#bbcmary

and in the end you're still my FRIEND at least we did intend for us to WORK we didn't BREAK, we didn't BURN we had to learn how to BEND without the world CAVING IN i had to learn what i've GOT, and what i'm NOT and who i AM I WON’T GIVE UP ON US

for every 🎊 I get I’ll recommend a blog // ALWAYS ACCEPTING

♥‿♥ ♥‿♥ ♥‿♥

@watsonofagun

I’m still in awe every time I read Angie’s replies; her writing style is so good and I hope one day I will be at least half good as her. Her John is perfect, and what can I say more? Oh, yeah, the mun is so nice too!

@mollv

I love this Molly, I always hear her voice when I read the replies. Mondy’s riting style is on point and her characteristion of Molly is so on point! Just pure perfection.

@brokenlittlebrother

Oh, Rio is such a great character; I love our thread a lot. The mun is also a sweetheart and can’t wait to interact more! It’s always a pleasure to rp with someone that good.

@bbcmary

I love when you can see the mun really loves her muse and Allison really does; it’s such a good thing to see someone being so protective over Mary because she bloody deserves it. I’m in awe Allison runs so many blogs, and all of them are great by the way!

@traiinedassassiin

    “ Guess who -- ”

She put her weight onto one leg, her ankle still aching a little on her left side as she held out the out the bottle of honey-whiskey in her hand. Alex had debated sneaking in but thought better of it, actually knocking and waiting for her to answer the door.

    “ First night off in a while, thought you’d appreciate the company.”

@bbcmary​

        ❝-- Mary Watson, we meet at last.❞

Leaning against the doorframe, dark eyes set on the woman that had the audacity to shoot Sherlock Holmes, his arms folded nearly across his chest in an almost casual manner. -- He wasn't unaware of her past, reasonable precautions had been taken to ensure he'd come out of the encounter alive, he wasn't foolish enough to assume fear would still the hand of a trained assassin in a pressing situation.

However, the near death of Sherlock Holmes wasn't the only issue he had with Mary, her presence around the man had caused him ENDLESS trouble by drawing him into her own inane problems. He'd almost been sent to his death for saving her and that had forced Jim to accelerate the plan he'd been formulating, throwing himself into the public eye as a last bid to ensure his favourite game wouldn't draw to an end so soon.

        ❝-- You know, I REALLY don't appreciate people damaging         my toys, not without my explicit permission at the very         least.❞

“Can I at least scare them a little?”

Jacques was an artist. A student with a bohemian soul. To him, art was beauty, beauty was pain, and pain was Irene. Vehemently adamant that he found the depths of his creativity at the end of a leather riding crop, more specifically at the hands of the twenty-one year old brunette he had met at a bar in Montmatre who had asked him that fateful night in hushed tones, “Avez-vous été méchant?”

Like most of the men who visited Irene, he had, of course, fallen tragically in love with her. She didn’t feel it was necessary to tell him that he wasn’t quite her type until she had accepted the kind gift of a free plane ticket to Washington DC where he was studying. The news was broken soon enough at Dulles International Airport, where the age old term “It’s not you, it’s me” was uttered, and off she went on her merry way in a cab to find the nearest student bar, leaving poor Jacques with a broken heart and an empty wallet. You see, Irene had decided early on that the only way forward in life was to misbehave.