This is going to be a long, rambling post about all sorts of things so there will be cuts and stuff. However, first you need a gif of what I’m like right now:

Running about madly with a list, frightened I’m going to miss something J

Important fic information first:

ficcery under here ... )

And a quick fic rec because I can and because it made me smile like this:

Xmas fic rec under here ... )


In other news:

in which I am grumpy )

On exciting things:

in which I fangirl a bit ... )


And to finish, because there can never be enough Cumberbatch:


All hail Sherlockspeare for the lusciousness of this gif

I'm drowning in coursework for my MA and thus I haven't been around much, nor will I be for the next month or so. I'm hoping to be back in December with Little Christmas Things - which is now being co-authored (who am I kidding, she's practically writing all of it) by [livejournal.com profile] kizzia because I've nearly run out of sanity and have apparently lost the ability to write 221Bs - but for the moment, I might drop the odd comment but I'm otherwise going to be off the grid! Although I suspect quite a few of you are also going to be lost in NaNoWriMo land so you probably won't even miss me :)

However, I feel it necessary to leave you with something lovely to look at:


When will I learn that a draft does not a finished work make? 
I started writing The Weight of Knowledge over two months ago and posted the first chapter only when I'd written all three chapters and finished editing 1 & 2.  I posted those two pretty quickly in succession, certain that I'd be able to iron the wrinkles out of chapter 3 in good time.
Yeah and oh look, flying pigs!
I just can't make it read properly and it doesn't fit with the first two chapters at all. I know part of it is that I'm working with really triggery material (describing how John feels when he realises he's put on weight, facing up to why he was able to hide it from himself, why Sherlock didn't mention anything, how he feels about it, what his own weight gain means to him and how he feels about John's) and that makes me nervous in case I upset someone (me not included although it hasn't been easy writing it - which was half the purpose in the first place). 
Then there's the damn writing style I was so eager to try out in the first place - works brilliantly for chapters 1 & 2 but it's strangling what I'm trying to do in 3, making things sounds flippant when they really shouldn't.
I've re- written it so many times I want to scream and [livejournal.com profile] kizzia has beta'd and even written her own version in an attempt to help me out (which is the one I'm currently playing with as she somehow managed to get all the good bits from my versions and string them together in her own inimitable fashion) but I still grates on my nerves and I refuse to post something I'm not happy with.
I just want it gone! 
Do I post and be damned or spend today trying to fix it ([livejournal.com profile] kizzia has offered moral support via Skype)? Answers on a postcard please :)
I just had to share this with you all - it's a quote from my friend Kiz's facebook page.  She's just attempted to read "50 Shades of Grey" and having given up, posted this:

"Well, I gave in and downloaded "50 shades of Grey". I would suggest no-one else bothers. If you want to read sex scenes I suggest you pick a book/TV programme/film that you fancy a character from and go and search a fan fiction website for them. You'll find far more erotic, far better written stories there than this travesty of a novel and - the best bit - the fan fiction is free!"

I think she has a point (the few pages visible on Amazon that I've just read were hysterical and not in a good way) and I certainly won't be going anywhere near it.  Has anyone else read this? Have views? Would love to know!


And I'm talking about a quick post (thank you Ben, sweetie, for pointing out the innuendo as I type) not anything else!

Personal ramblings - feel free to skip if I bore you :) )
Plus gifs of my two favourite men because you can never have enough Bradley or Benedict in your life


because when, no actually, if - since there’s no guarantee - I fall in love, I will fall in love with someone’s soul.  

Their SOUL, not the tin it comes in.

On the basis that I’m as human as everyone else, I assume that it will work that way for every person on this planet. So when I read about the abuse and degradation that same sex couples are currently getting for daring to say that they should have the same rights as mixed sex couples when it comes to legally declaring their love, it makes me angry.

I don’t care if the person you love has the same genitalia as you. It is none of my business. All I care about is that you have found the one person that makes your life worthwhile and I want for you to be able to shout that from the rooftops.   

Marriage is a declaration that you want to spend the rest of your life with the one person who completes you.  That is it. The rest is just transport!

