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ceruleanmindpalace · 2 days ago
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Inktober No. 15 - Sweet
  Ink on brown paper, A3
 Prompt from @bluebellofbakerstreet 's wonderful list.
I am flattered if you retweet, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use without my written permission.
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A Comprehensive Guide to Sherlockian Abbreviations
It has come to my attention that some of you poor lads have no idea what us Sherlockians are referring to.
So, I’m going to do my best to explain! I’ll start simple, so don’t worry.
Johnlock: A fictional ship between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. If you don’t know what this is, I don’t know if I can help you.
Moftiss: An amalgamation of the names Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. Used to refer to the writers of BBC Sherlock in unison.
Sherlock Meta: A theory based on careful analysis of an episode/scene of BBC Sherlock. Fan-made.
TJLC: The Johnlock Conspiracy. It’s a giant conspiracy theory involving thousands of metas and such about people who are convinced that Johnlock is the endgame of the show.
TRMoJaS: This reminds me of John and Sherlock. Used by fans when stumbling upon a piece of media that triggers a recollection of the titular characters.
The Secret Episode: A supposedly filmed but unreleased episode of Series Four (?). Highly unreliable, likely a figment of hopeful imaginations.
The Purple Shirt of Sex: A purple button-up that is sinfully tight and parodied, as a result of the buttons always looking like they’re about to pop off. Seriously, go look up Ben in a purple shirt. You won’t regret it.
Tarmac Hell: A scene from His Last Vow in which Sherlock aborts a supposed love confession to John to instead tell him that ‘Sherlock is actually a girl’s name’. Hell for everyone involved.
ACD Canon: Events that happened in the Original Sir Arthur Conan Doyle publications of ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’. Often referenced in metas.
The Elephant in the Room: A supposed euphemism for Johnlock. Also a popular meta in which elephants are referenced throughout the series of BBC Sherlock.
Character Mirror: A minor or major character meant to simulate another character in actions to recall a certain scene for the audience. (Ex. Sholto/Sherlock, Irene/Sherlock, etc.)
[Sebastian] Moran: A sniper (originally from ACD Canon) referenced often in Sherlock metas, and Moriarty’s right hand man. John mirror. Not included in BBC Sherlock, but a popular part of fandom culture. Often depicted as in an unhealthy relationship with his boss, Jim Moriarty.
The Gay Bar Scene: A deleted scene from BBC Sherlock. John and Sherlock go to a gay bar for entirely heterosexual reasons.
Harriet ‘Harry’ [Watson]: An alcoholic, and also John’s elder sister. Referenced in BBC Sherlock. Often portrayed as being either divorced or married to her wife, Clara.
Victor [Trevor]: Sherlock’s childhood best friend who was murdered by his sister, Eurus. Revealed in TFP. Alternative name is ‘Redbeard’.
TPLoSH: Short for ‘The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes’. It’s a movie in which Sherlock Holmes is canonically gay. It’s often talked about by Moftiss.
Granada Holmes: A seven season Sherlock Holmes TV show starring Jeremy Brett. Many find that Holmes and Watson are essentially married in this series, so a few fans have made the fandom switch to this show.
Bisexual Lighting: In which John Watson is bathed in purple, pink, and blue lighting while in a bar. Questionable music plays.
ASiP: A Study in Pink. Episode one, series one of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Jeff Hope and Moriarty.
TBB: The Blind Banker. Episode two, series one of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Shan and M.
TGG: The Great Game. Episode three, series one of BBC Sherlock. Villain is Jim Moriarty.
ASiB: A Scandal in Belgravia. Episode one, series two of BBC Sherlock. Villain is Irene Adler.
THoB: The Hounds of Baskerville. Episode two, series two of BBC Sherlock. Villain is Dr. Bob Frankland.
TRF: The Reichenbach Fall. Episode three, series two of BBC Sherlock. Villain is Jim Moriarty.
TEH: The Empty Hearse. Episode one, series three of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Lord Moran and C.A.M.
TSoT: The Sign of Three. Episode two, series three of BBC Sherlock. Villains are C.A.M., Mayfly Man, and (in my opinion) Mary.
