Head canon confirmed…

While I stall, and stall, and stall some more… here’s random notes I found on my iPhone:

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B: Maybe she doesn’t swallow?
V: NO! I DO!
B: Aren’t you glad I don’t blog?

Two words: Bubble. Tea.

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I would kill a midget for a shoehorn

I have no fucking idea where this came from…

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B: Your shit and my shit are having a menage-a-trios. It smelled good, and then it smelled like shit, and then it smelled like shit again.
D: So our shits double teamed the good smell?

Note to self: never share a hotel room with three boys..

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He handed her the beer, a curious look in his eyes. She hesitated for a moment, afraid. Would it taste like him? Would the feel of his fingers brushing hers as he handed it to her send chills down her spine? Was it a test of her resolve or a question of whether or not she trusted him?

In the end, she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t drink.” She was safe - safe from what, she didn’t know exactly, but she was safe.

I remember writing that… maybe I should take that and run with it?

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The stages of grief include being pissed beyond belief, sad, loopy, and David Tennant. Well, I’m experiencing them out of order because the stages of grief aren’t a straight line from point A to point B… It’s more like a big ball of wibbly, wobbly, griefy, wiefy, stuff.

Conversation had during a weekend in Boston right after I got laid off from SG

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Just a spoonful of sugar helps the boys go down… on each other… I’m going to hell for this.

I wish I could claim ownership of that. However, it’s not mine, and I didn’t note which fan fic author wrote it.

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A rabbit of negative euphoria. Not a happy bunny.

One of my favorite Cabin Pressure lines from “Johannesburg”

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“Dear God,” Carolyn gasped focussing her attention back on Douglas. “This could be as bad as that time we went to New York and had to blindfold him for the entire drive down Fifth Avenue so that he didn’t give himself an aneurism trying to keep track of all the yellow cabs.”

From a Cabin Pressure fan fic… I didn’t note the author.

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I do come in pocket size. With your choice of personalities: “Barely acceptable for public outings” and “HOLY CRAP! I can’t take you ANYWHERE!” 6-8 weeks shipping, so place your order now in time for Christmas delivery.

After a dear friend said, “Random thought… the people you’re lucky enough to have in your life that calm your nerves and make you laugh need to come in pocket size so you can carry them with you.”

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...This was meant to be a cuddle fic focused on Sherlock’s voice. Apparently, Sherlock’s voice got shoved unceremoniously to the background by the cuddle. And then out of nowhere a roving brace of warm fuzzies came and elbowed both cuddle and voice aside. Dictation. If you ask me, that’s all a fic writer is ever doing. Taking damned dictation from the voices. Shhh, you can just barely hear them. The Voices. - AtlinMerrick, Johnlock fic author

I LOVE AM’s stuff. Even the author’s notes. Also! Dictation! Someone else feels the way I do about writing!