The Cat From the Kimono by Nancy Peña
Our story begins in Japan, where a young woman, the daughter of a silk mill owner, adores her crimson kimono adorned with soft, purring black cats. However, when the weaver’s love for the maiden goes unreciprocated, jealousy leads to the woman's demise and the escape of one of the black cats.
What follows is an adventure that takes the black cat on a journey across the world. The cat's path often intersects with Sherlock Holmes and Alice (you know whom I'm talking about), adding a delightful and dark twist. As the cat becomes a figure of folklore and legend, readers are transported into a world where the line between reality and imagination blurs, much like the intricate patterns of a kimono.
The book is dark; it really is. The beauty comes from Nancy Peña’s illustrations, especially when talking about the Japanese tale. And one should really be sure to read the trigger warnings before getting into it, especially when it comes to the drug use. Sherlock Holmes uses cocaine quite openly in the book, and Watson has to forcibly stop him when he hallucinates (which may just be the cat messing with him) that the cat is changing shape and smiling at him. Alice eats a mushroom and goes on an adventure with the cat with her neck becoming long and thin, quite like that of a snake. There is also a small allusion to the tale of the Prophet Jonah, who was swallowed by a whale (although the cats response to this is its own).
The graphic novel is one worth reading and collecting. In an age where I've personally become a bit bored of really ugly or HD graphic novels, this one was a welcome change. At 105 pages it's also quite a short read, that can serve as a welcome break from the drudgery of life.
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Watching everyone talk about people making Kit Connor come out so that he would be "valid enough" to play his role as Nick and to go to Pride parades, and it makes me all so sick but not just because it happened to him, but because it happened again.
We did it again.
We did it to Becky Albertalli.
We did it to Neil Patrick Harris.
We did it to Keiynan Lonsdale. (edit: thank u, @under-done-studios)
We did it to Harry Styles, Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, who cares if they actually came out as LGBTQ+. As Kit said, that's not the point of the show.
Hell, there have been so many times when people will get onto live TV and even say some shit "in support/defense" for someone that isn't out and should have the right to choose that time (if they choose to bring it to the public at all) on their own.
This keeps happening.
Y'all, Heartstopper was created by Alice Oseman. This is a story about two boys falling in love, their relationship, and the relationships that surround them. There is nothing about this that's queerbaiting. Nick Nelson is cannon confirmed bisexual in the graphic novel, has been for years, something Oseman themself has expressed is very important to her. Nick Nelson is a bisexual character created by an artist/writer who understands the care necessary for such a character, made with producers and other actors that also understand and respect the care that goes into this and all other sexualities/genders/romantic identities involved in the show/novel(s).
You wanna see real queerbaiting? Watch BBC Sherlock that spent part of their actual budget to make fun of their devoted fans and the theories they'd come up with, teased them with "your boyfriend" jokes for 4 seasons, and had the MC almost kiss the main villain and have the most idiotic and mocked character of the show call that idea absolutely insane and below even him.
don't even get me started on Voltron: Legendary Defender, Teen Wolf, Supernatural... Like, if u wanna be pissed there are OPTIONS
That's queerbaiting. Leave these people alone for God's sake. Why the hell can we still not learn from this?????
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Illustrious Client is THE Sherlock Holmes story of all time:
-Holmes and Watson visit the time honored gay cruising site of the Turkish baths. Watson utterly fails at seduction
-suave Eastern European villain whose mustache is described by Holmes as “the antennae of an insect”
-Watson says, incredibly suggestively, “I am here to be used” and Holmes tells him to go study Chinese pottery. Watson does not complain or ask questions because he has “learned the wisdom of obedience” 😳
-Holmes gets beaten up and Watson cares for him, a memorable entry in the annals of ACD being the reigning king of hurt/comfort
-“Don’t look so scared, Watson.”
