C’est fini…

johnlock… what else?

I want to throw a party.

My Johnlock fic is DONE.

(And I didn’t revert to writing pr0n when I got stuck. It’s strictly brOTP!Lock!!!)

In thirty-ish years of writing various stories, this is only the third one I’ve finished (outside of school assignments).

Seriously.

It’s definitely the longest at 13K+ words. (I’ve never been able to wrap up a NaNoWriMo project in 50K words, although I probably could have been able to.)

And if I submit it to FanFiction.net, it will be the second one I’ve ever let other people read.

The first was “Scott and Kate” - a heavily dramatized retelling of a night with Soulmate Boy - and only C-Rollz got to read it. He’ll be the only person to ever read it because his reaction… OMG. I can’t even… he killed me. With kindness, but still. It was intense. Maybe because it’s such a personal tale? I don’t know, but damn. He had me in tears.

I’d like to have it beta’d and brit-picked before it goes live, but I don’t know how realistic that goal is.

In the meantime, I’m just going to sit here and be proud of myself.

Hiddles is love

holy fuck… this is eerily accurate

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard at anything regarding fanfic (and I thought the bingo card was awesome)!

This one is probably my favorite: If Sherlock gets the milk, he’s DTF.

 

He’s such a child

perfect benedict is perfect

The more I learn about this man, the less he surprises me.

——

Let’s talk self-harm, shall we?

I’ve never been one for blood, so conventional self-harm is something I’ve never been interested in.

But. I bite the shit out of my nails. My pinkies, usually.

The number of days I walk around with one of my pinkies covered in a band-aid wrap of my own creation is astonishing. I’ve actually managed to lose count of the number of times I’ve done it recently.

Thursday morning, I ripped off the ENTIRE pinky nail on my right hand. Like down to the cuticle. Gone, baby, gone. Just like that.

Can you believe I was pissed that it didn’t hurt? PISSED.

Isn’t that the whole point of self-harm? To replace mental pain with something tangible? To distract you from what’s really going on?

The only thing I got out of it is a band-aid on my pinky that gets in the way when I type.

The most ironic part of this?

A few years ago, I went to see a hypnotist about breaking my nail biting habit. Under hypnosis, and I mean completely under, she asked me why I bit my nails.

I told her it was a comfort thing.

And that I wasn’t going to stop.

Maybe I should have seen someone about curbing my self-harm habit instead…

I’m a little over trying to type with band-aids on my pinkies.

reichenbach feels… again

I got bored…

...and made a thing.

That then made me cry.

Fuck you, thing.

 

I legit love this fandom

oh my dog… best use of that line ever

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Moffat wrote that episode. I almost love him for that.

*shakes fist*

I just watched “The Good Night” because it has Martin in it. The man has the most expressive face I’ve ever seen… and I will never understand his love of cable knit jumpers. I was only half paying attention to the movie because I was on the phone with my pimp, Jim. (Dog, I have pimps and drug dealers in my life. I really should start calling people what they are, shouldn’t I? But calling people recruiters and psychiatric nurse practitioners who specialize in psych meds is SO boring.)

Where was I?

Oh, right. Jumpers. As far as I can tell, he wears two. Exactly the same, except one is a sage green and the other is oatmeal.

A fucking OATMEAL jumper. I’d bet it’s the same exact one he wears in Sherlock.

The man is insane.

——

This wasn’t meant to be a post about Martin Freeman. Or Benedict Cumberbatch’s cheekbones… even though I could go on about those FOREVER. And that voice… pure sex. Fringy-Sideburny-Gingerbatch is definitely hot. GAH. I need to stop before I start a Sherlock marathon and completely lose my mind.

(I’m finally watching “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” and OMG he is amazing. I’m freaking out over here. Totally disgusting fangirling.)

——

So, let’s get to the point, shall we?

I’ve found two international companies worth working for and one with the potential to go global. One of them I actually have a connection at - but I’m probably really not qualified for it. I can’t see that person going out on a limb for me. Plus, it’s in Amsterdam. I don’t have a problem with Amsterdam - besides the fact that I keep spelling it wrong - but why would a company take a risk on moving someone who is definitely not qualified overseas?

I’m a little amazed that I don’t really care that I’m unemployed right now. Such a weird change from the last time… but after everything they had put me through, it was heart breaking to be let go so coldly. Other than the recruiter, I haven’t done much in the way of looking. I decided to take these last two days off. It’s my mother’s birthday today, dad’s anniversary was Monday, and we went through so much shit with Guinness over the weekend that I just needed a break from the drama. 

I’m still not experienced enough for some of the accounting jobs I want and that is upsetting, but I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I can magically learn about STAT or IFRS, or ERP systems, or Great Plains, or even earn a MBA or CPA overnight…

I’m second guessing myself about not applying for the job at Sig. It’s everything I want in a job and absolutely NOTHING I want in a company. (I mean, come on. Even at my most manic, reckless, stupid moments, I can NOT forget about this. Or my experience.)

I wish I could separate the two. You have no idea how badly I want to be able to separate the two. 

Fucking morals…