The Woman

I see you've stumbled upon my personal blog. Welcome one and all. I generally do not take business requests through this page. I hope you enjoy your time here. I shall do my best to make it worth your while. ~IA xxx

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Okay, guys, I have said this before, but this account is no longer active. You can now find me and Irene here at dreamsofvirgo.tumblr.com and I will be more than happy to rp with any of you

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PSA

This blog is now inactive. I had a lot of trouble keeping up with how many rp blogs I had, however, the muse is not dead! She survives on this blog here which is my new multi-character blog. If you would like to continue interacting with Irene over there, you are more than welcome to, that’s all I have to say. Sorry for the inconvenience.

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millionairegeniusplayboy:

Friendly reminder that John Watson spent Christmas 2012 thinking that his best friend was dead.

(Source: dreamsofvirgo)

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Tea and confessions [Irene/John]

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

Irene nodded and placed a hand on John’s shoulder supportively. “Yeah, I know what you mean, dear. Hopefully, Sherlock at least, has learned to be a little more careful about what he does. I hope that for your sake that you get to have as normal a life as you can, considering it’s Sherlock” She nodded and rubbed soothing circles into John’s back. “I’ll do what I can to stop that happening”

He sighed, “Thank-you…” John pushed the cup he’d been fiddling with away from him, running a hand through his hair. “I wish there was more I could do to help you. I know how difficult it can be to keep a low profile when it comes to Moriarty…”

“It’s no problem” She smiled genuinely at him. “Just… If something happens to me and I survive it, would you treat whatever wounds he gives me? That’s all I’ll ask from you dear. Usually, I go to Seb when a client hurts me, but if Moriarty hurts me, then I can’t do that”

“Of course…” He looked away, tapping his hands on the table. “I still need to talk to him. I’ve haven’t seen him in nearly half a year.” John ran a hand over his scar, wanting to scratch at it, despite not being able to feel anything.

Irene nodded her understanding. “I’m sure he’d be glad to hear from you again” She smiled a little at him. She knew what it was like to have scars that you wanted to scratch, but she couldn’t begin to imagine not being able to feel that area

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Tea and confessions [Irene/John]

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

“And that’s why Moriarty did what he did to you and Sherlock?” She thought she understood the story now. Sherlock could be a right idiot for someone so smart. Even she knew not to antagonize someone as vindictive as Moriarty, even though she seemed to do just that by being alive.

John nodded, looking down at the table. “This game between them needs to stop… I just don’t know if either of them are capable. Their pride…It gets in the way of everything else.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m terrified of losing him again.”

Irene nodded and placed a hand on John’s shoulder supportively. “Yeah, I know what you mean, dear. Hopefully, Sherlock at least, has learned to be a little more careful about what he does. I hope that for your sake that you get to have as normal a life as you can, considering it’s Sherlock” She nodded and rubbed soothing circles into John’s back. “I’ll do what I can to stop that happening”

He sighed, “Thank-you…” John pushed the cup he’d been fiddling with away from him, running a hand through his hair. “I wish there was more I could do to help you. I know how difficult it can be to keep a low profile when it comes to Moriarty…”

"It’s no problem" She smiled genuinely at him. "Just… If something happens to me and I survive it, would you treat whatever wounds he gives me? That’s all I’ll ask from you dear. Usually, I go to Seb when a client hurts me, but if Moriarty hurts me, then I can’t do that"

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Tea and confessions [Irene/John]

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

watsonisnotactuallygay:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

The Woman smiled a little. “I guess so. Weird to think…” She nodded her understanding. “Fair enough. Was that a separate incident? I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to”

“It’s fine.” He waved it off, feeling oddly better to talk about his own scars then Sherlock’s. “But yes, it was.. Moriarty kidnapped me and did this. I think he got bored and was trying to provoke Sherlock…it worked, but not the way he wanted it to. Sherlock sent drugs to Sebastian as retaliation.”

