Tag: winglock

jawnlockiarty:

reapersun:

fallan asleep on tablet

drawan the WORST feathers, like what are even bone structures?

yeah, i got this

pendragon37: I really love your black and white realistic Sherlock pieces, especially the ones with small bits of color in them 🙂 I was wondering if you could do one with Sherlock and John as angels?
alicexz: I think I’d die and flap up to heaven if you drew some winged Sherlock and John…

(via imgTumble)

erinpaint:

（THANX for the amazing translator：papayatwilight！！）

“My Glory.”

The other day, John laid face down on Sherlock’s usual spot while Sherlock was dealing with the abrasion he caught during the fight. As the other man saw the asymmetrical wounds which extended from his shoulder blade to the bottom of his rib cage, he started the explanation casually. 

“The left wing was shot and broken. Trauma like this can not heal by itself as you can tell by my irregular-shaped scar. And then they took my right wing off due to the loss of the left wing. But you know what? I have saved two local kids, and one girl even had pink wings. You probably also know, that this color was so unusual that I could already start to imagine by the time she grows up, how many boys will compliment on her beautiful wings…

Sherlock, with the tweezers and alcohol cotton ball in his hand, paused calmly. He looked at his roommate with a smile rippled on his face. He could never feel such softness, and this is like…the awe which filled your mind when you reflected on the starry heavens above, the tininess which you felt about yourself when you stood by the massive ocean, and the instinct pursuit of wonders which are presented in the nature.

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“那是我的光荣”
那天约翰趴在夏洛克常躺着的地方任由夏洛克处理他背上在刚才的打斗中弄出来的的擦伤，他在他看到左右两边不对称的两道从肩胛上方一直延伸到最后一根肋骨的下方的伤疤时轻松的解释：“左边中弹折断了，大面积的撕裂伤是没法恢复的，你看到的不整齐的疤口就是，右翼是因为彻底失去左翼而人工摘除的。可是你知道么我救到了两个当地的孩子，其中一个女孩的翅膀居然是粉红色，你也知道的，这颜色不太常见，我都能想象她长大后的样子，会有多少男孩赞美它们的美丽…”
夏洛克夹着酒精棉球的镊子冷静的停顿了一下，看着自己的室友脸上浮起一个微笑，夏洛克能体会不到诸如此类的柔软，那是…那就像人看到星空时自然而生的敬畏，看到大海时油然而生的渺小，面对美丽的东西时天然的追求。

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This pic is done for my wonderful friend FinaL(喵米喵)’s fanfic <The way you fly> (Wingfic), which is inspired by the amazing story <Not the Hands that Kill> written by You_Light_The_Sky. 

<The way you fly> can be found here:[link]

alicexz:

dapperowl:

That commission that I was talking about earlier.  I was inspired both by a fanfic and by the notorious Reichenbach Falls episode.  

“Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.”

GUYS LOOK LOOOOK I COMMISSIONED THIS YES HOLY SHIT THANK YOU HUNTER *claws face*

random-nexus:

mirabilelectu:

seaofglasz:

reichenfeels:

the Temptation by ~somachiou

k sorry this needs a fic RIGHT NOW.

Brother John staggered into the chapel, nearly on the brink of collapse. The stabbing pain in his leg was beginning to migrate upwards, growing and filling him with agony until he could hardly see straight. The infection was spreading faster than any of the monastery’s physicians could handle, faster than it had any right to. It had been such a simple injury, nothing more than a cut along his thigh as he worked in the garden a week ago. But it had not stayed simple for long, and now John was terrified. Terrified that it would continue to spread, terrified that he would lose his leg, terrified that he would die. But even more than that, he was terrified what this was doing to his mind and his soul.

John had always loved the Church and even as a child had decided that the life of the monk was for him. His parents had not agreed of course – they wanted him to marry well and carry on the family name. But there was nothing for it, and John had lived many years in this monastery in peace and happiness. But lately, doubt had begun to creep into John’s life. Lately, he had begun to wonder what the point of it all was, why they bothered with prayer and contemplation when there was still so much suffering in the world. People were dying from war and famine and disease every day, and here they were mumbling useless prayers and following the same old routines they had for centuries.

This injury had only made his doubts worse. He was a good man – he followed the rules, he believed in God, and he did his best to serve as he should. So why should this happen to him? Why should his leg be a twisted mass of pus and infection when others walked freely in their sin? John collapsed in front of the pulpit, beyond the point of caring that his leg was screaming in agony as he fell into the familiar position of prayer.

“Why, God?” he whispered hoarsely with clasped hands and bowed head. “Why me? Have I erred in some way? Have you forsaken me?” 

There was no answer. Nothing. The usual peace that came with prayer was gone, leaving only pain and fear and misery behind. A sob started to well in John’s throat as he felt the emptiness of the universe stretch before him.

“Please, I need something.” He was begging now, pleading with the empty room with eyes screwed shut to keep the tears from starting. “Some sign that my life has not been in vain. Anything, please.”

Suddenly, cool fingers brushed the underside of his chin and tilted his head slowly upwards. John opened his eyes in disbelief and was dazzled by the bright light of the room, brighter by far than it had any right to be. Through his tears he could only make out a pair of wings, black as night, curved in glorious arches above a figure crouched on the pulpit. As his eyes cleared John saw that the figure was a man, or at least in the shape of one, pale and lovely beyond imagining. His raven hair matched the blackness of his wings, standing out in sharp contrast to the skin as white as marble that seemed to emit a light all its own. But it was the creature’s eyes that transfixed John and left him gaping with wonder. They seemed to pierce into his very soul with their pale blue gaze, stripping away all his doubts and fears and leaving nothing but peace.

“Hello, John” the creature said softly, and his voice was more beautiful than any music John had ever heard. His heart raced at the sound, beating painfully in his chest and leaving him breathless with excitement. “I heard your prayer. I came for you – you are not forsaken by me, and you never will be. I can help you John, if you let me. If you come with me, I will ease all your pain and sorrow and make your life a happy one once more. Will you come?”

As the creature spoke, John felt the pain and worry drain from his body as if it had never been. The touch of his hand was at once both a gentle warmth on John’s skin and a burning brand that filled him with searing desire like he had never known before. There could be only one answer, there would always be only one answer. “Yes.”

Applauds ficlet!  Oh, VERY nicely done! *flails a bit*

I’m working on a fic to this artwork, too! o/ (Illumination – WIP!)

Always reblog winglock. And the ficlet is quite lovely, too. ^_^
(Looking forward to more of yours too, Random… 😉