#might try to do sherlock tomorrow if i have time

[camilieroart]

Watson :)

So I drew this yesterday, as a concept of @charlesoberonn's idea, mostly for fun. But, even if I liked the idea, the drawing kinda felt a bit flat because the characters weren't really defined. Here's Watson, which I tried to make as the most basic elf possible. The biggest NPC vibe possible, a character that would evolve a lot from being friends/associates with Sherlock !

[jqafterdark]

Seeing S/O in Lingerie Reaction

From a request in my main blog, this has no smut but VERY SUGGESTIVE so... yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sebastian Moran, William James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, and Louis James Moriarty

Tag/s: Historically inaccurate lingerie

Sebastian Moran

The man whistled as soon as you entered his field of vision.

He looked like a kid in a candy store.

Straight up GRINNING from ear to ear.

If you're showing him a variety, he'll inspect every single one of them.

It's almost alarming how focused he looks.

Little do you know, he's thinking about how to use whatever lace or strings your outfit has to his advantage in the bedroom.

The minute you're within his reach, Sebastian pulls you to his lap to get a closer look.

He takes his time to take in your figure while his hands roam through your body.

Even as you walk away, his eyes never leave your figure.

Like you were one of his targets on missions.

He would definitely tease you, wanting you to get riled up as much as he is.

What's more annoying is he wants you to say that you want to do it before he continues.

He's torn between taking it off or just doing the deed with it still on you.

Whatever position you're in, he definitely has a good view of you.

A mirror might be involved.

"I'm back-" Sebastian abruptly stopped as your eyes met in the mirror, wide in shock.

His eyes traveled down to your new short silk nightgown and stockings, going up and down before smiling.

"You could have just said so," he chuckled, removing his coat as he walked up to you.

You quickly grabbed whatever was closest to you, in this case, a hairbrush, and pointed it at him as you kept a distance.

"Oh no, you don't! Last time, I chased the target through the city with a limp!" you muttered, keeping your distance as your eyes never left him.

"Do you have a mission tomorrow?" Sebastian innocently asked, making you pause.

"...No...?"

"Then that settles it," he smiled, quickly hugging your waist.

"SEBASTIAN!"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Wouldn't want your pretty outfit to rip, now do we?"

William James Moriarty

When you asked him to come with you to go underwear shopping, he was shocked, to say the least.

But he quickly recovered and agreed.

You definitely have his attention now.

While his eyes kept following you while he drank his tea, his smile was different than it usually was.

It was more... devious, so to speak.

While he keeps his composure, a lot has happened in his mind.

While you were picking some things, William acted like a perfect gentleman.

Holds the clothes you picked, heartfelt compliments to boost your confidence, over all the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Almost too good to be true. And it was.

He might have thought of a few scenarios on how the two of you could get away with it in the store.

It helped that it was a pretty private dressing room, considering the store was made just for the nobles, where it was just you and him.

Even the workers were far from earshot, attending to the other customers at the front.

But he didn't continue since he saw you enjoying your little date and didn't want to ruin your good mood.

It didn't help that you would ask him for help to put some of them on, though... Or take them off.

Besides, he has the whole night planned just for the two of you, and he's making sure no one would bother you two.

You hummed happily as you swung the bags in your arms, satisfied with your purchases.

"I'm surprised you agreed to go shopping with me, Will!" you mused as you turned to William, "Didn't you have a meeting later with everyone? Wouldn't you be late?"

William gave you a smile as he grabbed your hand, "The meeting was moved since some of the professors were out sick,"

"Is that so..." you trailed off, shrugging off his response.

William quietly chuckled, remembering the surprised expressions his comrades had when he said the meeting was canceled and assigned a new mission to everyone.

The manor was now empty until morning.

"Well, whatever! I can't wait to try these at home," you beamed, looking down at your new haul.

"Indeed," William agreed, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock Holmes

He never saw the appeal of the lingerie until he saw it on you.

Now, lace is his favorite thing on your body.

The first time he saw you in lingerie, it was like he shut down.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes were glued to you as he reached his hand out to you.

When you walked up to him, he eyed every inch of your body, engraving the image of you in his mind.

To him, you looked ethereal.

Like beauty personified.

When he did speak, it was soft and breathless, as if you rendered him speechless.

And when you did it, the sight of you in lingerie and covered in hickeys he left is now his favorite thing.

He gets more possessive whenever he sees you in lingerie.

And surprisingly more gentle and slow, wanting to enjoy every second of it.

Now, every time you buy a new set, he likes having a private fashion show.

When you bring him to a lingerie store, he is not embarrassed at all.

Hell, he'd even pick out a few things for you.

You can tell his compliments are genuine with how serious his expression is.

"Sherlock?" you called out, slowly walking up to him.

His eyes were completely wide as he looked at you.

"Sherl?" you called out again, but no response as he continued to stare at you.

You bit your lip as you covered yourself, feeling self-conscious wearing nothing but a bustier with matching underwear.

"Don't,"

"Huh?" Sherlock quickly grabbed your hands, pulling them down to your side.

"Don't hide it. You look beautiful," Sherlock breathed out, mesmerized by your outfit as his eyes slowly looked up at you.

You felt your face flush as you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You're staring too much,"

"I disagree,"

Louis James Moriarty

You almost gave the man a heart attack.

He was not expecting to see you in lace and sheer one night after a long day of house chores.

Was it an unwelcomed surprise? No. Definitely not.

That night, he was just hoping to have some downtime with you after working the whole day.

So when he saw you by your dresser half-dressed putting on stockings, it was like the man turned into stone.

Minutes later, Louis came back and saw you in your robe, relieved to see he was okay.

His face became completely red when he remembered what happened and apologized for walking in on you.

Even though you forgave Louis, he's still scolding himself for liking what he saw.

What's more, his eyes would gaze over your robe when it would slip.

Explaining why he slammed his head on the table was interesting, to say the least.

So when you told Louis it was okay for him to look, he was still shy. But you would catch him stealing glances your way.

He tries to compliment you, say anything coherent for that matter. But he just mutters something while looking at the ground.

However, the moment he got more confident, his hands would not let you go.

Suddenly, he's fluent in dirty talk and knows just what to say to get you in the mood.

And he makes sure you know just how beautiful and alluring you looked that night.

"I truly apologize..." Louis muttered, a cold towel over his head as you chuckled, tying the robe tightly around your waist.

"Don't be. I'm just surprised," you reassured as you removed the towel, making Louis meet your eyes.

You weren't sure, but you swear you saw his eyes tracing your robe down to your chest.

His face turned completely red instantly, making him turn away.

You breathed out a smile as you hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm really not mad, Louis!" you giggled, swaying side-by-side.

"Besides, that was for your eyes only, you know?" you grinned, making the man freeze as steam came out of his face as you snickered.

"Please don't tease me..."

[callsignfate]

Risk is my middle name

Day Nine of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here

If you want to see more posts like this go here Reader wears glasses/contacts

TW: None? Let me know if I've missed any!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

"Damn it!" You hissed as your last pair of contacts had dried out. You looked at them in disbelief before moving to find your glasses. Usually, the world was an uncomfortable blur; your terrible eyesight made people standing even two feet away appear blurry and their faces unreadable.

Valeria, who had perfect eyesight, watched you walk around, moving your hands over the objects on your nightstand and dresser, pulling them mere inches away from your face before putting them back down. An amused smile played on her lips, your mind so focused on finding your glasses that you had forgotten Valeria was still in the room, lounging in bed.

"What are you looking for?" she questioned with an amused tone. A small, startled scream escaped your lips before you turned and squinted your eyes to try to see Valeria clearly.

"What in God's name—have you been in here the whole time?" you questioned immediately as Valeria's laugh echoed into the room. "Yep, just enjoying the show," Valeria replied, her laughter continuing. "You're like a detective investigating a crime scene without your glasses. Or trying to decode some ancient script. It's cute."

You scowled, the effort of squinting making the expression comical. "This is not cute. This is a serious situation. I can't see anything."

Valeria sat up, her laughter subsiding but a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, maybe you should've taken better care of your last pair of contacts. What's your plan now, Sherlock?"

You huffed, knowing you looked ridiculous. "I guess I'll have to go to the optometrist and get a new set. But right now, I need you to guide me. Help me find my glasses, Val, Please." you hummed out before you made your way back to the bed.

"You broke your last pair when you fell, remember?" Valeria added.

"Oh, right," you muttered, mentally facepalming. "Well, that complicates things. I might need a walking stick instead of glasses."

"Okay, blind detective, what's the plan now?" Valeria asked, settling in next to you.

"I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to get new contacts," you replied, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Valeria patted your back reassuringly. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. In the meantime, you can enjoy the world of artistic blur. Who knows, you might discover a hidden talent for abstract art."

You chuckled, appreciating Valeria's lighthearted approach to the situation. "Maybe I'll start a new movement: Impressionistic Living."

Valeria grinned. "I can't wait to see your masterpiece." "You might be witnessing the birth of a genius," you huffed dramatically, gesturing toward the blurry surroundings.

Valeria pointed her blurry arm at random objects from the room. "Describe this masterpiece to me. What do you see?"

You squinted in the general direction of her hand. "It's a... uh, blob of colors.. Definitely represents the complexities of life."