I posted this on Tumbr last night and then realised it should be on here too.  

bradspyjamas: (Boxer Bradley)
I'm typing this with one hand and so jacked up on pain meds that I doubt this post will make much sense. So this my advanced apology for the poor spelling and positively illogical sentence construction I'm certain you are about to encounter. I gravel at your feet and beg forgiveness but I need to say this:

You see this evening I've been admonished (admittedly quite politely) by the police, yelled at by my best friend and my mother has told me my actions were stupid and irresponsible.

I disagree.  

Quite vehemently actually.

I'm actually quite proud of myself.

I've always believed that I would not walk away if I thought someone was in danger. Always hoped that I would not pretend I couldn't see what was happening in front of me, that I wouldn't be a coward. That I would act for others as I hoped others would act for me.

I know now that my belief was correct. I might be an idiot but I'm not a hypocrite.

I took my usual short cut home from the station tonight.  It's a sort of alley-come-path down the back of the flats and I don't often see anyone down there.  Only this evening I rounded the corner to find two teenagers pinning another lad to the wall. I won't repeat what they were calling him, but safe to say they had issues with homosexuality and were under the impression this boy needed to be straightened out.  

I supposed I'm lucky they were so preoccupied with being menacing at first that they didn't notice me back up and call the police. Who told me to get out of there, that they were on their way and I shouldn't get involved.  

You've probably guessed that I didn't.  

Because as I hung up the lad called for help and they started using their fists. 

I'm still not sure what I thought I was going to do.  I'm 5'4 and relatively slim. The most warrior like thing I've ever done is pretend to be a Thundercat when I was five (and I was Snarf)

So I shouted "take your hands off him, I've called the police," and barrelled straight in. As it was I only managed to get one of them in the balls before I was overwhelmed.  

Apparently they also have authority issues and didn't like being told what to do. 

Thankfully their intended victim also decided to fight back and the wail of sirens did what my words couldn't and scared them off.

By that point they'd made quite a mess of the right side of my face and broken my arm in two places. The lad who they'd been intending to beat the seven bells out of has cracked ribs and a broken jaw. I'm eternally grateful that neither of the little shites were carrying knives.  

I doubt they'll be caught.  The lad is too frightened to say who they were - he definitely knew them though - and they had their hoods up and their backs to me until I got to them. I barely got a look before I got hit so hard my vision blurred.

The police were great and the hospital staff patched me up in no time but they all made it plain they didn't approve, that they thought I'd done the wrong thing.  My bestie, who is still here - apparently I can't be left alone as I have a head injury - is still fuming that I'd put myself in danger for someone I didn't know.  And my mum, who my bestie called because "she had a right to know her daughter is injured" is frantic.  I've only just managed to convince her that I don't need her to fly back and nurse me.  It's a broken arm, it'll heal, I'll manage. As my Nan used to say, I've made my own bed, now I must lie in it.

I don't care that I didn't know the lad from Adam. He needed help, I was there. That's all there is to it.

I do care that I've worried the people I love but I can't regret my actions. I will never, under any circumstances, accept that trying to help another person is wrong. 

Despite the injuries, despite the anxiety I've caused my loved ones, despite everything, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I just wish I lived in a world where it wasn't necessary in the first place. 

PS my bestie has just sort of beta'd this for me so it probably makes sense for the most part. He's forgiven me for scaring the heck out of him - I think - well, he's gone to make me chicken soup and hot orange which sounds like forgiveness to me ;)

bradspyjamas: (Sleeping Arthur)
But I'm still on here checking out all the new friends I've found through the Merlin Friendship Meme - props to [livejournal.com profile] fuckyeah for the brilliant idea :)
I know I'm too tired to be typing as the coherence of this sentence is dubious at best and I've gone from high school speak to sounding like Sherlock. 
Sleep, however, is as elusive as a yeti in a snowstorm and I cannot decide if that's because I'm too tired to drop off or if the Brolin scenes that are floating tantalisingly just out of reach of my typing fingers have hard wired my heart to race continually.
Whichever it is, it's annoying.
And this get's the award for my most pointless, rambling and narcissistic post to date.
i would bid you all a good night but I don't think it's going to be.
So I won't!
I will however, share a lush picture of Mr James:

Laters

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July 2013

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