Stages Of Finding Someone To Collab With

Stages of Finding Someone to Collab With

(At least the stages I go throughout)

1) Stress of finding someone

2) Sharing My Idea When I do and Awaiting a Response

3)Then They Think I’m Weird

4) Well I Tried

5) I’ll Just Keep My Idea to Myself…I guess😩

(Wanting to to do something awesome for Avengers but not having anyone to collab with. I’m good with idea not so much writing and I’m friendless)

Loved reading this. Whenever I’m feeling down or bored I love rereading Mirk’s doctor who fluffy platonic fics.

Back away from my daughter; 13th Doctor x child reader

And here is yet another request I got done with today this time we have the current Doctor the 13th Doctor. I am IN LOVE WITH HER AND SHE REDEEMED MY LOVE FOR DOCTOR WHO ONCE SHE CAME UP ON BOARD (Lately Capaldi’s episodes weren’t as good and almost made me stop watching Doctor who, private message me for more details) anyways I hope I did you justice anon as well as fans of Doctor who and made our current Doctor as in character as she is in the show.

Not really any warnings but fluff and protective Mama Doctor. Enjoy my lovelies :)

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It seems I can never make her mad.  Ever since the regeneration, my dad or well I guess I should call her my mum, her personality has changed drastically.  She’s always so optimistic and happy and she never seems to get angry, so I’ve been wondering what it would be like to see her really angry.

I remember the last couple of times back when my mum was still my dad and anytime I did something bad, he would get mad at me but in the end still forgive me because he loved me. Well he didn’t do it as much in his last form because he was a grumpy grandpa but he still forgave me in the end.

Now I have tried to see what it would be like to see my mother get mad, I know not a typical kid thing to want to do willingly but I’m not like any other kid, my name is (y/n) and I’m the Doctor’s daughter.  I came into this world at my father’s 10th cycle of regeneration and since then we have had some pretty wild adventures, but my life got even wilder when my dad soon regenerated into a woman.

It was a bit odd having to call my dad my mum now but I soon adapted and she’s pretty cool to be around.  But back to my dilemma here.  I have tried various different things like accidentally breaking some of my mum’s things, trying to grab the controls of the TARDIS, even tried hiding some of Ryan’s, Yaz’s or Graham’s things.

Of course it got them mad but never my mum, which I found odd because she’d just rub it off and say it was just a little game we’d like to play. Which is true, but lately it hasn’t been as fun anymore.

Keep reading

Reblog if you're black tumblr.

You don’t have to be black, it just means you support us, you stand by us and your for us.

Congrats?

Listen, I've been pretty impressed with the #blacklivesmatter movement. I being African American want to see change. It's great people are demanding change for an issue that's been swept under the rug for far too long.

That said, I don't think they should re-theme Splash Mountain with the Princess and the Frog. Now before you get mad here me out.

Yes, I understand people are upset about the rides racist roots. Yes, I understand Tiana is a strong Princess who deserves her own ride in the parks. And yes, I understand this is growth for Disney.

But consider this.

1.) I dunno it feels like some handout. Like shouldn't Tiana have her own ride entirely instead of being used to cover up racially controversial ride? Like they only chose her to replace the ride because they figured she'd appease the people the ride currently offends. (If you catch what I'm saying) This girl was all about putting the work in to make her dream happen. Instead of working to create a new ride in honor of her story, her story feels like it's just a new paint job. Was her story chosen to replace splash mountain because it was a good fit or for other reasons?

2.) Tiana's dream was to open a restaurant. Why not instead of a ride give the Princess what she dreamed of in Liberty Square? Have beignets and a jazzy New Orleans vibe restaurant. At an affordable price, like the princess would have wanted.

3.) I read Disney's release statement saying they'd been planning this update for almost a year. So what? Was the original tweet just to create buzz so that when they changed the theme it would seem like the people's idea? I don't know if kind of suspicious if you ask me.

4.) Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm kinda assuming more than 5o% of the people advocating for the change had never heard of Song of the South until this was brought up. Like I asked my co-workers who are all at least 4 years older than me and they had no clue the movie existed. I was the only one out of 12. Soo... the ride kind of existed too many as its own thing separate from the movie all ready.

5.) By replacing the ride entirely, it feels less like Disney is owning their mistake and more like they're trying to forget it. Maybe instead of replacing the story you fix it so it isn't racist rewrite the characters. Fix the problem instead of covering it up with something shiny and new. Perhaps giving the characters new names, improved dialects, and a story all their own is the right way to go.

6.) Where am I going to hear Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Da? It's kind of a park classic, that'll leave me feeling incomplete if I don't hear it somewhere in the park.

7.) If they are going to redo the ride are they still going to own up to what they did. For me personally they should or they should just consider number 5. Will there be a plaque for people to read while in line that basically says they messed up. They made a ride that hurt many people. They know this won't fix what they did, but they want to be better.

