Via Honolulu

I have two days to fill a Johnlock prompt, and I have writer’s block. My prompt is a line of dialogue: “I think this may very well kill me.” I’d like to write something that deals at least in part with their first few weeks living together, but nothing is really coming to mind. Ugh. How do I words?

I am trying to set up a queue of Christmas songs and I am failing miserably because I just remembered that I’m not really that into Christmas. I mean, I enjoy getting together and having dinner and such, and I especially enjoy it these days because it means I get to go back to Detroit to see my mom.

But I’m not a Christmas connoisseur, y’know? For every Christmas song I like (“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” performed with the original lyrics and with an appropriate amount of pathos), there are three I hate (“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” “12 Days of Christmas,” I’m glaring at all of you).

So if you have recommendations for Christmas music that doesn’t make me want to stab out my eyes with a candy cane, I’d love to hear them.

Still working on my johnlockchallenges prompt fill. Should be up by Monday midnight HST, if all goes well.

My villain looks like and shares a first name with Laurence Fox, and I got his last name from one of the few canonically gay characters in A Song of Ice and Fire.

Whoops?

• World Series baseball (Just because I’m from Detroit doesn’t mean I care that the Tigers are in it. Where’s my hockey?! Oh, right, blackout.)
• the controversy surrounding the word “Cumberbitch” (I don’t mind it applied to myself; I’m all about reclaiming words. Use whatever term you want, and don’t shame anyone about their chosen fandom term or lack thereof. Easy peasy.)

Should I, a 29-year-old woman of fuller figure, acknowledge and counter street harassment when it comes from middle school-aged boys? If so, how?

Or, in plainer English: How come I can’t walk down the street to return some cans and bottles to my neighborhood recycling center without some pissant kid yelling, “I like thick white women! Lookit them round curves!”

I have no problem talking back to men who try that to my face. My standard line is “I am not here for your amusement!” (Feel free to use it if you like it.) But is responding to street harassment when it comes from a kid different somehow?

You ever get that “what the fuck did I just read” feeling? Followed by “and why the fuck did I stick with it for 20 chapters? Did I think it was gonna get better or something? Perhaps morph into a different fic altogether?”

…yeah. That’s me right about now. And no, I won’t tell you which fic elicited that response; I’m too nice for that.

So far, I’ve:

• met an agent from my apartment building’s real estate company for a yearly inspection (needed to renew my lease)
• talked with my boss about a complicated situation involving health insurance coverage
• agreed to take on a fuckton more hours to cover for a coworker who will be out of town for a week next month
• tried to read an RPF which comes highly recommended in some circles, apparently, but which is only succeeding in squicking me out
• poked my head back into a once-beloved community, only to find it overrun with idiocy

I’d stick in a .gif or a macro here to take the sting out, but I got nothin’.

and now no Leading Actor BAFTA.

My birthday is RUINED.

(waiting for Tumblr to explode with righteous indignation in 3… 2…)

(EDIT: Kidding about the birthday ruining. Not kidding about the wave of indignation. After me, the deluge, people.)

No single fandom had sole claim to the word “hiatus.”

thefagscene:

I got 99 problems and all of them involve the word “hiatus”

Oh, cry me a river. “I have to wait until September for new Dexter, boo hoo.” TRY BEING A SHERLOCK FAN. HOW DOES 18 MONTHS’ WORTH OF HIATUS SOUND?!

(via darkpassengerdriving)