He’s happy for her, really he is. No one deserves happiness as much as Molly Hooper does.
She’s suffered, at his hands and the hands of others. She’s lived through being used by men who discarded her without a second thought when her usefulness was at an end - lived through it, survived it, and come out all the stronger for it.
He admires her for that, although he winces as an inner voice sneeringly reminds him that he’s one of those people.
And he is, there’s no getting around that fact. He used her, lied to her about his feelings, pretended and faked and made her feel special only to discard her.
So the fact that she’s currently walking down the aisle on the arms of Gavin (Graham?) Lestrade, acting in loco parentis, a wide, beaming smile on her face as she glides toward her soon-to-be-husband– That’s all on him. For letting her go. For not realizing a good thing when he had it.
For being a complete and utter arsehole.
“Good bye, Molly Hooper,” he whispers to himself, from his shadowy corner at the back of the small chapel. She’s being kissed on the cheek by DI Lestrade, handing off her bouquet to that Meena woman she used to prattle on about when he was half-listening, and clasping hands with him.
The one who doesn’t deserve her.
Then again, he thinks with a pang of regret, no one alive could really deserve her.
No one dead, either, that inner voice sneers, sounding very much like his favorite nemesis.
“Neither of us deserved you, but he won fair and square,” he murmurs as he moves unobtrusively toward the door and leaves the happy couple and their friends to complete the ceremony without the Spectre at the Feast that he represents.
Once outside, he adjusts his expression from wistful to blandly amused and gestures for a cab. It stops for him immediately - he has what many have referred to as an uncanny way with them - and he climbs inside.
Gives one last look at the chapel exterior, pictures Molly and her new groom - lucky barstard - walking outside, hand in hand, being showered with rice or birdseed or whatever is fashionable these days. Kissing each other, surrounded by adoring friends and family.
All the things he could have had, if he’d only realized what he had…
No. “No regrets,” he says aloud, and the cabbie gives him a quizzical look.
“Nothing,” he says, waving a hand at the man.
“Where to, then?” he asks with a shrug.
“221B Baker Street,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the seat. “Have to drop off a gift for the bride and groom.”
With those words, Jim Moriarty smiles, tucking away his feelings for the woman he vastly underestimated into a corner of his dark little heart, and considers the next step in the long game he’s playing.
Eurus will be so pleased to see him again - and she’s sure to have some very creative ideas now that she’s come out of her catatonic state.
After all, she’s the one who gave him the idea for the perfect wedding gift for the newlyweds.
He smiles again, a dark, anticipatory smile, and the cab speeds away.
OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHDANG
Oh yes! This one had my emotions spiraling!
This is, hands down, one of the most brilliant things I’ve read in ages.
Did I call my nearest newspaper seller to see if they had the SF chronicle and then get my mother to drive me there at 10:45 just to get the Wrightworth newspaper?
Ben’s heart was pounding in his chest. He watched Volkov talking with the others in the low growling Russian he was becoming familiar with, yet still didn’t understand. He’d just had breakfast and was still on his knees, trembling. He was so damn scared, and in so much pain. He could still feel the sting from the needles he’d had to endure two days in a row. His fingernails still throbbed.
His teeth chattered while they made him wait, and his muscles spasmed with cold fear. Volkov had tortured him every day, and Ben had passed out from pain each time. The sadistic man timed how long he lasted. Ben was horrified to realize that Volkov was learning his limits so that he could drag out the pain longer.
The second day with the needles had been far worse because he’d taken it slower, letting Ben have time to breathe and adjust to the new levels of agony. The session time had nearly doubled, with Ben forced to lay there and listen while Volkov talked Dmitri through how to torture the boy ‘properly.’
The low conversation broke up, and the group of abusers returned to stand around Ben. He kept his eyes on the ground, hoping to hide even a fraction of his terror. Dmitri stood behind him and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up at Volkov.
The big Russian had a playful gleam in his eye, and Ben knew enough to hate it now.