-Watson is given a false persona and a solo mission and almost, ALMOST, doesn’t fuck it up
-“I was nearer [Holmes] than anyone else, and yet I was always conscious of the gap between” 💔
-Kitty Winter is the best girl in the world and should be allowed to throw vitriolic acid in the face of anyone she wants!!! British law agrees with me btw
-Watson is not living at Baker Street, but very shortly after this adventure he moves back in with Holmes, presumably because he cannot be trusted to stay out of trouble, or maybe because visiting the Turkish baths every time he wants to make a move is getting expensive
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A Single Touch
Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ Smut, hints of soft (sub) husband Sherlock/dom Sherlock, gentle teasing, mentions of marking, tenderness, and feelings
Summary: A peaceful afternoon in 221B takes a turn when you become insistent on needing Sherlock's attention and he indulges.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 1.1k+
A/N: Hello my lovelies, I hope you are all well. I hope you enjoy this little treat for I adore Sherlock so and he deserves the love and attention even when he can be annoying. Special thank you to @strangelockd for beta reading and loving this story from its conception. She is now the official aunt of this fanfic. As always, comments and reblogs are most appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics
You smile to yourself as you look around 221B, enjoying the rare peaceful afternoon on the couch, your favorite book discarded on the coffee table. Sherlock’s features are calm and relaxed and you grin despite yourself, knowing how much he hated to admit he liked this…whatever this supposed routine had become.
Your fingers ruffled gently through his curls, his breath coming steady, occasionally shuddering when you tugged harder on them to tease him. You gaze upon him fondly, watching his cheek quiver, lips pursing while he flips a page of his novel.
So that’s how it was going to be, then. You smile to yourself, for you do so love a challenge.
Carefully you tug his curls once more, earning a raised brow in return, until you reach for the book, pulling it from his grasp, not before inserting the bookmark into place; you don't have the heart to dog ear the page like a heathen.
“I was reading that,” he huffs, feigning annoyance, yet his eyes shimmer in mischief and mirth.
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it? Surely you can think of something.”
He shifts, sitting upright on the couch, watching you intently, dark fierceness flashing for a moment in his eyes. “I’ve considered no less than five options.”
You smirk at his practicality and calculating mind, and shake your head in amusement, before you climb over onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle a thigh. Ever so slowly, you lean into him, pressing your lips to his forehead, relishing in the faint sigh he releases.
His grip on your waist tightens as you settle yourself fully, tracing a thumb along his lower lip. You relish in the widening of his eyes, the faint twitch of his cheek, mind, and body fighting to take over whatever impulses have him in a frenzy.
You adore the push and pull and could fall into it for eons. With him, every touch, every instinct of yours screams yes for it all is right, almost too good to be true.
“Damn you.”
“Whatever for, dear boy?” You murmur not a care in the world, nuzzling his neck before grazing your tongue over a sensitive spot, relishing in the way his shoulders tense as he fights off a shiver.
He says nothing else as you continue on your merry way, smirking to yourself at his reactions, the way he gripes your waist tighter, fighting off the anticipation of your lips latching on to his neck for what feels like the hundredth time.
Even if it is the hundredth time, he wouldn’t tire of it for a moment, for it is you, and that’s all he wants.
You in every moment.
It’s what you want as well, want to show him how much you love and adore him, how you can never get enough of him. How you deserved him you wouldn't know for he is everything to you and more.
You press another kiss to his waiting lips which accept you eagerly, your hands running down his torso, and you sigh.
How was this your husband?
He softly pressed a kiss to your lips and you gracefully fell into the feel of him, wanting to adore him. Your heart ached in kind, a mixture of melancholy and longing, desperation and want. It is your form of love, all because of him.
Through the years you count him as one of your greatest blessings, but the words catch in your throat when you try to speak them aloud.
You hope he knows, surely, he does for he’s the only one who braved your tumultuous shores, the depths of your heart, and still he stayed.
He stayed unwavering and you as well through it all. Thoughts of these flood his mind, for he’s all too enraptured with your form, the way you melt into him, the way his nails dig deep into your waist. He jolts slightly at the praises that pull from your lips, a slight blush creeping along his cheeks at your words.
“You don’t….that’s not…” he struggles to voice and you offer him a smile, kissing him once more, whispering your pleas in tandem.
“Let me help you…” you sigh into him, tugging his lower lip, earning a low groan before shifting on his lap, his hands reading to your back, gripping you impossibly tighter.
“Then I should help you, darling.”
You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the teasing tone sending shivers down your spine in a delightful manner and you welcome it. You both require a reprieve and it starts with a single touch.
One of love.
One of need.
One of desire.
One of desperation.
