the psa is that i am a big loser and have lost track of threads. 

currently in my drafts i have:

themccoywhosmiles (2 for you darling!) experttragedy (haha guess who thought she did all but secretly has 1 more for you) (you’re right) (it’s me) wxrriior (that lovely starter you wrote me and I forgot about bc i suck)

meme {ACCEPTING}

☮ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

lol okay so. Q has a small-ish flat on Beaumont Street (which is like, 2 blocks from Baker Street btw) It’s nearly always a bit of a mess, papers, books, computers, and cats everywhere. His kitchen is usually pretty neat, though there’s always mugs in the sink. He’s got two bedrooms and one bathroom. His room has a large bed and a desk with a computer on it. The guestroom has several bookcases full of books and computers/other miscellaneous tech. The bathroom is always clean. 

~Q/Jack~

meme {accepting}

meme {ACCEPTING}

It’s quiet in the drafty church. There’s not even much of the sniffling that one usually hears at these types of things. Most of it’s probably coming from him, he thinks. He’s kept company by a few other agents and a woman, he thinks someone said she’s Jack’s sister. He’s thought about going over to her, to offer her his condolences, but he doesn’t. 

There hadn’t been a viewing, there couldn’t be with no body. The sound of the explosion that had taken Jack’s life was still ringing in Q’s ears. He knew it was all in his head but that didn’t make it go away.

No one was speaking. It’s a government funded funeral. Q thinks the sister, (Meredith? Miranda? he can’t remember) might be Jack’s only family in attendance. He thinks he ought to go say something. They were friends, after all.

Slowly he walks to the podium. The room seems more empty from up here. He wipes his eyes a bit, thinking that his friend deserved better. He clears his throat. 

“Jack Mason was an amazing person and a very dear friend. He worked hard and was dedicated and loyal to his country. In the end he died for his country, and that is something we won’t forget.” He pauses and looks down, trying to compose himself. “I count myself extremely lucky to have known him and called him a friend.” He looks out above the sparse group, almost up. “Jack, if you’re listening, and I hope you’re not, I hope you’re too busy enjoying yourself to bother with this, but if you are, you’re a great man and a better friend. I’ll miss you to the end of my days.” He sniffles a little and smiles. “And when I see you next, don’t you dare make fun of me for this. It’s your own fault for making friends with such an emotional person.” 

meme {ACCEPTING}

✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sexual Attraction✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Squishing✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

{experttragedy}

Could they talk of nothing else?

It had been a week and still there was nothing but gossip and speculation. Was he a fraud? Was Moriarty even real? Why else would he have jumped?

Sherrinford couldn't take it anymore. He'd been snapping at people for days and the air in Q branch was tense. Q himself was just trying to lose himself in his work. He'd programmed and reprogrammed one database at least three times. His phone was turned over. He knew Mycroft was trying to get ahold of him but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

He just wanted to work. To escape. To forget.

But how? H o w could he forget when it was all over the papers? When people could speak of nothing else. When everywhere he looked there was a fucking reminder.