Valeria burst into laughter. "I think you're onto something. Abstract art enthusiasts would pay a fortune for that description."

"I can't even see your expression's Val, you're a blurry blob, a hot blurry blob, but a blob." You sighed now even more annoyed with yourself.

Valeria playfully pouted. "Well, as long as I'm a hot blurry blob, I guess that's acceptable."

You sighed again, dramatically. "Imagine all the details I'm missing right now. Your fabulous hair, your radiant smile, and, most importantly, your evil plotting expression."

Valeria chuckled. "Ah, the evil plotting expression is a fan favorite. Too bad you're missing out."

You mimicked a gasp. "Maybe this is all part of your grand plan. Sabotaging my vision for world domination."

"Lean closer so I can." You pouted as you tried to release you eyes from squinting, the headache from the squinting, that wasn't helping, already forming.

Valeria leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Yes, my grand plan is to make you utterly dependent on me. Step one: sabotage your vision. Step two: rule the world together. It's foolproof, really."

You groaned, "I knew falling for you was a risky move."

Valeria chuckled, her breath warm on your face. "Risk is my middle name." "I knew it." You playfully mumbled before she leaned in and left a gentle kiss on your lips.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here

If you want to see more posts like this go here

[quoththemaiden]

The final chapter of @mrghostrat's Big Name Feelings Good Omens AU is dropping tomorrow, so obviously there was no way I could resist writing another fanscene. (Previous scene 1, 2, 3) Inspired by the sheer domesticity of chapters 15 and 16, enjoy this end-of-series scene.

—

Crowley's key fumbled against the lock — still Aziraphale's lock, technically, but very firmly Crowley's key. "Dinner was good, though?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes a little at how much more attention his face was getting than the keyhole. Sherlock Holmes might have blamed the wine they shared at dinner for the scratches around the lock, but Aziraphale knew better. "It was delicious, of course. You should know; you were there."

"Nnyeah, well, it's your opinion I care about." As if that weren't obvious from Crowley having gotten them a table at one of the city's best restaurants on Valentine's Day and insisting on not even letting him see the bill.

As if Aziraphale was ever any good at hiding his appreciation of good food.

"Quite sure," Aziraphale replied with a gentle touch on Crowley's arm that swiftly turned into snagging the key from him to open the door himself. Crowley let out a huffy laugh as he followed him inside. "Tea?"

"Sure, if that goes with whatever we're doing next." Crowley had been trying to wheedle Aziraphale's planned gift out of him for the past two weeks, and Aziraphale had remained utterly firm in not sharing it with him. Crowley insisted that whatever Aziraphale planned would be alright with him so there was no reason for Aziraphale to be shy about it, and Aziraphale had said "I know, dearest," and somehow that's as far as Crowley's attempts at learning Aziraphale's plans ever got.

Aziraphale fussed around with the tea and put on some music — old-fashioned stuff on actual CDs, the sap — and Crowley was left to lean against the doorjamb watching him and coming to terms with being so terribly, completely besotted that their evening plans could be "absolutely nothing" and Crowley wouldn't love it a single speck less. Aziraphale had said that he'd always thought of Valentine's Day as just another day, and that he'd certainly never considered that he might be able to celebrate it publicly, so Crowley was already delighted at having coaxed him out to dinner. Crowley found himself very suddenly aware that if Aziraphale's supposed plans amounted to nothing at all, he honestly wouldn't mind. His fifteen-year-old self would eat him alive if he knew, and Crowley felt warm inside to know that that was his younger self's loss.

Crowley blinked out of his reverie in time to help Aziraphale carry the teacups into the living room, and was almost surprised when Aziraphale brought a bag in with him as he followed. "Whazzat?"

"Painting supplies, dear." Aziraphale set the bag down on the coffee table.

Another point in favor of another evening spent doing nothing unusual. Crowley relaxed back into the couch, wondering if his melting heart could leave stains on the fabric. "What're you gonna paint?"

"You!" Par for the course again, then. Aziraphale gave a happy wriggle. "I hope you aren't ticklish!"

Wait, what?

"Uh?" Crowley picked up one of the paints Aziraphale was setting out and found that the label said, quite clearly, "body safe." "Angel?"

Aziraphale looked at him with a smile that said he was still 100% confident in his plan despite Crowley's confusion. "I thought it might be a nice reminder of the con. Getting an airbrush and making stencils didn't seem sensible, really, but I know how to use a brush well enough."

Crowley let out a breathy laugh. "'Well enough' 's an understatement. Geez, now MY gift feels—"

"—completely, perfectly tailored to me," Aziraphale cut in. "I would have been actually cross if you'd insisted on getting me another sword." Crowley laughed again, and it warmed Aziraphale's heart that he'd seemed to do nothing but laugh all night. Aziraphale patted Crowley's hand before picking up his tea, taking an appreciative sip and willing it to calm the excited fluttering in his chest. "What do you think? Another serpent on your cheek? I was thinking a tree would look rather lovely spread across your spine and shoulder blades..."

Crowley shivered a little at that, easily able to picture Aziraphale straddling his hips as he lay on the bed, Aziraphale's left palm spread flat on his back to keep himself steady with the rise and falls of Crowley's breath, his paintbrush tenderly tracing a line along his spine...

"Snake first," he agreed quickly. "And then..." He looked down on Aziraphale's arms and swallowed. "Think you could paint on your own arm? I could help hold things steady for you."

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed, and Crowley's heart clenched in the best of ways. He had no idea how Aziraphale always managed to say that like he was falling in love all over again, time and time again, but he did.

No, that wasn't quite right. Crowley probably did know. He suspected it came from the same place as the way he'd looked at Aziraphale as he helped him out of the car today. Aziraphale had taken his arm without hesitation and looked up at him with a warmer smile than any mortal had ever earned, and Crowley had been certain he was wearing his own heart on his sleeve, his vest, and every other garment he owned.

He adored him, and somehow, ineffably, it was the smallest moments that made it stand out the most.

"...right," Aziraphale managed to say around the happy tightness in his throat. "Some art for the both of us, then."

[jrow]

May Prompts (24)

Day 23 is here. Start at the beginning here. Day 25 here.

Imperfect

The brain is an imperfect organ.

It’s not a machine that can access detailed memories at will or calculate the most probable answer at the drop of a hat. It is fallible.

They are fallible.

Right now he wants to shake John until the memories pop out in full. Because John remembers he was pushed, remembers he saw the thief’s face, but can’t remember what the perpetrator looked like.

And, he is so angry at his own stupid brain for missing the obvious. He had been so sure that the thief had jumped down those stairs that he hadn’t considered any other possibilities. He made an assumption and it was wrong. And as a result, John was left alone with a criminal that had seemingly nothing to lose.

But the anger at himself pales in comparison to the rage he feels for the thief they were chasing. The man who tried to kill John. Twice. Rage is an understatement.

He will hunt that man to the ends of the earth. He will set the world on fire if he needs to.

He wants to find and destroy the thief NOW. Rosie is the only thing stopping him. John ducked away from the table to make a few calls now that his memory has (partially) returned, leaving Sherlock to watch Rosie.

Rosie’s who’s smiling broadly, face covered in ganache. He isn’t sure any of it actually got in her mouth.

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, dipping a napkin in his cup of water. Somehow the simple act seems to calm him a little and he can practically feel the adrenaline dissipate. He’s still angry but no longer blinded by rage.

He leans forward and reaches for Rosie’s face.

“Nooooo,” she squeals, pulling away. “I like it!!!!”

He tosses the napkin on the table and sighs. He cannot be bothered with this right now.

Luckily, it appears that John is done his calls.

“How’d it go?” he asks impatiently as John takes his seat.

“Good. Talked to your brother. Lestrade was at the yard so I pretended I was calling to invite him over tomorrow. Since you figured out a copper might be involved, I figured I better be tight lipped while he’s around others on the force, you know? I think he knew it was a ruse, which is fine.”

“Mycroft will bring him up to speed quickly.”

“And do thorough background checks on everyone at New Scotland Yard, no doubt,” John adds. His face is neutral but there’s a hint of admiration in his voice. John looks at Rosie and sighs, picking up the wet napkin and cleaning her face, ignoring her protests. “I can’t believe the damn cop managed to hide his face from four jewelry store security cameras. If he had just looked at the camera once, we’d have something to go on.” He tosses the napkin on the table. “Or if I could just remember his stupid face.”

“It will come, John,” Sherlock says, quietly, working very hard to sound genuine. He’s feeling a touch impatient but the last thing John needs is to feel guilty.

“I called Mrs. Hudson and Molly,” John says with a sigh, obviously looking to change the subject. We can drop Rosie at Baker Street and then head … well, wherever you think we should go. Molly will come by to help Mrs. Hudson after her shift.” John smiles. “She seemed genuinely thrilled she’ll get to see Rosie awake this time.” He runs a hand over his face. “God, I am so damn lucky.”

“Interesting sentiment given the events of the last week.”

John shrugs. “I survived, didn’t I?”

“You’ll need a nap soon.”

“Thanks for bringing that up, not emasculating at all.” John sighs again but it sounds almost fond. “I know you’re right but I want to try to work on the case for a couple hours. I … need to.”

