#sherlock's magnificent brain

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Selectively Eidetic

Sherlock's mind can change chaos to order He collects and stores facts like a hoarder He deletes from his brain Bits found dull or insane And several things past London's border

Added value on ao3, as they say in the marketing biz.

@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @weeesi

@friday411 @helloliriels

[j-eryewrites]

Stressed Out

MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 1.k <

Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)

Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.

Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.

At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.

When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.

Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.

Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?

“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

“I organized it,” Sherlock said.

You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”

“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”

Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”

As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”

“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.

Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”

Sherlock frowned.

“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”

Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

@biggerthancalli13

@themartiansdaughter

@sunsumonner 

@silversword7000

@starlightaurorab

@my-dear-sweet-melody

@neroarrow83

@khaleesihavilliard

@agentxx92

@myszur-blog

@halestorm0707

_____

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Chapter 22: Holmes' Little Reunion

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat  by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson.

Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

Chapter 22: Holmes' Little Reunion

“Sometimes I wish I had a written record of the case,” mused Holmes. “Of course, all of the facts I have discovered are in my Mind Palace, but to see them laid out in black and white might somehow reveal the truth to me.”

I gave a slightly embarrassed cough. 

“As far as that goes,” I began, and then stopped. 

Holmes sat upright in his chair. His eyes sparkled. 

“What is it that you would like to say?” 

“Well, as a matter of fact, I like to keep a journal. Usually quite repetitive and dull, because since I’ve returned from the Great War nothing ever happens to me. But when this case came along, I thought why not try my hand at writing something interesting. Seemed a pity not to—unique opportunity—probably the only time I’ll be mixed up with anything of this kind.” 

I felt myself getting hotter and hotter, and more and more incoherent, as I floundered through the above speech. 

Holmes sprang from his chair. I had a moment’s mingled elation and terror that he was going to embrace me, but he refrained. 

“This is magnificent—you have written down your impressions of the case as you went along?” 

I nodded. 

“Excellent!” cried Holmes. “Let me see them—this instant.” 

I was not quite prepared for such a sudden demand. I racked my brains to remember certain details. 

“I hope you won’t mind,” I stammered. “I may have been a little—er—personal now and then.”

[procrastiel]

My current thoughts on Good Omens:

- the makers put a huge amount of effort into this show, right down to Crowley’s eye color being called Va Va Voom and such

- the makers want us to play Sherlock Holmes, and we do, with pleasure. But they also like to play an ineffable game of cards in a pitch dark room etc. etc. so they’re going to confuse the hell out of us (it’s fun though)

- the act of peeling back layer after layer only to find deeper meanings, different perspectives and other interpretations is magnificent (that’s why it takes over your brain the deeper you get into it. Just like with the real bible!)

- it almost magically makes you reach out to others, it pulls you to have conversations, to discuss, dream, laugh, share, and even fight about it

- at its core the story is about love, relationships, faith, morals, perspectives, loyalty and personal growth

And, more specifically:

- Aziraphale cannot be fully trusted when telling stories from the past, because he’s a drama queen at heart (no judgment, so am I)

- Aziraphale looks deeply worried/in pain after the talk with Megadeath Metatron and then changes to acting totally giddy with Crowley when telling him they can both be angels again

- Aziraphale was not expecting the kiss (neither was Crowley I think) but once it happened he let his guard down and kissed back (looks like he even stood up on his tippy toes)

- the Nightingale song in the Bentley lasts exactly as long as their kiss

- they really enjoy each other’s company and grew closer and closer together over the millennia, especially in the last few years/decades (the first time an ethereal being noticed was Furfur in 1941, humans got their vibe long before that)

- they are easily able to manipulate their surroundings

- heaven likes to manipulate/erase memories

- something is definitely up with Metatron

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #7, calm

Read part one (using the prompt “box”) here

Read part two (using the prompt “familiar”) here

Read part three (using the prompt “fall”) here

Read part four (using the prompt “awkward”) here

Read part five (using the prompt “cold”) here

++++++

The testing and awkwardness reaches its peak and the gun turns out to be helpful and then not so much.

May the cringe be with you!

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Six

“Yes, of course!” The blood pounded louder in John’s ears. He has the voice of a purring jaguar, he thought. John put his right hand into the pocket with the gun. Feeling the barrel between his fingers calmed him down.

“Excellent!” Sherlock exclaimed. He took off his coat in a flourish and let the bespoke suit jacket follow, revealing a very tight and very purple dress shirt that took John’s breath away. (As well as the bit of feeling calm he had achieved.)

In the pocket, John started rubbing the hard length of the barrel. (He could not really rub his own hard length in this situation so a substitute was needed.) (It did not help.)

Sherlock let himself fall down onto the bed, bouncing several times while the boxsprings creaked quietly. Then he switched onto his belly, raised his behind an let it fall down onto the mattress as well. Several times. Groaning things like this feels good and yes, like this and oh, OH.

John helplessly watched his customer dry humping the “Royal Metropolis Deluxe”. He was reminded of a horny dachshund humping its owner’s leg. The pounding blood in his ears reached a terrifying level and John was afraid that a vessel might burst with all the blood (sexual) pressure and leave him bleeding out of both ears. Involuntarily, John mimicked Sherlock’s movements again, thus humping the thin air.

“I can see and hear that you like it.” John managed to keep his voice halfway steady. (He was very proud of this.)

A gorgeously tousled Sherlock turned onto his back and looked upwards at John, audibly panting. “Yes, it would go well with my versatile sleeping positions.”

“Fine, I’ll set up the sales agreement.” Relief flooded John. (Some kind of relief at least.)

“But,” Sherlock raised his hand and index finger, “there is one final thing I need to know.”

“What is it?” John asked with baited breath. He was so close to score. “Can I help?”

“Indeed, you can.” Sherlock beamed. “I need to make sure that it’s also comfortable lying in this bed when I’ll be with my future partner.” Smiling sweetly, he added. “Would it be too inconvenient to ask you to pose as my bed companion?”

“What, now?” John’s head turned beet red. (It would be very inconvenient, given his current state.)

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Contrition dripped off Sherlock’s silky voice. “I totally understand that I may have crossed a line by asking this.” He looked disappointed, like a puppy that had been robbed of its favourite chewing toy. (Sherlock would very much like to chew on John.) His eyes glistened wetly and his lower lip trembled a bit. (Sherlock had always been a great actor.)

Oh God, he’s going to leave, John’s brain screamed at him, do something, now!

Straightening his back (and mental resolve by rubbing one more time fervently over the gun), John yielded. “OK, just say how you want me.”

Naked and on top of me, Sherlock thought, and then let’s make good use of the rigidity you sport.

“On your back and at my right side.” He said.

John lay down next to Sherlock. After the first seconds of feeling totally awkward and out of place, he began to relax and enjoy the closeness and warmth of Sherlock’s desirable body next to him. He inhaled the scent of Sherlock’s magnificent after shave and the expensive product he had used to tame the luxurious curls.

John closed his eyes and fell into a most pleasant daydream, imagining himself rolling on top of this extraordinary man and exploring every tiny nook and crevice of this deluxe body and then sinking (his cock) into this pliable flesh to take Sherlock apart.

(Funnily, but not surprisingly, Sherlock imagined the exact same thing. Only from the lower point of view.)

“So good.” Sherlock sighed.

