The Women, pt. 3
Title: The Women
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films), Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: Currently G, could be R in later parts
Warnings: Some racism (from a 19th C. character)
Notes: The unquenchable so_shhy promised to write me notes from a multi-Sherlock crossover orgy if I set up the scene. I am easily led by temptation.
Summary: Irene and Mary are each more ( Read more... )
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films), Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: Currently G, could be R in later parts
Warnings: Some racism (from a 19th C. character)
Notes: The unquenchable so_shhy promised to write me notes from a multi-Sherlock crossover orgy if I set up the scene. I am easily led by temptation.
Summary: Irene and Mary are each more ( Read more... )
I love Irene and Mycroft’s verbal sparring - of course she had being tied up under control :D SHE IS ALWAYS IN CONTROL.
*runs away to consider*
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And haha, not-chopping-hands-off bit was just for you. See, I can resist the gore, I swear. I can quit any time.
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Jesus, the potential for innuendos in that sentence :D
Awwww, you are so sweet to me. But don't push yourself too hard, wean yourself off slowly. Like... do a scene about cutting fingernails or something next time. And then eventually you'll get to the stage where all you need is for someone to reach out and brush a stray eyelash off the cheek of their beloved, and you will be ready to integrate into the fluff-writing community.
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Loaded with sexual tension, that's just the way I like it :D
LOL okay the first thing I imagined was someone reaching out to brush the cheek of their beloved and... accidentally yanking an eyebrow out somehow, and their beloved is like "OW wtf not sexy, dude".
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John didn’t notice, at first. On that first day he asked himself over and over, how the hell could he not have noticed? He’d spent two years with a man who categorised and catalogued every detail, turning them into tiny, deadly weapons. But he didn’t notice, until Sherlock touched one fingertip to the pool of blood on the ground.
‘B negative,’ he said. ‘They’re not father and son.’
He was looking down at the crumpled body of a young man who’d disappeared close to a year ago. They knew his name already, from the missing person’s report, and his age, height and eye colour, but his inventively unpleasant death was a brand new mystery that had Sherlock fascinated. Hence they were here, with the cold and the blood.
‘How did you…?’ John began, frowning. It seemed impossible, but it always did. He waited to hear some explanation of how the boy’s blood type could be read from an ink stain on his sleeve, to marvel and say amazingAnd then he saw, on the first two fingers of Sherlock’s hand, something different. Something not quite right ( ... )
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***
Just a month ago was one of the last times John got really, violently angry about it. He’d known from the beginning that there was never going to be a point when Sherlock saidright, enough. That didn’t stop him from asking. Begging. Shouting ( ... )
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Being a prisoner is astonishingly boring. Aside from that first hello, John doesn’t hear much from Moriarty. Traditionally arch enemies enjoy a good gloat, but John isn’t the intended gloatee. He’s only interesting as he pertains to Sherlock. Sherlock’s heart, Moriarty once called him.
Sherlock’s prosthetic heart. John laughs at that whenever the thinks of it, grating giggles that aren’t entirely under his control. The sound bounces off the walls of his prison.
Sherlock has a heart of his own, somewhere. John knows that. But he’s been in this cave for so long. At the rate Sherlock’s been going his heart’s probably pickled in a jar by now, and another, of electric pumps and biomatrices, ticking away in his chest.
John’s own heart stutters sometimes, purely biological and fallible. He misses Sherlock so much. He wants to be hugged and held and savedIt was harder to tell with the internal organs. Sometimes Sherlock disappeared for days, but that wasn’t anything new. Sometimes John didn’t seem him naked for days. Nothing new there ( ... )
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***
Sherlock made the rules. No bodily fluids, for a start. That cut out most things John usually enjoyed. No kissing on the mouth, no blow jobs, and definitely no fucking.
Some things were allowed. He could touch Sherlock’s cock, if he really wanted to, though Sherlock preferred to do it himself. He could watch, if he wanted to, though again Sherlock preferred that he didn’t. And afterwards he had to jerk himself off, alone in the bathroom.
But they hugged. Sherlock liked that. They held hands like teenagers. Sherlock would touch his hair sometimes, or kiss him on the forehead. He flinched away if John tried to do the same.
Six months ago, John had to set a rule of his own. He’d never had one before. He’d never needed one.
His rule was, Keep those things away from me. Don’t let them touch me.
Sherlock thought it was a stupid rule.
***
'You kissed me,' John says. An imaginary kiss from an imaginary man. He can't keep his eyes off the crawling black thing embedded in Sherlock's skull, the sharp edges and corners, tiny grilles ( ... )
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THAT WAS HORRIBLE AND TERRIFYING AND CREEPY AND TRAGIC AND SO SO SO TRAGIC
BY WHICH I MEAN IT WAS THE BEST THING
THE BEST THING
( ... )
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Although it really doesn't look like there are enough mats. *pets Benedict*
*HUGE GRIN* I can't believe I randomly gave you the creepy cybernetic eye you always wanted. No, I don't think I knew of your thing for cyborgs (though you did seem pleased about Fassbender playing an android). And extra metal arms in rom-coms... ok, did you ever watch Bridget Jones's Diary? There's a scene where Bridget is looking at the man her mum's trying to set her up with (Mmmm, young Colin Firth) from the back, and he looks pretty nice... and then he turns round and he's wearing a hideous reindeer jumper GOT A LASER WHERE HIS EYE SHOULD BE. Because if I ever watch that movie again, that's what I'm going to see. Damn you ( ... )
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Re: your fic: Oh it didn't come across as a hint, it just occurred to me that I never look at other people's stuff enough - I want to understand other people's process. Especially when they're writing different things from me! I am actually super critical at the moment (not about your stuff!!) because I'm watching an un-edited documentary on YouTube about the original movie that became The Emperor's New Groove, and it's pretty fascinating. I could go on forever but I think it would take a long time to my thoughts. It's really, really interesting.
i look forward to Tuesday! :DDDD
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Darn, that video is gone... (embarrassingly enough, i can probably quote whole scenes of that movie, as can almost everyone I was at university with...)
ONE DAY WE WILL DISCUSS THE CREATIVE PROCESS IN DEPTH! You should tell me more, because I haven't thought about it that much really, excapt for "JFC this is harder than it looks!"
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Ah yeah I thought it might get taken down quickly, never mind. The reason I thought it was so fascinating was partly just to watch other people creating something as huge as a Disney movie, but also because it kind of shocked me that every single person they interviewed was a white male over thirty. Every single producer, character designer, scriptwriter, musician, executive, all of them. I'm sure there were some women and PoC working on the film (the blog I got the link from is a female cartoonist who works for Disney right now) and maybe this particular production was even atypically unbalanced, but it still kind of hit home that even if they have the best intentions, the people creating mainstream media really are not that diverse. The only woman interviewed and credited was Eartha Kitt, who did the voice of Yzma, and interestingly enough her take on Yzma's character was very different from everyone else they talked to; all the ( ... )
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