That’s how you find yourself an hour later on your shared bed, engulfed by sheets and the delicious heat of his lips on your own, tongue trailing along your body, his deep sonorous baritone edging you on.
“I said every inch, my dear,” his voice rumbles from his throat igniting your body from the inside out, “Isn’t that right?” Your shirt slides higher up your body as inch by inch your upper body is revealed to him and Sherlock smirks, delighting in the situation.
You roll your eyes, shuddering as his hands grip you tighter, before pulling the rest of your shirt off, promptly discarding it on the floor, not a care in the world. His gaze bores into your back and you fight off a shiver to no avail.
You can feel his smirk searing to your back before he presses the gentlest kisses along your spine and you melt in kind before he sucks a mark, making you squirm.
“Not…fair…”
“Nothing about you is fair,” he growls.
You groan in kind, letting him do as he pleases, pulling you impossibly closer to him, heat radiating between you, sending you aflame. It was only a shift of the hand, a brush against his wrist, and the tension filled him to the brim like lightning before it struck.
You shudder when his finger brushes back along your body, melting, completely undone by him and his embrace. He traces the marks he made along your spine, and you bite back another whimper, causing him to whisper in your ear.
“I want to hear you make those pretty noises for me, alright?”
You swallow, knowing he’s not asking and when he kisses you heatedly, you let yourself fall into the abyss and infinite as you’re made one, relishing in the warmth, and eternal bliss you fall into every time you’re here safe in his arms.
All it takes is a single burning, aching touch.
And you fall together.
Down in the abyss where love and pleasure combine, something else you can’t quite fathom or remember, but it’s enough. All you could ever want and more; the gasped pleas from parted lips, hand entangled in those sinful curls, your bodies forever intertwined.
******
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♡hi! i’m lou ♡
╰┈➤ [BASIC INFO] my name is lou but i also loooove nicknames, she/her, i’m a minor (15+), a middle child, bisexual mess, certified ADHD haver, infjt, bilingual, scorpio, swiftie, marauders lover (NOT HP!!), book nerd, true crime junkie, im horrible at tagging things, im obsessed with renee rapp, snoopy is life, and im constantly listening to music <3
~~hobbies~~
⭑ playing guitar ⭑ writing music ⭑ reading ⭑ swimming ⭑ journaling ⭑ skateboarding ⭑ binging true crime ⭑ drawing ⭑ listening to music ⭑
~~music~~
⭑ taylor swift ⭑ gracie abrams ⭑ maisie peters ⭑ sabrina carpenter ⭑ conan gray ⭑ lana del rey ⭑ the backseat lovers ⭑ renee rapp⭑ boygenius ⭑ olivia rodrigo ⭑ noah kahan ⭑ claire rosinkranz ⭑ harry styles ⭑ chappell roan ⭑ 5sos ⭑ tate mcrae ⭑ artic monkeys ⭑ cigarettes after sex ⭑ girl in red ⭑ and so many more ⭑
~~shows~~
⭑ heatstopper ⭑ criminal minds ⭑ brooklyn 99 ⭑ the good place ⭑ parks & rec ⭑ never have i ever ⭑ ghost files ⭑ pjo ⭑ superstore ⭑ modern family ⭑
~~movies~~
⭑ legally blonde ⭑ clueless ⭑ 10 thing i hate about you ⭑ miss americana ⭑ knives out 1 & 2 ⭑ the princess bride ⭑ mean girls ⭑ little women ⭑
~~books~~
⭑ percy jackson ⭑ the book thief ⭑ the outsiders ⭑ the 7 husbands of evelyn hugo ⭑ heartstopper graphic novels ⭑ the fault in our stars ⭑ sherlock holmes ⭑ better than the movies ⭑ harry potter (f**k jkr!!) ⭑ the inheritance games ⭑ little women ⭑ nancy drew ⭑ agggtm ⭑ a series of unfortunate events ⭑
~~links~~
⭑ moodboard masterlist ⭑ my spotify account ⭑ my snoopy sideblog ⭑
🤍my inbox is always open!! however i am horrible about responding in a timely manner i am so sorry!!🤍
🤍dividers are from the lovely @k1ssyoursister 🤍
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
"Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo”
01:57 ━━━━●───── 02:23
↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡
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