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Mar. 24th, 2012


I Won't Apologize

1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.


1. If someone says, "Are you okay?" you say:
Seether-- Breakdown

2. How would you describe yourself?
U2-- Stay (Faraway, So close) [this is eerily true..]

3. What do you like in a guy/girl?
30 Seconds to Mars-- A Beautiful Lie

4. How do you feel today?
Three Days Grace-- Without You [this is eerily true too..]

5. What is your life's purpose?
Colbie Caillat-- Oxygen

6. What's your motto?
U2-- Lemon

7. What do your friends think of you?
Nine Inch Nails-- Where is Everybody? [lmao What?!]

8. What do your parents think of you?
Lacuna Coil-- Trip the Darkness

9. What do you think about very often?
Paramore-- Where the Lines Overlap

10. What is 2+2?
Adele-- One and Only

11. What do you think of your best friend?
Linkin Park-- Leave Out All the Rest [*wibble*]

12. What is your life story?
Lacuna Coil-- I Don't Believe in Tomorrow

13. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Adele- Rolling in the Deep

14. What do you think when you see the person you like?
Stone Temple Pilots-- Sex Type Thing [OMFG..]

15. What will you dance to at your wedding?
The Crashtones-- Alone

16. What will they play at your funeral?
Shinedown-- Call Me

17. What is your hobby/interest?
Alice in Chains-- Down in a Hole

18. What is your biggest fear?
The Crashtones-- The Night I Knew

19. What is your biggest secret?
Lacuna Coil-- Swamped

20. What do you want right now?
Adele-- Lovesong [Hmm yea..]

21. What do you think of your friends?
Shinedown-- Shed Some Light

22. What will your child's first words be?
Evanescence-- Lost in Paradise

23. What do you say when you look in the mirror?
Sixx:A.M.-- Skin [Holy poo..]

24. What did you say in your sleep last night?
Three Days Grace-- Lost in You

25. What will you post this as?
Selena Gomez-- I Won't Apologize

The Great Pie Heist [Eames and Mycroft]

There was nothing in the kitchen.. Not unless you counted the horrific crime scene that Mycroft stumbled upon. A trail of crumbs leading to a small closet, and an empty pie tin laying on the floor only centimeters away from the stove.

"Tut tut.." Mycroft sighed, making his way slowly to the closet his feet taking great care next to the crumb trail. Lifting one hand he knocked smartly upon the door.

On the other side of the door Eames squeaked, his mouth half full of pie and his hand.. Well.. Allow me to say that his hand was sticky with the warmth of the innards of an apple pie and coated with the doughy crust that had been baked to perfection. His chin was another matter entirely. One of which I am sad to say we shall not discuss for embarrassment's sake.

"Do open the door." Mycroft muse waiting only minutes before opening it himself. His eyebrows lifted as he looked in. Eames was sitting with his legs crossed before him, pie plate in one hand, pie in the other and pie half falling from his pleasantly curved lips.

"Noph?" the word was mangled but understandable.

Mycroft's head tilted, his eyebrows still raised.

"Mine..." Eames mutter. He had meant to say fine, but claiming the pie as his own was just as well. Swallowing down a large mouthful of the pie made his eyes water. "Fine.." sighing he dropped the pie in his hand back into the mangled crust and gooey innards upon the plate. "I... Couldn't resist. It was the smell."


"And what? There's no and." Eames became defensive.

"First step is admitting there's a problem." Mycroft's voice went sing-songy as he moved to sit beside Eames. Dipping one finger into the pie, he pulled it free to stick it into his mouth. "Mmm... Delicious.. If I may say so for myself."

Eames having had someone's hand in the pie-- who knows where it could have been!-- was off put from eating the remains. Sighing he sat the plate aside, glowered at Mycroft. "I don't have a.." his eyes went back to the pie. Could he honestly not think about the germs so he could finish the glorious creation?

"Problem." Mycroft offered the end of the sentence.

Eames sighed, folded his arms over his chest, only further spreading the pie over himself. "Problem my arse."

"Then I shall go make pies." Mycroft moved to stand.

Eames whimpered pathetically. "Please.. No.. I don't.." he lowered his voice as Mycroft's eyebrows again rose. "Want to gain weight."

Mycroft let out a boisterous laugh. "There we go. Admitting to your pie addiction. What shall we move to next?"