“Yes.” John whispered.

“One last thing, please,” Sherlock pleaded, his voice raspy with desire, “could you please be the big spoon?” And he turned onto his left side, offering his back (and backside) to John.

“Yes, with pleasure.” John complied, still lost in his daydream. He turned onto his side as well and even carefully placed his upper arm around Sherlock’s slim body (for more situational authenticity). Then, he closed the final distance and snuggled against Sherlock’s full body length.

When John suddenly remembered what he was hiding in his trousers (and in his pants) while he doing what he was doing, it was already too late.

Sherlock’s voice made John’s blood run cold.

“Is that a British Army weapon in your pocket or are you just pleased to spoon me?”

John had cocked it up. (More or less literally.)

+++++

I’m leaving you here with this shocking cliffhanger (should rather be called a cliff-stander) (sorry, not sorry).

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[myemuisemo]

With April showers, Letters from Watson brings us the first installment of The Sign of the Four, a prospect that makes me quake. When I was a tot of eight years, reading the library's copy of The Boy's Sherlock Holmes with a creeping sense of guilt because I was not at that time (and have not been at any time before or since) a boy, I found The Sign of the Four... long. Very long. I was obviously too young for the concepts, even though I could make sense of the words. (That sums up a lot of my reading in that era.)

I'm also reeling from last week's "The Man with the Watches," an utter tragedy of "be gay, do crime."

What's striking me this time -- what with the introduction of Holmes' cocaine use and also the watch deduction that raises a wince and a shudder from anyone who remembers that BBC Sherlock happened -- is how Watson is being positioned (and I don't mean "positioned in the path of which bullet," though apparently he got hit by more than one while in India).

Cocaine

Watson is progressive! His objections to cocaine sound so mild to us in the twenty-first century, but in 1890, scientific opinion was just barely starting to turn away from seeing cocaine as a wonder drug. It was used for local anesthesia as well as for general pep. Queen Victoria drank Vin Mariani, a wine fortified with cocaine, and so did the Pope. Coca Cola contained cocaine until 1906. Sigmund Freud was a vocal proponent of cocaine for improving mood and performance, until he botched an operation in the early 1890s while high.

A couple hair-raising reads on this topic are Cocaine: The Victorian Wonder Drug and A Cure for (Anything) that Ails You: Cocaine in Victorian Medicine.

So Holmes' original audience would have seen him as an up-to-date scientist using a socially approved means of moderating his mood. His shooting up a 7% solution of cocaine is about equivalent to a 21st century person taking nutritional supplements that are meant to boost brain power.

After all the "say no to drugs" education in the American school system, that's so hard for me to get my brain around, but there we are. Holmes is doing something no more troubling than pouring a glass of whiskey and much more scientific.

Watson, therefore, can be read either as being right at the edge of shifting scientific opinion or as being a fussbudget.

Tinge it with romanticism

I'm firmly Team Watson when Holmes starts criticizing A Study in Scarlet:

He shook his head sadly. “I glanced over it,” said he. “Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love-story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.”

The reader is being positioned here to view with contempt the exact features of the work that we probably enjoyed. Poor Watson!

Is it possible that some reviewers commented on the melodrama of the Lucy portions? Yes, and it'd be a valid point. Nonetheless, having experienced a good many math classes, I think the fifth proposition of Euclid might be improved by a rom--

wait.

Doyle, you magnificent bastard.

Flatland: A Romance in Many Dimensions was published in 1884. It wasn't a huge success, but it seems likely Doyle could have known it, and it did, in fact, mention a love story in a discussion of angles. Back when I read it in college (because if you "liked math," someone would inevitably give you a copy of Flatland), I missed the social satire but appreciated the geometry.

Watson is canonically an effective popular writer, and I refuse to denigrate him for that.

The Watch

First, Holmes substantially invents forensic science with his monographs on tobacco and on callouses.

Then we learn that Watson is a second son, which fits with his his training for a profession and choosing the army to help make his way.

Watson was not on great terms with his brother before his brother's death. Holmes doesn't explicitly deduce this, but it's there to be deduced. Holmes knew Watson's father was long dead, which could have come up in any number of casual ways. Holmes had no idea that Watson had a brother, so Watson:

Didn't mention the brother in any context, ever.

Didn't set up any framed daguerreotypes from his childhood nor any modern photos made with the collodion process. Having a posed family photo would have been so completely normal, as would being sent new photos by family members.

Never interrupted his routine to visit his brother while living with Holmes.

Did not attend his brother's funeral (unless it took place while Holmes was away) and did not wear a black armband for mourning in Holmes' presence. Neglecting mourning for a relative would have been a sign of serious estrangement.

Holmes is possessed of some level of tact in not expanding on this topic.

Watson is also nobody's fool: he knows there are ways to fool a mark with apparently miraculous knowledge.

The question in my mind is this: did Watson deliberately distract Holmes from asking what was the subject of the telegram?

[bertytravelsfar]

Chapter 15 - Someone You Loved

"He watches him; watches that magnificent brain fit pieces together, discard some, link some to others to make something new. He hadn’t thought beyond this point, beyond getting here and finding whatever there was to be found. Tomorrow is a terrifying blank and John cannot even see the edges of what’s going to be expected of him. If anything. He’s too weary to even wonder.

“John…” Sherlock’s voice is gentler this time, more insistent. He puts the gun to one side, never taking his eyes off him. “I’m not him .”

Sorry! I wanted to get a bigger chunk out, but couldn't quite finish it in time. Here's something at least.

All the thank yous to all who are still following, kudos-ing and commenting. It means a great deal to me.

Who knows? Maybe I'll get some time over the break to get another chunk out... //hollow laughter//

[botmilf]

BLESSED AGAIN WOOOOOOOOO

1) I am LIVING for the beef between Arcee and Ravage. It's very well deserved, obviously, but it is grab-the-popcorn worthy.

2) Megan trying to keep his two highest lackeys from fucking each other up [let's be honest, Soundwave would put him twelve meters under] makes so much sense and I love how it gives me similar vibes to when he has to deal either Scream and Dreadwing. He knows exactly the capabilities of his crew, he knows exactly what would occur under the right circumstances, and I'm sure this is gonna bite both he and Scream's ass in the long run but like. Shivers. THAT is a leader who understands the risks of the truth, and THAT is a leader who understands the importance of his underlings' activities and how vital they are to his cause. Magnificent

3) "Yer hip's fucked"

"Yeah no shit sherlock"

I adore this kind of humor. Thank you

4) "This is Rico"

".........I'm Miko"

I can hear the [oh shit] in his brain lmfaoooo

THANK YOUUUU <3<3<3

You are so kind to write this oh my GAWDT. I love this shit and I'm glad you had a great time reading the Episode 5 script--that one was a BITCH to write but the best ones always are.

AND I can't tell you how happy I am about the positive reception to Ravage being an asshole teenager. I'm planning on making her grounder alt-mode her classic feline form at the end of the first season--which I guess would basically make her a Maximal or something.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read it and then write this. It made my night.

