there i go with my stories


Mah Babies~💗

I think I’ve been lying to myself.

The days go by with me running after you and loving you and obsessing over your attention, but now that I think about it, you don’t treat me kindly at all.

I always wanted to believe you loved me from the couple flirtatious moments we’ve shared, but more often than not you’re putting me down and insulting me.

I write about you all the time and make you poetry and journals and stories and my prince, my knight in shining armour, my one true love.

But recently I’ve noticed that my writing is fake. It’s what I’ve always wanted but was too blind to see would never happen.

Why do I do this to myself? I know I’ll continue to write and that I’ll hope that one day you’ll become the hero of all my make-believe stories.

I loath myself for what I put my own mind through, yet deep down, I know my lies are never going to stop.

(Not) Killing Your Darlings: Parallels Between ACD Canon and S4

I’ve slowly been working my way through a reread of the canon stories, and although I am used to finding phrases and plotlines among the stories that have been adapted within Sherlock, what surprised me towards the end of the canon is that the writers of Sherlock appear to be adapting the way the stories are written, as well. We’ve talked a lot about the idea that Mofftiss have Reichenbached the show in Series 4, but I’m beginning to think they have Case-booked it (and His Last Bowed it, a little, too). This will probably sound grim at first, but I remain an optimist when it comes to Sherlock, so bear with me. These are Princess Bride “pit of despair” times; I figure if we have to be here, we may as well look around.

As a quick reminder, Doyle published the short stories as:

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1892)
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1894)
The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1905)
His Last Bow (1917)
The Case-book of Sherlock Holmes (1927)

I’m going to start at the end of His Last Bow and the later stories, because they best parallel Series 4, then look back very briefly.

Breaking the fourth wall

His Last Bow breaks the pattern of the Sherlock Holmes story collections in a few ways. It begins with a brief preface written by John H. Watson; he addresses the reader directly to explain that he and Holmes are still living, though ageing:

”The friends of Mr Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn that he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism… Several previous experiences which have lain long in my portfolio, have been added to ‘His Last Bow’ so as to complete the volume.” (His Last Bow, preface)

… lots more under the cut.

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S/C - Ficlet

I have NO idea what this in. None. Maybe’s it’s my mind playing tricks on me before the…scary day. But here ya go…

Chaotic Calm

I woke with a start, my wrist pulsating with pain. It took a few moments to shake the fog of sleep off in the early morning hour, but when the second grasp to my arm was followed by a cry of anguish, my body sprung to life, the only reason for it, crying next to me in bed.

She spoke no words, but let the tear stains on her cheeks tell the story and her hand to her belly, punctuating the exclamations and questions.

Not yet.

It’s too soon.

With a switch of a light illuminating the room, I pulled my sweats and a shirt on a quickly as possible. I had ceased sleeping naked, months ago. What would I do if someone happened to break in in the middle of the night? I couldn’t be worrying about trousers. So, I wore shorts to bed, to protect all that I held dear.

I sat by the bed, helping my wife raise her body up against the pillows.

Should I call 999?


Too long.

I eased Caitriona off the bed, doing my absolute best to not show the fear and punch in my fucking gut, noticing the red droplets left on the sheet in her wake.

She spoke very little, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I didn’t have them.

Why the FUCK, did I not have them?

I wrapped her in a large blanket, easing her into some slip-ons, and led her down the stairs.

I can’t remember how I got to the hospital. I remember nothing more than holding her hand in mine, squeezing so tight, her hand began to glow red.

I didn’t care.

I wasn’t letting go.

We were a week shy of seven months. A week shy of another week of fear and excitement to set in. A week shy of one more week on our own. Just the two of us. A week shy, and two months too early.

With each nurse that headed my way, my heart leapt. With each emergency page over the PA, my heart cried and screamed, banging its drum like a wild man.

But no one noticed.

No one cared.

I had turned into some cliché movie, pacing up and down the hall, cautiously looking over to the double doors they had wheeled her through, away from me.

