Ik The Colours Are Not In The Right Order, But...

Being next to a nuclear reactor that‘s gonna melt down with Jean-Luc Picard… well we both won’t know how to deal with that but there’s a good chance that enterprise crew will come and rescue their captain so I might survive. Even if we don’t at least I will die alongside Jean-Luc Picard - that’s something…

you've been put in A Situation. you have to deal with it and get out to the other side alive. luckily a portal opens and a Star Trek character emerges to help!

That’s this game - pumpkin panic, a rather cosy farming- horror game where a bunch of monsters try to kill you as soon as it gets dark while you still need to do your farming

Characters I headcanon as asexual and/or aromantic

1. Sherlock Holmes from BBC Sherlock - ace

2. Frodo Baggins - ace

3. Bilbo Baggins - aro ace

4. Spencer Reid from criminal minds - ace

5.Jo March from little women - aro ace

6. Seto Kaiba from YughiOh - ace

7. Sandra Bell from For The People - aro ace (I know she kissed Ted in the end but still)

"boringly abled" omg this is amazing

Things to start calling allistic people IMMEDIATELY:

people with allism

people suffering from allism

people trapped in allistic bodies

low-functioning allistics

the boringly abled

“he’s mostly normal, he’s just got a lick of the ‘lism”

YES! Absolutely. Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot - Agatha Christie gave us two amazing aroace detectives but no one is talking about it.

Dear aroace community please show these two some love

Aroace miss Marple. Is this anything?

I've got a question for the ACD Holmes community. What is "The practical handbook of bee culture'"? I just saw that it is a book you can buy, that is supposed to be Holmes's journal that he wrote during his time in Sussex, which is also supposed to reference a marriage to Mrs Hudson (?!) and other things. All the booksellers list the author as Sherlock Holmes (which obv. can't be true) and Google can tell me nothing about it. Is it fanfiction, that just happened to be sold as a book? What is this?

Doctor's Orders

a james wilson x gn!reader one-shot

SUMMARY: Wilson sprains his ankle, and you get to take care of him.

WARNINGS: minor injury (a sprained ankle)

WORD COUNT: 1217

The sound of faint laughter and televisions echoing through the hallways of your building made you feel at ease. It had been a long day, and to say you were relieved to finally be home was an understatement. You reciprocated James’ warm smile as you walked through the door he was holding open to your condo complex. 

"Oh, do we need to check the mailbox?" you asked him, in a half-whisper. He shook his head, and you ascended the well-worn staircase leading to your cozy condo, with James trailing just a step behind.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I think it gets too much hate. It was a fun movie,” you exclaimed, continuing up the stairs. James responded with a disapproving shake of his head.

“Agree to disagree,” he retorted playfully.

You sighed. “I’m never going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, allowing his gaze to momentarily linger from the stairs to admire your presence. “And I’m never going to forgive them for what they did to–”

Suddenly, a resonant thud echoed behind you, followed by a pained groan. You gasped, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth.

“Oh– James, are you okay?”

He groaned in pain. Your heart pounded as you leaned your bag against the post at the top of the staircase before you rushed to help him.

“Here, let me help you up,” you offered, placing his arm around your shoulders and assisting him back onto his feet. He winced as his injured foot touched the ground, and you gripped the handrail tightly as you bore his weight.

"These damn stairs,” James muttered, “I really should learn to be more careful.”

"It happens to the best of us,” you reassured him, sympathetically. “Let’s get you inside and sit you down, then we can take a look at it.”

You left him waiting at the top of the stairs as you descended again to retrieve his briefcase. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, smiling fondly at you as you picked up your own bag and helped him limp to the door to his condo. Once inside, you eased him onto the sofa.

Sitting across from him on a cushioned footstool, you looked at him expectantly as he carefully examined his injury for a few minutes. You were comforted by the familiar impression of intense focus on his face; you’d seen it in his eyes doing everything from the New York Times crossword puzzle to diagnosing his cancer patients. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain when the radiator's subtle hum, unnoticed until then, ceased, leaving behind a quiet void in your condo. After a few more minutes, the weight of the silence finally became unbearably uncomfortable, and you asked:

“So… what is it?”

