BBC Sherlock AU: BohemienParis is indeed splendid. Doctor John Watson thought to himself as he was strolling on a boulevard right next to the Seine. Weather was certainly more pleasant here than in England all sunny, with occasional white cloud puffs blowing across the blue sky.BBC Sherlock AU: Bohemien3 years ago in Romance More Like This
John was really glad that he had accepted an invitation to a medical conference, which took place in the capital of France two days ago, and decided to stay in the city for a whole week. A well-deserved vacation, he repeated inwardly with satisfaction. And the hotel was just marvellous.
He glanced mildly intrigued at bookstalls lined up on both sides of the path, but he brought himself to heel and averted his gaze. He wasn't here to browse through musty novels, his purpose was far more important. Or so he hoped, filled with doubt.
It was still relatively early, so the gas lanterns weren't lit. John, however, wished that the darkness could come and engulf him, hiding from prying eyes of other people. As a doctor and a gent
BBC Sherlock: Take my love, take my land...John walked slowly through the cemetery, thinking how lifeless the world looked today. The sky was ashen, painted in a dull, homogeneous shade of grey. There were no sounds, no birds chirping, no beeping of horns, nothing. Only John's steady footsteps on a gravel path were resonating in the absolute silence of the necropolis. The air seemed stale and heavy like in a room that hadn't been opened for years. No trace of wind among the graphite leaves, no gentle blows to ease the pain and chase away all the undesirable thoughts. John wished it was raining. Or storming. It's always easier when the sky at least pretends to weep with you. Instead, the whole place seemed to be wrapped in a shroud, waiting apathetically for its funeral.BBC Sherlock: Take my love, take my land...3 years ago in Romance More Like This
John finally stopped and tried to shake off his melancholic observations, knowing how irrational they were. Sherlock would probably have a field day if he only knew. If.
"It's been three years already, " said John thoughtfully, staring at the tombstone adorned
BBC Sherlock: 3 ficlets inspired by songs1.Glee Cast - Smooth CriminalBBC Sherlock: 3 ficlets inspired by songs3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The moment Sherlock went inside the house, he knew something was amiss. He had this gut feeling telling him that John was in danger, that's why he ran home like a madman in the first place. But he didn't realise how accurate he was in his predictions, until he saw bloodstains on the carpet. His heart skipped a beat, but he didn't waste any time.
"John!" he yelled at the top of his lungs and rushed headlong upstairs. He was cautious, his senses working at full steam, and he kept tracking the blood trail like a trained dog. His mind started analysing situation and he instantly knew what had happened. John answered the door since Mrs Hudson was away, the visitor stabbed him, John fought him off and started running away into the apartment.
The bloodstains and reddish shoe prints led into Sherlock's bedroom. The door was ajar.
"John, are you okay? ", he shouted while running towards the room. And there John was, lying motionless on the floor in a pool of
BBC Sherlock: Learn to be LonelyJohn wasn't woken up by the suspicious crack of the floorboards, a sudden and inexplicable draught, nor by bright light attacking his pupils. No, the sensation was far more subtle. A certain feeling of absence. The gnawing coldness. The emptiness around him. John slowly opened his eyelids and noticed what was wrong. The other side of the bed was vacant. John's eyes wandered across the room and stopped at the slim silhouette bathed in the moonlight, which only highlighted the paleness of the naked skin. Sherlock was standing by the window and looking out at the quiet and empty street below. He was looking, but not really seeing. His eyes were awash with deep sadness, something John had never observed before.BBC Sherlock: Learn to be Lonely3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asked with worry.
Sherlock flinched a little, not being aware that John had been watching him. His facial expression changed instantly as if he put a joyful mask on.
"Nothing, John. I'm sorry if I woke you up." Sherlock apologised, twisting his lips in
Sherlock BBC: The Meowing ProblemSensing that it was John, who was coming home and not someone else, didn't prove a challenge to the great Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson had this very specific way of opening the front door, unique pace of climbing the stairs and breathing pattern that somehow felt soothing. But Sherlock, sitting in his armchair and browsing through a newspaper, knew that something was different today. All those little habits of John's were slightly altered. Perhaps due to the rain that kept falling incessantly for the whole day. Whatever the reason, Sherlock was mildly intrigued. Something was afoot.Sherlock BBC: The Meowing Problem3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Hello, John," he said casually, eyes fixed on John.
"Hello, Sherlock," John replied quickly and hurried to the kitchen, clearly trying to avoid the attention of his flatmate. Obviously, that had quite the opposite effect, especially when a muffled "meow" could be heard coming from the general direction of John.
"John?" Sherlock asked with misleading calmness.
"Yes?" The water was dripping from him as if
Sherlock BBC: UncertaintyA semi-sequel to Like a VirginSherlock BBC: Uncertainty3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Six o'clock in the morning is never the right time to wake up after a drinking session. John Watson moaned and groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but repeated thuds, rustles and beeps coming from the living room rendered his intention impossible.
He opened his eyelids slowly, but the sunlight attacked his pupils with the force of a nuclear blast causing him to put a pillow over his head with a faint hope to block out the dazzling brightness, which pierced right through his skull. He felt as if a herd of elephants was tap dancing inside his brain, his throat was bone dry and the taste inside his mouth indicated that he must have at least munched on a dead cat. He moaned heartbreakingly once again, wishing he was dead. The noises from the living room, without a doubt produced by Sherlock, certainly didn't improve his psychical and mental condition.
When he finally gathered strength to sit up, he started massaging his temples and tried to pull him
The Fate of FenrirChild of Loki, giant's spawn,The Fate of Fenrir11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Odin's doom in wolfish form.
Evil-born or betrayal turned?
By the Gods and people spurned.
