professorfangirl:

ohmysaintedpyjamas:

Benedict reading Turing’s letter.Alan Turing was a human being of exceptional intelligence — a mathematical genius — and worked as one of the leading code-breakers during World War II. He is also considered to be the “father of modern computing” thanks to his pioneering work in the field of computer science. In 1950, before the term “Artificial Intelligence” had been coined, he posed the question, “Can computers think?“ and proposed the Turing Test. His achievements are staggering.

In 1952, he was charged with gross indecency after admitting to a sexual relationship with another man, and as a result was told to choose either imprisonment or chemical castration as punishment. He chose the latter. Alan Turing was found dead on June 8th, 1954, a day after taking his own life. He was aged just 41.

Turing wrote the following letter in 1952 to his friend and fellow mathematician, Norman Routledge, shortly before pleading guilty.

(Source: Alan Turing: The Enigma – The Centenary Edition; Image: Alan Turing, via.)

"…I’m afraid that the following syllogism may be used by some in the future.

“Turing believes machines think
“Turing lies with men
“Therefore machines do not think

“Yours in distress,

“Alan”

I was going to write willietheplaidjacket a nice little fluffy smutty christmas fic, but, well, it turned into this. I’m blaming John Watson:

Christmas Leaves its Mark – In which John and Sherlock have their first time in front of the fireplace on Christmas evening. And Sherlock discovers John is a biter.

teaser below the cut

John sat in front of the fire, watching it burn. He absently poured himself another glass of whiskey and sighed. Of course he couldn’t have a normal Christmas. Of course Harry drank too damn much and there had been a huge argument and he’d walked out.

Looking at the glass, he knew he wasn’t much better than Harry sometimes. Dad’s marvelous legacy. At least he didn’t get drunk all that often. Right now he was enjoying a delicious buzz and the quiet of the flat. He couldn’t imagine Sherlock’s Christmas was going any better than his own.

The door opened and he looked up, surprised. Sherlock tugged off his scarf and coat and took four steps into the dark flat before seeing the figure in the chair. “Problems at home, John?”

John set down his glass hard enough to rattle. “It’s Christmas, Sherlock. This is home.”

Something changed in Sherlock’s eyes. Maybe it had been too many months of dancing around the subject. Maybe it was just a little too much to drink. Or the way the firelight lit his flatmate’s face. All John Watson knew is that he was suddenly on his feet and dragging Sherlock into a kiss, pushing his tongue past lips barely resisting, the detective’s hands landing on his shoulders, pulling him closer.

There was the muffled sound of his name, but John wouldn’t let him up for air quite yet, all but dragging him towards the fire, knocking over the glass of whiskey as he pushed Sherlock to the floor, straddling the taller man’s hips. No matter what words came out of his mouth next, John could already feel his erection.

continue on AO3

If you post any of the following

wingscanspeak:

Doctor Who

Sherlock

Supernatural

Harry Potter

Once Upon a Time

LOTR/Hobbit

Adventure Time

Avengers

Star Trek

Disney

The Office

Merlin

Welcome to Night Vale

Monty Python

Homestuck

Gravity Falls

REBLOG THIS AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU WITH NO HESITATION 

taladraco:

Those moments when writing your own stories when you’re suddenly like “Oh… that’s why.”