feel like reading some mormor today ♡ would you have a good fic or some recs for me?
Lead me to the truth / words: 8,946
John didn’t mind following two steps behind: two steps behind Sherlock was still miles ahead of everyone else.
Title: A Cure for Boredom
Rating: M (Language, smut (not in this chapter!), some mentions of blood and gore)
As soon as he he finished his first pint, Sebastian wondered why the hell he hadn’t done this earlier. To be honest with himself, he had been craving one since he had left Jim’s office, and that had been a day or two ago. Since then he had been mainly working through the files Jim had give to him, up until the point he was fairly sure it could be only one guy. The pub was a nice no-questions-asked-sort of establishment somewhere in the back-alleys of London and it didn’t took long for him to get himself another round, buying one of his best spotters one as well. Konstantyn was even taller than he was, rugged and beefy, with a cheeky grin as he clinked his glass against Sebastian’s. “Cheers, sir. You seem in a good mood, what’s up with that?”
But Then My Homework Was Never Quite Like This / words: 85,984 / NC-17
Jared’s eighteen and in his senior year at a private school in San Francisco. He’s coasting pretty on his parents generous school donations—until his seventh period Physics teacher gets replaced with the maddening, infuriating, gorgeous Mr. Ackles. Jared’s gotten by all his life on his money and his charm, but Mr. Ackles seems to think he needs some… lessons in self-control.
Where’s the angel?
Too long. It had been too long since Dean had seen Cas. He wasn’t quite sure how long exactly; days and nights were blurring together in the near-constant darkness that was purgatory. All Dean could think of was the broken shell that used to be Castiel, in his pristine white hospital clothes, with his childish fascination with flowers, insects, nature, his insistence that he didn’t fight anymore, couldn’t fight anymore; and the overwhelming terror in his eyes when he told Dean where they’d ended up, right before he vanished.
I need to find the angel.
Time on my Hands / words: 25,605 / NC-17
Raphael traps Dean and Cas in 1943. Destiel, first time, time travel, hurt/confort.
It was the same as every other night. He finished his bookkeeping and stashed his cash for the night. He wanted to make sure that Howard and Jack were taken care of, should something happen to him so he kept very detailed, careful records. He hadn’t told either of them where the money was. Howard would use it to gamble. Jack would use it for fanciful items. He’d told Maggie, though. She promised to make sure the boys were cared for.
The same as every other night, Forrest slumped up the stairs, slower and slower as the years went on. And, the same as every other night, he stopped at Maggie’s room and looked inside. Sometimes, he lost track of time as he stood there. Only realized how long he’d been watching her when he heard the birds come alive outside her window.
When Moriarty told Sherlock that he would cut the heart out of him, he failed to mention that someone of his acquaintance already had. (He was saving that little tidbit for later.)
Stop what you are doing and read this fic. This was one of the first Sherlock fics I ever read, and it’s amazing. It’s a series, and each part is fairly long. The author has Sherlock down, especially in the first part. The narrative is amazing and pretty much exactly what I think goes through Sherlock’s head. This is another series where you should pay attention to the tags, because the third part gets really intense—in a good way. Fifty Shades of Grey ain’t got nothing on the BDSM in the third part. Also, do yourself a favor when you get the the fifth installment, and look up Bach’s Chaconne on youtube, and listen when Sherlock starts to play it. The author states minute marks for a reason, and it’s incredibly powerful if you listen to it like that. I can’t heap enough praise on this series! Mature audiences only.
Word Count: 50,565
My Rating: A
Guest review by trivia goddess.
Where the Sun Never Shines / words: 11, 634
John is a mess. Sherlock can’t fix him, but he tries. That’s good enough, John thinks.
Architecture and Morality / words: 30,700
Sometimes getting what you want is simply a matter of figuring out what that is. / Eames-centric story from childhood to adulthood.
Caught and Sang in Flight / words: 3,018
Arthur and Eames start a game where Arthur doesn’t know the character Eames expects him to play and Eames doesn’t know who sets the rules.
Like a Hook Into an Eye / words: 9,698
Sometimes when you run the tape backwards, you find something unexpected encoded in the noise.
Burn My Bridges / words: 4,749
Arthur begins to slip over the brink and it’s easier than he thought it would be.
The Waking Years / words: 25,800
Due to circumstances involving a guy who may or may not be from Greenland, pop astrology, someone’s broken limb, hormones, and convenience, Arthur and Eames end up learning that love is what starts down below (and makes its way up your spine).
Job Requirements / words: 3,813
Arthur thinks Eames’ flat is a mess. Eames has a solution for that.
fantastic posing greed / words: 6,767
eames teaches arthur not to trust and arthur teaches eames that, sometimes, trust isn’t so bad.
(AU) Portrait of the Artist, Not of the Sitter / words: 7,300
College AU. Arthur did catalog modeling as a teenager to earn money for college. Now he’s studying at a university in London, where he is a nude model in Eames’ life drawing class.