It had happened in a split second. My name. I had whirled around, nearly tumbling over the man. He spoke softly, but it was if I had never heard the English language spoken before. I recognized my name, though. Then Caitriona’s. What was he saying?


…a smile.

He smiled.

A genuine smile, not one of regret or melancholy.

His arm slapped my shoulder, resting there.

“Mr. Heughan. You’re a dad.”

I stumbled back, my shoulders bracing my weight against the wall. I took my breaths in deep and slow, my eyesight returning from its hazy state. I focused on the man in the white coat again.

“My wife? How is my wife?”

“She’s resting. She’ll be fine,” he took me by the shoulder once again, “Come along, mate. I’ll take you to her.”

Her eyes were closed when we entered the room, but they lifted slowly, a weak smile crossing her features.

She looked frail; delicate. I felt like a barbarian in a china shop. I took her hand gingerly, bringing it to my lips as I knelt down to the floor, resting my head in her hand.

The man in the coat spoke, and I met Cait’s eyes with my own.

“As I said, your daughter is doing well-“

“Our daughter.” We spoke the words in unison, our hands clasping tighter together for strength.

He spoke of heart rates and breathing. Of warmth and care, but in his words, we found little worry. Only hope and an abundance of chaotic calm, and an absolute eagerness to take it all on.

anonymous asked:


so funny story actually. i thought the prompt said “he” not “you” and i checked it halfway through my writing so yeahhhh

“d-did you just make that noise”

the room was dead silent. your husband shawn was sleeping, so was your newborn son, and it was safe to say, you were pretty exhausted too.

you had just given birth to your son a few hours ago, and after going through a long, hard, labour, you were tired.

you smiled at the sight of shawn fast asleep on the small chair by the window, his tall figure barely fitting on the chair. you practically had to beg him to go to sleep, all we wanted to do was hold his son. you understood. but he was clearly exhausted too, and he needed some rest.

you cradled your son as he slept, like shawn, you didn’t want to put him down either. you admired his tiny features and noticed that he looked exactly like his father.

a small whimper came from your sons mouth, immediately waking shawn.

“were you even sleeping?” you whispered, not wanting to wake your baby.

“i was.” he said, taking a seat next to you on the small bed. you handed the baby to him and watched as he started caressing his chubby cheeks. “but you know i’m a light sleeper and this little guy’s noises woke me up.”

“he made one noise shawn, one little noise.”

you scooted closer to shawn, cherishing this time with your family. your lives had changed forever and you wish every moment could be spent like this.

you realized shawn wasn’t looking at the baby anymore, his head was now turned in your direction.

“stop looking at me, i’m all gross.” you whined, putting your hand on his face to turn it away.

he ignored you and pressed a few lazy kisses to your lips.

“we made this y/n.” he said for the fifth time in the past hour.

“yeah and i pushed it out of me.”

“i know.” he said, kissing you lovingly. “you did so good babe, i love you.”

the two of you were interrupted by your son making an unfamiliar noise.

“d-did you just make that noise?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “shawn do i look like a 4 hour old baby? no i didn’t make that noise, your child did.”

“well what does it mean?”

you already fed him so you knew he wasn’t hungry, you quickly narrowed it down to one thing it could be.

“he probably needs his diaper changed. duties call, dad.” you finally said, lightly hitting his chest. letting him know he was the one who was changing it.

“have fun.”

heartbre4k-kid  asked:

Any advice on what to do when you just don't know where to go next? Thank you

Whenever I don’t know where to go next with my stories, I usually have a couple things to help me get back on track.

1. I create maps of the plot points I know I do want to hit! As stated previously, I am a visual learner and having that map there is really helpful to me. I try to just write and focus on what I do know and do want to write.

2. I stop trying to force myself to write. And I go and write something I want to write. I write random dabbles for random characters. Or a poem. I do some writing exercises. I just write whatever comes to me, just so I can get my creativity flowing and then I’ll go back to trying to figure things out.

