The last 10 days have been abysmal. Nobody’s sick or dead or anything, but something unpleasant happened and I’m having trouble shaking off the catatonic depression that resulted from it. You know the kind where it takes all the strength you have to just get out of bed. Not that you’ve slept much, but laying down and staring into a wall is all that you can realistically manage. Still, appearances must be kept up, so out of bed you pop. It’s just that your damned brain keeps on nagging, and nagging, and nagging…

*Laughs so hard I almost choke to death on a dumpling*

The “OMG CANT YOU PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT ANYTHING OTHER THAN SEX YOU DERANGED PERVS” pearl-clutching always makes me laugh. Yeah, I have written gen, but so what? I also like writing about sex, I like writing about John and Sherlock (and John and Lestrade and Sherlock and Lestrade) having sex, and everyone who doesn’t like it can go fuck themselves, seriously.


The funny thing is that if this person had stuck to, “I am embarking on fanfic and I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m having trouble finding anything besides smut to read and I’m not interested in that, please halp,” we all would have been jumping all over her with fic recs and search strings.

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