“My boys and I were just discussing your options for today. Dmitri wants to see how you handle an electric baton, but I don’t know if you’re ready for that. He did point out that you respond well to your collar.”
Ben’s mouth went dry. “A-a-and my o-other option-options?”
Whumpee with a fear of heights being used as a sort of chandelier/decoration chained to the way-too-tall ceiling. And just left there for however long whumper decides.
Are they hanging by their arms about their head, allowing them the small mercy to keep their head craned up as they tremble at the drop? But at least they don’t have to see it.
Are they chained upside down, by their legs left to stare downward as their head spins from the terrifying drop as well as all the blood rushing to their head?
Are they fully restrained and can’t move an inch or are they left to helplessly flail and panic?
Are they gagged? Or can they scream for help and beg for mercy from the whumper (or whumpers if it’s some sort of party)?
Are they some sort of winged whumpee that feels deep amounts of frustration that… If only they could fly again, they could get out of the situation.
I started working on this back in January but got distracted with a few other mods along the way. I’ve completely rebuilt this mod from the ground up. Hundreds of vanilla trees have been disabled and replaced with new models from vurt, elenin, gkbtrees, and a few other resources. Many of the dead trees were made by me from existing resources and some modifications with nifskope. This mod goes beyond dark fantasy overhaul by adding over 4000 handplaced trees and over 250 new types of living and dead trees. I’ve also added ground fog effects in many of the forests for an even creepier atmosphere
The full version should be ready for Nexus by the beginning of October 2017
This is my attempt at rewriting the infamous “I’m a weirdo” scene from the last Riverdale episode into Jughead’s coming out scene for Day Four of @jugheadweek. Because if Riverdale were ever to not be crap of course they’d make his coming out scene an overdramatic angst-fest.
“Why are you getting so upset? It’s just a party, Jug.”
“It’s not just a party! It’s the fact that you don’t know, or even care, that this is the last thing I would want.
In case you haven’t noticed, Betty, I’m different. Doesn’t it ever occur to you how different we are, like on a cellular DNA kind of level? For once, that’s not just more of my pretentious emo bullshit. I don’t fit in. I’m the damaged, loner outsider from the wrong side of the tracks. Betty, come on. I don’t know who we were kidding.
Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? You know what the design stands for? It’s a dot and a dash. That’s Morse code for the letter “A”. “A” as in asexual. Aromantic. As in I don’t do relationships. I tried to deny it, Betty. I thought maybe dating you would lead to some grand awakening, that I’d realise what I was missing and finally find people attractive like everyone else. But it didn’t. And I’m done trying to avoid that.
And you know what else I’ve realised? I don’t wanna fit in. All this romance, and kissing and other nonsense has just made everyone’s lives worse, and god knows things aren’t bad enough around here already! In case you’ve forgotten, Betty, Jason’s still dead, and whoever killed him is still out there. The last thing we need is some partyruining things even more.”
percy and gilmore have some Top Notch Interactions (as much as they are few and far between) and i just want people to join me in rare pair hell.
also they’d be the Most Fashionable Amazingly Matching Power Couple just imagine them all fancy and sardonic, dressed to the nines, at some rich person party. no one stands a Chance.
It is time-consuming and like…ENTIRELY detail work but I had fun! And I think they came out cool, for a first try!
I cannot draw a straight line to save my life, we’ve always known this about me. So the lines could be better and please please ignore my awful dyed nails
I tried a few of the traditional motifs the kit showed but I also did like, a bunch of my own doodling especially on the first egg
Seriously, those are your first tries? Some of my first ones turned out like those. The absolutely best one did.
Bequest of George C. Stone, 1935 Size: L. with scabbard 27 ½ in. (69.9 cm); L. of blade 19 7/8 in. (50.5 cm); W. 2 in. (5.1 cm); Wt. with scabbard 2 lb. 0.8 oz. (929.9 g) Medium: Iron, gold, turquoise, coral, leather, wood