“And that’s why Moriarty did what he did to you and Sherlock?” She thought she understood the story now. Sherlock could be a right idiot for someone so smart. Even she knew not to antagonize someone as vindictive as Moriarty, even though she seemed to do just that by being alive.

John nodded, looking down at the table. “This game between them needs to stop… I just don’t know if either of them are capable. Their pride…It gets in the way of everything else.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m terrified of losing him again.”

Irene nodded and placed a hand on John’s shoulder supportively. “Yeah, I know what you mean, dear. Hopefully, Sherlock at least, has learned to be a little more careful about what he does. I hope that for your sake that you get to have as normal a life as you can, considering it’s Sherlock” She nodded and rubbed soothing circles into John’s back. “I’ll do what I can to stop that happening”

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The Woman and The Sniper

colonelhitman:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

colonelhitman:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

colonelhitman:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

colonelhitman:

Sebastian tried to smile back, but it looked more like a grimace. He was in a state of numbness now the initial urge to cause damage to the culprit had subsided. When Seb was younger, his inability to compartmentalise and detach had got him into all sorts of trouble, but now, thank god, he knew how to store that aggression up. It stopped him from snapping and hurting the wrong people. At least it did when he was sober.

Pulling the bandages out of the bag, Sebastian stood up awkwardly, chewing on his lower lip. Up close, the wounds only looked worse. “Which ones did you want me to do?” he asked gently.

“Just the ones that look like they need it… Mainly if they’re still bleeding” She swayed slightly on the spot, a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea hitting her at the realisation of what exactly had happened to her. Things like this were normal in her profession, but they usually weren’t to this extent.

She was working hard to keep herself together, but she was scared. She just knew that Moriarty had to have been behind this, at least indirectly, and the death threat hadn’t helped earlier that day. She just wanted a hug and to curl up in someone’s arms, to feel safe, but she knew that was one thing she could never ask for, at least, not from Sebastian. Not anymore.

Seb placed a gentle hand on Irene’s pale arm. “Come on, you need to sit down. It’ll be easier that way.” It would actually be harder to dress some of the wounds, but the last thing Sebastian wanted was Irene passing out and having to take her to a hospital. For people on their side of the law, hospitals were places best avoided.

The sniper patted a seat on the sofa and took off his jacket so she could sit on it. He reckoned she’d probably rather not bleed all over her furniture.

Irene nodded a little and just did as Seb told her. Her expression became vacant as she relived every moment of what had happened to her in her head. Her mask broke and she looked more vulnerable than Seb had ever seen her. The Woman was shaking, physically trembling and tears started to slide down her cheeks without her even realising it. 

This man had broken the Woman, had beaten her, and now she was helpless.

“Look,” Seb began, moving out of Irene’s way and then crouching down slightly to the side of her so he could get started on her legs. Most notably her thighs which were bruised and red. Sebastian remembered them being smooth and pale, not like this. And Seb knew how fierce Irene was, how clever and good at defending herself she was. Even he’d think twice before trying to get one over on the infamous Ms Adler.

“I… I’m gonna get him for you,” Seb promised, hating the tears. He couldn’t deal with crying people. He’d never been able to. Not even with his little sister. “I promise you, Irene. He’s a dead man.”

The Woman watched him as he worked on bandaging her up, trying to help her pick up the pieces. She could deal with the physical pain, that wasn’t bothering her at all. She hated feeling weak and powerless, that’s why she was in this profession in the first place, she liked being in control. Not being in control of herself, her own body, she hated it.

“I know you will Seb” She answered brokenly. She furiously wiped away the tears, trying to hitch on the fragments of her mask that she could salvage, knowing that Seb hated crying people. “Thank you” she whispered.

“Nah, no need to thank me,” Seb mumbled, finishing up with the bandage on Irene’s right thigh. He was trying his very best to be gentle, but at the same time he was very conscious that with Irene he’d never shown any real sensitivity. He’d covered it all with sarcasm and wit. Jim was the one he could caress and soothe and hold. Only Jim. That was just the way things worked. Jim was his exception.