God, Sherlock needs that too. Just him and John against the world, if only for a moment.

John stands up and starts stacking their empty plate, gazing out the window. “I have to do something since I can’t remember the damn guy’s face.”

And then, out of nowhere, John is coughing violently.

His heart enters his throat. “John! What’s wrong?”

John stands and turns around so he’s facing the back of the cafe, still coughing. “I recognized him. The thief. On the roof. I recognized him. We’ve worked with him before,” he says quietly between (now clearly fake) coughs. “And he’s watching us from across the street right now.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[heeseung-min]

Hey! I have an idea you can try out like a drabble or thought or a full fic when the s/o act like they got the sherlock syndrome but they do not and that was their plan to escape but did they escape or not it up to you decide it it just a thought of mine i think you will able to write. i think this idea would suit more on enhypen sunghoon or jay but i think it can also be for txt.

Hi hi thanks for the request🤗 I hope you enjoy this

[21:39]

"If you listen to me, you will never be like this."

"I don't like hurting you. So, you better be good before I killed your sister in front of you."

"You asked for it, y/n."

Those were the words you would hear everytime you cause a trouble. Everytime you try to run from the house, he eventually caught you before you can even go far. Each time that happened, he will punished you badly. Whether it is physical or mental, he will make sure you learn the lesson.

And that's why you decided to stop doing it. Stop trying to find a way. Stop causing a trouble. At first, your sick husband being skeptical thinking that you tried to fool him. However, it's been months you acted like that. You listened to him and being affection towards him and that made him believed that you finally submit to him.

"Y/n, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

"Can we get Chinese foods, Hoonie?"

"Sure, my angel. Come here. We can watch movie while waiting for it to arrive."

"You know, I'm glad that you finally listen."

You stared at Sunghoon who was eating his meal. He gulped the food before talking again.

"I'm happy that you finally understand me."

Your boyfriend looked really happy. His expression reminded you from the first year you guys being in relationship. You wondered how can he changed to this personality.

"I realized you are right. About the world is more dangerous and I could get hurt if I go outside. I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier."

Sunghoon's heart couldn't be more happier when you said that. He watched you smiled fondly at him and continue enjoying your food.

"I will leave and be back before dinner. Do you want me to buy anything?"

"Nope, I'm good. Be safe."

"I will and you be good. Okay?"

"Yes, my love."

Sunghoon kissed you before he went out of the house. You smirked when he finally left the house. You will use this opportunity to run away from him.

Before this when Sunghoon goes out, you will go out from the house and search a way for you to run without easily get caught. Then, you will be back immediately before Sunghoon back to make sure he didn't feel any suspicious. You had planned this for months and now finally you can use the route.

You changed your clothes to more casual so you can move easily since the area you need to go is the forest.

You started your journey with some snacks and water for your energy. The walk was a bit dangerous since there might be some wild animals and you still aren't familiar with the area. You keep walking for hours and rest for few minutes in between before you saw an inn meters away from you. You ran immediately to the place thinking that you finally escape from Sunghoon.

The inn looked empty since you didn't see any cars or travelers around. You walked closer to a young man that just came out from a room. He looked attractive even though his attire just ordinary. His sharp jaw made him more handsome.

"Um, excuse me?"

He turned to you. Looking confusely. Probably because he didn't expect anyone at this time.

"Yeah, how can I help you?"

"Well, I have a problem and I need a ride to town. Can you please send me there?"

"Hmm, I don't have any vehicle that can be used now. How about this, you stay at my inn for a night and tomorrow you can share ride with one of my customers. He often send home essentials every morning so I can ask for him to send you."

Well, it's not really bad even though you hope you can go to the town now. You agreed with his suggestion before following him to your room.

"Can I borrow your phone too?"

"You...don't have a phone?"

"Ye-yeah. It's broken before I came here."

He stared weirdly at you before shrugging. He showed the old phone that was located inside your room.

"You can use that phone."

"But...it looks old."

"So? It still can be used. Don't worry."

You sighed and just went inside. The room is not big but good for staying for a while. You rested your body on the floor. You can't wait to finally out from this place and Sunghoon. You have been waiting for this to happen. Before you completely sleep, you tried to call your sister. You felt awkward using the old phone at first but you got it eventually.

You groaned after the you failed to connect with her few times. You tried to think positive maybe the line here is not really good so that's why it's hard for you to reach her.

You sleep peacefully that night thinking you finally can be free.

You woke up when you felt someone was caressing your hair. Your eyes slowly opened up as you still felt sleepy. You saw someone sitting beside you. You blinked once again before started to see the clear picture.

When you recognized the person was Sunghoon, you shockingly woke up and backed away from him until your back touched the wall.

"Ho-how..."

"You really make me angry, Y/n."

Sunghoon just stared at you. There was no expression showing on his face. But, you knew better that he will not let this matter down just like that. Since you betrayed his trust, you will face harder punishment than before.

"Sunghoon- oh, you finally woke up."

You turned to the inn owner. He looked at you with bright smile.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you yesterday. When Sunghoon called and asked me, I finally remember who you are so I called him here."

You wanted to throw up. Panic started to increase and you felt suffocating. You can't move since you were still in daze so Sunghoon pulled you up and brought you out from the room. His hold on you was very tight that you could felt it started to bruise.

"Thanks for taking care of her, Jay."

"You are welcome. Make sure she will not run away this time."

"Oh, I am sure she can't go anywhere anymore."

_____

Sunghoon brought you to the basement. You smell a very strong smell when you entered the place. He didn't say anything from the time both of you were in the car until now and that's really scared you. You rather he shouted at you than being silent.

He stopped moving when both of you reached in front of punchbag. Two punchbags to be exact. You glancing confusely at Sunghoon before watching him took something from a drawer. A knife. He took out a knife and put your hand on the handle.

"I want you to choose between these bags."

"What...what do you mean?"

"Choose Y/n. Don't make me more angry at you."

He left you stood alone between the punchbags and went to sit on the couch near you. You still stood clueless and you looked to Sunghoon demanded details.

"Choose one of the bags and I want you to stab on it."

You didn't like where is this going. This is not how he usually do when he wanted to punish you. Why...why he looked so calm? You didn't like this situation.

"Hoon....I still don't understand."

Sunghoon sighed and decided to go behind you and hugged your body while his hands holding yours at the same time. You can felt his breath behind your ear.

"Let me help you then. Now, choose y/n. Left or right?"

"Hoon, I- I can't do this. You can hit me or do anything like what you used to. Please."

"Choose. I'm serious this time, y/n. Choose."

You were already in sobbing state but your boyfriend ignored it and still waiting for you to speak. You calm yourself down before staring at the punchbags in front of you. Why would he made you do this? Did he asked you to choose what type of punishment you will get? You gulped down your nervous and stated what have you decided.

"The...the right one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You made a good choice then."

Without saying more, he jerked forward your right hand to stab the punchbag that you chose. However, as you focused more you saw liquid dripping from inside. You dropped the knife when you realized the liquid was blood. When Sunghoon took his hands off, you fell down to the floor with your hands shaking badly. Your boyfriend smirked and whispered to you.

"Should we take a look what's inside, Y/n?"

You wanted to say no but all the courage inside you has gone. You watched Sunghoon took the knife and sliced the punchbag until something or more to someone fell on top of you. You screamed and closed your eyes when the blood hit your face.

"Open your eyes baby. See it."

Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw a pair of very familiar eyes staring at you. You screamed again and threw the body to the floor beside you when you recognized it was your sister. Your dead sister was in front of you right now. You suddenly threw up and felt the tightness on your chest. You crawled to your sister and sat beside her body while holding her head.

"Unnie. Please, wake up. I'm sorry I didn't mean it. Unnie, please. WAKE UP PLEASE AAARGHHH"

You tapped her cheeks few times trying to help regain her concsciousness back. Even though you knew, there was no pulse nor slow breath from her.

"WAKE UP!!! I'm- I'm sorry I didn't mean to do it. I don't want to do this."

You turned to Sunghoon with full of rage. He didn't react and just waited for you to do or say something.

"You...you asshole. How dare you? HOW DARE YOU KILL MY SISTER!!!"

"I killed her? Are you forgot that you were the one who chose it. You made the choice, Y/n. You killed your own sister with your hands"

"NO! I DID NOT! YOU MADE ME KILLED HER."

"Look at your hands now, baby. It's your sister's blood and look at me, it's clean unlike you."

Once again, you started to hyperventilate and started to hit your head and chest trying to get rid of the tightness. You suddenly heard voices talking.

'You killed her'

'You shouldn't betray Sunghoon'

'This is your fault'

'Now suffer the consequence'

"Ahhh stop talking!! I didn't kill her!"

You hit yourself many times to protect yourself from the voices. You screamed and sobbing when it became worse. You moved to Sunghoon while still on your knee and hugged his leg begging for help.

"Make it...make it stop Hoon..I- I can't hold it. Please."

Within few seconds, you passed out after Sunghoon jabbed the needle he was holding on your neck. He called someone to clean the mess and carried you upstairs.

_____

You woke up from the sleep after few hours. You felt like you just had a worst nightmare ever. But then, when you looked on your clothes and hands you realized it's not a dream. The blood stain is still there and you felt like shitty remembering what happened back in the basement.