[iibonniee]

Ice Skating | Chae Hyungwon

Paring: Chae Hyungwonx Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Rating: G

Word Count: 829

Prompt: Ice Skating

Masterlist

Tags: @doveslittlekpoparchive @choicethot @xosunny @heaviihamonii

Hyungwon was the type of person to make anything look easy to do. For example, his dance was almost far too flawless, his movement fluid and ethereal in nature. Every step he took, every wave of his hand was perfectly timed, aligning with the rhythm of music so seamlessly that it was almost as if the melody was born from his movement rather than the other way around. Even the complex footwork, which in the hands of a less skilled dancer would have been a stumbling block, appeared as simple as breathing when Hyungwon executed them.

Despite his exceptional skills, the charm of his dance was its deceptive simplicity. The movements were so smooth and natural that they invited onlookers to mirror them, deceiving the viewer into believing they, too, could dance with the same grace and ease. Everything Hyungwon did ask for participation, making it easy for anyone observing to feel like they could partake in the rhythm.

Just as effortlessly, Hyungwon transitioned into ice skating. He was as natural on the ice as he was on the dance floor, his grace and skill unhampered by the change in terrain. Watching Hyungwon ice skate was akin to watching a swan glide across a still lake. There was a serene elegance to it that simply enchanted.

Yet, just as before, his movements were so fluid and natural that they made you believe you could step onto the ice and join him. In such scenarios, it was impossible not to be enamored by his talent and, ultimately, by Hyungwon himself.

Which, in all honesty, caught Y/N off guard. As much as she tried to remember if he had done this before, her brain felt like it would explode if she thought about it any harder. The ice beneath his skates was like his dance floor back in Seoul; his skates were his favorite pair of sneakers.

She attempted to solve this as if she were a math puzzle. 2+2=4, but those skates plus the ice equaled what the fuck? There was no solving such a problem. Not even if she begged Albert Einstein to do it. She was sure even he would never be able to solve such a problem.

As she stood at the edges of the ice rink, Y/N studied Hyungwon. He was like a swan, his movements elegant and effortless, as though he had been born with ice skates on his feet. His fluidity left her awestruck.

“Why are you so good at this, Hyungwon?” Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself. Her eyes widened as he turned to look at her, a teasing smile playing across his lips. She stammered, caught off guard by his reaction, “I mean, we’ve never done this before, right? Not even back in Seoul.”

Her query was justified; it was a conundrum. From where was this natural grace springing? Even if she summoned the ghost of Sherlock Holmes, she doubted he could unlock the mystery.

Unperturbed, Hyungwon just shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I guess I’m just a natural,” he said cheekily. Then, seeing her bemused expression, she added, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

And so, under the magnificent New York skies, he did. Like two synchronized dancers, they moved across the frozen waters of the city that never sleeps, creating memories that would last an eternity. The mystery was never solved, lost within the magic of their first shared New York adventure.

With an encouraging nod, he held out a hand towards her. Hesitant at first, Y/N reached out and took it. His touch sent warmth seeping into her despite the chill surrounding them.

“Now, all you need to do is trust me and follow my lead,” Hyungwon said, guiding her onto the smooth, icy surface. He steadied her as she wobbled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Relax, Y/N. You’re doing great.”

He skated backward, pulling her along with him, their movements slow and uncoordinated at first. It was a dance between patience and perseverance. He was there to catch her with every fumble, their laughter echoing in the crisp winter air.

Y/N was methodically getting the hang of it, her movements becoming less jerky and more fluid with each passing minute. When she finally managed to skate a small distance on her own, a sense of accomplishment washed over her, a wide grin plastered on her face.

“Did you see that, Hyungwon?” she chirped. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but her eyes sparkled brighter than any of the city lights surrounding them. He nodded, his signature heartwarming smile lighting up his features.

“I knew you could do it, Y/N!” His praise lifted her spirits even higher.

As the night wore on, so did their shared ice-skating adventure, filled with laughter, gentle ribbing, and soft whispers of encouragement. The enigma of Hyungwon’s natural knack for skating soon faded into the background, replaced by the heart-warming connection they were weaving under the starry New York sky.

[marta-bee]

There's a Sherlock monthly challenge where the February theme is fear, and because my brain is a persnicketty little thing and my Tolkien inner-fan has been making itself known with a vengeance, I've been thinking abot the fun of instead of writing a story about fëar as in the ...Quenyan?... word for souls.

Aristotle's quote about a single soul in two bodies may also be playing into it.

I swear, I swear, (risky business where Tolkien is concerned), I just don't have the emotional bandwidth to write it. Too mentally exhausted. But this is really how nuzgul are born.

Anyway, it does have me thinking about just the kind of Tolkien fan our Baker Street Boys would be. Leaving aside the obvious Freebatch Hobbit parallels, John strikes me as sort of a casual, cultural Tolkien fan. He probably read The Hobbit as a child, and is reading it to Rosie, too. Probably saw the Jackson movies. Maybe grew up overhearing the BBC radio dramatization playing over his grandmum's radio. He knows it the way he knows Doctor Who or James Bond. A fun adventure, vaguely aware of the high points, but not necessarily a superfan or anything.

Sherlock on the other hand was more or less oblivious to it, because it's a) pop culture, and b) not obviously his type of thing. Sentiment, fairy tales, etc. But overhearing John reading The Hobbit to Rosie could definitely be a gateway drug. He'd yell from the other room how even trolls couldn't be so oblivious as to not noticing the sun rising, or how really Elrond had a much better claim to the Gondolin blades than any of the dwarves did. John prefers not to mention the three-day long rolling argument of whether balrogs had wings. And Eru help him, at some point Sherlock would read the Silmarillion, and.... yeah. Just Eru help him. (Him being John, but also Sherlock.)

It would be a magnificent obsession.

It would be a bloody mess.

And it would be such glorious fun.

[cosmiccannibalcamille]

What YOU need to know about Virgo in love

Virgos, ruled by the quick-witted Mercury, are the undisputed Einsteins of the zodiac. They possess intellectual firepower that could give a rocket scientist a run for their money. These folks don't just have brains; they're practically a walking, talking encyclopedia of wisdom and analytical prowess. Whether it's unraveling complex problems, mastering the art of communication, or simply winning a game of chess, Virgos are your cosmic thinkers.

When it comes to matters of the heart, Virgos bring their cerebral might to the table. Picture this: they approach love like a masterfully crafted Sudoku puzzle. Every relationship, every romantic endeavor is a delightful challenge. Just like Sherlock Holmes, who wouldn't back down from solving the trickiest of mysteries, Virgos tackle love with the same fervor. Their innate blend of practicality and idealism creates a unique and captivating equation.

In Virgo's world, love isn't just a fleeting emotion; it's a grand project, akin to building a magnificent architectural wonder. They lay the foundation with bricks forged from shared values, mutual respect, and a commitment to personal growth. Virgos understand that a love story is more than just words; it's about actions and deeds. Each relationship milestone is a triumph, every interaction a brushstroke in the masterpiece of their love story.

Read more about Virgo in Love, including the sign's compatibility with the other zodiac signs, here:

[lumiereandcogsworth]

looooove when I open tumblr and see you going feral over batb 🥳 have you ever talked about the moment when like. it hit you that you were very much in love with this movie? did it hit the first viewing or did you have to let it cook a bit first?

