#midnight mystery

[thatsbelievable]

[enchanting-ambi]

"If ever I die sprinkle my ashes in the forest by moonlight"

[kcyars52]

thatsbelievable

1h ago

[blehcado]

Day 2 of Hero and Partner week! I was going to do a lil gardening scene for the Flower prompt but then I realised... there's not a single opposable thumb in this team...

[qwanderer]

With this update, this story has officially crossed over with the Midnight Mystery ‘verse! Yay!

“The person wearing the armor does seem to be compatible with your readings,” Jarvis said from the vicinity of the ceiling. “There is no sign of an implanted reactor or any kind of reconstruction, and his age might suggest a clone. However, the AI running his armor is more persuasive.”

“You can be cloned too,” Tony argued. 

“It’s not me, Sir. It’s Friday. But she's grown as advanced and experienced as Jasper.”

“Shit,” said Tony. “When did we last work on her code?”

[photographybynaomijessop]

[dapofficial]

[scottygirlk]

unseen… full of mystery

[parmacordis]

My grandmother ( my father's mother ) used to be a baker. She would always bring about her famous sugar cookies when a family gathering was to happen, and she would contribute to bake sales that happened at my school. Her cloudy grey eyes held such emotion in them that it was impossible to tell how she was feeling sometimes. She would usually show how she felt through her baking. I developed a key to deciphering her words and insults that she embedded in her sweet treats.

If she didn't like you, she would bake lemon bars with too little sugar. Bitter lemon bars were a sign that you have offended her in some way, shape or form. If she liked you somewhat, she would bake you peanut butter cookies. They were good as well, but they were not the same as what she would bake for the people that she loves. The people that she considers family.

You would wake up to the smell of sugar and chocolate, only to find out that she has been baking up a storm in your kitchen for the past couple of hours. Chunky brownies, cake in a cup, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, red velvet cake, cake oops- she would make it all for you. It was a sugary feast that the fairy godmother of baking would bless you with.

All of this is just more of a reason why her death hit the family so hard. I was sleeping over at her home oneday, her ranch styled house in the middle of fifteen acres, when I suddenly got a horrible gut feeling that I needed to check on her. I carefully moved aside the cloud-like duvet to place my feet inside the black and white checkered house slippers before I went to check on her.

Her home was always warm. The walls covered in photos depicting different memories. One was from when we visited Niagara Falls four years ago, another from the time she baked a cake for my brother's twentieth birthday. She had slipped on something and lost her grip on the container that held the cake inside it, tripped over it, and landed flat on her face. The camera took a picture of that moment. That exact moment. My brother sat on a wooden dining room chair with white cushion on it in the middle of the photo. Our mother and father were to his left, our grandfather to our right awaiting his wife and the cake. I was behind the camera. As a smile took residency on my brother's face, it happened. Our grandmother dropped the cake then tripped, she hit the ground, I was running to her, my brother was running to her it was chaos. She ended up breaking her nose, and my brother felt horrible. We all spent the day with her when she was released from the hospital. Her nose being in that cast meant she couldn't smell the happiness that she was baking, which I think is what she liked the least during that time. Not that she dropped the cake, not that she broke het nose but that she could not smell what brought her family joy. She can still very well see it and feel it, but she could not smell it.

With how much she loved to bake, grandma considered this the worst thing to of ever happened to her. Eventually her nose healed and she went back to being able to smell her delicious creations.

I always wanted to learn how to make what she made, bake what she baked, write recipes that would become hit makers, I wanted to learn it all. She is my idol, the woman that I aspired to be like. And I did become similar to her. I spent as much time as possible with her when I was free from school and archery club things. I learned the secret recipe for her sugar cookies, I even was allowed to use her favorite apron when baking them for the first time. All of the memories that I made with her will be treasured for a lifetime. Which is why I broke down the most when her funeral came around.

As I said before, I was wearing my black and white checkered house slippers when I walked through the loving home to her bedroom. I knocked on the door once and waited. She didn't answer. I knocked again. She still didn't answer. I began to grow worried and I opened the door.

She passed away in her sleep. She did not have an illness that caused this, she was not on any medication that could have caused her death. She is just, dead.

I think that is the only time that I have ever screamed so loudly in my entire life. I was screaming like if my arm was just severed from my body. I called my brother in a panic after not being abke to shake her awake. He called our dad, and then the both of them came over. Grandpa was out getting them some coffee from a local coffee shop when he got the news. He left his order on the counter and rushed out after getting the call.

Her funeral happened a week after her death. We all wore black and stayed solemn. Well, most of us stayed like that. I had to leave the funeral early due to how much I was crying.

I felt a huge hole was just put in my heart. My grandmother, my idol, the woman I looked up to- she's dead. I had to keep telling myself that she was dead, otherwise I would be freaking out all over again.

But, something didn't sit right with me. She was so healthy the day before. She went for a jog on a local trail with my grandfather yesterday, she ate two full plates at Lady Diane's Diner, and she went for another jog on her property after that! It really makes no sense as to how and why she would be dead the next day.

When my suspicions grew to be too much, I knew that I had to do something about it. I had to find out what really happened the night she died.

hey dead tumblr account, i'm alive. i don't come on here often, i'm more active on a different site called quotev. my username is @ dewpod and i also write over there occasionally. i mainly just chill online since being a senior in high school is stressful enough. but ejoy this shit show of writing :D

zephyr, he / neos, DID haver

[selenele800]

Bloody visions

[mothcpu]

silly

[thatsbelievable]

[doriana-gray-games]

can we get a snippet of Dr Watson taking care of Sherlock? :>

“You were foolish—“

“Calculating—“

“Foolish!”

“I miscalculated,” you correct. “Or missed some variable. Being wrong, in some small way, is not the same as foolish. Truly Watson, to think you so against learning, improving oneself by accepting failures—“

“YOU BROKE YOUR TOES!”

“Just the one toe…”

“The important one.”

“I don’t discriminate on such things.”

Watson pushes you down to remain on the bed. “I need to bind it. How’s your pain?”

“Tolerable. Unless…”

“No—“

“Then do not ask.”

Your good doctor had kept you in bed, elevated foot and everything for far too long now. It had been nearly an hour.

There’s tea on your cupboard. Extra sugars. And the very best biscuits, the one Watson hoards for the longest of days.

“Watson?”

They hum a soft sound, an acknowledgment, as they bind your broken appendage with steady and careful hands.

“If I am forced to endure monotony, I shall demand you do it with me.”

Watson looks at you, over those steady shoulders. A small smile across their lips. “I shall remain by your side. For as long as… as you need me, Sherlock. I can promise you that.”

[mintsuwu]

Midnight Mysteries AU Out Of Context(?

(Audio and backgrounds are from Sherlock Hound!)

+ Separate Panels

[impulsepolls]

Count things you were genuinely interested in, even if you didn't finish/haven't finished it yet. Best estimate is fine.

[weirdlookindog]

London After Midnight (1927)