“Well,” he sighed, looking up at you, “I don’t think it’s broken. It feels like it’s just a sprain. Some ice, compression, rest… and I should be fully healed in a few weeks,” he said, before lifting himself onto his feet. You got up from your seat and stopped him before he could make another move.

“Okay, but the acronym is RICE. Which, if I remember correctly, means the the first rule of healing a sprained ankle… is to rest,” you pointed out, matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, but the next one is ice. I’m going to get ice before I res–”

“Hey,” you said, looking at him with feigned sternness. His eternally pleading eyes made it so hard to get genuinely angry with him. You placed your hand on his chest and lightly coaxed him back down onto the sofa. He pursed his lips and obliged, never breaking eye contact. 

“I know you’re a fancy doctor and everything but just… let me take care of you, okay? Relax, I’ll get you what you need,” you said, softening your tone and tenderly stroking his face with your thumb. You sealed your sentiment with a gentle kiss on his cheek before heading to the kitchen to get ice. James’ gaze softened and he smiled as he watched you make your way to the freezer before he picked up the nearest magazine. He swiveled on the sofa to lay back and let his injured foot rest on the armrest.

When you returned with some ice wrapped in a towel and a compression wrap, you found James nodded off with his magazine open on his stomach. You lightened your footsteps as you approached him to avoid disturbing him, a gentle smile creeping onto your face. Kneeling on the floor by his head, you cupped his face with your hand and gingerly stroked his cheek, then lightly ran your fingers through his soft curls, stirring him awake. 

“Hmm?” 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Your fingers tingled as you felt him melt under your touch. “I got some ice and a bandage. For compression, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. You got up off the ground, pulled the footstool over to the sofa’s armrest, and applied the ice to his ankle. He lifted his head just barely enough to see what you were doing. There was a subtle glint of worry in his eye, and you reassured him it was going to be okay.

“You can go back to sleep, you know,” you whispered. James let his head fall backwards and stared blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander, first shuffling through his list of dying patients, then to plotting how he was going to get back at House for that stupid prank he had pulled on him earlier, then to how he forgot to ask Cuddy about the budget for new equipment for the oncology department, and finally back to you. Every aspect of his job as an oncologist dictated that he was to be a caretaker, and to have someone take care of him was overwhelming, in a good way. As a generally independent person, he wasn’t used to being shown this level of compassion. He felt his heart grow warm thinking about how lucky he was to have you looking after him, how good you were to him, and how much he loved you.

“All done,” you whispered, satisfied with your work. Wilson once again looked up at his now-bandaged foot, then at you. His movement startled you briefly, as you assumed he had gone back to sleep like you had suggested.

“Woah, I thought you were asleep? I was just about to go get a sticker for you, you were very well behaved,” you grinned.

He rolled his eyes playfully and unsuccessfuly tried to suppress a smile. “That’s a solid wrapping job, perfect even.” he approved. Your eyes sparkled with pride, and he instantly felt a familiar warm, fuzzy sensation coursing through him. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, you planted a tender kiss on his lips that left him feeling entirely flushed, and as you were about to walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in for another kiss, this time more passionate. 

“Mmm… just what the doctor ordered.” His warm breath lingered against your skin, and his expression turned more serious as he looked into your eyes. “I love you, you know,” he confessed, earnestly.

“I know,” you giggled. “I love you too.”

@iamthatonefangirl @dr-juliaogden

CBS’ Elementary is everything to me.

Between the “i made you breakfast” and the “i’ll see you at home” and the “when was the last time you slept?” and the “i know you didn’t eat so i brought you your leftovers” and clyde going from “pet tortoise” to “our pet tortoise” and the “we’re two people who love each other” …

They are individuals in their own right and yet depend on each other so deeply, but it’s not co-dependency, they actively choose each other everyday all the time. They are two halves of a whole but they are not incomplete as individuals, rather they lift each other up. It’s so nice to see a holmes/watson relationship that’s so unproblematic and wholesome and loving. I love this adaptation. I just love them.

🦔

This is Charles. He wants to go on a journey around tumblr. could you show him around?