Kids, back in 2012, your aunt Robin wanted to do something more with her life. So she took her love of guns to an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D and fought alongside the Avengers.
Now, your Uncle Barney and I took it pretty hard; she was getting to spend a lot of time with another billionaire playboy, this guy named Tony Stark. Your Uncle Barney almost went crazy when he found out the guy had a metal suit.
“It shoots fireballs, Ted! He looks like a freakin’ storm trooper!”
Then your uncle Barney decided to fight back.
~ when I first saw her I absolutely thought she could never pull of the role, but she did beautifully. She held her own and kicked ass ~
(via zetarrific)
![whereismybluescarf:
fuckyeahsherlockfanart:
fallen-saintsam:
lady-karasu:
random-nexus:
jamanddogtags:
sherlockspeare:
I think I should name this gorgeous fan art “Wow! Horse”. :)
So my darling Saint Sam decided that she had to draw some porn-ish thingy, like Naked John on a Horse And Sherlock With a Riding Crop. She’s so good at it.
Hnnng!
Oh. My.
[Hahaha - this is not my fault. *shifty eyes*]Mini-fic: -Spoils of War-
He had been surprisingly honorable on the field, which was quite rare. Whatever men liked to say in the comfort and safety of their own homes, or pubs, it was fairly uncommon in reality. When your life was truly in danger, when you were under fire, concepts like honor and courage were quickly given over for survival.
Sherlock was told that when he had been captured he didn’t curse, or plead; he saw his own situation, looked at his own options, and accepted it gracefully. Had he continued to resist they would have used leverage against him, but he may still have escaped at the cost of a few of his own men; again, he took the rare path. It was fascinating.
His own men found it less so; frustrated and confused by his lack of reaction – by his choice to act so contrary to the norm. They had stripped him bare, bound and lashed him; still, no reaction- he had borne it all stoically, quietly.
When he arrives before Sherlock – mounted naked on his own horse – he is neither a broken nor beaten man; simply defeated. His head is still held high, regardless of the humiliation and rough treatment visited upon him.
It is not pride or false bravado; he appears to have simply accepted the reality of his situation for what it was – seeing no point in useless action. His breathing is even, controlled; he gives every outward appearance of calm, though there is a subtle, quiet tension to him; a certain bracing for whatever may come next.
Sherlock raises his own riding crop after a moment, and there is no flinch, no fear from the man as it nears his face; he simply closes his eyes in forbearance when the tip is placed under his chin, pushes his head up.
“Captain John Watson…” And then he was watching down the length of the crop. Not the passive look of resignation, but calculating; reading what he could of Sherlock, of this new development. Good. Good. He can feel his lips curve up just slightly, and he really means it when he adds, “A pleasure to meet you.”
John’s eyes flashed with a subtle, banked fire; not diminished in the least by his treatment or position. After a moment he speaks, voice tight, angry, but still polite. “Would you do me the kindness of getting on with it already? Just kill me and be done with it; I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”
“Wrong!” The reply is sharp, instant, and he can feel the smirk grace his own lips as the other man startles; because in his own mind, he really hadn’t- has yet to understand. “You did; you caught my attention.” At this the riding crop is lowered, trailing down the other man’s body – over neck, torso, thigh – before coming to rest at his side again. “-and you will remain in my possession as long as you continue to be interesting.”
And now – here, the control cracks just a little; barest edge of panic showing through his control, cloaked with outrage. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, but I can.” He smirks again, shifting his hold on the reigns, “Spoils of war.”
It will be stimulating, learning what makes this man tick; and he is always looking for a new distraction…
[So, yeah… I had made an off comment last night about wanting to write something for this just so I could legitimately call it ‘Spoils of War’. …and then Random-Nexus became an enabler… *shifty eyes* What? I’m weak!]
This was a request for my friend.
She asked me to draw something like ‘naked John riding a horse & riding crop’
I think she never forget to mention riding crop.(maybe forever?)
Anyway,thank you so much for writing this.
Your fic is so gorgeous.
O_O I AM SPEECHLESS. Both the picture and the fanfic are beautiful…<3
It’s so hot. I am dead. That is all.
~ top of the list of things that amuse Sherlock: JAWN ~](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzud1pZLT31qewsw4o1_1280.jpg)
I think I should name this gorgeous fan art “Wow! Horse”. :)
So my darling Saint Sam decided that she had to draw some porn-ish thingy, like Naked John on a Horse And Sherlock With a Riding Crop. She’s so good at it.
Hnnng!
Oh. My.
[Hahaha - this is not my fault. *shifty eyes*]
Mini-fic: -Spoils of War-He had been surprisingly honorable on the field, which was quite rare. Whatever men liked to say in the comfort and safety of their own homes, or pubs, it was fairly uncommon in reality. When your life was truly in danger, when you were under fire, concepts like honor and courage were quickly given over for survival.
Sherlock was told that when he had been captured he didn’t curse, or plead; he saw his own situation, looked at his own options, and accepted it gracefully. Had he continued to resist they would have used leverage against him, but he may still have escaped at the cost of a few of his own men; again, he took the rare path. It was fascinating.
His own men found it less so; frustrated and confused by his lack of reaction – by his choice to act so contrary to the norm. They had stripped him bare, bound and lashed him; still, no reaction- he had borne it all stoically, quietly.
When he arrives before Sherlock – mounted naked on his own horse – he is neither a broken nor beaten man; simply defeated. His head is still held high, regardless of the humiliation and rough treatment visited upon him.
