I’ve been working on this goddamn E/R Pygmalion AU for like two weeks it was only meant to be a tiny thing fml

I wrote this as an exercise for writing class, and I’m thinking of expanding and developing it. Not necessarily for class, just…because. It’s kind of dumb. Anyway, yeah, I’d appreciate opinions.

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You are not ink and paper. You are warm and living flesh and blood, and your friends are dying.
 

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I am in so much pain right now

All I want is Mike trailing around New York trying to channel his inner gumshoe with Donna in a trenchcoat and sunglasses, trying to dig up leads on who could have shot Harvey

Meanwhile Harvey is rolling his eyes because there’s only enough room for one Bogart in this law firm, and sure there’s a hole in his shoulder but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating

And Jessica’s desperately trying to manage the fallout that occurs when someone tries to take out your top lawyer in his own office, and she hasn’t got time to wonder why everyone’s speaking in clipped sentences andwhy Harvey’s wearing a fedora.

Oh no I really want to write a Suits fic called “First, Let’s Kill All The Lawyers” about an attempt on Harvey’s life and how Mike decides to track down and prosecute whoever tried to kill his boss-slash-mentor-slash-possible-friend-who-he-kinda-wants-to-bang-a-little-bit. Not that there aren’t a lot of suspects, because you don’t get to Harvey’s level of expertise without making a few enemies. Mike’s helped by Donna, who insists on dressing like she’s in a spy movie the whole time, and Harvey himself, who seems to be dealing with his brush with death by deciding he’s immortal. As the case progresses, Harvey begins to suspect the bullet was meant for Mike. He reacts accordingly.

But I know NOTHING about the law, nothing at all, I have no idea how it works or what forms I’d have to reference, and this is frustrating as hell.

Pairing: Moran/Moriarty, Jim/Seb, whatever you want to call it

Word Count: 2100

Summary: Soon it was Moriarty who stalked the jungles of Moran’s mind at night, who snarled at him from the shadows and hungered for his flesh, and Moran knew that if he let his guard down Moriarty would eat him alive.

Mycroft & Sherlock

Word Count: 4,033

Summary: Where Mycroft was smooth, Sherlock was sharp and keen as a knife-edge in body and in mind. Mycroft tried to be his whetstone whenever possible, because with nothing to sharpen himself against Sherlock tended to cut himself.

Basically I couldn’t fit this into the actual fic— I wrote this part months before I wrote the rest— but here it is. In case you want it.

“A few weeks after Sherlock realises John is made of flesh and bone he strips naked in front of the mirror for inspection.”

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Pairings: Sherlock/John

Word Count: 2402

Summary: There are two-hundred-and-six bones in the human body. Sherlock can name them all.

(Re-posting as I just got an AO3 account)

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Word Count: 2,433

Summary: There are two-hundred-and-six bones in the human body. Sherlock can name them all.

So far I have a basic idea of the bones in the hands.

The things I do for fanfic.

Hey Beth remember when you could write stuff? Yeah.

theraggedyhipster:

blanketforyourshock:

Fake Book Cover for Surface Tension by TheUmbrellaSeller.

[Introducing ‘Fourth Murder Publications’! A new category of fake book covers for little-known Sherlock fics! The Internet for people who understand the reason behind the name ‘Fourth Murder’]

Creole you’re a fucking genius, this is beautiful.

(Source: eloercs, via theraggedyhipster-deactivated20)

Sally Sparrow only owns 17 DVDs.

Casa Erotica 13 is one of them.

(full fic under the cut)

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Twenty years ago, during the Apocal-oops-never-mind-we’ll-come-back-later, a flaming Bentley soared over the heads of several fine, upstanding officers from the Met, who were manning a rather ineffective roadblock at the time.

One of those officers was a young Greg Lestrade.

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