Mar. 23rd, 2012


A Tale of Two Pies [Eames and Mycroft]

"Is that pie I smell?" Eames was nestled into a surprisingly cozy couch. He'd admitted defeat and had regrettably accepted the fact that he was horribly, irreparably, and hopelessly addicted to chocolate. And while he still felt the man's name was a tad silly, he had thought perhaps there was something in giving him a ring.

"Pies. Apple, in fact." Mycroft beamed, he was oddly enough wearing a white apron. A white apron, that God bless him, had white frills along the edges. Mycroft for all his flare for dramatics was something short of a fashionista when it came to kitchen wear.

Eames' mouth watered. Apple pie. He couldn't stand it. As though his addiction to chocolate wasn't bad enough, he had what some could logically assume- and they would be quite correct- an even worse apple pie addiction. This man would likely be the death of him, if not from his sweets withdrawal then from overindulgence of them.

"Apple.." his voice became dreamy all the mean while his ankle slipping off the perch it had made upon his knee. Without realizing, he was now leaning forward, eyes heavily fixated on the stove.

"Oh dear.." Mycroft sighed placing his oven mitts aside. "It seems you're worse off than I could have ever possibly imagined." moving to the couch he sat beside Eames, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll overcome this."

"How.." his voice was still dreamy and if it were at all even possible he was further on the edge of his seat. He was practically standing and ready to pounce on the oven the second the pies were cooked through. "It's apple.. It's.. It's better than.." did he dare say it? Could he admit it to himself? "Chocolate."

The word was a whispered sacrilege!

He hated himself immediately.

Mycroft on the other hand chuckled, looked overly amused and leaned back all casual like. "There you have it. You have conquered, to some small degree, your addiction to chocolate."

Eames looked at him as though he were mental.

"I didn't say that my ideas on how to cure your chocolate addiction would make sense. Just that I could be a useful ally." he draped an arm over the back of the couch. "Apple pie was merely a guess I'm afraid. I'm a bit of a.. Food connoisseur."

Eames groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "This is bloody awful."

"Oh.. Don't judge the pie until you taste it." Mycroft smiled, just as the timer dinged. "Ah.. They're done." standing he started for the kitchen pausing only to look back. "I do trust you can wait until they are cooled enough to enjoy.. I would so hate to see you get hurt."

Eames just muttered and waved a hand much as he often did when he was particularly noncommittal about anything.. Or.. When he was horrendously lost for words. In this situation however, it was the latter.

"Good.." Mycroft smiled and slipped on his oven mitts, leaving Eames to wallow in absolute horror at the food coma he knew was impending should he keep company with this Mycroft Holmes.

Mar. 22nd, 2012


For @captaincrieffed -- Thank You ♥


In Eames' mind there was nothing in the world better than chocolate.. With really the sole exception being apple pie. But, that's a different story, for a different time. Right now our journey takes us to a little place in London...

Just one more piece.. That was always what he told himself before devouring enough chocolate to make himself almost sick. He knew his limits, more or less but, it didn't mean he was going to live by them. Grabbing another piece of chocolate, Eames smirked and popped it into his mouth making overly happy noises as the chocolate melted over his tongue.

Just across the small cafe he had placed himself in to enjoy his chocolate, sat another man who was also particularly fond of food. Though his vices weren't necessarily chocolate, it showed along his currently shrinking waistline that he did have a soft spot for food. Adjusting the umbrella he carried with himself frequently, Mycroft Holmes smiled to himself at the noises the man was making.

For all intents and purposes they were alone in the cafe- or rather let us just say they were alone to avoid any intrusion upon their inevitable meeting. Tucking his cellphone away Mycroft couldn't resist the urge to meet this man who enjoyed chocolate so much. Standing he tapped his way over- the end of his umbrella tapping on the floor of course; to my knowledge Mycroft Holmes does not indeed know how to tap dance.

Helping himself to a chocolate and to a seat comfortably across from this man, Mycroft smiled. "I see you enjoy your chocolate." it wasn't a jab at his waistline, in fact the man had a pleasant one indeed.

