This is an art blog

95% Johnlock Arts


You’ve probably noticed I’ve been relatively inactive lately, and all of this just means that I’ll be spending a lot less time on this blog specifically until further notice. I’m planning on posting art (and cosplays and even music!) to aggressively-awkward and if I make fan art it will be for my Homestuck blog vrisky-swears.  Reasoning under the cut

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Question this is like, a day late but I LOVE your fanfiction so much so don't be sorry you wrote it kay it's perfect please write more

Anon you are beautiful and majestic thank you

Question Could you a fic or some art in which Sherlock is/meets/met a Nøkken? I just discovered that Nøkken are a thing and it seems very Sherlock-y.

Alright anon I’m gonna try both but be warned I am no great writer:

But first I recommend reading the Scandinavia section of the wikipedia page

John had heard stories of the Nøkken since he was young. He’d heard the horror stories of them carrying off young children, sure, but he’d also heard stories of their magic, and their music, and he found them intriguing. The tales spoke of the Nøkken taking the form of beautiful young men, but even more beautiful was the entrancing music they made.

He had never actually planned on approaching one. Really, he hadn’t.

It was purely coincidental that he cut his hand while riding. It was a coincidence that his horse was black. And it was incidental that he happened to use brännvin to cleanse the wound. He really didn’t mean for three drops of blood to fall into the water he stopped to rest by. It would have been impossible to know there would be a nøkken waiting just there.

The nøkken was indeed beautiful. Startlingly, in fact, and John lost his footing for a moment before electing to sit down. The damn near luminescent figure with dark hair sculpted into seemingly impossible spirals approached him.

"Three drops of blood, a black animal, and brännvin. You’ve come to hear the music. You’ve never met a nøkken, only tales. You’re quite interested, I can tell," spoke the creature, in a voice like crushed velvet.

"Really, I-I haven’t," John replied with a note of something not unlike regret.

"But you won’t pass up the opportunity, I’m sure," he shot a piercing glare at John. "How do you feel about the violin?"

The music was beautiful.


Hope this satisfies, anon!