YIPPEEE!!!!! okay yeah i mean here’s what i remember:

i saw it in theaters april 12th 2017 with my parents. i was ENCHANTED (winks at you specifically) from the very start. i truly remember just being so enamored with everything about it. every song every scene every change from the animated version i was like GOSH THIS FILM IS GENIUS. MAGNIFICENCE 🤌🤌

i remember driving back to the hotel (we were on a trip touring a potential university, twas spring break) with my parents and i literally could not stop saying “that was SO GOOD…. like that was So Good you guys.” and my parents were like yeah it was good ! but my brain was Buzzing

i remember coming back to school the following monday and telling my friend group that i saw it and one of them was like ah, it wasn’t good :/ and i like. had a 404 processing error. it GENUINELY did not ever ONCE occur to me that anyone could possibly think that this movie was not the greatest of all time. i think i was down bad immediately without truly realizing it though

i saw it in theaters a second time. i think with a friend who also really loved it? i actually forget that i had someone to be feral about it with irl for a minute. she somehow carried on with her life after a few months though… weird🤔

i also remember that summer watching it like. every day once i had the dvd and even worse when it was on netflix. if i had letterboxd back then it would have looked like yours does with enchanted afjskdj. i think there were days when i would watch it twice in one day

i remember telling my dad that i think it’s become my second favorite movie (i was afraid to let it beat out forrest gump just yet) and he was like “already?? you’re just swept up by it because it’s new to you still.” and i was like yeah probably but man i don’t know….

and i remember by my 18th birthday that year in november, i was given a big batb 2017 poster, and my sister-in-law (just my brother’s girlfriend at the time!) made me my own rose under the glass thing. so between april and november it progressively ramped up into a very clear love

i definitely knew i loved it A LOT right away, but i also remember being very guarded about it at first. like i was afraid to fully dive in. literally i didn’t even buy my own merch until like, 3 years in. i received gifts but i just?? i don’t know. i guess i was afraid to make it my whole personality if i was gonna fall out of love with it. which happened with bbc sherlock and i was very sad about that. i don’t get big interests very often so i didn’t expect to lose sherlock and i also wasn’t sure how long this would last.

i also Wasn’t on tumblr at the beginning. i joined tumblr in 2019 so for like two years i was just floating around in love with the film on my own accord. i wrote fic in my notes app and didn’t post it anywhere. i just watched it a lot and thought about it a lot and it was just like. secretly and silently the love of my life

but then when i finally got on ao3 i started posting fic and on tumblr i started talkin about it and i got louder about it slow but sure. i became a madman. and now i’m here. seven years later.

and i’m so so happy :)))

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi steph! so i just finished my harry potter marathon and now i need some sherlock au of it pleaassee thank you 😩

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I've not read very many myself, but I have had a few asks in the past:

Potterlock (Apr 2020) (Community Recs)

Harry Potter AU (Community Recs)

And here's what I have on my offline MFL list, suggested to me over the years... Feel free to add more, friends, if you have them!

HOGWARTS / WIZARDING WORLD AU [MFL]

Tell Me Your Deductions by Johnlock_Morningstar (T, 632 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter AU || First Kiss, Sixth Form) �� John and Sherlock are in their sixth year at Hogwarts. John is in Gryffindor and Sherlock is in Ravenclaw. Sherlock is struggling to keep his brain silent and John wants to help before Sherlock resorts to drugs/potions again.

Shrivelfigs by lifespossible (T, 4,547 w., 1 Ch. || Teen Harry Potter AU || Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff) – John and Sherlock were not a couple, ta very much. They were friends--close friends, best friends. But that was it. Just friends. If you asked John, he’d assure you that was the case. But if you got him on the right side of a couple firewhiskies, well, he might be inclined to tell you he thought it was a damn shame they were only best friends.

lionheart by dreamweavernyx (G, 4,851 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Study, Friendship) – Some days, Molly finds her eyes straying to that drawer in her desk, the one holding a slim piece of wood and the memories of a life she's left behind.

What To Do With An Atypical Animal Within by HarveyDangerfield  & swimsalot (E, 7,804 w. || Harry Potter AU || Animagus, Porn With A Little Plot, Tail Porn) – Sherlock is determined to be an animagus. But what happens when it isn't a fox or a horse or a dog he's turning into?

Friend by esama (G, 7,909 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Death, Kid Fic) – Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Beach Ficlets by emmagrant01 (E, 8,253+ w., 4/? Ch. || Assorted Ships, Harry Potter AU || Hand Porn, Mutual Masturbation, Hurt/Comfort, Anal Sex, Consensual Infidelity, Magic, Oral Sex, Office Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs) – Molly learns that Orangina has a very interesting effect on Greg Lestrade.

Spell It Out by prettysailorsoldier (M, 8,344 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Fusion || Teenlock, Christmas, Love Potion/Spell, Pining Sherlock) – Remaining at Hogwarts over break has become something of a tradition for Sherlock and John, staying behind together ever since their very first year, but, when Irene throws a gift of doctored coconut ice into the mix, plans quickly change, even if John doesn't. Part 6 of 25 Days of Johnlock

you are a paradigm by 1electricpirate (M, 10,013 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter AU || Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock, Magic) – Sometimes, only sometimes, when Sherlock is very far away and absolutely guaranteed not to return for at least three hours, John sits on the sofa and lets the tea make itself. In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious. Part 1 of More Things Than Are Dreamt Of

Magnificent by esama (T, 19,477 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Crossover Pairing) – The birth of the Ministry of Magic and his relationship with the British Government.

Harry Potter and the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by VeeTheRee (T, 22,891 w., 3/? Ch. || WiP || Harry Potter Crossover || Horcruxes, Mystery, Revenge) – After their sixth year, the Golden Trio is facing the biggest challenge of their lives - destroying the horcruxes. But it doesn't have to be as painstaking when you've got help. And not just some ordinary help, but Sherlock Holmes and his companion John Watson as well. Will they succeed?

A Wizarding Barista's Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch (T, 29,344 w., 9 Ch. || Harry Potter Coffee Shop AU || Fluff, Wizard John, Muggle Sherlock, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Dates, Harry Watson, Secret Identity) – To help pay for Healing tuition, John Watson gets a job at a coffee shop in Muggle London, where he soon sets his sights on a particularly gorgeous customer. John's seen plenty of Muggle films. How different can it really be to woo a Muggle?

More Things Than Are Dreamt Of Series by 1electricpirate (M, 37,928+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Harry Potter Crossover || Muggle Sherlock, Wizard John, Magic, Non-Linear Narrative, Nosy Sherlock, HP Character Interaction) – In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious. A magical AU, in which I probably abuse timelines and distort characters and basically indulge my own interpretation of magic, Hogwarts, and what it means when two worlds collide.

Crime is of the Essence by K8BNimble (M, 45,569 w., 18 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Mystery, Slash) – When a man he hasn’t seen in almost ten years appears in his home with a man he thought was dead for twenty years, Harry Potter knew his evening had just gotten complicated. Written for Snarry Swap 2011. Named Hot Rec by "The Daily Snitch"1/18/2011. Snarry, past Harry/Sherlock. Long plotty mystery with light graphic slash sex.

Extraordinary Series by Ranowa (T, 47,037 w. across 5 stories || Harry Potter AU || Wizard John, Muggle Sherlock, Protective John, BAMF John, Fake Character Death, Post TRF, Cuddling and Snuggling) – Ever since before he'd been able to talk, Sherlock has been called extraordinary. Next to him, small, unassuming, regular old John Watson has never been termed by anyone to be anything at all beyond ordinary. Including, on some days, by Sherlock himself. Sherlock had certainly never considered that he might be the ordinary one. Absolutely, patently absurd. Ludicrous. No.

