sheffiesharpe

6

“She knows what size pants I wear.” Among a lot of other things, apparently. This pair of underwear is green, too. He’s pretty certain he knows why now.

Mycroft glances at him. “I know that, too.” He tries to look casual about it. “Anyone with a basic grasp of spatial relations could extrapolate that with a scant bit of observation.”

Lestrade raises an eyebrow. “I think that’s Mycroftish for ‘I’ve been looking at your arse’.”

Mycroft’s cheeks flame. “I—”

Lestrade hooks his ankle around Mycroft’s, pulls his foot away from the rungs of his chair so their feet are touching beneath the table. “It’s okay. I’ve been looking, too. And not because you needed some spare togs.”

At Least There’s The Football - by sheffiesharpe (x)

"Anonymous" request

You know who you are. ;) :*

            It was a beautiful crisp morning. Greg Lestrade had not only the day off, but nine more off after it. He was out in the beautiful countryside outside of London, and had rediscovered how much he loved mornings, when they weren’t filled with bodies, thefts, violence, unanswered questions, gritty eyes, too much coffee, and not enough hot water. The most beautiful part of his day, in fact, had started in an oversized shower room with the long, lean, pale, and freckled body of his beautiful partner.

            That beautiful partner, however, was now looking down at him from four feet above him, and frowning.

            “I thought you hated exercise,” Greg said, knowing he had already lost.

            “This is transport,” Mycroft said, his face tightening into that vinegar frown at the mere mention of exercise.

            Mycroft was far more conscientious with his body than Greg was, to be fair. Greg cycled occasionally, but mostly let his job take care of his fitness. He could still run, and hold his own in a brawl. But he didn’t set time aside to work on his stamina, or isolate a group of muscles, or put in time on the punching bags at the gym. He ate when he had time, and sometimes the food would be green and leafy.

            But he’d learned how to ride when he was younger. Much, much younger. Since then, he’d sat on one of the Met’s, when a mate had coaxed him into trying it out. It had been no thrill, and struck him as a young man’s game.

            Mycroft broke his frozen reverie with a sigh. “Climb the stairs, Greg.”

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And because I'm still wide awake: POV dissection!

I’m currently in a class on point of view, and lately we’ve been digging into third person POVs, which fascinate me. “But wait,” you say, “isn’t third person the default POV that everybody and their mother’s secret fanfic writing pseudonym uses? What’s fascinating about that?”

Well, hypothetical question asker, the narrator is why.

THE NARRATOR IS A FASCINATING CONCEPT.

There’s a narrator in every story. Someone has to tell it, after all. In first person POV (“I did this”), it’s easy to tell who the narrator is because the narrator is also the POV character. In second (“You did this”) and the ubiquitous third person (“They did this”), the narrator is not a character that you can see in the story.

But here’s where it gets tricky and awesome: the narrator is not the author, either. The narrator is sort of an amorphous, unnamed entity who’s decided to tell this story for one reason or another, and if you look really hard at the text, you can discern facts about who the narrator is. 

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Questions: Is this a survey?

Would people be interested in seeing some kind of live-streaming chunter-fest between, say, me and Sheffie, arguing about different Gregs and Mycrofts and ice cream and hats and why and what else and stuff?

Would this be a fitting way to celebrate the pause in the ALTTF universe?

[ETA: Neither Sheffie nor I have voices for radio. I only have Sheffie’s word for that, but I had 5 years of speech therapy to back my claim. So this’d be text.]

Does anyone want to teach me how to do live-streaming?

Is this the weirdest idea ever?

Would Eva want to join in?

Should there be more nudity?

Who stole my pills and where did you put them? (That’s a lie. I know where they are. I’m just not going to tell if I took them or not.)

Excerpt for Sheffie

“Oh, God, Greg,” Mycroft muttered, his eyes sliding shut again as he saw Greg’s hands reaching for the buttons of his own shirt. 

“You could join in,” Greg suggested.

Mycroft’s eyes flicked open, long enough for him to set his hand on top of Greg’s, where he had only managed to get one button open. Greg’s hands stilled, then fell away, ceding the job to Mycroft, who swallowed, turned his head aside slightly, and then snapped his hand down the length of Greg’s torso. Thread tore, Greg flinched, but then the front of his shirt flapped open, baring his chest. “Oi!” Greg protested. “That was my favourite shirt!”

Mycroft  looked at him. “It wasn’t mine.”


At Least There’s The Football by sheffiesharpe

Rating: G-M

Summary: Lestrade arrives at the pool after the explosion and finds someone else is already there.

Review: Best Mystrade fic of all time, so fantastic I can’t contain my fangirl-glee. This series has everything. It’s realistic, with the relationship slowly getting stronger until they realise what’s happened. There’s all these Mycroft feels that had me in tears on several occasions and there’s all this new information aboot characters who seemed minor. And then there’s Lestrade’s background and his family, who are all so close and lovely and epic and his nieces are HARRY POTTER FANS JLKANLCNKSN!! There’s so much to this fic, I was so sad when I got to the end because I just wanted it to go on forever. Read it, you’ll love it.  

31: What color is your cheese?

My cheese is brown. Don’t judge me. Gjetost is amazing. Cheese. That tastes like caramel. If I ever live anywhere I can get fresh, good, proper, not-ultra-pasteurized milk, I will make my own. It will be glorious.

…..said Sheffie in response to Itemfinder. AND I NEED TO LOVE YOU! GJETOST!!!!! OH MY GOSH!!! SOMEONE ELSE WHO KNOWS THIS CHEESE!!!!  I also adore one called “Stinking Bishop,” though, so be warned. BUT GJETOST!!!!!!!!

Punk!lock Fics

I was asked to make a list of punk!lock fic-recs.

So.

Without further ado, my top five:

Give Me a Label (I’ll Make Confetti) by IBegToDreamAndDiffer

Punk!locked Uni by WriterX

At Least There’s the Football by Sheffiesharpe

The Lord and the Tramp by Punifa

“Away from Everybody” by Mybelovedcheshire

I may make another post with my other favourites later, if I ever get around to it.

sheffiesharpe replied to your photoI’ve fallen hard for Steve/Tony. At least 30% of…

Sometimes, I have to walk around my house, just saying, “Steeeeeeeeeb!” and having a lot of feelings. Steve/Tony makes me actually use this: ;__;

I’ve been squeaking “Steeeeeeeeve” a lot lately. Yesterday my friend came over to watch Captain America and see Avengers with me, and we spent the better part of Captain America going “Steeeeeeeve” back and forth. And then whispered “Steeeeeeeve” in each others’ ears during Avengers. 

I DON’T KNOW WHERE ALL THESE STEVE FEELINGS CAME FROM. I DIDN’T EVEN CARE THREE WEEKS AGO, AND NOW I’M REALLY INVESTED IN HIS HAPPINESS. 

(Just realized this was the only gif I have on my computer at work. WELP.)