fuckyeahoscarwilde
singingpsalmsunceasingly:

Book photo challenge - day 07 ‘Words on a page’
”[…] Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame-like as theirs […].” The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

singingpsalmsunceasingly:

Book photo challenge - day 07
‘Words on a page’

”[…] Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame-like as theirs […].”
The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

peninsulamamoenam replied to your post “Watching Captain America while I pack, and I’m suddenly wondering if…”

Please please please please please

…I might have started writing it in my head while trying to fall asleep last night.

"I think they only know the one song —" His voice, that uncertain waver, can barely be heard above the jeering crowd. Maeve rolls her eyes, dropping her helmet onto the shelf. A year in the USO, nine months on the road, seven hours of practice a day, and he thinks they only know the one song. If he weren’t so goddamn kind he’d be insufferable. 

Ireland, 1920. There’s a war on, but no one seems to be playing by the rules. John Watson, injured and unemployed after his time at the Front, joins up with the special forces sent over to keep the peace, but when he meets Sherlock Holmes, the second son of the local lord, he begins to lose track of which side he is on.

Historical AU — John/Sherlock — Explicit — 4,100 words (this chapter) — 120,000 words (estimated total)

Author: lbmisscharlie

Chapter 7 - A Solution!

“That’s nearly – poetic.” Sherlock peers up at him, one eye slit open. “But then, everyone must believe in something? Mustn’t they?”

“Cry god for England, Harry, and St George?” Sherlock, eyes closed once more, drops one arm heavily behind his head. Stretched on the grass, his body a lithe sinew, he looks an odalisque. Fingers itching, John finds himself wanting to take hold, to shake, to – to press slim shoulders into the rain-softened turf of the lawn. He clenches his hands again and steadies his voice.

“On, on you noblest English,” he says to the sky, and Sherlock squints up at him, blinks slowly, and says, “Aren’t you just?”

WAIT

WAIT 

WAIT

I will also accept Peggy/Stark’s unnamed secretary (Lorraine). Because hello Natalie Dormer, I forgot you were in this. And because Natalie Dormer and Hayley Atwell together is what dreams are made of. And because it puts the scene where Peggy catches the Secretary Lorraine and Cap kissing into a whole new light.

This has to have already been written. LINK ME PLZ.

ETA! what-alchemy informs me her name is Lorraine! Yay! (I very lazily imdbed Natalie and didn’t see it listed)

Watching Captain America while I pack, and I’m suddenly wondering if there’s been any fic from the point of view of one of the USO girls, with Cap as a background figure. How she always wanted to dance and now can do so while serving her country and seeing the world. How she maybe sometimes feels conflicted about what her war effort contributes, especially after Cap goes on his Bucky-rescue-mission and becomes an active soldier, but always circles back to how she felt any time there were performers of any sort in town. The hope; the knowledge that there was a big world out there and that she could be more than small-town morals told her she should be: the hope for a brighter future they all fought for.

The way it gets awfully close at night on the road and how one of her friendships starts to feel like something new, something different. How she manages the attentions from the enlisted boys; how it feels good sometimes and invasive others; how it’s only the girls on her left and her right who understand that, even though it’s hard to put into words. How everything is bright and new one night, with her striped skirt up around her hips and her best friend’s face buried between her thighs. How they save away their wages, together, for what will come the other side of the war. 

Sunday Sentences

From Chapter 24(!!!) of Into the Dark Stream:

He hasn’t seen anything that looks like a body, though, which gives him enough hope to turn and stumble to the door, falling to his knees on the gravel and gulping fresh air.

— Gulping, laughing, Sherlock’s narrow forearm under his hands, Sherlock collapsing on the grass, laughing and shielding his eyes from the sun —

— Sherlock, movements strained and cheek bruised; Sherlock warned off by Tom Barry himself —

— Sherlock at the mortuary, his body the one on the cold steel table, his skin peeling and burnt; or his skeleton, found days later, once the fire burns out —

Sherlock burned; Sherlock shot; Sherlock killed.

John’s tyres send a skittering spray of gravel up as he speeds off toward town.

lbmisscharlie
lbmisscharlie:

Holy fuck, I picked the wrong day for my experimental ‘how long will it take me to walk to school?’ trek. I stopped into a cafe for some wifi and something icey to drink, and I’m pretty sure my face is as bright as my hair. 

This was almost exactly a year ago and I am once more in the process of moving, acclimating myself to a new area, etc. But today, unlike last year, it’s about 70 and overcast and I, having completed my box-moving for the day, am lounging in my dressing gown with a cool breeze coming through the open windows and my second cup of tea at my elbow. All told, I much prefer the latter!

lbmisscharlie:

Holy fuck, I picked the wrong day for my experimental ‘how long will it take me to walk to school?’ trek. I stopped into a cafe for some wifi and something icey to drink, and I’m pretty sure my face is as bright as my hair. 

This was almost exactly a year ago and I am once more in the process of moving, acclimating myself to a new area, etc. But today, unlike last year, it’s about 70 and overcast and I, having completed my box-moving for the day, am lounging in my dressing gown with a cool breeze coming through the open windows and my second cup of tea at my elbow. All told, I much prefer the latter!