The Boy Who Balanced on the Train Tracks by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 54,894 w., 5 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Period-Typical Homophobia, Character Death, Wizard John, Underage Sexual Attraction, Time Turner, First Time, Descriptions of Poverty, Domestic Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Bittersweet Ending, Angst, John/Snape & Johnlock) – Every year, on the 2nd of May, John Watson dreams of long black hair.

Whispers in Corners by esama(T, 64,402 w., 10 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Deathly Hallows, Crossover Pairing) – Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

favourite male fictional characters

Thank you @vishcount​ for tagging me, this was a lot of fun! 💞 I originally planned to follow your example and put ten characters here but suddenly it became a lot more oops. also i hope you forgive me for following your format, it’s neat 

I am tagging @isabellaofparma​ , @the-cloud-whisperer​ and @sassyassassy​!

I chose the characters that impacted me deeply on a personal level throughout my life (often shown by how long my love lasts over the years and if i was inspired to write for them). 

In no specific order under the cut: 

Legolas

The Lord of The Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien. 

I think it’s only fitting I start off with this magnificent guy. Maybe I gotta admit, i’ve just had a crush on him ever since I was like, nine years old? He’s the character I will fight tooth and claw for (though I guess he doesn’t need me to do that). I love Orlando Bloom’s portrayal of him, eventhough he is vastly different from the books. Book Legolas is such a delight as well, he feels so whimsical and playful and his banter with Gimli is just gold. I was sad when The Hobbit trilogy came out and I was so disappointed by how they butchered his character, it just did not feel authentic anymore (maybe I am also just bitter about the forced hetero storyline for him. makes no cents, this elf is GayTM your honour. and he will meet his soulmate Gimli in a few decades).  Either way, Legolas is the love of my life, thanks for coming to my tedtalk,

Peter Pan 

Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie

Another childhood crush of mine. The gif I chose if from the 2005 movie because we always used to watch it and it is to this day one of my favourite movies. It’s so dreamy, so magical, yet also incredibly sad and sweet.  I have this very strange fascination with Peter Pan. There is something incredibly unsettling about him, especially in the book. He represents something every child wants - who doesn’t want to escape their bedroom and fly away to experience magical adventured far from the adult world? And yet he also represents the impossibility of it, the curse he carries around with himself because he will forever stay alone, no matter how many lost boys he gathers around himself. And Wendy - it’s a love that was never meant to grow and mature, it’s a fleeting dream for the both of them.  I have seen many different adaptations of Peter Pan and I have my favourites, though I want to give a special mention to the book Peter Darling by Austin Chant. It’s a retelling of the story how we know it, in which Peter returns to Neverland after having finally grown up BUT the main points I want to highlight is trans Peter? Heck yes. Gripping and compelling gay love story with our favourite original lost boy Captain Hook? YES. 

Snufkin

Moomins, Tove Jansson.

I have discovered Snufkin for myself only last year, and yet I know he will stay with me forever. In short - I vibe with him, he vibes with me. His anxieties about being with people and longing for solitude? His fear of being loved and being important to someone to a point he doesn’t know what to do with himself? This man just wants to roam freely with his own mind and yet he always returns for something that captures him. Mum, I love him because I have rarely felt this seen before. Also, Snufkin said ACAB. 

Prince Jing - Xiao Jingyan

Nirvana in Fire (2015)

This too is a darling I have only discovered recently. I watched Nirvana in Fire this year and let me tell you, it’s the best show I have seen in a long while. It’s absolutely amazing and it also ripped my heart out. All the characters are absolutely amazing and I am still not over it.

To be honest, I contemplated between Xiao JIngyan and Mei Changsu, because character-wise I think the latter is a lot more interesting and compelling. He makes for a fantastic heartbreaking and flawed protagonist.

However I have to admit - it was love at first sight with Prince Jing for me and I’m still lowkey mad abt it rip. Seems like I am not immune to Pretty Prince Propaganda. But apart from that, I adore him for his genuine

goodness,

his almost naive drive to be better and seek justice. He lost everything, and for the longest time did not have anything to fight for. So alone and lost and bitter, it makes me sad how much it hardened him. He is heartbreak and clumsy kindness hidden under a skin of scars that was inflicted by his father and many others. I see his sad cat-eyes and I cry, that’s just how it is.

Edmund Pevensie

The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis

I grew up with these books and movies - they have always been part of my life and it will probably always stay that way (only last night I rewatched the first movie and sobbed).  Imagine my surprised when I finally watched the last movie about five years ago and was incredibly impressed by how they adapted the book; also imagine my brain suddenly going CASMUND in bold letters at Skandar Keynes’ and Ben Barnes’  performance in that movie.  From there, I rediscovered this story completely anew for myself. My favourite Pevensie sibling has always been Lucy (and still is, because I identify with her so much and she feels like home to me); however this new discovery of Edmund’s character was overwhelming. It’s interesting to see characters you’ve grown up with from a more grown up point of view. I don’t want to lay out all my thoughts here, just know I am so heartbroken for him, and so so proud as well. His character arc is amazing and maybe that’s how the last movie makes me even more emotional. Seeing Edmund and Lucy still holding on to Narnia but knowing that that door was closing for them? Not to mention what happens in the later books (we don’t talk about that).  Also did I mention Casmund. Here, have my incredibly emo and depressing take on Edmund’s character that I started writing four years ago and which will forever stay a WIP. 

Nie Huaisang

The Untamed (2019)

My son. My soul. My bane of existence. The tragic thing about him is, that he does not really exist in canon as I have created him for myself. He’s a secondary character in the show, always so relatable yet still brings the ultimate twist of the story, yet he still remains this incomplete shadow. The movie

Fatal Journey

gave him a lot more and I cried tears of joy and devastation. I don’t know why I latched on to him so much, but apparently he is the one that I project on, the one that feels like he sits somewhere inside my chest. I don’t know what else to say - this year he has been everything to me. I spend a lot of time in his head while writing, and maybe that’s how he’s there forever now. Nie Huaisang saw my brain and went it’s free real estate. All my love for you, you dramatic art hoe.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Ah, another lifelong companion. There are many adapations that I adore - starting from the origin of it all, the books and stories which I have all devoured; the 80s adaptation with Jeremy Brett which was incredibly wonderful; to BBC Sherlock which shaped and traumatised me (I still like the first three seaons but I am too hurt to think about it); to the numerous movies -  but by far my most favourite performance is Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes. Somehow he manages to capture the Holmes I see in my head when I read the books, the sharp yet polite eccentric detective, who loves his companion so much and who has desire to help others.  Sherlock Holmes will always stay special to me, in so many different ways. He shaped my youth and I know he will stay with me. (also what would you say when I told you he helped me discover that I can, in fact, be queer AND ace at the same time? thanks pal).  What else is there to say? Sherlock Holmes is a universe that you can dive into and find many amazing treasures. 