3. I change my surroundings. Sometimes a change in scenery can do wonders for your creativity. A wrote more on a week at my grandmother’s cabin in the mountains last spring then I had in literal months. But you don’t always go far. Sometimes I drive to the park or to the lake. Make myself comfortable and see what happens with my writing.

4. Stop writing altogether for a little while. Go watch one of your favorite movies. Go for a walk. Clear your mind. Listen to some good music. Read a book or a comic. Start a conversation with a good friend or an old friend you haven’t talked to in a while. Go watch an episode of a new TV show. Take a shower. Do something you enjoy that’ll help clear and settle your mind. Something that’ll distract you for a little while. Just to help you restart your creativity.

Look. We’re people. Not machines. Everyone hits points of writers block. Everyone struggles with their work. That’s alright. It’s part of being human. So don’t worry if you hit a temporary bump in the road. Don’t stress about it. Even if your on a dead line. Give yourself time to relax. To heal. Writing can be exhausting so give yourself time to rest from all that brain work. You’ll get back to it when you get back to it. The world won’t stop spinning just because you can’t bust out another chapter or finish off that last sentence. Trust me. A lot of the times writers block comes in when you’re trying to force yourself to write, rather then just allowing yourself to do it, and enjoying it.
I hope this helps, and if you have any other questions,please feel free to contact me!

So far away.

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Request:  Can you write a angst/fluff story about Jungkook based on their song Butterfly? Pleeeeaaasssseeeuu~?

(gif credit to original owner)

“Be by my side
Will you promise me
If I touch you I’m afraid you’d fly away or break
I’m afraid afraid afraid”

Jungkook knew that entering a relationship while being an Idol was going to be difficult but he couldn’t resist you. He had met you at an arcade after your boyfriend had broken up with you and he had seen you looking lost and upset and he had abandoned the boys during they’re break in filming and approached you “Hey, um are you alright?” He asked nervously.

You looked at him tears stinging your eyes. The only reason you were allowed in the arcade was because your sister was the owner and today was you anniversary with your boyfriend but he had called you while you were waiting and left you alone. “I’m alright thank you.” You whispered knowing if you spoke any louder your voice would crack.

He looked around trying to think of what to do or say to help. “I’m on a break right now do you wanna verse me? My friends are to competitive.” He asked biting his lip.

You saw the genuine concern in his face and looked at the nearest game which was just a shooting game but you nodded anyway without feeling the need to respond. You both had a wonderful time and you stayed to watch them film something before getting a ride home with your sister where you continued to talk to Jungkook through the night.

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A3 Event Story [にぼしを巡る冒険 (An Adventure Surrounding Niboshi )] Chapter 1 (第1話)

*Name will remain as MC

*Spoilers! If you know japanese and wanna read the story by yourself DON’T READ THIS This is gonna be a translation for the event of the game!

An Adventure Surrounding Niboshi

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The Contest-Part 22

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest.  They are doing open casting calls all over the country.  Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along.

A/N: My inspiration for Nikki is the one and only Red, AKA@oriona75.  So I am actually telling two stories here, Jared and Readers, and Sam and Gemini’s.  It flips back and forth, so try and keep up! :)

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Best friend Nikki(OC) Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Mark Pellegrino, Rory Montgomery (OC), PA Emily (OC) Cliff, Other Supernatural cast and crew

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Luckily the makeup artists hadn’t arrived yet. “I want to talk to you about what happened at Nikki’s party.” I snapped. 

“Nice shiner there, Y/N, but none of that was my fault.  That bitch was completely insane!” Rory told me.

“For your information, RORY, that bitch was Nikki’s sister, Mindy.  Your antics with Trina almost ruined the party we worked so hard to plan!”

You sound jealous,” Rory said, as he began walking towards me, blocking me in between the makeup chair and the wall of the trailer.  “I’d much rather it be you.  You know I’ve had a thing for you since I got here, right?”

