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Illustrator Lili Chin's adorable series Dogs of the World illustrates 192 breeds of dogs grouped according to geographical origin.













This is so cool. Not just because it lists some really cool breeds and what places they originated (Bull Arabs are cooooool as hell, and Latin America makes some stunning breeds), but because you can also get a nice peek into what needs the people in their respective regions of origin have!

The difference between Africa’s dogs, and dogs from Switzerland, the Middle East, or Ireland is staggering.

Dogs were bred to be not only companions, but tools, so our lives exclusively benefit one another, and our survival is intertwined. Think about what is required of the Ridgeback, of the Gull Terrier of Pakistan, the Bernese Mountain dog, the Cane Corso, the Corgi, the Samoyed. And ask yourself how fucking cool it is that all of these animals were exclusively created to EXCEL in their home regions, in their familiar terrain, be it farmland, snow capped mountains, lush fields with rodents to chase, or a vast, dry flatland with lions that need to be chased off, or in a pit, in a war, whatever.

This is so cool because you can connect those regions very richly with the doggies they created and see what they’re probably like based on the purpose of the dog, it’s build, etc.



His hand trailed gently down her forearm; his fingers curling into a light grip around her frail wrist.

"Let’s have dinner," he purred quietly.

Sherlock kept her eyes ahead, “Why?”

"You might be hungry."

"I’m not."


Sherlock could hear the small smile in his voice, but kept her eyes away from him. She felt Ian’s tall, broad frame pressing warmly up against her back…

"Why would I… want to have… dinner… if I wasn’t hungry?" She asked calmly, taking a deep breath as her head tilted.

"Miss Holmes…" Ian’s breath and deep voice ghosted across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder, "If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night… would you have dinner with me?”

- - -

DE - since people seemed to enjoy the first Ian Adler/Sherlock Holmes graphic, I followed up with another x

Ian Adler - Tom Hiddleston
Sherlock Holmes - Eva Green


Very very close, but no.You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much.”

Ian tilted his head a bit, “No such thing as too much.” he purred.

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game – I sympathize entirely – but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." Sherlock countered smoothly.

The dom frowned, “Sentiment? What are you talking about?” he asked.


He paused for a beat, slightly taken aback by the answer - though it didn’t show on his face. “Oh dear God. Look at the poor woman.” he breathed sympathetically. “You don’t actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you’re the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the cute hat?” he teased; a hint of defense laced in the back of his tone.

"No." Sherlock said softly, close enough now to wrap her slender fingers around his wrist. She moved in close, and leaned up to whisper into his ear, "Because I took your pulse."

Ian’s expression dropped a bit…

(His mind flashes back to kneeling in front of her at the flat … then they are standing, his torso pressed against her back as she looks out the window… and putting his hand on top of her, then, Sherlock turning her hand over and resting her fingertips on the underside of Ian’s wrist…)

"Elevated," she continued, "…your pupils dilated."

(Ian gazed into her eyes as he knelt in front of her…)

He snaps out of his recollection to register the consulting detective sliding around him. His eyes stay glued on her as she picks up his mobile from the table, before she continues speaking,

"I imagine Johanna Watson thinks love’s a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive. When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination to your safe – your measurements; but this … this is far more intimate. This is your heart …" Sherlock keeps her gaze locked onto Ian’s as she begins to punch in the first number into the lock-code.

"… and you should never let it rule your head.”

Ian’s relaxed posture is more tense now; his breathing has quickened and there is the slightest hint of panic in his eyes. Sherlock shook her head as she approached him again - with a more severe, intense look in her eyes as she began to unravel his weakness, “You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you’ve worked for …” the genius punched in another number, “…but you just couldn’t resist it, could you?”

Ian purses his lips together, his heartbeat rapidly thumping in his chest as he realizes she has him.

"I’ve always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage," She punches is the third number, "Thank you for the final proof."

As she goes to input the last number, Ian’s hand suddenly covers her own. His eyes have lost their bravado, their cockiness - and now look to her in a silent plea. A sense of defeat and desperation…

"Everything I said…" he muttered beneath his breath, intimately, "…it’s not real.I was just playing the game."

Sherlock’s eyes grew gentle for a mere second as she breathed, “I know.” But her icy blue orbs grew hard in their edge again, as she gently pulled her hand away from his grasp - and pushed in the final number.

"And this is just losing."

Slowly she turns the phone towards him and shows Ian the screen.



graphic request || femlock

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