Devil John 8 - Want
Devil John 8 - Want
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
Sherlock strides ahead, his long legs covering the distance quickly. John follows, his legs widening as he walks.
The flair of his coat.
Sherlock was always was a drama queen.
Sherlock pushes open the gate with his gloved hand, then he stops and looks back at John before rushing down the road. John steps through and looks at the street stretching out before them. The damp pavement glistens in the lamplight. Sherlock pauses at a quiet street corner and glances around before crossing. Bouncing lightly on his toes as he jumps over a puddle. He rushes, despite the fact that there is no sign of pursuit, pausing in his walk every so often however to glance back at John.
At University, John read the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Sherlock reminds him of Orpheus. He is a musician, and John did indeed come from the underworld.
What is that look in his eyes? Bedroom eyes. Sherlock on his bed in only his pants. A hand drifting down. Lidded eyes falling shut as he reaches inside. His mouth falling open.
John wonders if Eurydice had such dirty thoughts while watching her lover. A glance back, and Sherlock turns down another street.
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(Author unknown)
To the tune of “Modern Major General”
I am the very model of effective social distancing!
I listen to the experts on the topic of resistance-ing;
I know that brunch and yoga class aren’t nearly as imperative
As doing what I can to change the nation’s viral narrative.
I’m very well acquainted, too, with living solitarily
And confident that everyone can do it temporarily:
Go take a walk, or ride a bike, or dig into an unread book;
Avoid the bars and restaurants and carry out, or learn to cook.
There’s lots of stuff to watch online while keeping safe from sinus ills
(In this case, it’s far better to enjoy your Netflix MINUS chills)!
Adopt a pet, compose a ballad, write some earnest doggerel,
And help demolish Trump before our next event inaugural.
Pandemics are alarming, but they aren’t insurmountable
If everybody pitches in to hold ourselves accountable.
In short, please do your part to practice prudent co-existence-ing,
And be the very model of effective social distancing!
This author gratefully accepts donations to keep her in chocolate so that she can continue writing.
Thank You Very Much!
A sincere request from someone who has spent her entire adult life wishing people had kept better records…
In the coming weeks and months… RECORD WHAT IS HAPPENING.
Start a journal, take photos, keep a video diary, make a daily blog post, jot a few notes down in a day planner, whatever!
It is not very often that you can be certain that you’re living in a time that historians will study in detail.
The nightly news can tell us the facts, twitter can tell us the larger cultural trends, but no one can keep an accurate record of your daily life and honest thoughts during this crisis but you.
Are you scared to death? Write it down.
Are you still thinking this is being blown out of proportion? Write it down.
Are you still being forced to work and are pissed as hell about it? Write it down.
Did you see someone do something kind that made you smile? Write it down.
Is your grocery store completely out of toilet paper? Take a picture.
Is your normally bustling neighborhood eerily empty? Take a video.
Did you see a really funny plague joke on twitter? Write it down so you/your grandkids and/or future historians can have a laugh.
I have never successfully kept a journal in my entire life, but I’ve been keeping one since the 10th. Nothing fancy. Just a summary of my day in quarantine, what my family’s up to, today’s news and my current thoughts.
Even if it’s only for you to look back on this time honestly, without the bias of hindsight, you won’t regret doing it.
Future historians will thank you.
In which Irene does not develop feelings for Sherlock, but is instead a good role model for cancer prevention.
At first I thought this was a photofake! Prayers for those affected.
Mount Taal in the Philippines, suddenly erupting this afternoon, Jan 12th 2020.
It is now in the Alert 4 with possible hazardous eruptions within days. Several neighboring provinces are experiencing red haze and ashfall. Its last eruption is 1977.
With what's going on in the world, please pray for the Philippines too.
(I don't own the photos, credits to the owners)
📷 | Arden Pimentel Photography, De Qui
David Tennant and Michael Sheen on Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship
Devil John 11 - Like a girl
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Excerpt:
The smell of oranges.
A tent door flapping in the breeze. Strong fingers digging in. The bright peel falling in pieces onto the surface a camp table. Oil arcs through the air filling the entire cabin with the smell of citrus.
“We've more ground to cover, and we're two men down,” Major Sholto says before taking a piece of orange and putting it in his mouth.
John looks up from where he sits slumped in his camp chair. He stares into blue eyes as bright as the desert sky. “Elroy and Firman were both good men. I tried to save them. I did everything I could for them.”
“I'm sure that you did, Watson. You're the best surgeon we have. If you couldn't save them, then they couldn't be saved.”
John smiles weakly, “It's nice of you to say, but I still think I could have done more.”
“As you should. Striving for perfection, that's what makes a man, isn't it? You did the best that you could, under the circumstances. No one can ask more than that. But I'm not looking forward to writing those letters to the family. It's never easy, but it's especially hard when those who die are so young.”
“Sometimes I wonder why they even enlisted. They could have been in Uni, having fun and meeting girls instead of coming out here to die in the desert.”
“Some people aren't made for civilized places. I couldn't imagine going back for good. Could you, Watson?”
“No,” John says. “It's a strange thing to say, considering where we are, but I've never lived in a place where I've felt more at peace than I do here and now...with you.”
Sholto pauses a minute to smile at John before eating the last orange slice.
John stares at the man sitting across from him. So strong and straight, and beautiful. It's as if this place had been made simply to show off his features. The square lines of his face echoed in the walls and floor. The beige color of the tent setting off the gold of his hair. He shines here, like the sun over the tops of the mountains.
In this moment, John's heart feels full, and this man makes him feel more welcome than anyone that he has ever known. He wants to tell him somehow, but he doesn't have words to describe it, so he rises to his feet and walks over to place a hand on the Major's shoulder.
He can hear birds singing outside the tent. Soon the sun will rise and everyone else in the camp will wake, but this moment seems made just for the two of them. A stolen moment of peace in a time of war. Unwilling to break the silence, but unable to keep his feelings inside, he bends down slowly and touches their lips together.
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