It is not pride or false bravado; he appears to have simply accepted the reality of his situation for what it was – seeing no point in useless action. His breathing is even, controlled; he gives every outward appearance of calm, though there is a subtle, quiet tension to him; a certain bracing for whatever may come next.
Sherlock raises his own riding crop after a moment, and there is no flinch, no fear from the man as it nears his face; he simply closes his eyes in forbearance when the tip is placed under his chin, pushes his head up.
“Captain John Watson…” And then he was watching down the length of the crop. Not the passive look of resignation, but calculating; reading what he could of Sherlock, of this new development. Good. Good. He can feel his lips curve up just slightly, and he really means it when he adds, “A pleasure to meet you.”
John’s eyes flashed with a subtle, banked fire; not diminished in the least by his treatment or position. After a moment he speaks, voice tight, angry, but still polite. “Would you do me the kindness of getting on with it already? Just kill me and be done with it; I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”
“Wrong!” The reply is sharp, instant, and he can feel the smirk grace his own lips as the other man startles; because in his own mind, he really hadn’t- has yet to understand. “You did; you caught my attention.” At this the riding crop is lowered, trailing down the other man’s body – over neck, torso, thigh – before coming to rest at his side again. “-and you will remain in my possession as long as you continue to be interesting.”
And now – here, the control cracks just a little; barest edge of panic showing through his control, cloaked with outrage. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, but I can.” He smirks again, shifting his hold on the reigns, “Spoils of war.”
It will be stimulating, learning what makes this man tick; and he is always looking for a new distraction…
[So, yeah… I had made an off comment last night about wanting to write something for this just so I could legitimately call it ‘Spoils of War’. …and then Random-Nexus became an enabler… *shifty eyes* What? I’m weak!]
This was a request for my friend.
She asked me to draw something like ‘naked John riding a horse & riding crop’
I think she never forget to mention riding crop.(maybe forever?)
Anyway,thank you so much for writing this.
Your fic is so gorgeous.
O_O I AM SPEECHLESS. Both the picture and the fanfic are beautiful…<3
It’s so hot. I am dead. That is all.
~ top of the list of things that amuse Sherlock: JAWN ~
What if Logos Told the Truth?
A series by Viktor Hertz.
~ what known brands actually stand for ~
(Source: quantumaniac, via armydoctor221b)
that insane cumberbatch interview from this morning reminded me that workpal milkbun requested some more cumbersmaug awhile ago
so here is a dragon
and now i want to draw monster hunterhere is the obligatory creepy one:
~ I will never cease seeing them as Sherlock and JAWN ~
(via sherlockmeplease)
![alicexz:
[ Rift ]
Finished portrait from my sketch of a younger Sherlock. Print available at my Society6 shop.
~ beautiful ~](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ltdol6BUPC1qdctn9o1_500.jpg)
[ Rift ]
Finished portrait from my sketch of a younger Sherlock. Print available at my Society6 shop.
~ beautiful ~
(via janeippo)
~ the avengers and sherlock. Two epitomes of awesome combined together to form EPIC ~
(Source: letmartyhandlethis, via insanitybeach)
~ an RP like no other ~
Behind its shimmering lights, thriving corporate businesses, and metropolitan progress, Arc City first and foremost belongs to the criminals… You get my drift? I thought so. There are but a few things in this city that isn’t owned and controlled by some syndicate. Being caught in the war between rivaling criminal families seems like too much for one city to handle.
You don’t know the half of it; because actually Arc City first and foremost belongs to the stuff of nightmares. Every dark horror, all the things that you stopped believing in when you thought you had grown old enough, do in fact exist. All the monsters that you heard about when you were still a kid, do exist. And the worst part of it all - of them are battling for control of this city, the city that exists half-way between earth, heaven and hell.
Where do you stand amidst this chaotic Urban Underworld?
~ the Order of the Phoenix, the defenders of the weak and the protectors of justice ~
(Source: robinisthebride, via gave-me-a-forever)
Full version of my comic Counting Stars, which I drew for a competition.
~ Friendship. The most wonderful thing in the world. That very special person that makes all the difference ~
(via jellijellz)
~ well the only thing I noticed was the sex. Took awhile for anything else to register. ~
(Source: textsfromjohnandsherlock)
“selena chevalier”
commissioned by harry and completed by mr. reynolds
Harry,
Again, thank you so much. Art is always such a wonderful thing. The way so much is expressed in stroke of brushes and a combination of colors. Art can transport us to different worlds, art is capable of moving millions of people.
Art is also beautiful in its simplicity. The way art captures moments of happiness so well.
- Selena
“Sherlock, you know as well as I do that she is one of the only people we can trust right now. She loves you… and she worries”
~ growing old, with you… ~
(via blacksapphiredragon)
~ this series was so well written.. well executed.. and well casted. I. CAN’T. EVEN. FATHOM. Sherlock has ruined me. ~
(Source: notaudreyparker, via a-damn-good-cumberwhore)
A glimpse
Wanderings of ELVA
SELENA CHEVALIER
~GREAT HALL~
~OWL ME~
~SUBMIT~
Currently Employed in Malfoy Enterprises under Mr. Draco Malfoy
Blood Status: Half Blood
Wand: Aspen with Dragon Heartstring Core. 12 1/2 inches, Unbending.
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~Posts you're looking for?~Wanderings of Selena Chevalier
Selena Chevalier Originals
Harry Potter
Harry Potter Tributes/ Parodies
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