The Stag Night: A sub-class of TSoT. In which Sherlock and John do unspeakably homoerotic things that reek of unresolved sexual tension. The tension is not relieved. They get arrested. Villains are the writers, for queerbaiting their fans.
HLV: His Last Vow. Episode three, series three of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Charles Augustus Magnussen and Mary Watson (Morstan? Rosamund Mary?).
TAB: The Abominable Bride. Episode four, series three of BBC Sherlock. (Originally aired as a TV movie that won a Primetime Emmy.) Also known as the ‘Gay Victorian Fever Dream’ to avid fans. Villains are Emelia Ricoletti, Sir Eustace Carmichael, Jim Moriarty, Mary Watson (Morstan? Rosamund Mary?).
TST: The Six Thatchers. Episode one, series four of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Vivian Norbury, Ajay, and Mary Watson (Morstan? Rosamund Mary?).
TLD: The Lying Detective. Episode two, series four of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Culverton Smith and John Watson.
TFP: The Final Problem. Episode three, series four of BBC Sherlock. Villains are Eurus Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Jim Moriarty, and Moftiss.
[Will add more if necessary or requested.]
Hope this helped any confused fans/users!
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thelostsmiles · a day ago
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Benedict Cumberbatch & Claire Foy start promo for “The Electrical Life of Louis Wain”
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ceruleanmindpalace · 20 hours ago
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Inktober No. 17 - Sleepy
  Ink on brown paper, A4
 From @bluebellofbakerstreet's wonderful prompt list.
 I am flattered if you retweet, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use without my written permission.
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tree-leaves-blue · 2 days ago
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No words...[X]
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The London Eye
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Reader x Sherlock
Summary: Y/N has a problem; she’s in love with Sherlock Holmes. She’s decided to bury her feelings, but we all know that nothing gets past the consulting detective and his deductions. But can he be hiding something himself?
A tour of one of England’s greatest landmarks might just reveal a couple secrets... after all, love is in the air, right?
Requested by: Anonymous
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“But Sherlock, it’s for tourists!”
“Perhaps. But the view from on high is spectacular nonetheless.”
The sky was scarlet above, and a cool breeze blew from the East as Sherlock and Y/N stood beneath the great wheel. He turned to her smiling, and offered out a gloved hand. “Care to touch the clouds with me?” he asked.
30 Minutes Prior...
“I cannot make speeches... If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”
Y/N smiled sadly at Jane Austen’s prose. She could relate to that passage far more than she’d care to admit. With a sigh, she closed her book, and tossed it onto a nearby table.
There was no denying it anymore. Y/N was hopelessly and devastatingly in love with Sherlock Holmes. Granted, she’d never actually been in love before, but what else could her newfound affection for the consulting detective be?
She loved him, of that she was sure. The only issue was going about telling him.
Y/N had contemplated admitting her feelings in a straightforward manner. Standing tall, head held high as she told him just how deeply her affections ran. Unfortunately, this was more of a fantasy than a strategy. After all, Sherlock Holmes had a reputation for being the least emotionally inclined man to ever walk the streets of London. He’d think her mad for pouring her heart out, and she just couldn’t bear to risk their friendship over something so trivial.
Y/N was running a hand through her hair in exasperation when her mobile phone buzzed. She clicked on the notification and immediately quirked a brow. It was a message from Sherlock.
The London Eye,
you’re needed.
Be quick, and don’t keep me waiting.
Y/N pondered for a moment. According to Sherlock, The London Eye was an ‘over glorified tourist trap’. What could he possibly have planned there? It couldn’t be a case, for if it were, he’d have called John instead.
“Curse you Watson for ever introducing me to the man...” Y/N muttered sarcastically as she typed out a brisk response.
I’ll be there.
Hailing a cab as we speak.
She paused for a moment, then added something for good measure.
You’re an enigma,
Sherlock Holmes.
“And yet, I love you...” she whispered sadly.
Y/N looked into Sherlock’s eyes, and smiled at the slight humour than shone within them. With a sigh of defeat, she took his hand, and let him lead her onto the empty capsule.