Before I could even say anything, Rory leaned in and kissed me hard.  I was so startled I didn’t even react at first.  And then I pushed him away and slapped his face so hard the smack echoed through the trailer.

“What the hell, Rory?  You know I’m with Jared!” I spat, rubbing my mouth.

“You don’t have to be,” Rory whispered.

“Jared will kick your ass if you touch me again, ” I yelled over my shoulder as I pushed past him and ran from the makeup trailer.

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anonymous asked:

what has been the most surprising reaction about IWWV so far? For example, a character you thought it wouldn't be as popular as they are? Or the opposite?

I’ve known about this for a while because the marketing team at Flatiron told me they were going in this direction, but it really never occurred to me to call this book a thriller/mystery or to read it as such. (I did not know a ‘literary thriller’ was a thing until Flatiron told me that was what it was.) I just considered it upmarket fiction. For me the story was never about whodunit; it was always about how a group of people get to a point where violence is possible and what happens to them in the aftermath of that violence. If there’s a mystery it’s incidental. At least, that was my impression. But that’s the interesting thing about getting your work published: you don’t have an objective view of it and you really have no idea how it’s going to be received.

The Past

A/N: Okay, so first I want to say thank you to everyone who supports me! So this is my OC story (it was called Family Ties)  I changed some things, So enjoy. The reader (that’s you) Is Violet.  Italic is Violet talking and kinda telling someone the story. If you ever have any questions about my stories please ask! Don’t forget I love Feedback!

Word Count: 1,400+

Tagging: @solis200213 @epickimmie @ti0261 @timdrake-redrobin @tim-help @actbat @confidentcorgi @pinkwitch21 @starshipofgotham @blxkestnight @books-netflix-and-pizza @just-a-girl-maybe @breecandraw @queen-of-all-the-fandoms  @wynterrobin  @crazyfangirl1810  @schninner-writes-some-stuff   @angstytodd  @batfamily-imagines  @avengerdragoness  @heydickiebird

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i wrote 6,000 words this weekend. I am worded out. 

With the exception of one day, every day I’ve written this month, has been on a Jaal fic. I originally thought it was going to be a cute one-shot and now it’s evolved into a multi-chapter story with way more feels than I expected. I’m hoping, hoping, hoping that I finish it tomorrow. I can hopefully start posting it at the end of the week. 

Then I’ve decided that my reward for finishing this fic will be properly writing Jaal smut for the first time. I have angaran genitalia headcanons, people, and it needs to be written into fic. 

The shoe story

When you have big feet
Not all shoes fit

So I looked for a bigger size
Everywhere, under the skies

I found clogs and sneakers
Heels and flats
Stilettos and wedges
And a pair made for cats

All the pairs of shoes I found
Stay in the closet, safe and sound

Now I have a pair for every meet
But I like it best when I go bare feet

Ask deleted, as I’m sure my point was made.

But that right there. That’s absolutely not okay. Apath, and myself, will never apologize for being native. And it really says something when you’d quicker jump to conclusions on dialogue text from a native muse than use Google to check and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s a language being spoken.

It would have popped up with Amazing Grace, y’all.

I think it’s about time I have Apath bring back Story Time on this blog. Get some more education going through in character shenanigans again.

visionaryreject  asked:

How did you first know you were bi? I've always identified as being straight in the past but lately I think that changing? I fantasize a lot about girls, and I've never dated anyone guy or girl. I think I have an infatuation with this girl at my volunteer place ( I literally can't keep my eyes off of her) and I was just wondering how you knew. Have a nice day!

Funny story, I had had crushes on both girls and guys since I was a little kid, but it had never dawned on me that I might be bi until I was about 12. Some people know right away, others won’t until way later in their lives. Everyone develops at different rates, and everyone processes these things at different rates. I guess just go with the flow until you know anything for sure, and be open to whatever sexuality you end up identifying as. Also I hope you have a good day too!!