Finishing the Hat
Out of curiosity, did people like that Star Trek/Sherlock crossover fanfiction?
Because I was thinking of expanding it, but I’m not sure. Also, I’m not sure if I should post fanfiction on here. I have an account on fanfiction.net for that. I have this (perhaps irrational) fear that when you guys see fanfiction that I’ve written on my blog your immediate reaction is…
“Shit, Shakespearevillain is trying to write fiction again. UNFOLLOW.”
Or
“No one should have to look up the word ‘infinitesimal’ when they’re trying to read Johnlock!!!”
OR
“If I wanted something that reads like an eighth grade primer, I’d read Huckleberry Finn.”
In short, I need some feedback. Because I really don’t want people going…
Whenever I post fanfiction.
So, what do you say?
deer noises
gun shot noises
panicked deer noises
man yelling god dammit in the distance
Mama! I thought I’d never see you again!
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I REALLY SHOULD NOT BE SURPRISED THAT THIS IS ALREADY BEING GIFFED
(Source: mishawinsexster)
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Well, I don’t know about you, but that welcome has left me drained…
Also, it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning here.
Goodnight! Sweet dreams!
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Oh good Lord! Nineteen new followers!!!
Anyways, for a spectacular number of new followers, I figure I ought to create a spectacular welcome. Unfortunately, I’ve no idea how to do that. I usually go by themes, you see, based off one or two followers fandoms (Yes, I research you guys, in the laziest way possible. I glance at your blog and see if there’s any sort of outstanding fandom.)
So, since there’s so many of you and I can’t possibly appeal to all of your fandoms…
Or can I?
Well, it’s worth a shot!
For the Whovians:
Welcome to the wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey section of this welcome!!!
Finally. A lie that’s too big. I am an adult, 22 actually. I’m just an irresponsible and immature one. Compared to accountants and salesmen, that is. I know some drug addicts who are way more irresponsible than I am.
…Shut up, Matt Smith.
Souffles are on the snack table along with some fish fingers and some custard.
For the Sherlockians:
Kettle’s just boiled. Hot tea will be on the snacks table in a second.
Do you want some crisps? Nevermind. I know you don’t.
Just please, for the love of God, do not leave any body parts in my fridge. Sherlock does enough of that without your help.
For the Supernatural fans:
I don’t really post that much Supernatural. To be perfectly honest, I’ve only seen clips of the show, mostly involving Misha. So if you’re following me because you expect a lot of posts about Supernatural…
Which leads me to the next fandom…
For the Avengers/Loki/Superhero fans:
This blog…
If you wish to maintain any of your sanity, you will leave now. If however, you wish to join the madness…
We can have that arranged. It… it touches everyone differently.*
Schwarma is on the snacks table.
Oh, and point out the pie to the Supernatural fans. They’re probably feeling a little down right now.
For the Harry Potter fans:
Welcome to Shakespearevillain’s school of Witchcraft and Wizardry!!! Which is like Pigfarts in that it doesn’t exist.
Starkid jokes aside, welcome! I am a proud member of Hufflepuff and will be happy to help you with any of your charms homework. Don’t let the Loony Luna thing fool you. I’m smart. And besides…
Pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs are on the snacks table. Just make sure the chocolate frogs don’t hop into the tea. The Sherlockians would be very put out and you don’t want to see angry Sherlockians.
Alright, so I have occasional flashes of temper. It’s the badger in me.
For the anime fans:
Again, don’t know how you found my blog. I don’t really post that much anime, except for some occasional Fruits Basket or Fullmetal Alchemist.
Anyway, milk and rice balls are on the snacks table. Make sure to drink your milk so you’ll grow up nice and tall. Unlike Ed…
For the people who come here for mental health stuff:
I’ll be trying to keep up the positive and supportive side of this blog as much as I can. And if you ever need to talk, about anything at all, just pop an ask in my box. I’m a very good listener. I’ve actually gotten my therapist to start talking about his life during sessions before, which is funny because he’s one of the best psychiatrists in the area and arguably should know better than to rattle off about his travels to Greece during a session.
Anyway, spirits up! We’ll get through this together.
Aaand… I think that covers just about everyone!
Sorry! I mean, you’re so short… Well, I can’t really talk. I’m sort of a hobbit myself.
Shakespearevillain, at your service!
Creoso! Amin naa ie’ tualle!
That last bit is in Elvish. I admit I’m much better with Old Norse than I am with Elvish, so please be patient with me.
Hantale!
Anyways, welcome to my little section of the Shire. It’s not much, but it’s home. I certainly don’t live in the Hill, though I do admire the decorating.
Well, the decorating that isn’t done by a certain wizard on a certain person’s beautifully painted front door.
Anyway, seed cakes are on the… that’s funny. I put them there just a second ago.
Well, I’m sure I’ll find something for your elevensies. Just root around the pantry until you find something to your liking.
And finally, let’s end with a bit of Disney celebrating…
And that does it. That’s all the fandoms that I can think to squeeze into a welcome!
Except… I’ve forgotten in all this excitement to actually welcome people. Which is a terrible oversight, considering this is supposed to be a welcome post.
