⏳ ·˚ ༘ 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐎𝐍

:: omfgyesplstodayisabouttowreckwatty 

*  /     c’mere  ,,    i’m  giving  you  all  the  smooches
            
            (  @BLOODIEDSOLDIER  )

(  @REICHENSFALLS  )
            
            * /    like  you  even  have  to  ask  <3

(  @emeraldeyedblonde  )
            
            * /    that’s  really  cool  too  !!    i  think  it’s  interesting  how  we  all  had  such  different  starts  ,    yet  we  all ended  up  here  haha

@USUALLYSUBTEXT 
            
            //I started because I used to see people role playing on a fashion app called Ployvore years ago, and it seemed interesting, so I tried it. 

(  @adamnedsoldier  )
            
            * /    that’s  so  cool  ,    though  !!!    i  started  because  i  saw  an  instagram  account  like  that  and  it  was  linked  to  a  wp  account  and  i  was  inspired  ,    so  maybe  i  have  you  to  thank  for  everything    —    

@USUALLYSUBTEXT   * 
            
                just  a  bit  of  it  .   it  could  have  been  worse  ,  i suppose  . 

(  @consultingheirs  )
            
            you’ve  surely  inherited  sherlock’s  stubbornness  ,    haven’t  you  ?

@USUALLYSUBTEXT   * 
            
             telling  people  not  to  worry  usually  makes  them worry  ,  you  know  .  might  as  well  tell  me  now  ,  don’t you  think  ? 

right   ,    sure   you    didn't    .     oh    no   ,    i'm    turing   into    my    grandmum   -   send  help    .    

(  @sweetcons  )
            
            well  ,    yes  ,    but    —    never  mind  .    thank  you  .    but  seriously  ,    i  didn’t  shave  for  sherlock  .

sure   they   have    .     wait   -   try   something   different   ??     john    ,    before   this   all  happened   ,   you   didn't   have    a     mustache    .   i    don't    think   its     a   ... drastic    change    .    but   you   look   nice   ,   trust   me    . 

@USUALLYSUBTEXT 
            
            He chuckled softly and walked towards him, and sighed in amusement, gripping the knife tightly as he watched him quietly.
            
            //All good! :D

(  @RussianStabbyBoi  )
            
            “they’ve got bigger problems than some bloke with vague threats and his father’s hand-me-down hunting tools, sorry.” john glanced about the room, noting to his disappointment that there wasn’t much of usefulness. he curled his fingers around his restraints as much as he could manage, wrists starting to sting.
            
            * /    i’m  so  sorry  this  is  so  delayed  !!

@USUALLYSUBTEXT 
            
            "You have friends, John, Ive been doing a little search about," he mused, as he looked at the blade. "Holmes, the police department even," he chuckled softly.

working with her was not entirely painful, despite her seemingly desperate advances. those were tolerable. it was the moments when she would bring up john that wedged under sherlock's skin the most. she seemed to delight in setting him off, referring to him as a ' ticking time bomb ' that would eventually explode if he didn't find his way back to london (specifically, back to john) sooner rather than later. she'd casually mention john's blog, how she'd garnered the impression that john had liked sherlock even more than she had, and that conversation the pair had in the abandoned warehouse. more than once, she'd referred to john as ' jealous. ' and more often than not, sherlock had acclimated to tuning out the sound of her voice.
            
            sherlock grazed his fingertip along the rim of his teacup, not quite bringing the hot liquid to his lips yet. his eyes narrowed, though he refused to meet john's stare. he had never understood the resentment john felt towards the woman, which had bothered him, as he was not used to / not understanding / something. human emotion may have been his one blind spot, but surely this couldn't trace back to sentiment. he had never permitted himself to presume that. but now, after so many pitifully edged remarks from the woman regarding john's possible ' jealousy, ' it struck a specific cord. 
            
            finally, sherlock looked up, schooling his features into an impassive expression as he held john's gaze. piercing blue eyes stared back at him, aware enough that sherlock felt like he was being read as easily as he constantly read everyone else. unsettling, really. "i had no other choice." it came out flippant, distracted, instead of defensive. slightly, sherlock tilted his head, letting out a low hum. "i wonder . . ." he paused for a quiet intake of breath. / just ask, / mycroft's voice taunted internally, / or are you simply too scared? / he set his jaw. "you almost sound . . . jealous. that she knew." a beat. "or over something else, perhaps," he mused.

it was almost too simple to pretend that everything remained peaceful and normal when john was lingering around at baker street so much lately. there had been evenings where he would doze off in front of the telly, and sherlock would glance over from his latest experiment, the microscope suddenly forgotten as nostalgia overcame him. previously, he had always been capable of divorcing himself from all emotion, but when john watson was involved, his pressure point was pushed. hard. he knew it was merely an illusion of the past comfort they had - obviously things would never return to normal, despite sherlock's initial assumption that everything had remained in a perpetual stalemate. just this once, he had been wrong.
            
            and of course, it had been over the absolute most important part of his life.
            
            there had been too many evenings, during the period sherlock was intent upon untangling moriarty's web, that john watson had come to mind. during those rare moments of rest, sherlock would pour over old memories, stringing together imagery from his mind palace until it felt like he was back at 221b with john. back with the crackling fireplace, warm cups of tea, bad telly on low volume, and the sound of john's painfully slow tapping against his laptop keyboard. he would allow himself to remember the sound of john's voice, from his frustrated shouts during their little ' domestics ' to his soft murmurs late into the rainy evenings. even when london was thousands of miles away, john still remained a part of sherlock - the steady beating pulse in his wrist, still thudding even after his fall.
            
            being removed from that reverie, of course, was rarely pleasant. but it was inevitable. sherlock could not allow himself to get too distracted, as he was not only risking his own life, but john's, lestrade's, and mrs. hudson's, as well. eventually, that was where the woman had proven herself useful. against all odds. she was clever, sharp, and intent on providing her worth.

(  @REICHENSFALLS  )
            
            john was a soldier, though, and in the army, you were told to move on. there was nothing more to do and letting yourself stay in one place could kill you — move on. so eventually, that’s what he had done.
            
            but sherlock was alive and despite his initial reactions, john had come running right back to his side. in some ways, he despised himself for it — sherlock’s protector, his caretaker, his little /pet/. things were different this time, however, and he would’ve been lying if he pretended not to notice it. he knew sherlock did. they danced around each other more, in a way, but john also would’ve been lying if he said it wasn’t a bit relieving. there were times where the weight of all they’d left unsaid felt suffocating, but surely that was better than the alternative, wasn’t it?
            
            john sipped pointedly at his tea, ignoring how it burned his tongue. some things certainly hadn’t changed, but once again, perhaps that was for the better. “you never are. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat,” he countered. it wasn’t entirely fair for him to be so severely rubbed the wrong way from the mere mention of the woman, he knew that; especially not after how close they’d apparently become during sherlock’s “death”. the sting was still there regardless, and he couldn’t seem to choke it down no matter how hard he tried. whether or not sherlock had caught onto that yet — well, that wasn’t really his fault. “you were /dead/, sherlock. i thought she was too.”