the night of writing dangerously

late at night can be dangerous..

it’s empty black space or void

to think about the past, the future, the present

thinking can be overly dangerous

your mind wanders off to places you’d rather it not go

and then you start to over think

one thing at a time

before you know it, it’s everything you are over thinking

which leads to you not sleeping, and anxious

-via ( @girls-unl1m1ted )

You broke my heart
but it doesn’t feel like heart break.
I drive a little faster, I cross the street without looking, I smoke an extra cigarette for each time I usually smoke one. I take my walks late at night instead of the safer afternoon. I go outside while my hair is still wet. I take two extra sleeping pills than I should.
I’ve become reckless.
Maybe you didn’t break my heart.
Maybe you just broke my way of living.
—  S.A

“We’re gonna die. You know that, right?” Ghoul’s voice was low, quiet. He wrung his hands together and stared at nothing.

Poison clenched his hands against the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t glance at Ghoul for even a second. “Yeah.”

Keep reading

A Danger Night

It happens during nothing important: a meeting with the Prime Minister, and a few other dull folk from the cabinet. But still, Mycroft rather enjoys these days, when all he has to do is sip tea and feign interest. It makes a change.

Halfway through some drivel about budget cuts, Mycroft’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He can feel his entire body tense in expectation, and immediately dismisses his reaction as stupid. Everything is-

The text just says: i’m

It’s from Sherlock. Mycroft’s heart stops.

Swiftly replying with his phone hidden underneath the table, Mycroft aims for nonchalance. No need to think of the worst quite yet, after all.

Wrong number, I take it? M

He waits for a reply, drumming his fingers on the table, and nodding a few times to the Prime Minister. He has no idea what the fool is wittering on about now.

And then, the moment comes:

myc myc im sorry sorry dont be angry

Mycroft’s hand flies to his mouth, but he pretends he’s just coughing.

Sherlock, I am not angry with you. I’ll be with you soon. Did you make a list?

i tried cant remember im too stupid its all slow

You are certainly not stupid. Try and make a list. I know you can.


Sherlock please

Please. Answer me.

Mycroft stands, and a few heads turn. He clears his throat. “Apologies. I have a migraine. Do excuse me.”

As he leaves the room, one last text comes through.

help me

And, Mycroft runs.

(Thanks to @detectiveshezza’s headcanon for the inspiration! @beejohnlocked @vanetti @waitingforgarridebs @johnnlocked)