p.s. i have an exam tomorrow and wednesday so give me a couple more days to post stuff. i’ll try prompt 5 after my exam tomorrow
also, to people following this blog:
sorry for the spam. but all submissions are tagged with: submission
so u can blacklist it
i planned ahead for this shit ok
wo w im looking through prompt 5 posts
YOU GUYS GOT SO CREATIVE WITH THESE BECAUSE CLASSICAL MUSIC
it’s been a year, you guys. A YEAR.
and i’ve taken forever to get your stuff up. I know, I know.
BUT! on the bright side, rowan had a really great idea.
how about a 1-year reunion chat? It’ll be 3 days, and you guys can discuss anything you want! (i might drop by with some news as to what will happen next, GASP.)
here is where you shall convene: http://tinychat.com/moreshernanigans
the password is: gazpacho
here is information pertaining to the project. (its from november shh)
okay, that’s all for now!
Prompt 4: The Straw Man
By: tomhiddleston-tomhiddlestoff (Team Harry)
Everyone assumes I’ve hated Sherlock since the day we met. Not true.
You could actually say I was a bit like John when I first met Sherlock.
Amazed, astounded, other positive adjectives. I followed him around like a puppy dog, and he tolerated me. He bounced deductions off me, told me the murderer before anyone else, it was amazing. I began to ask to go on every case Sherlock got, and the administrators abided. I considered Sherlock my friend.
Then, one day, he turned to me and said, “Donovan, why do you insist on following me?”
Prompt 4: Straw Man
By: entropically-favorable (Team Harry)
After their last little game, Sherlock managed to track Moriarty down to a small room rented out in an office building. Hiding in plain sight, probably meant as a taunt.
He may have thrown open the office door a bit too grandly, and certainly did exclaim too loudly, “I found the bomb. It was terribly simple to disarm; really, I expected more of you.”
Moriarty’s face lit up as he clapped his hands. “Oh, well done! What a clever, clever little detective you are. Now it’s my turn to go seek!”
Sherlock could only stare, dumbfounded, as Moriarty covered his eyes with his hands and began to count. He stopped short at fourteen and parted his fingers to peek out through them. “I’m almost done. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what, exactly?” Sherlock gritted out.
Prompt 4: Gambler’s Fallacy
By: agayofgays (Team Morstan)
James Moriarty looks for two things in his employees: ability and submission. It’s easy to find one or the other, but rare to find them both in the same person. He took a risk with Sebastian because sometimes those who are powerful and strong-willed are truly that way, but sometimes they’re hiding a deep submission, a will to give themselves over that can never be as powerful as the submission of the ones who claim dominance.
He had taken the same gamble before, with many other men, and they all turned out to be sniveling wrecks with snot on their noses, men who crawled into Jim’s musty and jaded bed as soon as he pulled back the covers and cracked a whip. They ached to be stepped on and slapped and stung with sharp words.
These men are not truly submissive. They are self-loathing, they are needy, they are clingy, selfish, useless. He usually kills them.
True submissives want nothing more than to be used. To be aimed, to be squeezed like a trigger. They don’t want to be objectified because to objectify an object is redundant. When Jim slides his hand up Sebastian’s chest and wraps his fingers around his neck, there is no give and there is no panic and there is no please, Sir. The gun doesn’t go off before the fingers press, press, dig deep and dig hard and draw blood and hurt. The gun is just a gun, and Jim plays Russian Roulette.
Prompt 4: Misleading Vividness
By: karlimeaghan (Team Mike Stamford)
The Holmes brother may think they aren’t caring people, but their actions prove otherwise.
Prompt 4: Gambler’s Fallacy
By: konspiracykid (Team Mary Morstan)
The time of your education is a whole separate world from the time of your work. You may think you have different opportunities to start over during that first world, between primary and secondary school; between secondary school and university. But you don’t, really. You can change how hard you work for a little while, but you can’t change how intelligent you are. Especially if you’re on the higher end of that scale. You can’t dumb yourself down. Or at least, I couldn’t. It was infuriating, and I didn’t even bother trying because I knew it would end badly.
Everyone says university is a time of change. Maybe. Maybe I’ve changed now. I doubt it. I don’t feel the need to change, anyhow. They’re the ones who are wrong. They always have been. Call it an immature point of view, but think about a bigger picture. I rarely used my observational skills to hurt people; most of the information I offered would have been useful if they had looked past their initial reactions.
Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say. Hypocrites.