"Perhaps too much." Eames murmured around a mouthful of half melted chocolate, his eyes resting on the stolen piece Mycroft was currently unwrapping. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Mycroft teased with yet another smile as he popped the chocolate into his mouth. "You know.. Chocolate can be most addictive. If you're indulging yourself in this much," he motions to the huge pile of remaining chocolate "perhaps you should seek help."

"I don't need help."

Mycroft laughed. "Of course not but, then again.. Denial is always the first step in admitting you have a problem."

Eames blinked. "Who are you exactly?"

"Oh.. No one you need to worry about just yet." he smiled coyly pulling another chocolate from the pile as he stood. Giving his umbrella a twirl he tucked the chocolate away for later use and pulled free a business card from the same pocket. Placing the card on the table he slid it forward with one finger before giving it a tap. "In case you need a sympathetic ear. Do call before eight, any time after and I'm afraid I'll be too busy."

Eames watched him for a moment before looking at the card. "Mycroft?" he suppressed a laugh, suddenly he wasn't feeling so self conscious about his own first name. "Thank you but, I don't need any help." he again reaches for chocolate, grabbing two pieces this time. Pausing he looks at his hand. "Bullocks..."

"Exactly my point. Do give me a ring.. I'm sure you'll find I can be quite the useful ally." with another smile and twirl of his umbrella, Mycroft left the small cafe knowing it likely wouldn't be an hour before the man called.

War Horse, Meets Ghost.

I've come to a distinct realization that Maddie and I should never ever talk about anything to do with Benedict Cumberbatch before we sleep. Well.. Mostly before I sleep because you know.. She and I don't live together or anything.. Just to clear up any confusion on that..

Ahem.. Don't mind me. 3 hours of sleep here.

To explain my dream.. Maddie and I were talking about (kind of talking about) men on horses. Which led to my saying I needed to see War Horse, which led to her mentioning Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston on horses. Yeah..

Basically... My mind warped that into a weird dream that was strangely lacking Tom Hiddleston but had Tom Hardy. I don't know how that happened frankly because I haven't Rped with a Tom Hardy muse in 2 months and um, I haven't really been seeing much new stuff on him on Tumblr lately? Could be because I mentioned him last night, honestly. I dunno.

So Tom and I are hanging out in a totally platonic way, which made the dream slightly blah. Me and platonic Tommy = sad me. He walks away to go do whatever he does with his sexy self when suddenly I turn around and there's this guy (who looked like Cuba Gooding Jr) standing there. He starts talking to me and he explains there's a problem and he needs my help. I'm like "okaaaay, what kind of problem?" Come to find out.. He's being possessed (yes that kind of possessed) by Benedict!

Lucky bastard. I want Benedict in me! Wait.. Ignore that.. That came out wrong.. Dammit!

Benedict pops out of CGJ guy and is standing there looking all sexy in his War Horse uniform, with his Sherlock hair *takes a moment to relive that and purrs*. He starts telling me that he's been hurt and he's in a coma and he's some how able to leave his body and I've been the only one who can see him.

Unlucky score!

We start hanging out (so to speak) and I'm wandering everywhere trying to find him because he's convinced that if I find him I can wake him. How? Well... A kiss.

Fuck yes! Sign me up!

As if I didn't have enough incentive to want to thoroughly snog his gorgeous little brains out, I instantly agree and we start looking for his body. It takes us most of the dream, and of course we're walking through a war zone and no one is even paying me any mind lol. We end up in this infirmary tent and there he is!

Half nekkid, covered in just a blanket and bandages over his chest and one shoulder. (If he wasn't so hurt I'd be weeping over his sexiness). He looks at me (ghosty him does) and smiles, I almost pass out because helloooo. He's smiling, and he's got his physical body in a bed. GUH!

I walk over and I sit on the edge of the bed... I lean down to give him the kiss and....

Wake up!



As if it wasn't bad enough, I couldn't fall BACK to sleep to hope to finish out the dream. I laid in bed for nearly two hours pouting. *le sigh*

Mar. 20th, 2012


Oh Sweet Benedict.

I want to start this off by saying that my dreams often times are like Disney movies.. Sadly. I don't get why the sweet ones are like that but hey.. *shrug*.

I don't remember much about the dream but I remember it took place outside of my house. Now we live on a decent size piece of land and we're in farm country so there are a lot of trees and we're surrounded by a field. A lot of my dreams tend to feature talking owls, yes.. Talking. Owls.