The smooth leather of his gloves felt cool against her skin, and Y/N hesitated for a moment before letting go of his grip.
“So,” she asked shakily. “Care to explain what we’re doing on the London Eye?” She walked forwards a few steps, looking around before turning to Sherlock and raising a brow. “And where is everyone? This is a major landmark and somehow we’re the only ones here. The Eye is typically buzzing with people.”
Sherlock gave a breathy laugh before walking the length of the car and looking out the glass fixtures.
“Maintenance. As for our admission, the wheel’s owner owes me a favour. One might say there are certain quirks to solving embezzlement cases.”
“Well, this is quite the quirk,” Y/N said with a laugh.
“Indeed,” he muttered distractedly.
Sherlock gave her a forced smile before turning on his heel, arms crossed behind his back.
Y/N pondered what to say next. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off with Sherlock. A certain lacklustre in his voice, a dullness to his mannerisms that was making her nervous.
“Sherlock, why did you ask me here?”
The consulting detective ignored the question, and waved Y/N forth to his corner of the car instead.
“Look outside,” he told her. “What do you see?”
“The river Thames... and not much else. The view is obstructed.”
Sherlock smiled to himself wistfully. “You know, they say that once you reach the London Eye’s very top, you can almost see forever... or at least as far as Windsor Castle.”
“Forever sounds nice.” Y/N answered back uncertainly. There was definitely a hint of melancholy to Sherlock’s tone.
“Perhaps,” he said lowly. “Though I suppose forever is an awfully long time when you’re on your own.”
Neither said a word after that. The only sound between them was the muffled noise of the London traffic outside. What’s going on with him? Y/N thought. He seems so... dejected.
Sherlock stood stoically. His stance so rigid he seemed almost statuesque.
“You’re in love, aren’t you?” he asked suddenly.
Y/N felt her heart lurch at the condemning question.
Either I admit that I love him, and see it through come what may, or I deny it, and spare myself the inevitable pain of rejection...
She chose the latter. “No, of course not. Not at all. I’m definitely not in love,” she sputtered nervously.
Sherlock looked at her and lifted a brow in disbelief.
“You’re being dishonest. It’s obvious you’re harbouring feelings for someone. I can tell by the thin sheen of perspiration above your upper lip and by the clenching of your fist that you’re attempting to deceive me.” Sherlock began circling Y/N, his eyes never leaving her own as he focused on any further indications of dishonesty.
She stared after him guiltily. “You’re crazy,” she mumbled.
“Not so, Just a little unwell,” he quipped cynically as he continued pacing a vicious circle around her. Y/N could hear a sharpness to his voice, and wondered why anger seemed to be embalming his deductions.
“I’ve noticed behavioural changes within you for the past four weeks or so.” Y/N felt her heart race. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit her feelings to him.
“You’ve taken to reading romantic novellas and listening to softer, lighter music as of late. You’re distracted more often, and I often catch you staring off into the middle distance with an odd smile on your face.”
Sherlock stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Y/N, his tall frame towering over her.
“You’re happier now, that much is clear,” he said darkly. “You feel hopeful, dreamy, dare I say intoxicated? You’re most definitely in love.”
Y/N could feel her eyes start to sting. “You couldn’t possibly know that,” she snapped.
His cold stare surveyed her critically. “I know it to be true.”
“Sherlock, stop prying,” she pleaded, voice cracking from strain.
His eyes softened as he sighed and turned his gaze downward. “I know it to be true,” he began in a low voice. “Because it is precisely how I feel each time I look at you.”
Sherlock looked up, his eyes glassy. “So pray tell, Y/N. Who is the lucky man that has stolen your heart, because I envy him.”
Y/N let out a small gasp and put her hand over her mouth in quiet surprise. After all her worrying and insecurity, the man she loved had just admitted to loving her himself.
Sherlock himself looked rather offput by his own confession, and his cheeks turned a violent shade of crimson as he tried to take back his brief moment of vulnerability.
“I never meant to-”
“It’s you.” She whispered, cutting off any pretexts. “It’s you, Sherlock Holmes. It’s always been you.”
