And then, on good days (when he can stand to think about him and all the good memories they had), John calls Sherlock’s cell just to hear his voice before he leaves a voicemail. It’s a ridiculous sounding message, but so inherently Sherlock, spoken in that bored and exasperated tone John knew too well: “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Don’t bother leaving a message if it isn’t pertinent to a case.” And, sometimes, hearing his voice would be enough for John. Enough to make him smile and laugh, and hang up and go about with his day. Sometimes, though, he’d have to leave a voicemail. Just a “Hey, Sherlock, I’m not going to be at the flat tonight, just wanted to let you know” or even “Mrs. Hudson said you shot her wall again. I’ll let you take care of it this time.” And, just once, years after Sherlock’s death, he said, “I love you.” Once was enough. OMG UGLIEST CRYING John stops blogging. He can’t see the point of it; nothing ever happens to him anymore - he’s just staying alive. But the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones through sheer bloody-minded placidity, and John fills the inbox of Sherlock’s phone with inane little messages and expects nothing back. With: “How many times can I get into a row with the chip and pin machine before they ban me? -JW”, or “Triple murder in the papers today. You’d have loved it. -JW”, or simply “Bloody raining again. -JW” - hundreds of texts about everything and nothing at the same time. And John stops blogging. But he never stops talking about his day. JFC AS IF THE WOUND ISN’T FRESH ALREADY! why are you doing this to me  all my brainings are crying mushes now no why did you type any of that And then one day, while John is in Tesco ambling around with a half empty basket, the phone, Sherlock’s phone buzzes inside his pocket. He stops dead, eyes widening and pulls it out. Before looking he stills himself and reminds himself that it’s probably just a wrong number or a mistake of some kind, maybe even a message he sent himself that has been delayed for some reason, it happens. He sighs and turns the phone over, running his fingers over it like it’s some kind of precious object. The screen is lit, telling him there’s a new message, he pushes the button to open it. Suddenly stiff fingers drop the shopping basket, sending it contents scattering across the vinyl floor. The phone slips from his other hand, bouncing on the hard surface and the screen cracks as once heavy feet are suddenly light in their hurried flight from the store. The phone lies broken but still on and readable, the message reads *I’m sorry John, come home and don’t forget the milk. -SH* he can be heard saying through his tears “no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie” (via imgTumble) TEARSI’m also thinking about Sherlock’s reaction to all these messages. HOW HE WOULD LIKE TO RUSH OVER 221B, GROSSLY SOBBING LIKE THE 5 YEARS OLD HE IS. 

phantom-quantum:

pornlock:

ishipjohnlock247:

thescienceofjohnlock:

timemachineyeah:

twelvebats:

concludes:

ayamayamayam:

do-you-have-a-flag:

concludes:

weavile:

quick speedpaint ‘cause this has been in my head for ages. phone depicted above is Sherlock’s, not John’s.

#I imagine there are days where John probably can’t even make the stairs and slumps against the staircase and holds his head in his hands #and wonders why of all the things that had to be taken away from him it’d be Sherlock 

jesus chriiiist and some days he texts sherlock without thinking: ‘gone to tesco, what do you need? -JW’ and sherlock’s phone pings from inside his trouser pocket and if john could breathe from the ache in his chest he would scream

stop it

no

stop

And then, on good days (when he can stand to think about him and all the good memories they had), John calls Sherlock’s cell just to hear his voice before he leaves a voicemail. It’s a ridiculous sounding message, but so inherently Sherlock, spoken in that bored and exasperated tone John knew too well: “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Don’t bother leaving a message if it isn’t pertinent to a case.”

And, sometimes, hearing his voice would be enough for John. Enough to make him smile and laugh, and hang up and go about with his day.

Sometimes, though, he’d have to leave a voicemail. Just a “Hey, Sherlock, I’m not going to be at the flat tonight, just wanted to let you know” or even “Mrs. Hudson said you shot her wall again. I’ll let you take care of it this time.”

And, just once, years after Sherlock’s death, he said,

“I love you.”

Once was enough.

OMG UGLIEST CRYING

John stops blogging. He can’t see the point of it; nothing ever happens to him anymore - he’s just staying alive. But the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones through sheer bloody-minded placidity, and John fills the inbox of Sherlock’s phone with inane little messages and expects nothing back. With: “How many times can I get into a row with the chip and pin machine before they ban me? -JW”, or “Triple murder in the papers today. You’d have loved it. -JW”, or simply “Bloody raining again. -JW” - hundreds of texts about everything and nothing at the same time. And John stops blogging. But he never stops talking about his day.

JFC AS IF THE WOUND ISN’T FRESH ALREADY!

why are you doing this to me 

all my brainings are crying mushes now

no why did you type any of that

And then one day, while John is in Tesco ambling around with a half empty basket, the phone, Sherlock’s phone buzzes inside his pocket. He stops dead, eyes widening and pulls it out. Before looking he stills himself and reminds himself that it’s probably just a wrong number or a mistake of some kind, maybe even a message he sent himself that has been delayed for some reason, it happens.

He sighs and turns the phone over, running his fingers over it like it’s some kind of precious object. The screen is lit, telling him there’s a new message, he pushes the button to open it.

Suddenly stiff fingers drop the shopping basket, sending it contents scattering across the vinyl floor. The phone slips from his other hand, bouncing on the hard surface and the screen cracks as once heavy feet are suddenly light in their hurried flight from the store.

The phone lies broken but still on and readable, the message reads *I’m sorry John, come home and don’t forget the milk. -SH*

he can be heard saying through his tears “no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie”

(via imgTumble)

TEARS
I’m also thinking about Sherlock’s reaction to all these messages. HOW HE WOULD LIKE TO RUSH OVER 221B, GROSSLY SOBBING LIKE THE 5 YEARS OLD HE IS. 

cumberqueen:

sashkash:

“Shut up, Mycroft! You won’t understand!

Touch me, save my life
Come on and turn me on
I’m too young to die
Come on and turn me on
Turn me on
Turn me on
Turn me on
Turn me on
Turn me on”

Can’t you see I’m having Minaj feels, bro

DEAD

(via geothebio)

alicexz: Commissioned painting. One of my favorite recent works, I think. :) I’ll be doing a very limited edition print run of this piece to start off my personal print shop. They’ll be gallery quality inkjet prints, signed, numbered, 13”x19” size and run about $80 USD. E-mail me if you’d like to reserve one in advance. Otherwise, there will be an announcement in the future when they’re available!

alicexz:

Commissioned painting. One of my favorite recent works, I think. :)

I’ll be doing a very limited edition print run of this piece to start off my personal print shop. They’ll be gallery quality inkjet prints, signed, numbered, 13”x19” size and run about $80 USD. E-mail me if you’d like to reserve one in advance. Otherwise, there will be an announcement in the future when they’re available!

(via twiceibeggedformercy)