𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑! 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐘 𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄!
will byers stan first human second

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Xuebing Du
art blog(derogatory)
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$LAYYYTER

Andulka
occasionally subtle
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we're not kids anymore.

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@givenwork
𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑! 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐘 𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄!

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I think I have ... two? But I really want threads where Madigan tells her family or loved ones that she has MS and it’s really emotional for her because she’s always been the “perfect” sibling and working so hard to her career.
Olivia Dunham in every episode ↳ 1.01 Pilot
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐈?
oubliela / multi verse, enhanced spy oc / main
sansvoeus / supernatural + superpowered multi / main
sensevive / human only multi muse / main
*givenwork / reimagined holmes characters / medium-low activity
possiblexfile / quartet of monster muses / low-ish activity
suchlovin / human, writer, sugar baby oc / scattered-low activity
lonesurvived / ellen ripley + newt / hiatus
seizuresight / alice cullen / inactive (?)
When I’m not away for school related reasons this is where I can be found. If I’m going to be away I’ll generally leave a little notice!
I’m working on a new desktop theme. All the old pages can be found in the “nav”.

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misbehavc:
how relentless she can be sometimes, he forgets. here, plops herself onto his lap, they’re far too comfortable with each other by now to care, personal boundaries ignored more times than he could count. eurus is right, he knows she is —— hard as it might for him to admit, sometimes he needed a person to look over his shoulder, give a careful nudge. in this situation, a nudge is a pile of finger sandwiches placed for him to eat. he feels the hunger within, he feels it deep, smothered by his stimulant cause lack of appetite. ❛ just one. ❜ he repeats, briefly looking up at her as he takes a sandwich out and reluctantly bites into it. ❛ i cannot stomach more than one. ❜ it’ll be a miracle if he manages to shove this one down.
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃, for— though she loathes to hear it— her own inattention. Taking too many stimulants, ignoring her own hunger cues: neglecting her health for a hyperfixated state while on a case. Theirs are brilliant minds, and they need to be nourished, and it took almost dying and getting a doctor for a roommate to really understand that. “Thank you,” Eurus says, a small smile playing at her lips. She gives James a little nudge on his arm before he grabs his sandwich triangle. Eurus leans forward and places the tupperware on the table. “Don’t eat it too fast either,” she warns. Eating too fast when one hasn’t for a while just leads to nausea and even more reluctance to eat. “There’s tea in the thermos there too.” She’d be remiss if she didn’t at least try to make sure he was taking care of himself.
“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭… 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫…” *
Secret City: Under The Eagle, 2x02
WISHLIST / HEADCANON:
Threads where Eurus overstims herself when she’s making out with someone. Where she’s getting a lot of input and it gets too much even though she’s enjoying it, and she has to like stop for a few minutes or hide her face against / under her partner’s shirt to dial stuff back. Honestly part of why she like being blindfolded is because it lets her be aware of other stimuli and the visual isn’t disrupting the rest of what she’s experiencing. She likes intimacy in the dark for that reason as well, but not always.
It could just be really funny where she like covers her eyes with one hand, but is still letting her partner kiss her neck and her face, or keep touching her. And she’s totally fine while they do this but she needs some stillness for herself, and remove the visual to get her stimulation down to a point where she can jump back in.