Isak Valtersen 

SKAM (2015)

There he is, the boy that changed my life. SKAM changed my life. All of the characters did. However, Isak is special for many, as I imagine. I remember winter 2016, when tumblr was flooded by these norwegian white boys kissing in a pool and cuddling and I was like ‘nah’, this doesn’t look convincing.  I don’t know what changed my mind but I remember sitting down at last and watching all that was released of season three and it was only downhill from there. I remember starting to follow the real life updates religiously while watching the other previous seasons in between. The one clip that completely wrecked me was when Isak went to the school nurse about his struggles with sleep - it felt like for the first time I saw someone on screen that could understand me on so many different levels. The entierty of seaons three is so personal, I would tell you to go watch it if you don’t know what I mean. The entire show in fact. It’s a masterpiece and it feels so real. This show impacted my life in a way that no show has managed to do before. I miss it so much. I miss Isak too sigh. 

Shang Xirui

Winter Begonia (2020)

Technically, for me personally, Shang Xirui is the nonbinary, gay and ace representation I need in my life (or at least that’s my own personal take on him), but since that is not official, he’s still here on this list. Of course he is because wow, it’s been a long while since I’ve seen such a compelling character on screen. I went from disliking him to being absolutely heartbroken over him. I don’t think any other character in this show captured me as much as he did. There are so many layers to him and discovering all of his sides is a wonderful, heartbreaking, painful and also beautiful journey. I’m not sure I understand all of him yet, but I am willing to try and dig and just ponder his existence. This too, is a perfect example for a flawed yet authentic protagonist. Also he is the most beautiful thing on this planet, or at least that’s how I have been feeling ever since I watched this. I wish to write more of him in the future. 

Aang

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005)

I grew up watching ATLA and my favourite characters have always been Toph, Zuko and Uncle Iroh. In recent years however, I completely fell in love with Aang all anew. 

I think especially in the past, I had these prejudices against main characters and found them all the most boring personalities ever. In recent years this changed a lot and especially Aang is a prime example for that. Watching him from the perspective of older me, I find so much wisdom in this young boy. Somehow he represents all I wish to be in my life but at the same time he shows his flaws, he carries this sadness with him that will accompany him all his life. This inner battle and chaos that he has to face day to day and in the end - he is just a young boy. So much has been taken from him and yet he learns how to not let it overtake him, that anger and hurt. He tries his hardest to be better than the day before, even if sometimes the world crashes down on him and he gets overwhelmed. He is a child recruited by adults to manage their mistakes and play into the hands of predestined fate and in this essay I will -

Harry Potter 

Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling

I am surprised myself. I thought I would put Fred and George here, or Remus and Sirius, however I realised that none of them quite capture this feeling of lifelong change, of personal, deep impact that Harry had on me. 

As with Aang above, I used to think Harry was the most boring protagonist, yet my opinion took a 180° turn in the past years. Many of the things I wrote for Aang apply to him too - the fact that he was a child, that lost so much, and was always faced with challenges that a child should never have needed to face. Something I want to address is how my favourite book, The Order of the Phoenix, lays all of this out. Harry is just as flawed, just as vulnerable and angry as anyone else. I know some people did not like his ‘emo behaviour’ in the fifth book but for me it just showed how human he is, how he was just a teen like myself at that time. As for many, this boy shaped my entire life, shaped a generation, and I will forever be grateful. I’m sad and angry at how J*R behaves, and how she puts us in the position of doubting our love for these stories. I know I will always love them, but I will not turn a blind eye on all the problematic shit is carries with itself and what the author piles upon us. 

Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian 

The Untamed (2019)

I will try and keep this short, because if you want to read my thoughts about Wangxian just go to my ao3 and find the  over 70k i wrote for them.  I decided to put them here together because I can’t seperate them and I can’t choose between them. Each of them carries something I recognise in myself, and each of them is the opposite of me. They each own my heart and soul and I know there will never be a fictional couple like this for me ever again. They’ve snuck their way into my heart and have never left. They deserve to be here, together, because my love for them is indescribable. Bless them.  + Bonus:

The Doctor

Doctor Who (1963/2005)

Technically, the Doctor doesn’t count as a “male” character, but since he has been presenting as male up until recently, I needed to include him. I chose the Tenth Doctor because he is the one that broke my heart the most. I adored Nine but he was there too short, and I do love Eleven and Twelve a lot, and Thirteen absolutely owns my heart, Ten has just always been the one that made me cry the most. I loved this era of Doctor Who, I loved how sad and hopeful he was, how heartbroken and yet determined to help wherever it was needed. Doctor Who is always that show, when I return to it, I am reminded that maybe, humanity and the universe isn’t all that bad. 

phew, this took ages damn. but i had so much fun! i decided to leave out honorable mentiones because we would be sitting here until tomorrow lol. 

[malkaleh]

I was tagged by @eidetictelekinetic which thank you dearling. 

How many works do you have on AO3? 205 

What’s your total AO3 wordcount? 3,00,543 (Which is way way more than I thought I’d written but here we are)

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3:

The Tudors (TV) (76)

Criminal Minds (US TV) (41)

The West Wing (18)

Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US) (16)

Sherlock (TV) (8)

The Witcher (TV) (6)

Emelan - Tamora Pierce (6)

Tortall - Tamora Pierce (6)

Band of Brothers (TV 2001) (5)

Doctor Who (5)

Game of Thrones (TV) (4)

Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins (4)

Law & Order: UK (4)

Star Trek: Discovery (3)

Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis (3)

The Hour (TV) (3)

Spooks | MI-5 (3)

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (3)

His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman (3)

Generation Kill (2)

NCIS (2)

Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey (2)

Star Trek: The Next Generation (2)

Historical Farm (UK TV) (2)

Kate and Cecelia - Caroline Stevermer & Patricia Wrede (2)

Fake News RPF (1)

Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman (1)

Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery (1)

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (1)

The Thick of It (TV) (1)

Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery (1)

American (US) Actor RPF (1)

Life (US TV 2007) (1)

Temeraire - Naomi Novik (1)

Gruen Transfer RPF (1)

Hunger Games Series - All Media Types (1)

Hornblower (TV) (1)

Megillat Ester | Book of Esther (1)

The Girl From Everywhere Series - Heidi Heilig (1)

Muhteşem Yüzyıl | Magnificent Century (TV 2011) (1)

Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey (1)

James Bond (Craig Movies) (1)

Star Trek - Various Authors (1)

Flashpoint (TV) (1)

P.O.W. (TV 2003) (1)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (1)

Whitechapel (TV) (1)

The Scarlet Pimpernel Series - Baroness Orczy (1)

Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) (1)

CSI: NY (1)

Good Omens (TV) (1)

16th Century CE RPF (1)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Undertow [Criminal Minds - co-authored fic] The very short version: Dave gives Aaron a back-rub. More slashy subtext than that scene from Star Trek (you know the one), with a little text thrown in. (The authors have referred to this fic, among themselves, as porn without sex--consider yourself advised.)

Five Times Out Of Many David Rossi Realised He Was Happily Doomed [Criminal Minds] Basically what it says on the tin. Five ways David Rossi knew that he was totally totally doomed in the best possible way in regards to the way he loved these kids. Set in the CM Kid-Verse

To Dwell In Enchantment [Criminal Minds]  It doesn't make the world any less messy, but it does make a balance, this family he has. David Rossi, coming home from work.