8.) It's a classic Disney ride. They've already taken away so many classics. The Great Movie Ride, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, etc. This is one ride I want my kids to enjoy. And they later want to educate them on its history. This one was a big part of my childhood and I want it to be a part of my children's.

9.) Also if they really want to make a statement maybe the profits made off the Splash Mountain Merchandise that's seein a price increase, should be donated to the BLM movement.

10.) My biggest fear is that by replacing the ride many will forget what was once there. And just let Disney off the hook. They'll forget the history. They'll forget the story. And when we forget history, we often repeat it.

"History is who we are and why we are the way we are." ~David McCullough

No amount of guilt can change the past and in order to move forward we can't forget it. Any way... There's my rant on that. I'm sure you all have your opinions. I just ask that you respect mine. And could you imagine a Tiana, New Orleans style restaurant? God, I'd love it.

Also I do love Disney I do. But they doesn’t feel like they’re respecting the character it feels like they’re using her because she appeals to a group of people they’ve offended. Tiana deserves her own ride made from scratch and her own god damn restaurant. Thank you for listening to my rant.

Prologue

Title: Prologue

Word count: 1,586

Characters: John Watson and Matilda May

Warnings: Hints of abuse, unedited.

Notes: So here’s the prologue of my Sherlock story. It’s shorter compared to the next chapter I’m currently working on. If there are any triggers please tell me so I can add them to the tags. I haven’t edited it yet so take all typos and grammar mistakes with a grain of salt.

———

The waiting room was nothing like she'd imagined it being. It was small and crowded. Crowded with sick adults and sick children. It appeared each and every seat was filled by someone. Not everyone was sick but they were clearly afflicted with some sort of ailment or issue, very few appeared to only be in for a casual check up. Every now and then a nurse would come call out a name and off the patient in question went. They'd disappear behind the plain painted blue doors.

At least the waiting room had some form of entertainment for the young children. A small flat screen hanging from the wall about the children's area. She'd seen it on her way in, mutedly broadcasting Peppa Pig, that hadn't interested her in the slightest. Instead she focused her attention on the floor, head down trying to bring as little attention to herself as she possibly could.

She didn't dare touch the toys. Not only were they colourfully decorated breeding grounds for germs, they weren't hers. And she'd been rigorously taught, never touch what doesn't belong to you.

So she sat. Sat amongst the grownups in the room. Her neighbour seated to her right a complete stranger seated to her left.

A sharp acidic smell burned her nostrils. An unmistakable mixture of both cheap booze and classless cigarettes. She had a hunch the foul smelling stranger beside her engaged in the distasteful hobbies as her father.

She wanted to look, to just sneak a peek at the person beside her, but again that was something she knew better than to do. So she kept her eyes, those deep, earthy brown orbs, trained on her old trainers. They were so worn, her big toe was pushing its way through her right toe cap.

All she could do was sit and listen to the gentle repetitive tune of the wait rum music. It's soft rhythmic hum provided some comfort. It was enough to relax the poor girl's tense muscles. She didn't want to be there. She couldn't be there. But there she was and she felt utterly sick.

It was her well to do neighbour who'd made the appointment. The young woman claimed she wanted to ease some of the weight off the girl's busy father's shoulders. The child had had questions but thought it better not to ask them. She should have been more bold. Then perhaps she wouldn't be there.

Her neighbour, Cartia Hennigan, was a lovely young woman approaching her early thirties. She often meant well but had a tendency to overstep her bounds. Nonetheless, the little girl couldn't help but feel pity for the woman. Cartia, all her kindness and charity was nothing more than a façade, covering her great loneliness.

The little girl twiddles her thumbs, replaying the unfortunate event that landed her little butt in the stiff plastic chair. I have to be less of myself, she swore, this never would have happened if I had.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Her forehead throbbed, as if her brain was protesting. Her rational analysis was fighting against her self blame. She massaged her temple with her left index and middle fingers, pressing her right arm tightly against her stomach. It didn't help.

She sat straight, mimicking the posture of a proud queen, eyes still shut, she placed her palms on her knees gripping the fabric of her pant leg. In times of great distress she often found it best to disappear. Unfortunately, unlike the deep sea pelagic octopod she couldn't actually become invisible. She could retreat to the quiet sanctity of her own mind.

Some people retreat to what they call a "happy place". Her? Well... At least she had some place all her own, where the world would slowly fade away.

"Matilda Hennigan.”

Her little head flew up, eyes snapping to the kindly nurse standing in the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the clinic.

Her eyes darted to Cartia who was already standing, walking toward the blue, aluminum trim door. Her eyes widened, pupils anxiously constricting, she quickly pushed herself out of her seat then hurriedly followed after her neighbor.

