#hope it's okay...

uuuhhhhhhhh first time doing something like this. photoshop is hell. free to use! credit would be nice. im not quite sure why i uploaded the last two, but more options = better, right? o.O

Please don’t use any Sportacus-related tags on my drawings. When someone mention him I feel really bad, he kind of triggers me? I don’t know, I just really don’t feel comfortable because he reminds me of bad things. Also I don’t allude to sportarobbie and when someone writes about it in the tag, I feel like I.. um… lost my time? Or my power (which I don’t have many) on something I don’t even believe?? It’s hard for me to explain all of this in English, but I hope you understand me!

Salem had heard the noises coming from their dorm just as he slid the key in the lock. He didn’t think anything of it so the boy let himself in. The first thing he laid eyes on was Don. Only, Don wasn’t studying or eating. He had his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping his fist. 

"Glad I caught you." That's what Hans said when he kept Anna from falling, but it meant so much more than that.

Try as he might, he wasn't having any luck getting near Elsa. But then suddenly he came across Anna. Sweet, awkward Anna. His luck seemed to have improved. 

    Stilettos clicked on the dusty floor as Carly entered the abandoned arcade Marcus had sent her. Her blue eyes stayed alert as she surveyed her surroundings. This wasn't the usual location she would be at, but this was no ordinary meeting. Carly was going to meet the brother she hadn't known existed until she received his call about their sister, Sydney, being sent to re-education by their father. All the worst of Alchemist nightmares coming to life for her little sister, and there was going to be hell to pay.

    Suddenly, Carly detected a movement from the corner of her right eye. Instinctively, the blonde spun towards the motion and prepared herself for any spell she might have to perform. Her hand rose up to hover on the amulet she wore. It flickered with light - a sign someone else had arrived. The blonde smirked as she placed a hand on her hip and flicked a loose strand of hair away from her face.

Sherlock was no stranger to drugs or to being drugged but this was different. The disorientation was there, the disillusion between his body and brain was definitely present, but this time, it was different.

Unlike his previous experiences, Sherlock wasn't floating. He didn't feel like his limbs were simply elsewhere but still connected. No. Now they felt like they were cut off, viciously removed with a butter knife and still somehow managing to radiate pain. 

No. Sherlock wasn't floating. He was sinking. Drowning in pain and darkness as his senses crept up on him slowly but surely like a snake hunting its pray. 

Eyes open. Still dark. But it was a different kind of dark. Through his muddled wit and aching soul, Sherlock managed to make out small slivers of light here and there. He was in a darkened room. 

How had he got there? What was the last thing he remembered...? Closing his eyes again, he struggled to think coherently. The drugs were wearing off, leaving him with pinpricks of sensation, pain attacking each and every nerve now, not just his limbs. It made thinking difficult. But he was Sherlock Holmes. If there was one thing he could do, it was think. 

His last memory... John. John's face. Tears. Why was John crying? No. No it wasn't John crying. It was him. Sherlock had been the one crying. Why? 

Why did he still feel like he was falling? Falling towards John? Towards the ground? Oh. He'd jumped. Moriarty had danced and he had jumped. Jumped to save him. Jumped to end him.