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You. It's always you. You keep me right.
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It ain't me, babe.



motherfucker what is this shit, sand? fuck sand. i hate sand. thanks, mom. thanks for absolutely nothing, leaving me here on this fucking beach, is that a fucking seagull? oh my god, mom, you suck more than anything has ever sucked. i’m getting to that ocean just so i can urinate on your carapace. i’m gonna urinate on it so hard. fucking sand. i think five of my brothers just got eaten. good, i hated those assholes. i’m coming, mom. you’ve got blood on your flippers, bitch.

Pissed off, vengeful turtle is my favorite!

All and the lonely hearts | Chapter 12 / ?


Post-The Empty Hearse.
It was brilliant that Sherlock was back at Baker Street, John supposed. But he lived elsewhere now, he had another home and another life.
He was glad to have his best friend back, he truly was. He just had to deal with the sudden urge he had sometimes to actually kill Sherlock himself. The sudden urge to ask him to please, never leave again.

It was all making him mad. And he had a wedding to plan.

[The tale of two people finding their way to one another again.]

In this chapter:

"John couldn’t stop staring at the swirling coat and the floppy curls that bounced up and down. He had dreamed about this image more times than he was comfortable with. It hit close to home. It felt like being in the best dream; trapped in the worst nightmare."

Also on


The fact that John cancelled his date to be with Sherlock.

Scarlett Johansson at the “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” World Première (March 13th, 2014)


i get anxiety because idk what will come after postmodernism

About all and the lonely hearts updates

oh, well, what can I say. sorry about that.

i hope to be posting the next chapter soon, but as I am pmsing like crazy, who the hell knows? I’m feeling already victimized by the world in these last few days, so don’t hate me. you can all be sure I’m already feeling bad enough!

I’m also dramatic these days.


so i have this headcanon that sherlock despises poetry (“if I wanted poetry, I’d read John’s emails to his girlfriends”), and he deleted keats, byron, the iambic pentameter, sonnets and metaphors, and just everything remotely related to poetry that he could have learned in his…

"You're my friend."

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