If I Could Go Back [Criminal Minds | CSI: NY | NCIS - co-authored fic] It's the day of Derek's high school graduation, and Jason Gideon is standing at the bottom of the porch steps, trying not to hope

What About Now [Criminal Minds] The urge to murder Jason Gideon had started two months in.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I do my absolute best to respond to all my comments - I don’t always manage because Brain but I appreciate and adore each and every comment and I mean that. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I think Let It End (Wipe The Blood From The Steel) [Tudors | Hunger Games] is definitely up there because it’s history canon and also Hunger Games but The Guarding Dark aka the one in which I basically killed off all the canon characters (Criminal Minds) is definitely also there. Oh and Hope Deferred Maketh Something which is a Criminal Minds | West Wing apocalypse fic (the surrounding world is actually more hopeful but its definitely not for the two characters)

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written? I absolutely do write crossovers. I have written a lot - I was going to say Tudors and Hunger Games but actually in some ways it maps scarily well. I do have an entirely self indulgent multi-fandom universe involving among others Christopher Pike (Disco!Edition), Aaron Hotchner and my Tudors OT3. It’s kind of my niche in fandom of ‘can I make this ridiculous au plausible’ is like, my thematic statement. Oh also @bibliothekara (and to some extent @shes-a-voodoo-child as well) definitely have a British TV Shows Cinematic Universe going on. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I’ve honestly blocked it out of my memory if I have. Recently I got pretty triggered and had to put on comment moderation because someone was spamming AO3 with comments about another authors work that had zero to do with me and I hadn’t read) 

Do you write smut? If so what kind? I used to write way way more (there was going to be a joke that isn’t actually funny bleak humour about writing consensual sex here) but then Trauma Brain happened so now I don’t. Or at most I write some vaguely suggestive/sexy scenes  

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

Have you ever had a fic translated? I actually don’t know for sure if I have. I think I might have - or at least I think I had someone request to do so which was incredibly flattering. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! It’s an absolute joy - I haven’t actually co-written a thing for a while that’s been posted but I absolutely make up fic with friends still. 

What’s your all time favorite ship? OT3s. I do have favourite ships but mostly they are canon or like, I will read very very specific fics about them but I love poly ships where everyone is in love with everyone else. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I would love to say that I’ll finish Into The Fire (Tudors) as it currently stands but I do not think I will honestly. See also Let Us Dream (Tudors). 

What are your writing strengths? I think I’m pretty good at AUs. 

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I don’t do it really - I’ve put in a couple of words in my most recent WIP but I think that because I don’t know the language I’m better saying something about [spoke in language]

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? I think the first fic that you could still find published somewhere was for The Bill. It was extremely angsty and had no dialogue which is like On Brand Dot Gif. 

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Such A Time As This (Jewish Anne Boleyn) because I was so scared of putting something so personal out into the world and scared I’d gotten something wrong and I did it! 

Tagging (if you want to obvs): @shes-a-voodoo-child @quillington @ofcouragehault @jackironsides

[umbrellalad]

An Excerpt from a Book I’ll Never Finish

The Galaxy and all it’s Stars

Why is quiet so hard to hear? Sitting in the quiet, listening and thinking and all I can hear is the static in my brain. No matter what I do I can’t turn it off. Even when I try to use it all the thoughts do is jam together, running into each other jumping around until all it’s caused is a headache. I try to sort them out, to figure out what it is the universe is trying to whisper in my ear, but all I hear is noise, noise, noise, until I have to just stop trying. 

My thoughts are as vast and as jumbled as the universe itself, so you’d think we speak the same language, but I guess the two don’t mix, because all I can hear is static. My room reverberates with the stuff. A box full of echos only I can hear. Still, it’s better than outside, where all of my thoughts are trapped inside my own head. Outside they swirl in the wind, forming a cloud around my head. I have to reel them in, chain them up to keep them from running out. I don’t know why they’re so hard to control. Others don’t seem to have a problem with controlling their own heads. They walk around perfectly content with the way they’re thinking, the way they’re acting, the way they’re talking. To them the world is nothing but hopscotch for one to enjoy. For me the world is a tight-rope across a windy canyon. One wrong step and it all goes tumbling down, down, down.

I find comfort in the universe. With something so colossus and magnificent, how can anything I do possibly ruin it?

Still, at times it feels like the universe is shrinking in on me. Gravity increases and the galaxies collide in on themselves. Then I go to bed. Wake up. And the universe has begun expanding again. 

Waking up today was easy. Summer had begun. I no longer had to worry about the load of homework or projects piling up while I sat in my room doing nothing.

I roll over and look at the clock at the side of my bed. It’s a retro rectangle of an alarm clock, because somehow turning the clock face into a rectangle made it more desirable then. 

9:26. Not a bad time to wake up. Early enough that I haven’t wasted the day away, and late enough to feel like it’s too late to go back to bed. 

So I get up. Whatever extensional crisis took it’s turn last night has retreated back into the basements of my brain. If it was a good day hopefully I wouldn’t have another one until at least four.

Downstairs my mom is cooking breakfast for my sisters and my brother. I can smell the bacon as I walk into the kitchen. What would be described as a peaceful, welcoming scene to wake up to is anything but. There’s not so much serenity and love in the air as there is simply hunger and tension.

My youngest sister Brielle is sitting at the table, smearing scrambled eggs on the table. Now with this behavior one would guess Bri is three? two? She’s ten. My theory is she doesn’t have that little voice in our heads that tells us our actions will have consequences. Or that she does have this voice, but only listens to it when the consequences include her. She knows that she could get up from the table right now, and Mom would go over and clean it up without a second thought.

The twins Adalyn and Asher are play fighting. A game that will without doubt turn into a real duel the moment one of them knocks their elbow the wrong way on the couch. They’re both 13. Old enough to know that actions have consequences, but still too young or too sociopathic to care. 

My mom sees me first. She’s making more eggs for Adalyn and Asher along with frying bacon. “Morning sweetie, do you want anything?”

White Dwarf

A white dwarf, also called a degenerate dwarf, is a stellar core remnant composed mostly of electron-degenerate matter. A white dwarf is very dense: its mass is comparable to that of the Sun, while its volume is comparable to that of Earth. A white dwarf's faint luminosity comes from the emission of stored thermal energy; no fusion takes place in a white dwarf.[1] The nearest known white dwarf is Sirius B, at 8.6 light years, the smaller component of the Sirius binary star. There are currently thought to be eight white dwarfs among the hundred star systems nearest the Sun

My mom is a white dwarf. She was once a shining star, a radiant young woman, full of life, energy, and excitement. When she was young my mom would go on spontaneous adventures with her friends. They would go skydiving or cliff jumping or bar hopping or just go on a road trip to the middle of nowhere. I’ve seen pictures from back then. She looks so free, so unburdened. When Mom had kids that part of her life took a decline, and when my dad left it ended completely. No more time for spontaneity. No more opportunity for it either. Now she’s only a remnant of the woman she used to be, but she still manages to give off the same warmth. 

I know she has a lot on her plate, so I try to stay out of her way most of the time. I do my best to be self-sufficient and try not to cause her too much worry. 

I wish I could be more like she was, when she was a kid. I find it hard to even leave the house without planning it a day in advance. She would board a plane and fly to Italy without a second thought. My life consists of the same thing everyday, no changes, no excitement. Is it because I made it that way or is it the way it was made for me?

I say no, like I always say no. Not because I don’t want to accept her hospitality, but because I don’t want to add to her plate of things to do. 

Nor do I want to partake in this mess we call a home life.

