Whether You See Their Relationship As Platonic Or Romantic, Theirs Is One Of Needing Each Other Always,

“Whether you see their relationship as platonic or romantic, their’s is one of needing each other always, even when they don’t particularly want to need each other. Watson would follow Holmes to the end of the Earth, and Holmes would become lost within himself without Watson.”

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! KIT AND TY OR WHAT!? DO YOU SEE WHAT @cassandraclare DID RIGHT THERE!? IcOnIc

The Detective and His Doctor

There will never be a greater partnership than that of Holmes and Watson. 

Whether you see their relationship as platonic or romantic, their’s is one of needing each other always, even when they don’t particularly want to need each other. Watson would follow Holmes to the end of the Earth, and Holmes would become lost within himself without Watson.

A crop and a laptop, a knife and a watch, a violin and a cup of tea, a bottle of pills and an itchy trigger finger, a death wish in the form of a syringe or a pistol. 

His drug and his war.

Two halves of a whole, destined soulmates, irrevocably linked. 

Moriarty nor Magnussen could never elicit a world such that Holmes or Watson would be separated, whether through death or otherwise.

Mycroft and Lestrade would support and protect both men undoubtedly, but Holmes and Watson would do such for each other until their dying breath. 

Mary or Irene could only provide a romantic relationship which would fall lifetimes short of what these two men could offer each other, if given the chance.

Across countless different lifetimes, storylines, and universes, there is always the lighting sharp wit and the strong, steady patience, the brain and the heart, the druggie and the soldier, the scientist and the blogger, the detective and the doctor.

Always the detective and his doctor.

And it is always 1895.

When She Tells You That She Loves You For The First Time

When she tells you she loves you, for the first time It will be over the phone You will hold your breath You have not misheard her, though you will wonder if you have You will wonder if she can hear your heartbeat over the line You will wonder, if your's quieted, if you would be able to hear hers You will wonder if she has hung up You will double check that the call is still running Just in case You will contemplate both running and hanging up Just in case Just in case she meant it, just in case she didn't When she tells you she loves you, for the first time   You will want to believe it, with everything you do not have left Believe it I promise you that she means it, with everything she does not have left When she tells you she loves you, for the first time This will not be the first time either of you have imagined her putting these words into the space between you But this is the first time she has given you a chance to catch them, to catch her And is that not love? Two people, using the words I love you like the salvation of echolocation Letting the sound out, waiting for it to hit the other person Waiting for the echo to return to realize how far or close something is to you The echo that will help you orientate yourself in this dark cave of a world where we have all gone blind When she tells you she loves you, for the first time It will be over the phone You will reply, you will wish she would have hung up, you will wish you would have run, but you will reply You will wish you hadn't, but you will reply You will either echo her words back to her and realize how close you two really are or You will echo her words back to her and realize how far you two really are or You will say something stupid and hang up... and call her back, and echo her words back When she tells you she loves you, for the first time Smile. Let the melody thrum in your veins and sing you to sleep Let it be what wakes you in the morning and keeps you awake

When she tells you she loves you, for the first time Smile. Let yourself believe she means it I promise you she thinks she does 

did you know the wind won’t take your name back anymore?

I didn’t know how I was going to begin this - did you know the wind won’t take your name back anymore? I’ve learned that stars aren’t the only things that fall when silence closes the door between your heart and another shoveled spring. I would ask your tears what shape they prefer when midnight kisses the snow, but I know how many miles it takes to write a chapter on sleep. I’ve heard forgiveness talking, can you hear light too? can you taste the paint of the years we spent looking out the same window, but never planted a hand in the ground? I dream about tomorrow like each comma doesn’t take a breath from my smile, like your eyes aren’t drying roses hanging promises upside down on the corner of every mirror. if I could pause your heart on every I love you knitted along my skin, I would have another photograph of us. today wasn’t great..but then there was you.

Who did it better? 003

Blue Hair:

Rhysand High Lord of the Night Court vs. Keirn of the Hunt Kingson 

holy shit. is cassie gonna kill alec in twp just to show us how magnus will move on without him?

Blood Letting

*Cutting Trigger Warning*

I practice the ancient art of bloodletting I create an incision on my body and let my tainted blood run free in an attempt to cleanse myself of some unidentifiable disease, sickness, illness But I cannot outrun it Cannot seem to drain this contaminated blood before more unholy red liquid is pumped out and running rampant in my veins again I try and explain this to my doctor of modern medicine and she tells me that this is a dated, useless tactic That this is too dangerous a way to try and heal But is this not the point To watch the incisions heal and pretend like I too am healing When she asks me why I do it all I can think is 'red' Maybe I am addicted to the red Ozzing and dripping and flowing more freely than I ever could Red is the colour of love you know Maybe I am proving to myself that there is still love inside of me Maybe I am bleeding all over myself in an attempt to pretend I am loving myself Do you see? I am covered in it She asks me what I get out of it Beside red? Besides pain? Besides release? I suppose I receive the marks It is then that I realize that my favourite thing about my scars is that they are mine That they belong to me That they are the one thing that always will