Sadly, this was not one of these dreams. But.. There were talking birds none the less. Also.. Benedict Cumberbatch. He wasn't exactly a bird but.. A bird turned.. Into him? What? Stop judging, I warned you my dreams are like Disney movies sometimes...


Right.. Back to the dream. Now, I can't remember what happened next but the birds were telling us we had to go on some mission- which is why Cumberbird came into existence. Yes, Cumberbird, it's my favorite made up bird. Shush it!

Apparently- somehow- Cumberbird knows how to drive and we ended up in this jeep and he was driving me somewhere and yeah I don't really remember anything after that. I know it doesn't seem like the best dream but he was completely sweet and awesome and.. Benedict...

*happy sigh*

Hey I'm just happy he decided to invade my dream space and help my Disney up my sleepy mind.

Feb. 22nd, 2012


Hitchhiker's Guide to Sherlock Holmes

“BORED!” Sherlock exclaims before pulling out the hand gun yet again.

“Not again Holmes!” Watson makes a dive, the two of them scuffle before both falling hard to the floor…

“What the bloody hell…” rubbing his head Watson sits up and looks around. He is no longer sitting within the walls of 221b Baker Street but a strange and unfamiliar place.

“Watson?” a familiar voice.

Looking over his shoulder, Watson looks confused. “Lestrade?”

There in fact was Lestrade, wearing a trench, a hideous assortment of clothes, and a towel around his neck. “Stuck out your thumb to hitch a ride again?”

“W.. What?”

“Oh he never gets it…” Sherlock’s voice from some where off to one side. “You’re just wasting your breath… But you’re lucky… At least you can breathe.”

“Ignore him baby,” Mycroft shuffles over to Lestrade wearing some sort of white jumper “he’s a little slow on the uptake.”

“You would be too if you didn’t understand what was going on.” Mary knelt at Watson’s side. “We’ve a bit of a problem.. We’ve yet to gain normality and.. Well.. Here this should explain everything.” she hands him the guide.

Staring down at the book, Watson blinks. “Sherlock!?”

“You don’t have to yell… Not that you’ll listen to me… No one ever does..” Sherlock comes out of hiding, his large head looking strange above the navy blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

“What on Earth happened to you?” Watson’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh.. Ha ha.. Let’s pick on the giant robot who’s head is enormous.. Your head would be enormous too if you had such a large brain. Don’t worry.. I can delete that.. Not that you care.” Sherlock waddles off towards the front of the..

“Wait we’re in.. We’re in space?” he of course has now noticed the stars whizzing past the windows.

“Catches on quick that one, knew I liked him for a reason.” Mary grins and walks over to Sherlock.

“Steal him away why don’t you… I know he never cared.” Sherlock’s monotone voice struck a nerve.

“Of course I bloody well care!” Watson was now on his feet and pointing an angry finger at Sherlock. “If it wasn’t for you shooting at the bloody wall we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“A wall..” Sherlock lets out an audible sigh. “I don’t know why I would be shooting at a wall… But I’m sure it deserved it..”

“Holmes! Be serious!”

“I can only ever be serious… It’s boring really..”

Lestrade at this point had hurried over to Watson. “Where’s your towel? You need your towel.”

“Have you all lost your minds? A towel? Why.. Why would I need a towel? Is it suddenly going to rain, in the middle of a space ship?!”

“It might.” Mycroft muses.

“Most certainly won’t.” Mary adds.

“It could.” Lestrade sides with Mycroft, of course.

“Not that anyone will listen, but we’re on a collision course with a table.” Sherlock mutters.

“A table.. In space?” Watson walks over to him, glad for once to be somewhat taller than Sherlock.

“Don’t ask me.. I’m just here to figure things out.”

“Then figure out how to get us around the table.”

“WHOA!” Mycroft shouts, lunging forward and pushing both of them aside while looking like a raving lunatic. “Let’s trip the life fantastic baby!” he grins at Lestrade before smacking his palm down onto a big button.

“Mycroft no!” Mary shrieks.

Watson sits up, blinking and looking around the floor of the apartment. “I just had the strangest dream…”

Sherlock meanwhile is looking completely innocent while reclining on the couch. “Did you?”

“We were talking.. And then we had a row, then we fell and I was on a space ship..”

“Ah huh..” his eyes narrow ever so slightly.