When she finally reached the door she cast one more nervous glance up at her neighbor. "Shall we?" the nurse smiles warmly and holds the door open wider for the two to enter.

JWJWJW

Matilda sat on at the practice table hands folded like so, neatly rested on her lap. She had to admit this wasn't going as terrible as she'd originally envisioned it going. From what her father had told her, the doctors clinic was an utterly awful place reserved for terrible, no good people. And Matilda was certain she wasn't a terrible person. Or at least she tried not to be.

Her dad mustn't have done his research or had to have been thinking of another clinic. This one was adequate.

The nurse was nice enough. Mary? Yes, that was her name.

She was kind, she made the tedious tests Matilda was forced to endure more bearable. She'd commented on how cute Matilda purple pink polka dotted leggings were. And even promised the little girl a lollipop before she left.

Mary did however seem suspicious when Cartia explained the reason for her bringing Matilda to the clinic in the first place. Matilda wasn't sure why, maybe the explanation sounded weird. It was rather silly. She shouldn't have been playing so close to the stairs.

Matilda tried not to vocalise her disappointment when Mary left to retrieve the doctor, but failed accidentally letting slip a small puppy like whimper. It was unintentional and it bothered her.

Now she sat in the room, not quite alone, with her neighbour. Matilda hated the dressing gown. It left her exposed, back half vulnerable and visible.

At the very least if she moved in front of the mirror she could count how many freckles dotted her skin back there. Maybe like her forehead, nose, and cheeks they formed shapes in a connect the dots kind of way.

Matilda pushes herself up and jumps to the floor. Pain sliced upward like a swift blade through her left ankle. This unbalanced her making her landing less than perfect she ignored the feeling knowing the pain would subside momentarily. Then under the critically watchful eyes of Cartia, she pressed forward across the room toward the only thing that interested her. At least now that Mary was gone.

It was like most things in the public clinic, cheap, only standing about two Tildas tall. Matilda, standing a little less than an arms length away from the mirror, extended an arm gently resting her hand on the smooth reflective glass. It felt cool, good against her skin.

She stared at her reflection, eyes narrowing. She angled her body to one side. She didn't get why both Cartia and Mary seemed worried. She thought she looked fine.

Two rich brown eyes sparkled back at her - the colour of the earth after long torrential rains. Freckles dotted her face, like a chaotic mess of chipped marble. Matilda loved her freckles. A tumble of stringy blonde hair, with dark brown roots, messily pulled back into a low lopsided pony-tail hung between her shoulder blades. Yeah she looked fine.

Hold on. Matilda rolled her tongue across her cheek. There was a jagged cut that'd scabbed over on the right side of her temple, giving her a Harry Potter esque mark.

Matilda frowned, noticing the somewhat sickening shade of blackish blue on her skin, creeping out from beneath the neck lining of her dressing gown. Matilda pulled her collar down revealing a dark purple bruise spreading from the lower half of her neck to her shoulder.

Matilda could feel a lump form in her throat. Still... nothing to worry about. Bruises fade. She shouldn't have played so close to the stairs.

JWJWJW

Matilda heard the door open and shut, it's swift creaking noise made her arms go rigid.

The Doctor entered in a cable crew neck sweater and dark almost black jeans, his pepper salted hair was closely cropped. He had a face like some guy that'd seen much pain, and suffered much loss.

"Hello." Greeting the two, he had the posture of a soldier but after shaking hands with Cartia he visibly relaxed. "What's your name?" His voice came out like he'd just pulled a double shift the day prior, only functioning because he was running on six cups of tea.

Whilst he exchanged casual pleasantries Cartia, Matilda mindfully walked around him back to her seat at the practice table.

She knew how to keep a poker face, even in uncomfortable situations. As she went she observed the doctor carefully, eyes critically analysing every last detail of the pale man. Matilda bit her inner cheek. She'd found it was always best to keep her final findings to herself. Kept her out of trouble.

Dr. Watson gave a brief look at his clipboard before turning to Matilda. Already still, she felt a tight knot form in her chest, under his gaze. He knelt in front of Matilda, allowing her to see the stethoscope draped round his neck. Her first thought, strangulation hazard.

She leaned back sitting further in your seat. "Hey there, you must be Matilda." Her breathing stopped momentarily as the man extended his hand out for her to shake. "What a lovely name." He gave her a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet. "I'm your doctor, Doctor Watson."

——————

I actually really enjoyed writing this story and it might be the one I chose to continue. I’ve seen stories where Sherlock has a child but none with John and so I’m writing this. Her name is Matilda in honour of my favourite reading character as a child. I hope she lives up to her namesake. She doesn’t have a last name as far as anyone thus far is aware hence her name being Matilda May. Her first name and second middle name. I do enjoy this story but am considering another for front runner of the year.