Judged, tried, convicted through their fear,
of the threat you might be some future year,
They chose to bind you strong and fast,
though they knew it could not last.
They told you it was just a game,
something to test and prove your name,
they'd tie you up in every fetter,
but none could hold you any better,
Like silken threads you snapped each one,
steel and stone were soon undone,
finally they brought a ribbon, frail and thin,
yet some dwarfish magic sparked deep within.
Your suspicion roused, you tried to refuse,
they taunted you, "Afraid you'll lose?"
Angry, yet sly, you gave your permission,
on one firm, final, bloody condition.
One of the Gods, to prove it's in fun,
must place in your jaws, from wrist to thumb,
their own precious hand to prove it a jest,
before you'll fulfil this final test.
Without hesitation, Tyr volunteered,
the God of War seemed not a'feare
The Ballad of Eiy'ra HaizThe Ballad of Eiy'ra Haiz5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he don't answer any more.
Not the whiskey drinking Indian, the marine who went to war.
A beaten up jukebox played old country songs in the corner of the bar. Outside, the mid-afternoon sun beat down on the cracked clay floor. The rocks surrounding the small mining town of Cripple Creek almost seemed to glow in the heat, and the horizon was half-hidden by haze. The township went about its business under the watchful eye of the local Dominion garrison.
But those in the Pink Moon sheltered from that world. The barman, Townes, was an old war veteran with only one arm. In place of the other was a crude robotic substitute. He served up drinks with little more than a vice, powered by a handful of servos which were connected to his arm just below the elbow. He was strangely proud of the device he'd often joke that he'd never play piano again, but his sex-life had improved tremendously.
Old Ma Haggard sat at the other side of the bar, smoking. She, like alm
Pretty Words and HeartsI would write of lovePretty Words and Hearts1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
but the words would mean nothing
Meaningless romantic words and phrases
where his eyes were like the rain
and my heart burned like fire
Pretty stanzas dolled up with empty meanings
From someone who has never truly known anything
other than silent infatuations from afar
that never become anything more
than silly daydreams
The only truth are the shy glances
and the brief words about unimportant things,
and pink carnations that will never be sent
from the girl who can never seem to be quiet
except when looking at him
Walking through the halls of couples
holding hands and speaking in soft murmurs
Until the day where feelings will be matched
and not not laughed off with shudders
at the very thought
Facades of fabricated emotions
being torn through like paper
becoming true and lasting eternally
even after the days with him end, like
Traces of warmth in the winter
Listening to songs of lost and gained love
that I cannot truly understand
Amongst the shades of red and pink
Mass Effect 3 Alternate Endings. SPOILERSMass Effect 3 Alternate Endings. SPOILERS3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
MASS EFFECT 3 ALTERNATE ENDING *SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY*
**EDIT** Holy crap this got way more attention than I was expecting. The comments and support have been amazing everyone!
A few points: Credit where credit is due; this ending, as much as everyone seems to love it, was only created because the amazing team at Bioware created a universe that was so rich and full of life and detail. As much as I know a lot of fans are hurt by what they did, we need to remember that Bioware still created an incredible trilogy, one of the best ever. So hats off to them all round.
Also, this was written really fast and so the ending (specifically the last part on how you actually win using TIM's signal) isn't very fleshed out. I know there are holes, and they can actually be fixed quite easily. This isn't perfect. Also, this doesn't deal with a 'happy' ending. If there were to be one, or you were to even CONSIDER taking the fourth option, you'd need to be damn ready. I'm talking ALL war assets e
Szo:sszenet IX.Szemembe nézz, ne a számra,Szo:sszenet IX.3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Ott a lelkem gyönge fája.
Ott a szellem, ott a holdfény,
Minden ott van, mi az enyém.
Szemembe nézz, ne a számra,
Ott jön ki a vészek ára,
Ott folyik ki, onnan buggyan,
Minden, mi a szíven loccsan.
Szemembe nézz, ne a számra!
Zöld patakom kis folyása
Ellepi a hamisat,
Szól mindig csak igazat.
2012. március 24., Budapest
Just A Note To Say...Just A Note To Say...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And I can't believe you're mine.
Wings Of IceWings Of Ice3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wings Of Ice
Lay down my enemies painfully
Release all the hatred heartlessly
Another layer of frost maimed
I've become one with this eternal winter
I've stopped the flow of time in this one frame
My past and future have been torn asunder
I've frozen the pain within my veins
Never again will I ever have to surrender
I am but a reflection
Of every aimless sin
A casualty of corruption
So let my thoughts of vengeance unhinge
I'll reveal the face-
That you forced me to create
I'll indulge in the screams-
Knowing it's not a dream
Tears will instantly become icicles-
Allowing the scum of the Earth to cry is hypocritical
You're the taint that fell from grace-
You don't even deserve these snowy graves
You were all too careless
Always hurting those around you
Now accept the consequences
For the damages you cannot undo
None have survived
The vortex of truth
By the Hand of BastBy the Hand of Bast4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
With the last hieroglyph finished, Wati set aside the scroll he had been working on. He closed The Book of the Dead and ran his hands along the cover. Despite the fact he wrote these words on a regular basis, never had it been so hard. Ra had long since disappeared for his usual voyage, and the wick of his lamp was nearly burnt to the end. As the flame died its orange glow was replaced by the ghostly light of the moon filtering through the linens that covered the windows and door of his small hut.
On either side of the doorway, stood the shadows of two pots. It had been many days since Tiankhit had left him, but still the barley continued to grow. Wati had so hoped for the emmer wheat to sprout first. Like all men, he wanted a son, but had come to love the idea of his daughter just as much. They were overjoyed when the first leaves pressed their way up through the dirt to tell them the news of their child, and the days passed with excitement as they waited to see if they grew to be bar