You sat on the bed quietly until you saw Sunghoon came in with small towel and bowl of water. He didn't say anything and just clean your face and hands from the blood. He also changed your dirty clothes to a new one and sat in front of you after finished doing it.

Both of you didn't talk. You looked down to your fiddling fingers and Sunghoon just stared at you. As like he knew you wanted to say something but you are afraid to do so. At last, you lifted your head and looked at him.

"What...what do you do to my sister?"

Oh, how soft your voice. Sunghoon melted at the sound of it. He caressed your face and leaned closer to you so he can kissed you.

"Bury her, of course. I would not keep corpse in this house, y/n."

It was a dumb question but you somehow really need assurance from Sunghoon that your sister finally not suffering anymore. You hope that he at least bury her at good place.

Sunghoon finally stood up. Before he walked away, he tied a cloth on your mouth and your hands to the bed. Again, you felt confuse with the act. He went to the front bed and facing you. He stared at you or more to your legs.

"You will run away again."

He tapped on your left leg.

"I don't want that to happen."

He tapped on your right leg.

"So, I should prevent you from moving."

You screamed out loud when you felt your bone on the right foot broken. You were trashing on the bed trying to let yourself off from the rope. It hurts so much and you started to cry because of the pain.

"Now, you can't run away anymore."

-----

Wow, did i wrote that😱😲 i hope you guys enjoy tho😁😁😁

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @cyberpinkx

[sandcobangevent]

Whatever May Come and Whatever May Go, That River’s Flowing

by @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant and Eve283 Read the fic and view the art on AO3!

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text.

Yet another apology. This one even more ridiculous than the last. So now Sherlock is claiming his mug (his meaning John’s) had made him (him meaning Sherlock) feel like he (meaning John) was in the room with him (meaning Sherlock…again). Selfish bastard. Stealing all the hims along with the Swindon mug. John’s Swindon mug. To hold God-knows-what.

John placed his (meaning John’s) hand on his (John's again) forehead and sighed. He’d had a bit to drink and he’d maybe try to sleep it off if possible. But first, some more water, along with a paracetamol.

It was almost sweet. The text. Not the paracetamol.The sort of confession that made John both immediately suspicious as to its veracity and glad he hadn’t heard the ping over the general noise of quiz night at the Volunteer. He’d have responded, he was sure of it. And then he’d have forgiven the bastard for using his mug again.

And three missed calls. Lovely. Lovely and jubbly, his mind supplied. Which made him smile, in spite of himself. And that made him frown.

John was beginning to think he might be pissed. In the American sense as well as the British. Fucking Sherlock Holmes.

You wish, responded a voice inside his brain. Yeah. I guess I do, he replied back.

Not exactly a new thought for John, but not a welcome one right now. Water and sleep. Much more welcome.

A voicemail.

Sherlock never left a voicemail. John stared at the number in its tiny red circle for a full minute before he remembered to press play.

“John. I…”

Not good.

“I…  Apologies. For the mug. I… It’s true, what I said about the mug and your presence. Well, that and the top is curved slightly outward, so I can stir it easily when adding a solvent without scraping the sides. The sound is…discordant. But, what I wanted to say was…” There was a pause and his voice cracked as the message continued. “…Well, I will be home sometime tomorrow morning. That was not my intent, and I am not sending any sort of message through my absence. Oh, and I acquired a replacement mug. So don’t worry.”

John sighed. Sleep would have to wait. And his buzz was gone for good. He texted Sherlock.

Where are you?

On a footbridge. Looking down at the water. It’s calming.

And where is the bridge?

In Swindon.

Swindon.

Yes.

Well that explained the overnight absence. The last train back to London left at 11 and it was past midnight.

Can you tell me why you went to Swindon?

To get another mug, of course. London shops wouldn’t have one.

So you what, took a train, to Swindon?

The 9:17, yes. I wanted to do something productive while waiting for midnight. But the return is… Well

Is a 5 hour stop in scenic Reading for the night before it continues into Victoria, yeah.

Yeah.

Might as well stay.

Yeah.

Wait. How did you buy a mug at eleven-something in Swindon?

The shops would all be closed. Those sort of shops anyway.

I purchased it. I knew you wouldn’t want it if I hadn’t. 

I left payment on the counter next to the register. 

You broke into a store, took a Swindon mug, and left a tenner?

20. You underestimate the value of your mug. 

And a thank you note.

John laughed.

Ok you absolute nutter.

Then he paused. He was certain he was missing something. Something important. John scrolled up. 

Why were you waiting for midnight?

Is the fairy godmother meeting you to take her shoes back?

Another reference to the cindersweep woman? You must like that one.

Yes it is. And I guess I do. 

But why were you killing time till midnight instead of, you know, going back?

Or even leaving tomorrow morning to buy my mug in person at a reasonable hour instead of committing B&E?

It isn’t breaking and entering unless I do something illegal once I’m inside.

And I did pay for it. Overpaid, even. 

But Victor is 9 hours ahead.

And while he has always been an early riser, I thought waiting till 9 am would be the polite thing to do.

Oh. So you wanted to call him.

Yes.

John waited for more information. None came. Then the stark realisation that he had gotten angry at Sherlock and his response to the argument was to run off to replace the mug and to call what had once been his only friend in the world.

Did you reach him?

Yes.

Three white dots appeared, then stopped, then appeared again. It felt like ages before anything appeared on screen.

Lionel Trevor, or rather the man we have chosen to refer to as such, is dead.

John collected his thoughts and then responded.

I’m sorry. What happened?

He hoped to God Lionel hadn’t made the decision to end his own life. 

Natural causes.

John felt a wave of relief, only to have it dashed upon the rocks as the message continued.

It was already late so I thought I’d grab a coffee and call. 

Just to check in. 

Late here, early there. 

He had died two weeks prior.

Where are you?

A footbridge in Swindon, Watson, do keep up.

 I believe I mentioned it earlier when I said I’d be returning late.

What bridge? I’m coming to get you.

No need. I’ll be back in the morning. 

No. Just tell me which bridge. Cross-streets.  

More delay. John paced around the flat, waiting.

It’s a stunning piece of architecture. It spans the canal between Waitrose and the Hall & Woodhouse pub. A laser-cut steel masterpiece.Truly the Pride of Swindon.

Hall & Woodhouse. Got it. I’ll grab a rental and be there in two hours.

John, it’s just an hour-long train ride in the morning

As opposed to a two hour drive here and two back. 

I’ll be fine.

I’m on my way. If you get cold, go in the pub, k?

I will.

It wasn’t two hours. More like an hour forty. Or maybe John was just driving more than a bit on the fast side. 

There he was, a dark silhouette leaning on the railing of a non-descript bridge over what may have once been something which bore a far greater resemblance to a river. Now it was perhaps a stream at best and it looked as if they could have built the road right on top of it and no one would have been the wiser. Still, John walked across the tiny bridge in slow, measured steps, not quite sure what he should say when he reached Sherlock, who was standing dead center, staring into the struggling current. It turned out the right thing to say at that moment was nothing at all.

[sleepy-vix]

journal/braindump 26/3/24

i hope life gets better soon. school is so miserable and weird and i just constantly feel like my physical shape is blurred and i'm but a a faceless entity drifting through the crowded and sweaty halls. when i speak to people it feels like i have to physically force myself to and i'm always so conscious of the fact that i would really love it if i were alone and not speaking to anybody at all.

i don't feel confident in myself and i feel like this year has passed by way too fast and i feel like just attempting to live feels like a bunch of cold sand is piled in my hands, and like sand does, it slips easily through my fingers and all i can do is watch. i feel so stupid and so naive all the damn time

for a while i had believed that everything would be okay, and then for a while after that i believed that i should kill myself. i'm okay now, i still feel very unsettled and it's like i'm not really me but i feel fine enough to function and i feel fine enough to live and wish to keep on living

i wish to keep on living

tomorrow i will wake up early and i will make myself coffee and i will sit down and read (i've had reading block for 2 days- which seems short but its annoying for me bc i really really want to read but i feel too restless and distracted to). i'll try to be nice to myself and protect my peace really hard and go on walks or something

i find that watching youtube videos where people just sit and talk, or rearrange their house and books, is really calming to me. i can't wait to just sit in front of the tv with a cup of matcha and a box of chocolates and just watching people talk, or watch all the movies ive been meaning to watch for sooo long

autumn is rolling around, and i'm infinitely greatful that it is because i always feel so inspired during this season. autumn makes me want to read, it makes me want to watch more films and eat more food and drink warm drinks that make me feel okay inside.

i also hope to pick up journalling again, but i'm not sure if i will because i don't have my own printer for images and idk what to journal but i have recently tried to just draw pictures- ive recently written journal pages on what i want to read, and also an "about me" page, and hand drew pictures. it's nice, but it doesn't give the same effect as full out journalling (with stickers, images, tape, etc... sigh.). i hope i journal more this holiday nonetheless.

i also hope to read without feeling so much pressure. i usually have no problem with reading whatever i want to read, as i like to think of myself as somebody who isnt easily influenced by other people's views (eg. if someone told me i have to read a certain book, i will consider it but i wont read it unless i want to) , but lately i've been thinking of all the books i want to read this holiday (for me i have autumn break in one week- and autumn break lasts for 2 weeks) and as u can imagine, it is very stressful bc ive somehow fallen into the mindset that i must read ALL of those books before next term or else.

