wow thanks tumblr, now it’s become so much easier to accidentally follow someone i hate on this site
I’m looking forward to the next Missing e update that fixes this. :P
David Attenborough: Baikal is the oldest lake in the world, and despite the harsh conditions life flourishes here in isolation. 80% of its species are found nowhere else on Earth, including the world’s only freshwater seal.
I TRUSTED YOU, DAVID ATTENBOROUGH. MY ENTIRE LIFE IS A LIE.
P.S. I love you anyway.
My inbox is fucked up. I can only see the latest message but when I tried to reply it was posted as a reply to an older message. o.O
WTF is going on? Anyone else have this problem?
Author: Tabby Stardust
Word Count: 935
Characters: Holmes, Blackwood
Summary: An alternative version of the scene where Holmes goes to meet Lord Blackwood in prison.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Author’s Note: A crossover with H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos. Originally written for the kinkmeme a couple of years ago. (Also the first fic I have ever written.)
The morning was damp and dreary, dark clouds hanging melancholy over the age-worn rooftops of London, fog drifting in street corners and alleyways, wrapping the great city in its clammy embrace. As my carriage drew near Pentonville Prison I saw a large crowd gathered in the street, a pitiful grey horde with fear in their eyes. The crowd parted as I stepped out of the carriage and made my way into the looming building. I had been summoned here at this early hour for I was Lord Blackwood’s last request.
I was led down stony steps into the lower parts of the prison where Blackwood was being held. The corridor was dark, lit only by a handful of flickering torches, the crumbling stone walls seeping moisture. Doors to empty cells yawned open on both sides, and as I inquired the reason for this the young guard accompanying me told me that it had been necessary to remove the other prisoners as they had been nearly driven to madness by Lord Blackwood’s presence. I smiled incredulously at the notion that any person should have such an effect upon grown men, but as we neared the end of the corridor the guard grew timid, and seeing his reluctance to approach the lone cell from where I could now hear vague whispers emanating I excused the poor fellow. As his hurried footsteps retreated up the stairs I turned and edged closer to the whispering voice in the darkness.