Welcome to leagueofteemo, nevertheday, lordofmessa, thirteeenish, hawkeykins, xx-vikyfrenchlee-xx, itslittleasskicker, fytortall, kittafan8900, baedekersandbeasties, one-bead-at-a-time, ladieslikeporntoo, an-optimistic-perspective, nevermorecc, joy2write, serifinaxxx, bakingbunch, asholdfield, and thedeipnosophistsrepository!!!
Enjoy the madness!!!
——————
*Bonus points to anyone who gets this reference since I just realized it’s part of a deleted scene.
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AU: Star Trek: Into Darkness / BBC Sherlock:
for honoring his partner, Khan took a fictional name as “John Harrison”, a compliment for John Watson; his partner who’s currently sleeping on one of the frozen “torpedo”. he asked them to release John, but they took John away from him instead.
…AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA————AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA——-AHAHAHASH OHFUCKNO.
“Give it back.”
Khan glared at the man opposite him, the man who forced him to make the photon torpedoes in the first place. They were in the concrete cell that served as his laboratory. The two of them were seated across from each other with the stainless steel table which until recently had been his worktop between them. Behind Khan stood two Starfleet officers with their phasers set to kill.
“Why?” Admiral Marcus replied languidly.
Khan grit his teeth. “I’m not asking much,” he responded in a measured tone. “Just that one. It was the first one that I created.”
“I’m afraid we need all seventy-three,” the Admiral responded.
Khan’s mind raced with images of bashing the man’s skull in and taking the torpedo himself. He was capable of it. He even knew how to transport both himself and it to the Klingon home-world, where Marcus would never dream of following. But then what would remain for the other seventy-two? To be blown up to satisfy this little man and his thirst for blood?
“It is defective,” Khan said, banishing the images of violence. “I will make another one for you. A better one.”
The Admiral smiled and crossed over to line of pure white torpedoes that were stacked one on top of the other along the far wall of Khan’s cell. One of them sat with its rocket propulsion system firmly against the ground and its nose pointed towards the ceiling. Inside it was a sandy-haired man in a cream-colored sweater.
“You’re very clever, Khan,” Marcus said, seeming to disregard the other man’s words. He looked through the glass at the man inside the torpedo. “Couldn’t you think of some better way to save your crew than by putting them in explosives?”
“He is nothing special to you,” Khan replied, choosing to ignore the taunt. “He has a bad leg. Surely, of all of my race he would be the least threat to you.”
Admiral Marcus turned, his mouth twisted in a grimace of pure disgust. “None of us are safe until all of you are dead.”
“Then why did you wake me?” Khan snarled. “You could have killed all of us while we were in stasis.”
“I needed you. I needed what you could do.”
“You should have let me sleep,” Khan growled, rising from his chair. The two phasers pressed against the back of his skull did nothing to diminish his fury.
“You knew these were going to be used sooner or later,” Marcus continued, seemingly oblivious to the threat the other man presented. He pulled out his communicator. “Walker, take the torpedoes in Khan’s cell to Storage Bay Seven. Yes, all seventy-three of them.” He gestured with his head to the guards behind Khan. The superhuman heard the click of two phasers being set to stun. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the wracking pain of the stun rays. He felt himself fall to the floor, still conscious, but with his nerves reduced to their infancy. He opened his eyes to see the torpedo’s lid being fastened over the figure inside. “John,” he whispered.
———————
The trail of blood was going to lead them straight to him. He didn’t care. He’d just heard that one of the torpedoes had been detonated as a demonstration for the head of Starfleet. It had taken him mere seconds to kill the two guards who were keeping watch over his cell and only a few more to kill the four that guarded Storage Bay Seven. “John!” he shouted, as if the other man could hear him. He began checking the torpedoes, looking for the mark he’d made. It was designed to look like a slight slip of the hand when he had made the warhead—a single infinitesimal scratch at the very tip of the torpedo. He snarled his distaste at the red numbers and letters that had been painted on them in his absence. MC-9310. MC-9311. MC-9312. The numbers filled him with indescribable rage. But he couldn’t worry about them now. Right now he needed to find John. MC-9321. MC-9322. MC-9323. A flicker of horrible, gut-wrenching fear coursed through him as he scanned each one for his mark. MC-9344. MC-9345. MC-9346. Where was it? MC-9370. MC-9371. MC-9372.
“No.”
He checked through them a second time. And a third. By the fourth sweep, he was openly weeping. He began opening torpedoes, hoping against hope that he’d missed something—that in his hurry to find John’s he’d accidentally missed the crucial mark.
“Khan,” a voice cried from the door to the storage bay. Admiral Marcus’ voice.
Khan quickly sealed up torpedo MC-9372 and wiped away his tears.
“Khan!” the voice cried again. “We know you’re in there. If you come out quietly, we won’t hurt you.”
He stood up amongst the torpedoes. “My name,” he cried. “Is John Harrison!”
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It’s like my dog knows which pieces of paper are important to me and decides that those are the ones he wants to lie down on or walk all over.
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