Sherlock’s eyes brightened, and he chuckled to himself in disbelief. Francesca watched as he ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.
“I never imagined...” His words trailed off as he struggled to articulate a response. “You couldn’t possibly...” Y/N giggled at his struggle to enunciate. She had never known him to falter in expressing himself until this moment.
“Never mind then,” he sighed in exasperation. Without wasting another word, Sherlock took hold of Y/N’s shoulders, and enveloped her in a deep kiss. It was dreamy, hopeful, intoxicating. She smiled against his lips, and held tightly onto his lapels.
They were still kissing when a jolt passed through the car, and they felt themselves elevating off the ground.
“Sherlock, look!” Y/N cried, breaking away from his embrace for a moment.
Sherlock smiled, and took her hand in his own. “Come see,” he whispered, leading her to the glass.
The London Eye had began its revolution, and with every passing moment, the city below seemed to be getting smaller.
Y/N felt Sherlock move behind her and place his arms around her. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed contentedly.
The sky had darkened and bright stars had began dotting the large expanse. Thousands of lights flashed throughout the city below and the soft lull of traffic was soon silenced as the car ascended higher up into the clouds.
“Are you ready?” Sherlock asked in a low whisper, his soft breath tickling Y/N’s ear.
“Ready for what?” she asked turning up to look at him.
He kissed her gently on the forehead before turning back to the view outside.
“For forever.” He said with a smile.
Tagging: @twisted-monster
If you liked this, try reading Not You Watson, I Meant Watson!
Okay so, to whoever sent in this request, I really hope this fic suited you! It really was a great idea, I mean what’s better than Sherlock deducing his way into your heart??? I’ve always wanted to visit the Eye, so this was totally self indulgent. For the record, my London Eye knowledge is limited to Internet research, so sorry if some details were totally off!!
If you’d like to be tagged in future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments!!
Don’t forget, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!
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just benedict cumberbatch cumberwalking in the cumberstreets wearing his cumberjacket surrounded by cumberpeople and cumbercars with his cumberhands in the cumberpockets of his cumberjacket but WHERE ARE HIS CUMBERLIPS?????
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jojoqin · 2 days ago
I really feel like we'll get a new trailer for No Way Home at the end of this month. Hang in there simps we're almost there.
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vi-trying-to-survive · 2 days ago
Cooking Chaos
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Stephen Strange x f!Reader
Warnings: None this is just fluffy fluff and bad cooking skills :’)
Summary: Stephen and (Y/N)’s cooking date did not turn out how she thought it would, for worse more so than better
A/N: I hope you guys like this one even if it’s a little short :) 💖 Assignments have been a little crazy right now for me in uni so updates have been a little slow :’) But thanks for reading still :) 💖
When (Y/N) suggested that her and Stephen try a cooking date, she had figured that they were both semi-capable adults, able to cook a meal without burning down their kitchen, but now standing in the smoke-filled room, she would have to say otherwise. However, it didn't start all bad.
The light of the evening sun shone through the large, airy windows, painting the room with a soft yellow tint, as (Y/N) rans her fingers across the smooth, cool marble counter, reaching up for the slim, fragile stem of two wine glasses. Pouring the crimson liquid into the rounded bottom of the glass, she tentatively set them down, eyeing them for a few minutes before slipping one into her hands, held delicately in between her fingers, sipping as she waited for her boyfriend to come down, taking much longer than he should, considering the fact that they never actually left the sanctum.
Setting the glass down with a soft clink, she smoothened out her skirt, having wanted to dress up a little for their date, having picked out a simple black dress, comfortable and classic she told herself. Hearing the sound of soft footsteps growing louder, she leaned her elbows across the polished surface of the counter, peering to see the man in question, knowing it could be no one else.
She smiled as he made his way towards her, doing a little twirl, earning a giggle from her, before wrapping his arms around her waist, tugging her frame closer to his, to capture her lips for a sweet kiss, as her hands intertwined behind his neck. Pulling back, she raised a hand to cup his cheek, admiring him, "You look nice love", not having seen him in a proper suit in sometime, enjoying the view a little too much. "As do you (Y/N)", he responded, crystal blue eyes sparkling at the very sight of her, leaning down to peck her forehead softly.