fyi the books comprise of

- the complete collection of jane austen

- the complete collection of sherlock holmes

- the poppy war

- the iliad

- hamlet

- the metamorphosis

soo yeah... especially the first two points are stressing me out haha... im starting the poppy war now but im a little nervous bc ppl keep saying that its VERY gory??? and i usually dont care abt such things but lately my nerves and emotions have been such a wreck that i dont trust myself to read it in a calm manner

i'll try to break free of this toxic reader mindset tho! it would be nice if i could talk to people abt books, so it feels like im engaging with my hobby while not actually having to do the hobby, but nobody ik irl will want to talk abt books as i do

MAN i so badly want to rant abt booktok (ok actually i wont expand on this bc its a very sore point for me in the sense that i might get worked up over it and then feel shit afterwards for displaying sm emotion)

anywaysss next topic

ummm i get my maths result back on thursday and im so fucking scared bc i know i messed up bad for a few questions but im not sure if it was enough to drop me down to a b... idk i REALLY REALLY WANT AN A. like istg my whole self esteem for until the next exams roll around is goijg to be based off my maths result.. fuck im so emotionally immature its laughable

ummm also i have literature class tmr and i love lit class but we have to watch fucking "shes the man" and im sorry but i hate that movie so so much (ive never watched it before but we watched half of it last lesson and it was soo annoying). ughh why is my eng teacher making us watch this 😭😭

also my eng teacher is very blunt and therefore very interesting to talk to so ive been wanting to ask him abt books hes read lately but i CANT bc we have to watch thats tupid fucking movie and also he has to mark papers :( but also like hes the only intellectually stimulating person ik irl so what am i meant to do with all of my buzzing book thoughts ughh (rhetorical question. pls dont answer) :(

hmm what else is there to say

oh yeah last night i had a dream tjat i got a B+ for english and that was... it was like a nightmare im not even kidding. it was such a vivid dream too- everybody else got an A meanwhile i got a B+ (very close to an A) and i was just absolutely shocked and i desperately begged my teacher to give me some extra credit work so i can bump it up to an A-... yeah...

oh but also back to me wanting to have a better life- i think i'll take myself to the thrift more and go out with my friend (yes, singular. theres only one friend that i like hanging out with outside of school 💀) atleast once this holiday... thats what teen girls my age do, right??? haha...

also i want to watch ladybird and the perks of being a wallflower and rewatch little women and dead poets society !

i also might reread solitaire but aghh that makes me stressed out abt reading again... fuck. maybe i should just take a break from reading omfg

i cant wait to wake up early tomorrow and drink coffee though! :)

also i will make more spotify playlists (it makes me rlly happy to) and MAYBE even try cooking????????????? man idfk im desperate okay? feeling suicidal is not fun and i dont want to feel like that again this year. i cant afford thay bc im meant to be an academic weapon :( (lol who am i kidding? im more like an academic victim)

also maybe i will just text my friends more in general. it stresses me out and makes me feel icky but the other day, i had a nice and fun and lighthearted texting convo with one of my class friends and it made me realise that i should probably text people more ...

lol

anyways i think thats all? i think ive gotten everything off my chest for now. i liked doing this actually. maybe i'll do it more often idk 💀💀

hope u guys have a good day 🙏 i dont actually expect anyone to read this but if you did, i hope you have a good day TIMES TWO!

no refunds :}

[letoscrawls]

The most insane thing happened to me today and i just want to sleep and never wake up A LITERAL NIGHTMARE

basically i'm cronically anxious, like, really really anxious and i'm constantly forced into terrible situations where i hve to deal with bureaucracy and it's awful. but long story short i have some operations to do with my bank account bc they are basically charging me a lot of money every month to keep my money in the account which is ???

anyways, my mom has the brilliant idea of investing some of the money in government stock so they are safe for some months and i might even earn something (not astronomical amounts of money, my main goal was to stop the insane monthly charge) but since she's stuck in 1800's Klondike like freaking Scrooge McDuck she had no idea society evolved and you can't just go to the bank and invest and call it a day. I had no idea either but damn it i'm not a manager i'm not an economics student I'M LITERALLY JUST A GIRL.

So i take an appointment from the app of my bank and since my mom is working I'M ON MY OWN. I seriously didn't want to enter the building and i should have fucking listened to my gut bc i had no idea the app gave me an appointment WITH THE FREAKING DIRECTOR OF THE BANK.

So i'm sitting in this massive luxurious office, wearing shorts and a floral shirt, sweating bc it's a million degrees outside, and i'm mentally revising my speech because i don't even know what a government stock is. Like you have to understand my level of knowledge on this topic is zero and i will always ask why can't we just print more money. I couldn't even say "Look you are charging me a million euros a month and i just want it to stop please", NO. i had to pretend i was "interested in investing" whatever the fuck that means.

The guy (director of the bank oh my god i still can't believe this) was way too kind, he basically told me it's not that simple and they need to PROFILE ME like a criminal or something. but basically i have to take a psychological test bc they want to make sure i'm an expert of this stuff, or at least i know what it means (i don't) and then check i'm "willing to take risks" (i'm not). Basically it's a long procedure and at the end of it i will be ready to debut as an investor WHAT THE FUCK. He then proceeded to take another appointment for tomorrow so i can start the whole process.

I call my mom panicking and she's like "Oh back in the days it was different" WELL NO SHIT SHERLOCK. And she says to cancel everything. The point is that i need to call the director of the bank AGAIN and tell him "mmm you know what i'm just a girl i was kidding i'm not ready to become the next wolf of wall street goodbye". LIKE IT'S EASY AND I'M NOT SWEATING BUCKETS.

i'm running out of time and there's no way to cancel the appointment via mail or other devices i need to make a call!!! I'm trying to convince my sister so she will make the call since we sound the same on the phone because today was too much. i can't do thissssssss. moral of the story: never trust a bank never trust money i hope society as we know it collapses and we will use flowers and rocks as currency because i'm DONE.

[alectoperdita]

20 questions writer meme.

Thanks to @heyholmesletsgo for tagging me <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

178 (one is a podfic)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,761,591 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm mainly in YGO only now, but in the past, have written for Lucifer, Sherlock, Gundam Build Fighters, Sailor Moon, and a few other random fandoms

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The sum of our choices (Lucifer post-S3 canon-divergent AU)

Side Deck (YGO post-canon kaijou)

obvious things observed by nobody (also part of the same post-S3 Lucifer AU)

Confirmation Bias (Sherlock, post-Reichenbach Johnlock)

The tomorrows we'll never have (YGO Battle City canon-divergent AU with hints of kaijou and Priest Set/Jounouchi)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yeah, I usually try to. I've definitely fallen behind in the last few months, though. I'm sorry. I try to tackle it when I have energy, but it's a rare commodity and I use it to write usually.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

These are more open endings than specifically sad/tragic endings, but they could end up there because they're open. It's a toss-up between Chilled to my bone and the recent ficlet where Jounouchi was kidnapped by Hirutani.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them are fairly happy because I tend toward happy endings. But I can't really think of which is the happiest?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Somehow in the last two years, I morphed into being a majority smut writer. I'm still in the experimental phase, trying to write different kinds of kinks/tropes, but I feel more practiced at it compared to when I started. Overall, my preference is to try and use smut as a way to advance character/relationship development.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Yes. It's maybe not crazy per se, but some of them may feel discordant(?) in their source materials. Like I find it amusing to write crossovers between animes and Western live-action properties.

We do ourselves no favors is a Lucifer/YGO crossover casefic.

Going forth by day is an unfinished Sherlock/YGO crossover casefic.

Said the spider to the fly is a Sherlock/xxxHOLIC crossover ficlet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sorta? The Horny Cinderella Incident was an idea workshopped between wahwahwashbear and myself. I wrote the prose for the

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Kaiba and Jounouchi forever 😍

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I try not to give up on WIPs, as it may take a few years but I eventually get back to them. But if I'm honest with myself, I'm probably never going to finish he lit a fire with icicles 😔.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm... perhaps the smaller gestures characters might make that hint at their feelings?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, especially in a way that distinguishes between characters via appropriate voice/cadence is something I generally struggle with. I also tend to be verbose even in dialogue, which means they require a lot of editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Unless the point is for the reader to also not understand the dialogue, I prefer to not do that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon

20. Favorite fic you've written?

It changes every once in a while but right now it might be Lure. 😈

Tagging @leechysmile, @arien-elensar, @worldendercharles, @chazz-is-a-zelda-fan, @bdeblueyes, @unfriendlyamazon, @kaijous, and any other writers that want to do this one. <3

(Give me permission to tag you on games here.)

[nerdgatehobbit]

11/5/24

Distraction time by discussing my media pile. This isn’t all of it, but it’s what fits on this shelf.

Sailor Moon: I do still want to do a project about the 2 anime. Eventually I’ll try to find a source to see how to watch them concurrently. I’ve read most of the manga that I have, but at this point I’d have to do a reread in order to discuss it. I do remember enjoying it, though.