I grab a banana from a bowl on the table and sit on the opposite side of Bri. I look down at the egg she’s using to decorate the table. She stares at me challengingly. 

I take a bite of my banana.

Adalyn and Asher’s voices rise. Someone hit someone else a little too hard. 

Bri glares at me harder, increasing her pressure on the eggs.

Asher screams.

The banana feels tough in my throat.

The sizzling of the bacon rises.

Bri smooshes her eggs.

Adalyn yells.

My head hurts.

The scent of bacon gets thicker.

My heart picks up pace.

A cry.

A scolding.

A challenge.

A throbbing.

A yell.

I get out of my chair and go back upstairs.

My room is safe. In my room I don’t have to worry about screaming children or a messy home. The only things I have to worry about in my room are the things I create myself. Still challenging, but at least here I have a sense of control.

My headache lessens and my heart slows to its normal pace.

This house is like a prison. Everyday it feels like it’s closing in on me, tightening it’s hold on my life. There’s nowhere to go, no escape. It just drives me deeper and deeper into my own brain. 

I’m sitting on the floor. I’ve found that sitting in places where one wouldn’t normally sit when there are chairs available, is calming. It gives me a fake sense of personality.

Looking up I examine the face looking back at me in the mirror. I inherited my mother’s thick blond hair. It falls past my shoulders in ringlets. Needing something to do, I part my hair and braid it into two plaits. 

Full lips. Brown eyes. A freckled face.  Heavy brows. A pointed nose. Thick lashes. 

This is who I see in the mirror. It’s me. This is the body which my mind, my soul, my essence is encaptured. An infinity of possibilities, an infinity of features and these are the ones I’ve been graced with. An whole wide universe to choose from and this is where my soul settles. 

Oh look there’s the existential crisis. In almost record time.

I sigh and fall back onto the carpet. Stare up at the ceiling. The quiet is nice.

A crash sounds from downstairs. More yelling.

A sudden urge strikes me. Like my chest will explode if I don’t do what it says. 

I need to get out of this house.

I pull on my shoes from my closet and jog downstairs.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” I call to Mom.

She’s busy trying to talk Bri into eating some fruit with her eggs. She doesn’t hear me. I stand in the middle of the kitchen. I don’t see Adalyn, but Asher is sitting on the couch, looking very upset about the book he’s most likely being forced to read. No one sees me.

I’m used to being invisible.  As soon as the first attempt to be seen goes unnoticed, all of the others just melt away. 

I go out the front door, not bothering to take my phone with me. I don’t have to worry about getting texts. I was never really one for making friends anyways. Whenever I did find people to hang out with it always felt superficial, like they were just pretending to tolerate my company. Besides, I could never find the right thing to say. My mind wouldn’t go with the flow of their conversation, it would pick at each word, each voice inflection, each micro-expression. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning in every one of their simple sentences. 

When I was 14 I had a friend named Blake. She was my first real friend. We had met at school when she said something funny in history and I laughed. She turned around and smiled at me and I smiled back. We exchanged numbers and then every night we would text for hours. We talked about school and the teachers we hated. She talked about the boys she had crushes on and I told her why they weren’t good enough for her. We traded music suggestions and talked about how Sherlock deserved a fifth season. 

I would lay on my side in bed and smile in the glow of my phone screen. It was the best feeling in the world.

But then the spaces between her texts got longer. And I started to realize that the only nights we talked were the nights where I texted her. And then that feeling started to melt, to harden in my stomach. I worried that she felt obligated to text me back. What if she didn’t actually want to text me, and only did because she felt like she had to?

So I stopped texting her, and I waited for her to text me. 

And the text never came.

A couple times after that she would say something like “Hey we haven’t talked in so long!” and I would reply “omg what’s up?” But it was just that. An obligation. She had gotten bored of me and after a while I began to wonder why it hadn’t happened sooner.

My feet slap against the hot concrete as I walk away from home. I don’t know exactly where I’m going, but it feels good to go. I keep walking until I find myself at the edge of the sidewalk. Trees, tall and proud, loom over me. 

I step into their embrace. In the trees the air feels cooler and the light is muted. Sun shines in through gaps in the leaves, trickling over the stones and the roots. I go deeper into the woods and I feel the pressure in my head drop with each step. The world seems to sparkle and I find solace in the quiet beauty of it all. This is a place untarnished by whatever messes us humans decide to create. 

Eventually, I find what would become my refuge. It was a large pile of  massive stone blocks, shaped so that if there was a fourth side it would have been a square. But the fourth side must have fallen out, must have given way to nature, because all that remains are a few scattered blocks leading up to the top.

I like to think that it was once part of a grand castle, and that this structure was all that remained from that era we’ve romanticized so. But I live in the United States so that’s unlikely. I don’t know why it was built, or what it was meant to be, but now it stands in solitary, unbothered by whatever expectations were once put onto it.

Excited, I move towards the stones. It stands over four times taller than me, but still I climb. I crawl over the blocks and pull myself up until I stand at the top of the ruins. My heart clenches as I look down, but it’s not a completely bad thing. It’s… exhilarating. For the first time in a while I’m not stuck inside my own head. The thoughts that normally ping ponged around in my head had flown out. My mind was clear.

It was amazing. 

I felt like I was alone, sitting on an island of time just waiting. I don’t know what I was waiting for, but I didn’t mind the rest. I laid down across the stones and looked up at the sky. It was framed by the trees, a perfect little viewing spot just for me. 

I laid there for a long time. Watched as the clouds raced across the sky, eventually moving out entirely and leaving the sky open for the stars. It’s so funny how when we think of stars we think of tiny little dots sprinkled across the heavens, while in reality stars are massive, flaming orbs of heat and gas, so big we can’t even comprehend how big they really are. The sun is the closest star to Earth and we are so used to it that its mass settles slightly better in our tiny brains. But if you think, if you truly think about how immense stars, the galaxy, the universe is… Our brains aren’t big enough. 

Proxima Centauri

Proxima Centauri is the closest star to our sun. It is a small, low mass star and is a member of the Alpha Centauri system. It is located 4.244 light-years away from the Sun in the southern constellation of Centaurus. This means that even if traveling at the speed of light was possible, it would still take 4.244 years to reach the star.

The second closest star in the entire universe, and at the height of technology right now it would take 73,000 years to get there. An amount of time past comprehension. We think that time is something we observe, but time will continue long after everything else is gone. The only thing we do is give time a little more meaning, a little more use. Time goes and goes and goes and goes every if there’s no one and nothing to observe it.

I don’t know how much time I spent laying on those ruins, but eventually I stood up, climbed down, and walked home. 

Quietly pushing open the door I stepped inside. It’s moments like this I don’t mind being at home. When the house is silent everything seems a bit more bearable. The shadows give everything mystery, making each step a small adventure.

I tiptoe upstairs, making sure to step over that one stair that always groans. I peek into Mom’s room. 

She’s asleep, sprawled out across the bed. She had probably thought that I was just in my room all day. I couldn’t blame her. It wouldn’t have been off brand. 

There’s just a small part of me that wishes she would have stayed up so that we could have talked without the commotion of my siblings wrecking the house. But it’s unreasonable, it’s late and she’s tired. 

I’m tired too. Closing the door to my room I fall onto my bed. My head is still clear from my little adventure.

It was a pretty good day.