#hisloyalbloggerjw

[ilmiotas]

I have returned to Tumblr

Previously, I was hisloyalbloggerjw, hisloyalwriterjw, and Sadishappiness.

Now I'm a multimuse blog >:D

@deathtransformed

@shallnotdisappoint

@drthetasigma14

[drthetasigma14]

Potter!verse, Bonus Track: "Bad Blood." (Bastille)

Some months after The Battle of Hogwarts and The Liberation of Durmstrang. 

It was a cold day in the graveyard, the sort of cloudy day that London had made into an art form.

And Doctor John Watson stood, awkward and alone, shifting his magical prosthetic leg uncomfortably-- gazing at a headstone.

He hesitated, feeling utterly sheepish but not knowing what else to do, where else to turn--

"You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human."

Of course. How could he be human? A blue-skinned golden-eyed woman bleeding into Norwegian grass. No. Never mind that, never mind you. He pressed on:

"But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there."

John ambled forward hesitantly, and touched the smooth top of the marble stone, and found it cold indeed.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me."

He shook his head fiercely, blinked back tears, clenched his jaw: "I don't care that you were a woman. I don't care that you were-- whatever you were-- I-- I loved you. I love you. I'll love you no matter what form you take, because I love you. The-- the trappings don't matter. All that matters is-- is that you're not here."

"Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

He stood there for a moment, and he looked around-- half-- more than half-- expecting that tall frame and that long black coat and those black curls-- to just step out from behind an angel statue and tah dah "Not dead."

But nothing. Nothing.

No-one.

John was still alone. 

That made sense, though, didn't it? Usually if someone was coming back from the dead, it would happen in the first three days. Tradition.

Shaking his head, John put his hands into his pockets, slumped a bit, and walked away.

...and as he did so, a figure did step out from behind a statue and watched him go. Tall-framed, black-coated, with dark hair all in curls, cheekbones like ice.

The wind drifted his coat for a moment, a long long moment of watching, and then he turned to walk back the way he'd come.

Leaning against another statue stood a shorter fellow with brown hair slicked back and a devil's twinkle in his eyes. "I tell you what, Rae-- your death scene was good. Mine are better. The difference? Showmanship."

Sherlock harrumphed. "Gabriel."

The Archangel snorted, shook his head. "So you gonna tell him you're not six feet under? Little hedgehog made my eyes prickle."

"Soon," Sherlock affirmed. "Sooner rather than later. But I have work to be done that still is made most efficacious by my being thought deceased. Not only have I to disassemble M's network of lieutenants, but there's the matter of M's sometime employer, The Faceless. I must investigate their ultimate aims and undermine them, as I am quite sure I will find them not to my liking."

"Busy busy busy for a dead girl," Gabriel nodded. "I know how that goes. I've gotta get back to Asgard and foster unrest among The Jotun, screw with Dean and Sam, and deal with this woman in America who claims she's my Billie Jean."

"Soonest started," Sherlock noted, "soonest done."

"Heh, yeah," Gabriel chuckled, putting one hand on Sherlock's shoulder, and then cheerfully crooned: "'I just can't wait to be king.'"

And with a whoosh of angel wings, they were gone.

[xsherlockxholmes]

The Disaster Pokémon it seemed to be a good enough fit. Usually not found around other people because it preferred to be solitary but she had had her Absol for years now. People seemed to find it weird. Then again people found her a lot of things beyond merely weird. Sherlock had stopped listening to the common wealth ages ago. She didn't associate with a lot of people, certainly no more then absolutely needed. And right now she needed to socialize, mingle. Or visit a bar at the very least, she had strong suspicions that the final pieces of her current case would be pieced together here. She sat herself at the bar, her Absol very close by her, the only piece of familiarity in this place as she rather hesitantly ordered a glass of wine, not planning on drinking any of it but keeping up appearances was important in this case. 

[drthetasigma14]

(( Kim: Despite the lack of organization in this odd little brainbox of mine, I generally seem to be able to get complicated ideas to line up on their own. But when I get overwhelmed, there is nothing like the feel of a Moleskine in your hands, or the lines of a notebook, or even a notepad file on the computer to get things right where you want them. 

Never underestimate the power of an organized thought.

Hunt: Yyyyyyyeah I also remember when I first wrote down vague ideas for drabbles for this thing and it was only like ten then and now we're closing in on the triple digits. (God willing and the crick don't rise.) Sometimes ideas are bigger than us, sometimes stories are icebergs just bobbing below the surface waiting to wreck us, and that is simultaneously the worst and best feeling in The Universe.

Of course you're cool. Spider-Woman is awesome. :: winks ::

But srsly gurl thank you. Thank you. )) 

(( O.O 

...oh shit what'd I do now?

I FUCKED UP SHUT IT DOWN ))

[blewinonaleaf]

Brand New Faces.

Clara was standing behind the bar before opening, wiping off some glasses. She'd straightened the bar already so this was all she had to do before the new trainee came in. She quickly shrugged off her jacket, revealing a sheer purple shirt. It had sleeves to her wrists with slits in the arm. She wore dark jeans tonight and black combat boots. She was only 5'2 so it was a miracle the bar was shorter and she could see over it. She made due though. She sighed heavily and pushed brown hair off her face. She liked bartending for the most part, but that wasn't the only thing she did here. She also danced every other day. It just felt so degrading to dance for men to stare at her and pay her to take her clothes off. It made her skin crawl when she thought about it too much. She needed the money though, and this was how she got it. She was jarred from her thoughts by a knock on the bar door. She walked over and unlocked it, giving the man standing on the other side a friendly smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You must be the new trainee they hired." She said softly, her brown eyes meeting his. "I'm Clara." She said, offering him her hand.