Taking the more full glass in his hands, he turned to face her, resting his weight against the counter, watching her attentively as he tasted the drink, keen on its richness and the warmth it brought, flowing down his throat. "So, what are we making ?", he questioned, raising an eyebrow, he stared at her from the edge of his glass, completely enraptured by her, the way her hair fell over her eyes, head turned down to look at her phone, eyes moving rapidly as they read the recipe, expertly balancing the glass of wine, swirling around the scarlet-colored liquid.
His voice snapping her back into reality, she tilted her head up to look at him, lips curving up into a grin as she replied, “Well, according to this recipe we’re making garlic butter chicken”, moving closer to wrap an arm around his torso, laying her head on his chest, sighing contently at the steady sound of his heart. He responded by resting his head on hers, enveloping her in his arms, before lamenting in a teasing voice, “And when are we going to stop procrastinating and start cooking ?”. Pulling back slightly to fixate her gaze on him, she feigned offense, lightly punching him on the arm, biting down hard on her bottom lip, fighting the smile that was threatening to spread across her face.
Shoving her smart phone into his palms, she pushed herself away from the warmth of his arms, turning towards the fridge, a small gust of cold air tickling the exposed skin of her neck, as her hands reached out, grabbing the various ingredients as Stephen read them out. Setting down the foods on the counter, she turned to face him, giving him a perplexed look, "We can do this right ?", the steps suddenly seeming harder than it should be. Rolling his eyes playfully, he gave her a confident smirk, "Darling, I'm was a neurosurgeon before this and we're both masters in the mystic arts", he reassured, waving a hand in the air, trails of glittering auburn sparks leaving the tips of his fingers, "I'm sure we can cook an edible meal".
~ Half An Hour Later ~
"Oh my- What- Stephen why is the sauce turning black ?", she exclaimed, threading her fingers in the thick locks that lay messily over her shoulders, now making her skin feel hot and sticky with sweat and stress, as she continued to watch the chicken and the sauce covering it continue to darken until it became a charcoal color in a matter of minutes, "Did you read the recipe right ?".
Spinning her body around, she watched as the sorcerer gave the oven a stern look, forehead creased and eyebrows furrowed together angrily, as his fingers reached out to turn the reflective, shining knobs on the oven off, radiating heat, small drops of salty sweat forming on his skin. Oblivious to her previous dilemma, he looked up sending her a nervous smile, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck, “I guess we’re not having potatoes tonight”, coming out more hesitant than he’d have liked.
Her eyes went wide, momentarily forgetting the situation occurring on the stove, throwing her hands in the air, “How did we ruin roast potatoes”, she frowned, swiping her palm across her eyes in frustration, moving them apart a little to peek at him, “Isn’t it supposed to be the easiest recipe in the book ?”.
Tilting her head up to look at him, she expected a reassuring comment to lift her spirits, but was unfortunately met with a hard shove, lucky to have caught herself on the sharp edge of the kitchen counter. Turning to give him a pointed look, she felt her heart begin to race at the sight of fire enveloping the already charred iron pan, promptly reducing the flames to burnt nothings at the bottom of the stove.
Fixating his gaze on her, he gave her a lopsided grin, “Maybe we should just get takeout”, earning a boisterous laugh from her, clutching her sides tightly as she took a few steps closer to him, collapsing into his arms, making him burst into laughter too.
Curled in bed under the sheets, (Y/N) clutched her box of takeout carefully in her hands, snuggling closer into Stephen’s side, their feet tangled up, enjoying the warmth he radiated, heating up her entire body. Turning her attention from the food to the man next to her, she gently curled her fingers around his, rubbing circles into his skin, as he leaned his head down to gaze deeply into her eyes, as she smiled lovingly at him, “I love you”. Mirroring her expression, he responded almost instinctively, “I love you too”, promptly morphing into one of mock seriousness, “But please, let’s give it some time before we cook again”. Bursting out into giggles, she fell over into his laps, still careful to not spill any on the white sheets, as he beamed endearingly down at her.
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