I’m about to start the 2nd season of Static Shock, which I’m looking forward to! It is nice to watch the episodes in order rather than trying to catch them on the TV as I did when I was a kid/tween. Afterwards, I’ll do a re-ish watch of DCAU’s Justice League (Unlimited). I saw some as a kid and I saw the first season in full several years ago.

I’m almost done with The Librarians TV show. I’ll probably go back and watch with commentaries once I’m actually done. That’ll be fun! I still need to read most of the tie-in books.

Similarly, I am nervous about actually reading the Dragon Quartet in full. For context: I got & read the third book as a teen, so I am worried the actual story won’t match up my hazy notions of what went on based off of that.

I think I might re-watch the Bridges Live concert or I’ll watch Chess in Concert for the first time in the near future. I have mentioned The Slipper and the Rose and 2024’s Sense and Sensibility before, but it’s worth highlighting that I do want to watch them. I also want to get my first Phantom of the Opera experience outside of its Wishbone episode.

Obviously, I’ve been greatly enjoying Leverage. Maybe someday I’ll recap images from it. Though I really ought to go back & get screencaps as I watch Star Trek DS9 for the 2nd time.

Adventures in the Orange Islands is only the start of my un-watched Pokémon content. I do need to get back to that.

Legends of Tomorrow, the rest of Xena Warrior Princess, and some of Once Upon a Time keep slipping downward on my to-watch list but I promise they’re still on there.

I didn’t include them in the photo, but recently from the library I bought I Claudius, the second Lionboy book, and the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes DVDs. A while back, I got Warehouse 13 from there as well, which might sub in for The Librarians after it’s done.

Regardless of how the election goes, I don’t think I’ll be in a headspace to rewatch I Claudius anytime soon but I couldn’t not get it at $5.

I’m definitely currently vibing with Emma Woodhouse’s “create a list of books to read and then get distracted and not finish” but I am making progress. It’s just I keep changing priorities.

On that note..

[shae-la-hyene]

Ok since nobody asked, I'm gonna liveblog eating gluten while most likely coeliac, maybe as a cautionary tale.

To be clear I did not get a coloscopy to prove it so I do not have a definitive diagnostic. From what I've experienced I am 90% sure I'm coeliac, and let's face it the last ten percent are denial.

After about three years of miserable gluten free lifestyle, I snapped. It went like this :

October 6th (2024) : had a plate of terrible crispy chewy and sticky all at once pasta, had a breakdown, decided 'fuck it'

October 8th : bought donuts, ate two, keeping the other four for breakfast tomorrow. Go to sleep, trying to avoid a panic attack

October 9th : no reaction from my body, I'm pissed that I stopped gluten for so long for no good reason. Psy says it might be a nocebo. I'm mad at the entire world. I feel like shit and all my muscles are sore but I convince myself it's the fibromyalgia.

October 9th (at night) : nevermind I got diarrhea I'm definitely reacting. Less painful than last time I ate bread, though, so I keep going. Not giving upnjust yet.

October 12th : I want a kebab so much it dominates my thoughts

October 13th : everything hurts, especially my back and joints. I need an ice pack and I take more breaks time than actual active time. I give up and just go to bed

October 15th : spent the last week exhausted and sore, but still in denial.

October 16th : Everything hurts. If it's because of the bread ? Worth it. I can take painkillers. I can NOT eat gluten free pasta ever again.

October 18th : the absolute luxury that is bread and butter... Having fresh pasta because I might as well

October 20th : I feel so bad I don't even know what to do that might help. I have a headache the size of a watermelon and my body is just a blob of pain and exhaustion. My lower back is sending me sharp constant pain. I google how to know if I have kidney stones. Sure sign is blood in urine. Bitch I'm on my period.

October 21st : spent an hour and a half maying in the dark and silence and the headache is receiding a little so now I want to eat (I'm starving constantly). I feel like shit all the time. Best friend is worried I'll die. We all die someday. If pasta kills me, I win.

October 22nd : ate an entire baguette today, with different toppings. No regrets.

October 23rd : I am of the opinion that my body should not hurt after I spent ten hours sleeping on my brand new bed. Alas, my body and I rarely agree. I think it's shutting down, hard. I google the symptoms for coeliac disease. It's not really helpful since half of those I already experience thanks to my other chronic illnesses. ''The consequence of that is an alteration of quality of life'' no shit sherlock. My main way of knowing is if I have a dramatic weight loss. If I'm coeliac, gluten will damage my intestines and will make it unable to absorb nutrients. I don't have a scale at home so it'll wait til I see my doc. That means that until I see him I can stay in denial. I wish I had a body that worked... You know what will fix this ? A big bowl of pasta.

October 24th : I'm constantly hungry. It ain't looking good.

October 25th : I'm sick again. I'm sick every other day now. Things start tasting off, not the way they're supposed to. Weird. Bad weird. No matter, I finally understand lactose intolerant people risking it all for cheese.

October 29th : I'm so overwhelmed I'm inches away from brutally murdering my cat for standing on my chair's arm. Not her fault but my kneecap has been in the wrong position for hours and won't go back to normal so the pain of it is enough to break the camel's back

November 2nd : I'm so exhausted I can't do anything. Took a mix of painkillers, muscle relaxants, and anti inflammatory meds. Went to lay in bed for a while, end up taking a 8 hours nap. Forced myself to stay awake three hours, and then go back to sleep.

November 3rd : obviously wake up famished. Slept with a bucket next to my bed since I got very close to puking my meds out last night. Everything I have available to eat is unappealing, especially anything with wheat in it. My body is craving proteins. Try to eat, but everything, up to the most basic black tea, tastes so weird. Still exhausted, still in pain, considering taking anti inflamatory meds again today. Reconsider my most recent life choice but too stubborn to give up bread. I'm really not doing good...

That's it for now. I'm not going to the doc yet so I'm gonna keep up with the experiment. Wish me luck.

[just-antithings]

I found this rant in my notes from, like June of 2021. I have no idea what it was in response to, but I thought y'all might appreciate it, so here goes:

So, the anti-shipping movement is closely entwined with--although not identical to--the anti-kink movement. (Both are subsidiaries of the radfem poison that's been creeping through society and fandom as of late, but that's a discussion for another time.) For the uninitiated, anti-kinksters oppose basically any "unconventional" sexual activities such as BDSM, DDLG, furry stuff, and all sorts of other shit consenting adults do in their bedrooms (or sex dungeons).

Now, these fuckers are just wild to me. I think anti-shipping is bonkers, but I at least get the idea behind it: Namely, that people can be bullied out of--publicly, at least--shipping certain things. Making ship fic/art is a relatively niche hobby, and fandoms are ephemeral. So if you can make it socially unacceptable to write about Ship A for, say, five years, you may have eliminated that ship altogether. You don't need to keep doing it forever because a fandom's popularity will eventually wane.

Kink does not work this way. Sexual fetishes have existed for all of human history. Many of them are, if not innate, formed in early childhood. You can't keep people from being kinky. Even if the human race started over tomorrow with no memory of anything that came before, people would immediately start trying to find newer and weirder ways to fuck, because that's just sort of what people do.

So... what the fuck do anti-kinksters want, exactly? You can't stop people from having these desires. Do they want people to stop acting on these desires with other consenting adults? What possible good could that do anyone? How would you decide what counts as kink? How could you ever enforce that? Sure, there's always shame, but a) there's already a good deal of shame associated with many kinks b) if there's one thing I've learned from true crime podcasts, it's that somebody who's shamed for their sexual interests is one head injury away from being a serial killer.

Do they just want kinksters to stop making porn? I reiterate: Fucking why? You're an adult, you can hit the back button if you see something you don't like. I do it every single day. It's easy, I promise.

Of course, antis of every variety like to whinge about "the children." It will traumatize the children or make them vulnerable to pedophiles or whatever (which, holy shit, way to blame the victim). To which I say: Why the fuck are your kids in any position to see porn of any kind, and how is this anybody else's problem? Complaining that your kid saw porn on the internet is like complaining that you gave your kid enough money for a ticket, dropped them off at the theater alone, and returned to find out they'd watched an R-rated movie. Like, no shit, Sherlock, what did you think was going to happen?

Nobody made you give your kid internet access. Nobody made you fail to supervise them. Nobody made you be too lazy to set up parental controls, or forget to teach them basic internet safety protocols, or avoid giving them the talk and just hope their school would take care of it. That shit's on you. Maybe, depending on the circumstances, the platform your kid was using is at fault for not having good filtering, or the content creators were at fault for failing to tag stuff properly. At no point in the equation is it the fault of some random dude who just happens to be into balloons or raw pizza dough or whatever.

So... this was a very long rant about anti-kinksters that may not even belong here. In conclusion, parent your fucking kids.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Endless River

Male Reader x Enola Holmes

Request - Can you do Male Reader x, Enola Holmes. Just anything.

1884

Enola is trying to find clues for her first case. Enola's last clue leads her to the pub and she tries to get inside.

“You can't come inside,” You said.

“And who are you? You can't tell me what to do” Enola said.

“Because you are a girl,” You said.

“That is dumb and you're not the owner of the pub,” Enola said.

“How do you know that?” You asked.

“Because of how you're dressed. Your clothes look very old” Enola said

“Look, I don't want the men in here to bother you, so leave,” You said.

