[ wow okay i remember why i’m so fucking sick with the majority of the sherlock fandom. because people who frantically ship sherlock and john are disgusting and personally attack people who don’t believe in their fictional ship- that, might i add, is not canon and never will be canon. why is this even still an on-going argument? also, why are people being attacked over a television show? honestly GROW THE FUCK UP. you’re embarassing yourselves. ]
Arrow photo challenge:
Day 13: Favorite Lance » Quentin Lance
( aka papa Lance )
i called my dad and he couldn’t recognise my voice for a moment B)
i feel both great and. like. Idk. i haven’t seen my dad since i’ve started t and that’s going to be six months next week. i’m gonna get coffee with him tomorrow and maybe he’ll accept my transition now. ;;
Here is a crappy rip of Frank’s song in case you missed it.
The brush of Greg’s lips took him by surprise at first, and he hated how he jumped, since he hadn’t been expecting the kiss, but he pressed up into it, desperate for some familiar sensations. His mouth hung open as Greg moved away, and then he whimpered, at the breaking point, as Greg dropped two kisses on his eyelids. With a shuddering, gasping breath, he finally broke down. “Greg, I c-can’t. I c-can’t be stro-ong for you, I don’t .. I d-don’t know how, not now,” he managed, his whole body shaking as he gripped Greg’s arms, not letting him go further away. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that if he got much more unstable, Greg would be taken away, and he’d be stabilized and sedated till he could control his limbs, but he couldn’t let the one anchor in his life go anywhere, not in this sea of blackness and nothingness.
Bastian’s strong grip and his shaky words made Greg almost stop breathing, the lump that was already in his throat growing larger, the tears that had been staying put finally leaking out and sliding silently down his cheeks. “Bastian,” He said firmly, not making any move to leave the man’s side, remaining as still as possible, trying to give his husband something to hold onto. “Yes, you can. I’m here. I’m here and I’m never leaving you no matter what. I promise you. I swear, nothing is going to take me away and you have me. You have me forever and I’m going to do everything I can to make this okay. I promise. I promise, so just- it’s going to be okay, Sebastian. It’s going to be okay.” His voice was thick by the end of his words, unable to continue, an he just curled his hands up in Bastian’s hospital gown, not sure what to do, what to say; Bastian was always so strong, so to have him break down and say he couldn’t- Greg didn’t know what to do.
Sebastian huffed a slight laugh and pressed his lips into Greg’s neck possessively, kissing him over and over. “I love y’too, darlin’. Y’know I love you. That’s why I’m tellin’ you them drugs ain’t allowed back in here, yeah? You’re mine, darlin’, and I’m yours,” he told him, caressing his sides as he curled around his body protectively, feeling himself softening inside of Greg’s hole.
Greg closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, feeling Bastian’s lips kiss the back of his neck again and again. “I dunno what the fuck I was thinking. It was- I’m sorry.” He pulled away just enough so Bastian pulled out, then turned, pressed back up against the man and wrapping his arms tightly around him, feeling his eyes prickle with tears, but he determinedly kept them at bay. “I love you so much.”
"Shove off, Greg. I don’t care what those idjuts say up at th’ hospital, you’ve got plenty of days still left in you."
"I am just some other bloke! Maybe not to you, but- I’m not special, Bas. And decent odds are nice, but they don’t necessarily mean anything. I just- I don’t-… I’m not strong.”
Sebastian was struggling to not punch his husband, but it was very difficult. “Greg Lestrade, you’re a bloody fool, do you understand me. Jesus Christ, you’re going to be fine, alright? You’re going to live for a long time, and I refuse t’believe otherwise.”
"Well, one of us has to, I guess." Greg said quietly, looking at his feet rather than his husband, biting his lips, almost wishing Bastian could see the situation as he did. At the same time, however, Greg knew how pessimistic he was being, but in all honesty, he was just terrified. "I-… I don’t- Bas, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die, I don’t-…"
I know, but don’t I frustrate you at all? Even I know I’m stubborn to a ridiculous point.
"Now, you would have an unfair advantage. I may have police training, but you have military training. You’d beat me down; I’d have no chance what-so-ever. ‘Course you’re happy we ended up together. Besides, look at me. How could you say no?”
"Why do you immediately assume I meant violent blows, Greg? Yes, I might be able to take you down, but we were both into rugby and such," he grinned, giving him a sly wink. "You are quite the catch, you know."
"I just-" Greg was actually struck by the question for a moment, knowing that John wouldn’t ever mean violent blows, but he brushed it off. "I never said I wouldn’t be able to get a fair few punches in, but it’d be no contest between you and I." Greg said with a smile, leaning forward to kiss John. "Oh, I know. And you. I’m so glad I have you."
Sebastian was well aware of the irony of toasting to life when everything that surrounded them was so violence and full of death, but for once, he was able to see the bright side of life in the Nazi regime. He sipped at his wine as Lestrade spoke. “You must do it so well, y’know, if they’ve kept you at a desk this long. Better to be here in the headquarters than out in the field. Believe me, I did my time out there. It’s a bloody mess and makes you only negative. Besides, this way, you can see your family, can’t you? Even if you don’t have a wife or lady friend, you’ve got family.” He didn’t want to talk about field duties anymore than Greg wanted to discuss paperwork. It was horrid disgusting work, and every face that he saw in his day to day work was more depressed and scared and angry than the last.
"Well, I suppose that’s true. Although, I was already working a desk job when the Nazi’s took over and recruited me." It was funny to Greg how he used the word recruit. They were friendly enough, but Greg knew at the time he couldn’t have said no. Anyone who even mildly opposed the regime was put into the camps. The entire country- no, the entire world by this point- had all gone completely verrückt, and Greg just had to go along with it or suffer the consequences. “I do get to see one of my brothers at least. My other brother is currently deployed in Poland. I last saw him in November. I hope he’s doing well…” Greg broke out into a smile, attempting to keep the air light and friendly. “So, tell me, Herr Moran, what are your interests? Lighten up the conversation a bit, hm?”
Jade’s mouth practically watered when she saw Greg’s growing erection, biting her lip and glancing up at him through her lashes. “C’mon, Tiger. I know you want this just as much as I do, if not more.” She purred the words like the Tigress she was, moving to help him get her trousers off. Two flicks and she heard them fall to the floor, and she shoved her own knickers off—his favorite ones.
She was bare now, only for his eyes to see her scarred and battered body, but it was still his, no matter how much she hated her own skin now. But these marks were marks she wore with honor and with pride. She escaped so many men and women, though she was close to dying before, but she had made it back to her home, back to who her home was.
She reached down now, deft fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking him slowly to keep him getting harder. She kept her lips parted, just in case he wanted her mouth first, and ran a gentle thumb over the head of his cock to gather some wetness to stroke him better.
Oh, he’d missed that. Only Jade ever called him Tiger- hell, if someone else tried, they wouldn’t have survived the experience. It was something only they had, and Greg had thought he’d never hear the name pass Jade’s lips again. As Jade took off his trousers, Greg’s mouth was busy on her collar bone, hands moving till they were on her breasts, handling her boarding on rough. He was torn between waiting to just take her, quick and fast, or take his time, revel in the fact that she was back and alive.
Jade had idea of her own, and Greg groaned when her slim fingers curled around his cock, hips pressing forward automatically. “Jesus, Jade…” He growled, sweeping one arm up so he could bury his fingers into her hair, tugging slightly. His head fell back a little when she ran her thumb up his shaft and he guided her head down, shuddering slightly.
Fly Me To the Moon - Frank Sinatra
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby kiss me