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livingthegifs:
StartUp: Angel Investor (01.04) By: thejennire ✦Send your request [x]✦
Marine Vacth in L'Amant Double (dir. by François Ozon, 2017).
experimcnts:
“ Yeah, how about we finish dinner first? Maybe we’ll be so full we won’t even be able to look at ice cream. ” Even as she says it, Molly’s nose wrinkles, eyes shining with the amusement mirrored on her lips. They both know it’s a lie, they both know that there is always place in their bellies for ice cream. Wine used to be on that list too, but Olivia can’t have it and frankly Molly should cut it out of her daily routine as well.
Molly hands a fork and a bowl to Olivia, her own held in the other hand. “ We should turn on The Graham Norton show reruns though. Hugh Jackman was on last Friday and I missed that. ” Giddiness in full swing, she’s brushing into the living room, snatching the remote from the coffee table and plopping down into her favorite armchair, legs curled underneath her. Suddenly her eyebrow quirks up, brown eyes darting back to her sister. “ Unless you watched it already? ”
𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃. Now she finds a certain comfort in cooking, in experimenting with food, in doing things for people (mostly Molly, because she’ll always feel some semblance of guilt for hurting her). She burned too many bridges with her addiction and the sense of grandeur it gave her. She’s mending them with her bare hands now.
“Oh go right ahead and turn it on,” Olivia says, taking her bowl and following her sister to the living room. She sits down more slowly, with more control, at the end of the couch near the arm rest. “I did watch part of it, but I don’t mind restarting.” She could probably talk along to every spoken exchange from the parts she’d seen, a little party trick she did repeating back lines she’d only gotten one listen of. But really she’s here for Molly’s reactions.
consultingsister:
She brought lunch. An array of various options that she probably only pick at. A burger, a salad, there is a vegetarian lasagna somewhere in the pile. It was her contribution; if we’re eating at yours, let me bring the food. Usually, she doesn’t feel the need to balance things out with her sisters. They’re the people you can pretty much take advantage of. Come round, eat their food, not clean the dishes. But something about their last couple meetings has made Cee almost weary of Madigan? If she wasn’t her sister, it would feel like Madi was about to break up with her. There’s a tense awkward atmosphere; a lead up to something.
Today feels like the day. They’re over-polite. Cee insists on getting the plates and cutlery. Usually, when Madi asks how she is, Cee will begin a long and in-depth rant about everyone in her life but today she just says… fine. For almost two minutes conversation dies out and the only sound is forks on plates. “Oh god, was is it!?” Cee throws down her knife, looking her sister full in the face. “You’re killing me, Madi. Is it Eurus? Is she okay? Look if this is about putting her into some full-time care thing, I won’t do it. Nate is fucking great with her!”
𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒, but then again she often is the topic of their conversations. What does (and shouldn’t) surprise her is how Cece throws down her knife and calls her out on her anxious tenseness. “Eurus is fine,” Madigan replies, and for the first time in a very long time, that statement is true. Eurus is fine. “Eurus is thriving.” She gets choked up on that last word, and just like that she’s putting her own fork down and covering her eyes with her hand as tears drip down her face in earnest.
She really thought she’d be able to deliver this more easily. Be the stoic big sister she’s always been for Cee and Eurus. Madigcan shudders at the shoulders, taking in a heaving breath, embarrassed and ashamed and feeling more than a little helpless. “She’s doing so well, I’ve never been happier for her,” Madigan manages to get out, the words likely to confuse, because her emotions are a mess, and she’s been worried about Eurus for years, and now she’s got to worry about herself. She’s never liked worrying about herself. “I’m not okay, Cee.” She doesn’t move her hand away. “I’m sick.”
theasteriae:
Head bent over the table, intent about his work ( he’s studying stills from the surveillance footage Jim had sent through, searching in them for one face among thousands of others ), Sebastian doesn’t glance up—not even when he hears a second set of footsteps echoing around the supposedly empty warehouse. Smoke curls from the end of the cigarette clamped between his teeth. One hand creeps ‘round his back, fingers curling around the handle of the gun tucked into his belt, as if to reassure himself that it is still there.
Not that he needs it now. This newcomer is not a threat; they approach slowly, announce themselves from the doorway. A quick look out of the corner of his eye shows him that both of their—sorry, both of her—hands are visible, and both of them are empty. He takes another drag of his Marlborough and turns his attention back to the photographs fanned out in front of him. “Yeah?” His tone is brusque, he dislikes being interrupted. “What do you want?”
𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑, a brow raising in turn at his attitude. She walks over to the table with deliberateness and looks down at the photos and files. “I was paged to come in,” Sev says matter-of-factly. “Coordinates and a work summons.” She shrugs with both her arms. “So I’m here, ready to work,” a confident smile, one that begs to messed with, and motions at him, deferring to the first to arrive. “Do we know whose head is fated to be jam yet?”

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misbehavc:
@givenwork for a starter.
❛ i’m fine, really. ❜ even if stimulants suppress his appetite enough for him to forget eating isn’t optional, and perhaps taking a step back from work is in order —— he looks up before drawing his attention back to the computer, fingers tap through the keyboard, lips part for a short sigh. ❛ i’ll eat when i get home. ❜
𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓. “I don’t think so,” she says. She has big tupperware of finger sandwiches Nate had made with her a few days ago. Cutting them into triangular quarters helped take the pressure off eating a whole sandwich and enabled her to snack. She’d use this same argument on James. Eurus, exemplifying the dramatic flare Holmes tend to have, nudges him as a warning and then sits sideways across his lap, presenting the tupperware to him in kind. “Just one triangle, please.” If she’s being a nuisance anyway, interrupting him, then the interruption may as well be to get some food in him.
attofinale:
Jim gives Ira a quick glare glance in the mirror before the compliment tempers him into a light sigh. He looks down to button up the shirt he’d just slipped on. He’s been very indecisive about his outfits lately, finding everything boring and repetitive. Sometimes a second opinion didn’t hurt.
“Mmm if only allure could properly attend your sweet little gala THEN command a room of hyper-masculine men expecting a fat old mafia boss or something ridiculous.” He pulls a slightly disgusted face. People have a lot of expectations of what Moriarty looked like and it is amazingly rare that he ever aligns with those expectations. There’s always that moment of surprise, and with the type of men he’s meeting tonight, it is often followed by annoying disbelief. “Should I just change between? It’d keep them waiting… could make an entrance at least.” He smooths out the shirt, considering.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀 𝐈𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓, and it isn’t even the print one he’s really wanted him to wear. Ira stands, strolling over the Napoleon of Crime and smooths his elegant hands over his shoulders. “I don’t think a desaturated plum silk shirt would wound the egos of your client’s, darling,” he says assuredly. “And you look so fine as it stands.”
He moves his hands but does not move away from Jim. “Just throw on a suit jacket after the gala, that will be enough,” he says in a tone of surety. Ira has played to the whims of many a type of man and woman in his day. He knows the type who feel insecure in the presence of another man who is so confident in himself that he doesn’t care about colour or movement or love. The same types, men and women alike feel threatened by a fluid gender presentation.
“One look at you and they’ll know not to run their mouth.”