“I can defend myself and I'm on a case. I'm a detective” Enola said

“Like Sherlock Holmes?” You asked.

“Yes, just like him. I have my own agency” Enola said.

You are speechless that you didn't know what to ask. But Enola didn't say that Sherlock is her older brother.

“I’m trying to look for someone and he is missing for a month now. I just need to ask questions” Enola said.

“Who is missing?” You asked.

“His name is Jack and people saw him here at this pub. Did you see him?” Enola said.

“Yeah, I saw him. He owes me money, and because of him I lost the fight” You said.

“What, fight?” Enola asked.

“To earn extra money I fight in a secret underground where people can bet,” You said.

“Did you kill him?” Enola asked.

“No! I didn't kill him. Yeah, I want to beat him up but I didn't. The last time I saw him talk to the guy who is in charge of setting up the fights then I went home” You said.

“Take me to this so-called underground for fights,” Enola said.

“No,” You said.

You start to walk away and Enola starts to follow you. She is trying to convince you to take her to the underground fights.

“They won't let you inside because women are not allowed,” You said.

“You don't seem bothered that I am a detective,” Enola said.

“I always wanted to be a detective, but I can't read or write,” You said.

“Don’t you go to school or finished?” Enola asked.

“I didn't finish. People made fun of me, so why bother” You said.

“Oh... What if, I teach you how to read and write and you can be a detective at my workplace but only if you take me to the underground fight” Enola said.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes, I mean it and I won't go back on my words,” Enola said.

You start to think...

“You can call me detective Y/n” You smiled.

“I will just call you, Y/n” Enola said.

You and Enola leave together and you tell her about the fights.

“I guess, we will go undercover,” Enola said.

“But you can't go wearing a dress. Wow, I'm going undercover” You said.

Enola starts to think and she got an idea.

“Lend me your clothes and you tell them, I want to bet on the fights. But don't call me Enola” Enola said.

“I think it might fit you. But what should I call you?” You said.

“Call me Tommy,” Enola said.

She followed you to your place. You live in a bad area and the landlord told you to pay the rent or else. You are short on cash and the landlord will want the money by tomorrow. The are many people living in a small house and you share your room with a stranger.

“You live alone?” Enola asked.

“No. I share the room with an Irish man named Colin,” You said.

You give her your clothes to put on.

“Thank you,” Enola said.

“The bathroom is over there and I will wait here for you,” You said

She went into the bathroom and you sit on your bed. A few minutes later she comes out...

“You almost look like a real boy,” You said.

“Now we go,” Enola said

“Try to change your voice a little deeper,” You said.

“Good idea,” Enola said.

You take Enola to the underground fight. They believed that Enola is a guy and you tell who Jack spoke to. Then you and Enola watched a fight together and one of the fighters was the one last to speak with Jack.

“He has a temper and thinks he is better than everyone. And his name is Jason” You said.

Enola watched you bet on the fight. After the fight, you and Enola went to see Jason.

“This is Tommy and we want to know where is Jack,” You said.

“Why should I care?” Jason asked.

“His family is looking for him,” Enola said.

“I don't care. Leave or I will make you” Jason said.

“You don't have to be a cunt” You said.

“Where is Jack?” Enola asked.

Jason pushed you and you were going to hit him but Enola punched him in the nose.

“That hurts,” Enola said.

“We better run now,” You said.

You and Enola start to run fast.

“Wow, the way you punched him was great!” You smiled.

“Well, that was a waste of time and he was a prick,” Enola said.

“I told you. Now what?” You said.

“I will show you what I have about Jack” Enola said.

“Okay,” You said.

You go with Enola to her place, she is showing you what she knows so far. Enola promised you that she will teach you how to write and read.

-----

Enola has been teaching you how to read.

“This is hard,” You said.

“Y/n, you have to keep trying. To be a good detective, you need to learn how to read and write. Now, Y/n start again and take your time” Enola said.

“It means a lot that you're teaching me. No one would teach me how to read and write because they think it's a waste of time” You said

“Y/n, I don't think it's a waste of time. I'm happy to teach you” Enola said.

“Thank you,” You said.

You and Enola smiled at each other.

✬ ✫ ✯ ✬

It's nighttime, all day you and Enola have been trying to find new clues. While walking home, you and Enola saw a drunk guy get kicked out of the pub.

“Sherlock?” Enola said.

“You know him?” You asked.

“Enola?” Sherlock asked.

“You smell bad,” You said.

“Who are you? Enola, is he bothering you?” Sherlock said.

“I know him and he is my friend. His name is Y/n. What are you doing in a pub?” Enola said.

“We disagreed on the wine,” Sherlock said.

“That’s dumb,” You said.

“Mhmm,” Sherlock said.

“I can't just leave him here,” Enola said to you.

“Let’s take him to his place,” You said.

“Good idea,” Enola said.

Sherlock told you and Enola, where he is staying. Now Sherlock has his arms around you and Enola.

“Wow, feels like I'm carrying a mountain,” You joked.

“You do know, it is impossible to carry a mountain,” Enola said.

You and Enola do struggle to walk and carry Sherlock.

“It was a joke. I know you can't carry a mountain but you can't lie and say he is hard to carry. Mr, Sherlock I am a huge fan. I want to be a detective but people say I'm dumb” You said.

“Y/n, you are not dumb don't believe them. You are smart in different ways” Enola said.

“Wow, no one called me smart before” You smiled.

“Listen to her” Sherlock mumbled.

Sherlock lies on the couch and she tells him to drink water, but he falls asleep. You have been living with Enola for a while also, you sleep alone, and you're happy about that.

-----

You and Enola did find Jack. He wanted to start a new life without anyone knowing him.

Now, you help her run the agency but it's not easy. A couple walked in and you're sitting at Enola’s desk. You spilled the ink and you start to clean the mess.

“We need to hire you for your service,” The old lady said.

“Oh, I'm not the boss,” You said.

“Then who is in charge? We need to find our cat” the old guy said.

“I am in charge. My name is Enola Holmes” Enola said.

“You? But you are a girl” He said.

“And she is your boss?” She asked you.

“She is in charge and I work for her,” You said.

“Is your brother Sherlock or Mycroft, available?” She asked.

“I don't work with my brothers,” Enola said.

“Enola is smart and she thinks fast. Hire her and she will get the case done... And-” You rambled on.

Enola couldn't help to smile about what you said about her.

“We will go somewhere else,” He said.

They leave and she sighed. You gently pat her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we will get another case” You said.

“Maybe,” Enola said.

------

You are in the office and Enola starts to write on a paper.

“That’s how you spell your name, Y/n” Enola said.

“Wow. How did you write it like that?” You asked

“I will show you. Each letter makes a different sound, always remember that. And yes some words do sound the same but have different meanings” Enola said.

“That is a lot,” You said.

“I will teach you step by step. Now, let's start with the first” Enola said.

Enola starts to teach you, how to write each letter in your name. She would gently hold your hand to show you the movement of each letter.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Victorian Sherlock is so delicious 😩 you're so right in saying he's the dilfiest sherlock because yes 😩🤌 wanna climb in his lap and mess those slicked back strands...

Babe- I awoke from my sleep and jumped on tumblr and saw your thirst and now I simply cannot resist sharing something from deep in the Draft of my one Victorianlock slow burn WIP Burn Bright, That Brief Candle. Because Benedict's Victorian Sherlock is the apex DILF, the one that other DILFs aspire to be.😏🥵

...it would be best for both of them to see Tessa safely tucked away in Ealing. She would rise tomorrow and get on with her life, secure in the knowledge that both Stonewell brothers no longer posed a threat. And Sherlock would get on with his, free of the delicious distraction she presented now, so very close at hand. He set his empty tumbler upon the matching cut glass tray, determined to bring his plan to swift fruition.  “I think it’s time I see you to your rooms, Miss DeMauro.  Surely you are worn and ready for rest after such a trying ordeal.” He stepped towards her, offering his hand to help her rise from Watson’s chair. 

Tessa shook her head and gazed up at him, braving a surprising reply, “I’d rather stay here, if it’s all the same to you.” Sherlock remained silent, staying judgement for the moment, so that she continued, “It’s safer here…I feel…” she looked to the empty fireplace, hands demurely folded in her lap, then turned to him again, “I feel safer here…with you.” 

How unwise, he thought, searching her face for any sign she actually understood that he was no hero, and wondering if he should tell her so; woefully unwise--for if she knew the thoughts that he was currently having, she would realize that some part of her safety was at hazard in his company after all.

As though in silent, damning testament, Sherlock found himself unwillingly training his eyes on the little scab at the edge of the hollow of her throat. That tiny scab which had formed from the scarlet drops of her blood where Stonewell had held the point of his knife in those crucial final moments before he’d been able to subdue the filthy cur. What would she think if she knew he was longing to press his lips upon it, not to kiss, but to suck hard enough on her tender flesh so as to leave his own mark there? Would she feel safe with him then? 

Despite the heady feel of such blatant wanting, he strove to sound as detached as he normally did, “I assure you, Miss DeMauro, you are no safer here with me than you were an hour ago, a hostage to the fate Stonewall intended for you.” He paused, calculating the effect his words would have upon her. “Nor with any other brute who might seek to take advantage of you, at your most vulnerable; our sex is not so stalwart as to be trusted in the presence of so,” he paused again, considering how much of his own weakness he might reveal, “…alluring a temptation.”