“This stuff’ll heal,” he added, trying to remain optimistic and upbeat without showing too much of his anger. Irene’s stomach was bruised as well, so he rummaged about in his bag for more bandages and plasters for the smaller cuts. “Have to say, you’re dealing with it pretty well,” he said, attempting a bit of light humour. “Jim’d be whining at me if he got so much as a paper cut.”

"I know you don’t do well with tears… Sorry for making you put up with me" She smiled weakly at him. She knew he was doing his best to be gentle with her as she was so injured, and she knew that he wouldn’t normally be this sensitive with her. It showed he cared at least. She didn’t expect him to soothe and hold her, all she needed was help with dressing her wounds, she could cope on her own… Or so she told herself at least.

"Yeah, I know… It’ll heal in time…" She nodded a little and just watched as he rummaged around for more bandages and plasters for her. "Darling, my profession is pain, I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t handle it myself" She smirked a little, some of her usual personality coming back through. "You of all people should know that. We were never exactly gentle with each other after all"

(via 7893264246248242428967-deactiva)

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The Woman and The Sniper

colonelhitman:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

colonelhitman:

thewomanwhobeatyou:

colonelhitman:

Sebastian tried to smile back, but it looked more like a grimace. He was in a state of numbness now the initial urge to cause damage to the culprit had subsided. When Seb was younger, his inability to compartmentalise and detach had got him into all sorts of trouble, but now, thank god, he knew how to store that aggression up. It stopped him from snapping and hurting the wrong people. At least it did when he was sober.

Pulling the bandages out of the bag, Sebastian stood up awkwardly, chewing on his lower lip. Up close, the wounds only looked worse. “Which ones did you want me to do?” he asked gently.

“Just the ones that look like they need it… Mainly if they’re still bleeding” She swayed slightly on the spot, a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea hitting her at the realisation of what exactly had happened to her. Things like this were normal in her profession, but they usually weren’t to this extent.

She was working hard to keep herself together, but she was scared. She just knew that Moriarty had to have been behind this, at least indirectly, and the death threat hadn’t helped earlier that day. She just wanted a hug and to curl up in someone’s arms, to feel safe, but she knew that was one thing she could never ask for, at least, not from Sebastian. Not anymore.

Seb placed a gentle hand on Irene’s pale arm. “Come on, you need to sit down. It’ll be easier that way.” It would actually be harder to dress some of the wounds, but the last thing Sebastian wanted was Irene passing out and having to take her to a hospital. For people on their side of the law, hospitals were places best avoided.

The sniper patted a seat on the sofa and took off his jacket so she could sit on it. He reckoned she’d probably rather not bleed all over her furniture.

Irene nodded a little and just did as Seb told her. Her expression became vacant as she relived every moment of what had happened to her in her head. Her mask broke and she looked more vulnerable than Seb had ever seen her. The Woman was shaking, physically trembling and tears started to slide down her cheeks without her even realising it. 

This man had broken the Woman, had beaten her, and now she was helpless.

“Look,” Seb began, moving out of Irene’s way and then crouching down slightly to the side of her so he could get started on her legs. Most notably her thighs which were bruised and red. Sebastian remembered them being smooth and pale, not like this. And Seb knew how fierce Irene was, how clever and good at defending herself she was. Even he’d think twice before trying to get one over on the infamous Ms Adler.

“I… I’m gonna get him for you,” Seb promised, hating the tears. He couldn’t deal with crying people. He’d never been able to. Not even with his little sister. “I promise you, Irene. He’s a dead man.”

The Woman watched him as he worked on bandaging her up, trying to help her pick up the pieces. She could deal with the physical pain, that wasn’t bothering her at all. She hated feeling weak and powerless, that’s why she was in this profession in the first place, she liked being in control. Not being in control of herself, her own body, she hated it.

"I know you will Seb" She answered brokenly. She furiously wiped away the tears, trying to hitch on the fragments of her mask that she could salvage, knowing that Seb hated crying people. "Thank you" she whispered.

(via 7893264246248242428967-deactiva)

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—ooc: Anyone want to rp? No? Okay…