“That look.”

“What look?”

“You had a look, I know that look. What did you do?”



“I made you tea.”

“I don’t care about the te..” he now noticed the half empty cup. “Sherlock…”


“Did you..”

“I would never.”

“You drugged my coffee…”

“Hmm.. Right..”


“Maybe… I.. Put a little something extra into your tea.”

Sighing Watson stands and leaves the room.

“But it was only an extra lump of sugar.”

Feb. 2nd, 2012


A letter from @LovesMonologues to @elementaryjohn

My darling..
My dearest..

A new piece of paper

My Watson,
I suppose that I really can't say more than what was already said. Though I suppose not really much was said at all thus far. I know that I've not said much anything about my emotions feelings thus far towards you. You undoubtedly already know how much I adore you. Else wise you would not be in your current condition. Though I do think this has gone far beyond mere adoration of ones friend. Again your... Condition.

Clearly I am not the one for words, verbally, thoughtfully or other wise. Perhaps if I were I would be somewhat Shakespearean in my attempts to woe your very heart. I do however believe that I have to some extent won you over, for I doubt greatly that we would be as we are now. It creates a stir of emotion within me like none I have felt before, not even with Miss Adler who I can't believe I mentioned. You beguile me so, and I fear that one day this adoration love I feel for you will consume me like flames on the end of a match. To see you with Mary causes my heart to break irreparably every time, and at the mere mention of her very name, my mood sours, and my heart withers into blackness. There are times I wish to know whom you desire more. I must admit, that I am jealous of Mary and the times you share. I suppose this does go to explain a rash of unruly behavior on my behalf, that of which I deeply regret and wish I could undo. However I think that if I had acted so, you I would never have noticed how deeply that I feel for you.

Now you are likely thinking me an utter fool for rambling such as I do but, you should know these foolish ramblings are created by you. You and your wondrous existence in this bleak, dark and utterly cruel world. You've become the brightest light within my world that it was a beacon that drove me to my salvation. In a sense I suppose that you truly have become a bit of an angel within my eyes. My life has become better for having you within it, I doubt very much that I would have survived for as long as I have without you at my side.

You've saved me more than I care to openly admit. Though there are a few instances in some of our cases which I'm sure you still remember, in most ways with an absence of fondness. I do wish to admit here that if I had this life to do over again, these cases to take, this home to share, I would choose no other.

John.. Darling.. You complete my life in every way. You complete the missing parts of my soul. You've patched together the ragged edges of a deplorable human being. And I ask that should you so desire... Though I know we've decided some what on this already.. If you so desire.. To stay with me at 221b Baker, to not depart in the companies of Mary. But... To share with me a life in which I will do my best to make you proud, to make you happy, a life in which you know you are loved.

I do not ask this based on your condition but because my heart is wholly yours and no others.

Yours, forever or until you've no further use of me,
S. Holmes.

Jan. 30th, 2012


Just because I love it.

13 minutes to sketch, and I got an amazing new piece of Gingerli art. Wish I'd done this well on the comic strip I did.

(And yes I drew this.)

Jan. 20th, 2012


Benedict Cumberbatch, a Ginger?

To start with, that dude has one frickin weird name and it's hard to spell what the heck?

Anyway, yes. In my dream he was in fact a ginger. Whether or not he is in reality, haven't the slightest.

Carrying on.. I was apparently at Hogwarts.. I think.. I can't be sure because it looked like some really shabby hotel. And he was for some strange reason Percy Weasley- well by name only. Me? Only female in the dream.

I feel that I should state my unpopular opinion here: I'm not, in the slightest, attracted to this guy.. AT ALL.

In the dream though I couldn't stop staring because I knew he's not Percy Weasley and I knew who he actually is. I'm all "Hey! That's the dude from Sherlock." and "HEY! HE WAS IN A MOVIE WITH TOM HARDY!"

Clearly my inner voice loves Tom Hardy too.. *shrug*.

All I really remember of the dream aside from that is we were trying to fix this light, smoke alarm, whatever hanging from the ceiling. And he like TOWERED over me, I've no idea if he's tall in real life.. But in my dream he had to be over 6 foot tall easily lol.

The whole time we're trying to fix this thing I'm staring at him and his magnificently gingery hair... And then I woke up..

*helpless shrug*

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