Tessa raised her chin regally, taking up the gauntlet he had cast her way, “Temptation, Mr. Holmes?”  She breathed deeply, seeking his true measure while asking him, “Do you really find me so?”

“I do, Madame.” If she would have the truth, then he would deliver it in full, “Much to my continuing consternation.”

She held his gaze, seeming to study him as he had just done to her, considering the weight of his words.  A pretty blush had risen in her cheeks, pleasing Sherlock—for knew he was the cause.  He let himself imagine how warm her flushed skin would be were he to cup his palm against her cheek—or better still, brush his lips there. Such a potent thought, born of potent desire…but could she read that on his face? 

And surely she did, for the corners of her mouth quirked up into a small, satisfied smile, as she asserted, “Still—I prefer to stay.”  Tessa reached for and removed her hatpins, laying them upon the side table, and followed swiftly with her hat, sighing her disclaimer, “That is, if you will have me.”

He allowed himself a momentary of ghost of a smile, his answer far more dispassionate than he actually felt, “Suit yourself then.”  He resisted every inclination he had to move closer to her, waiting to see if she would act on the intent he read in her eyes.

Tessa rose smoothly from her place, laying her reticule behind her on the chair cushion, regarding him with knowing appraisal—and his stomach gave a little lurch.  Anticipation.  That’s what he was feeling.  Anticipation as his cool brain tried to decipher the motive behind her movements—while his every manly instinct declared for certain her true reasons.

She stood before him, inches away, close enough now for him to see that those signs he’d taken earlier, as indicators of distress, were actually the clues to her own mounting desire.  She laid one hand upon his lapel, voice grown husky and low, crossing the invisible line of propriety without hesitation, “My good master, William Shakespeare, once called our lives a brief candle.  Compared us to ‘a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’ ”  Sherlock remained motionless, focused on her lips and the timbre of her voice, controlling his breathing as best he could, mesmerized by the soft spell she was weaving.  She slid her hand beneath his lapel, gliding it slowly up to nest her fingertips in his hairline, resting her palm on the nape of his neck.  The sensation was…electric.   “I never grasped how true that bit of poetry was until this evening, Mr. Holmes.  Do you understand what I mean?”

Sherlock placed his hand on the back of hers, trapping it against his neck, then laced his fingers through hers.  “I do, Miss DeMauro—of that human frailty, I am ever aware.  My work makes such understanding inescapable.”

“Then surely you can understand the need I feel right now?”

“Need, Miss DeMauro?”

“Need, Mr. Holmes.  An overwhelming need to…reaffirm…life, if you will.   To drink its fullest, deepest, truest, with no regrets.  Have you ever known such a need yourself?”

“Indeed, I have, Miss DeMauro.”  He noted—as his purity of reason began to give way to more corporeal demands--that the pace of his breathing had fallen into sync with hers, “And no more so than at this very moment.”

“Then would you take have of me, good Sir, that which I so willingly offer?”

“If this is your true will, lady, then I will take all that you offer.  But know as we begin:  I do not promise poetry, or a settled hearth, or even some vague future for us sometime down the road.  If I take you, your eyes must be fully open to these hard facts.”  Reading her answer in her widened eyes and the measure of respiration, Sherlock knew she had already accepted his terms, no words needed.  He dragged her hand around to press his mouth against the base of her thumb, hot breath dampening her skin, while teasing the plumpness of his lower lip upon it. 

“Oh my,” she whispered, nearly breathless.  Tessa appeared dazed, blinking slowly—but came back to herself soon enough.  She took his other hand, her eyes still locked on his, “You have such elegant hands, Mr. Holmes; the hands of an artist.  I can imagine the beauty of the music you must make.”  She brought his hand close to her face, studying it intently, “But they’re strong, too.  Protective.  Even dangerous, when the need arises.”  Slowly, she kissed the center of his palm, then looked up at him from half-lidded eyes, “I’ve wondered at times what it would be like to be touched by such hands.  Your hands, Mr. Holmes.  The hands that kept me from terrible harm, this very night.”

“Miss DeMauro…” he began, needing to issue one last caution, although she kept him from finishing his thought.

“It’s Tessa, please,” she whispered, tilting her head back while offering up her lips, fearless in revealing her desires, “I’ve been aching so to hear you say my name.

“Tessa,” he hummed back, his mouth grown dry, his every sense heightened by the need she had awakened in him.  Sherlock grasped her shoulders brusquely, finally crushing her against him, to growl her name against her ear, inhaling the honey scent of her hair, while she twined her arms around his neck. “Tessa,” he rumbled against the softness of her cheek, seeking her mouth, and then capturing her sweet and all too willing lips, his own made rough and ravenous from years of denying the basic, human need for such intimate contact... 

...and then...

…this soft, winsome woman sleeping in his arms--oh how he had taken her, giving her no quarter! Desperately at times--replaying certain moments in his mind now, he realized he should be ashamed; but no, for she had sought no quarter, allowing his hunger a latitude that was the exact answer to his need he’d taken her in a merciless fury, and each time, each way that he had, Tessa had opened to him, giving herself over without hesitation. Oh yes; for she had clung to him, mewling softly beneath him when he went a little rough, clinging hard as he rode her--even as her own desire waxed, meeting his mouth and skin with fierce and probing kisses of her own.  She’d let her hands explore his flesh in ways that told him she knew the art of pleasing a lover; that insight had made him feel shockingly possessive, driving him to work her in a way that he hoped would erase any deep-rooted memories of such lovers from her mind, greedy to supplant them from the pantheon of her past, so to leave her full and wanting only him.

And when her passion rose, mixing, mingling, melding with his own--just as the slickness of their sweat-soaked skin combined when they moved in perfect, delicious rhythm--she gave him throaty, satisfied moans that spurred him further, harder, relentlessly seeking an unattainable depth.  Each time he’d wrung from her those climaxes, she had gasped his name, cried out his name, shouted it elementally while she bucked beneath him, her body taut in those final throes--her fingers digging hard into his skin as she strove to pull him deeper, or entangled tightly in his hair and holding on as though it were the only anchor keeping her from combusting from their merged heat.  And when he came?  Hot white light filled his mind, blessedly blotting out all thought for that span of time, his biological urges completely in control of the machine he had trained his body to become; the resulting ecstasy so intense, it transmuted the baseness of such primal coupling to the level of divine. 

Afterwards—each time afterwards—panting hotly from their shared release, stretching against him as those merciful hormones worked their will on her, she peppered his face, neck, torso, with sweet-breathed kisses, an easy and unasked for absolution for however rough and demanding his lovemaking had been.  Sweet Tessa, delectable Tessa, fierce little Tessa—and dare he believe it, his Tessa.  In his arms, in his bed, and in his blood now, coursing thoroughly through his veins—more providentially fulfilling than any seven percent solution he had ever concocted.

...and later...  

…and so their affair continued, mostly hidden from the world. Sondra, Tessa’s sole confidant, their wise, industrious go-between. Tessa never questioned the secrecy that he insisted upon, instead taking from it an element of extra excitement—the danger of discovery a heady aphrodisiac.  As if they actually needed that.  And there was, after all, her reputation to consider.

Sherlock had her in numerous locations, and no hour of the day or night was sacrosanct.  He took fucked her fast and furiously when their time was short, and public discovery was a hairsbreadth away; but he loved her long and luxuriously when their privacy was ensured.  On those occasions his lovemaking was painstaking and solely dedicated to supplying Tessa with layer upon layer of pleasure, bringing her to heights he knew she’d never experienced before.  In his heart of hearts, Sherlock recognized it was his way of marking her as his own for life—for he knew their ongoing liaison had no future beyond the here and now.  Wherever her path would take her in the world, he desired no man fulfill and please Tessa as he had done, and that even with the width of an ocean or two between them, there would remain an invisible line of connection, making her his for life...    

[hamletsbasement]

I won't tag this as Sherlock because I'm unsure of the etiquette and I don't want to bother/upset people with these unformed ramblings.

I've been rewatching THE BBC series though since the last time I watched it was as a teenager. I wanted to engage with it properly, with a slightly more developed understanding of the source material and context.

Oh boy it's been a fucking time.

I'm only on S2E2 (I'm looking forward to it BC that's the one I remember enjoying the most). But then you have absolutely RANCID orientalism in The Blind Banker, the bizarre takes on male sexuality (I actually have an idea on what they might have been trying to do but that'll require a lot more time and episodes to cook) and Belgravia.

What an episode. What an episode indeed.

I'd be a filthy hypocrite if I badmouthed it or claimed to not enjoy it so I won't. That doesn't mean I haven't come away with a crawling feeling that I now understand and possibly share some things with Moffat that I really never needed to know or feel. Ever.

I'm also going to go look for any critiques of the episode done by actual kinksters BC I don't know off hand if it's 50 shades level bad. If my gut feeling is right though then it'll be a right laugh. If it's not then I'll have a very educational time. All good. (I'm pretty confident I'm right though lmao)

I'll probably watch Baskervilles tomorrow since I need to finish Chicago still. And start IWTV S2. Effort...