i will take you john

2

                   ✈ WCLKABOUT’S FOLLOW FOREVER ✈

            Welcome to another summer follow forever that I hope is not getting repetitive. It’s just that time of year to celebrate all of you. Not just me & my blog & my writing, but celebrating all of you who have stuck with me from the moment that you found this blog. I could never thank you all enough for taking a chance on me & John. Honestly the LOST fandom has become my family, and I love you all so very much! I’m even thanking the people that write with me but don’t follow me, or ones that used to follow me but stopped because even though that happens, it means that at some point a chance was taken on me and there was interest in writing with me & my muse. It means the world to me and it’s something that I could never express enough to you all.

            I want you all to know that I am here for you any time that you need, day or night, rain or shine, even when you think that maybe you can’t come to me, you can. Whether it’s to vent about things that are going on with you in your life, to rant about your character and in turn we can both gush about them or the show or movie, etc… that they come from. Because there’s nothing better than fangirling, right? You can come to me to do some plotting for threads or verses which I love, because I love getting excited about what we’re coming up with (and hey, I might even make some kind of edit for it on photoshop). If you’re having a bad day and need someone, or you’re having a good day and just wanna talk, I am always here for you and love you.

            Enough of the mushy stuff, let’s get to the list, right? I want you to know that if you’re not on this list and we’ve written together anyways, it doesn’t make you any less special than the ones on this list because you are ALL special and loved.

                                              ✈ THE LIST  ✈

@barbwiire // @behindthecurtain// @dearmrsawycr // @dropthepace // @eightfifteens // @enlightcned // @frcckled // @guttersniper // @hebroketherules // @killedpeople // @kindofadvisor // @lethalxweapon // @littlelinusgirl // @lordtaketh // @mightybigpill // @peanutbxtter // @rcusseau // @sayid-jarrah-of-lost // @shewhocanfindanyone // @singlesighted // @spillcdblood // @strawberrics // @tryingtoproveherself // @undermycontrol // @viiadomus // @wiredprick // @zokliitsos

            If I leave you with anything, it’s this: remember to always be true to yourselves. Never change for the sake of anyone else, to fit in with other people or what the world thinks that you should be. Always be yourself and be happy in your own skin because you are PERFECT the way that you are. Treat others the way you think you should be treated. Be kind. Be honest. Just share love and peace.

Always,

Christina

narwhalsarefalling  asked:

what if aliens just dont understand the concept of taking non professional photos like selfies and sharing them on the internet? like "John-human, you see me all the time. I do not wish to take another 'selfie' with you."

John-human was not of the sub category photographer, though they didn’t seem to be aware of that themself. No matter where they went, they brought their little ‘smartphone’ with them, seemingly for the sole purpose of photography. It was beyond irrational, especially considering that John-human was well aware that they were of the sub category physicist.

“John-human, you see me all the time. I do not wish to take another ‘selfie’ with you.” Cg’jlas said when the human suggested another photograph being taken of the two. “I have important work to do, and clearly you have a plethora of photographs of us together. What could you possibly need another one for?” It was getting to the point of being irksome, if xe were to be honest. None of the other humans seemed to consider the behaviour odd though, so xe would have to tread carefully in case xe was approaching cultural territory.

“It’s for my blog. I’ve got people asking to see another picture of us together, and I thought this’d be a good place to take one. It looks cool in here.” John-human said as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. To them it probably was.

“John-human, I am unfamiliar with some of these terms.” Xe said, contracting xir twarikial tentacle in an obvious show of confusion. “What is this ‘blog’, and why have other humans requested to see your photographs? Is it not most common to enjoy photographs of humans who are well known in general, or known to the human watching?”

“Oh, well, yeah? I guess, but we also like looking at pretty people or cool people, or just pretty pictures, and it’s really you all the fuss is about. They like seeing us together.” They said, elevating their shoulders briefly. “A blog is like a content sharing site on the internet – you remember when I told you about the internet, right?”

“Yes, it was quite… interesting. So you are not confused about which sub category in which you belong?” Xe asked, hoping xe didn’t come across as rude.

“You mean my job? No, I’m a physicist, why’d I be confused about that?” They asked, doing what Cg’jlas had learned was referred to as a ‘frown’.

“Because you seemed to be under the impression that you are of the sub category photographer. I am relieved that there is no confusion, John-human.” Xe said sincerely, making sure to have xir expression and posture show it.

“What? No, they’re just selfies. Everyone takes them, it’s a thing.” They said before proceeding to call one of their fellow humans over for one of these ‘selfies’. They then moved on to show Cg’jlas how they ‘posted’ the photograph, and some they had already posted. It made very little sense, but the fellow human seemed to be treat it as something normal, walking back to their work station after agreeing that John-human could post their photograph. They had asked to be ‘tagged’ in it, which xe had absolutely no idea what meant, but xe didn’t particularly want to find out either. It would just have to be another part of humans xe didn’t quite understand. It didn’t seem like an important part after all, if a bit irksome at times when xe was trying to work or focus.

Tipsy - Request

Requested by anon: I would like to request a Sherlock x reader where he has been drugged and how he’s really cute and a little dirty towards her in front of John. Haha like while “high”. Just super fluffy and cute and maybe a little smutty/implied smut/ a little dirty haha. I get if you’re too busy or don’t feel like writing it, no problem. Love you.
& anon: I have a request for you (if youre still taking..?) so sherlock and john gets drunk and sherlock starts hitting on (and gets kissy and touchy) on reader which has been her girlfriend for months xD ?

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,026

Warnings: Just like in “The sign of three” this things gives a lot of twists.

A/N: Drunk Sherlock and Watson are my fave, I loved this so much!

Enjoy!

Sherlock and John weren’t the kind of men to get drunk every week, however and because of the stress they had been put through in their last case, they decided to go to the bar together.

At first it was just beer and talking and complaining, but then, someone recognized Sherlock and decided to put a little something on his beer which, added up to what he had already drunk, ended up turning him into a dizzy, slurry mess.

John was drunk as well, but for a different reason: he had mixed tequila with beer.

They walked – stumbled – their way back to Baker Street. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when that happened, so both (Y/N) and Mrs. Hudson were up and sharing a cup of tea while the boys came back, doing all kinds of strange noises as they walked in that called both women’s attention.

“What are you two doing here?” Mrs. Hudson asked as she and (Y/N) walked out to the stair case where John and Sherlock were laying. (Y/N) couldn’t help but to laugh at the image and the sound of her laughter caught Sherlock’s attention.

“(Y/N)!” He cheered drunkenly, “AREN’T YOU THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BEING ON EARTH?”

“Wow, someone’s loud tonight.” She joked and Sherlock walked to her and held her tightly against his chest.

“You are sooooo beautiful!” He slurred, “And so hot, would you be my girlfriend?”

“I am already your girlfriend, Sherlock.” (Y/N) spoke clamly, unable to contain the giggle that left her lips.

“I’m such a lucky man I’m jealous of myself …” Sherlock cupped her face and started kissing her passionately, like never before. (Y/N) tried to pull away but Sherlock’s grip was tight and it wasn’t until he needed air that he let go off her.

“You’re so drunk!” She giggled.

“And you’re stunning.” Sherlock mumbled, “Delightful, splendid, a Greek muse right in front of me! DATING ME!”

“Sherlock Holmes is a poet when he’s drunk, what are the chances!” Watson spoke from behind, right before he bursted in a dry laughter. Mrs. Hudson laughed with him and then both women dragged them upstairs.

Keep reading

Responding to queries with unhelpful NPC stock phrases is a Sprite Meme mostly perpetuated by Davesprite and Hal to be annoying, although Nanna sometimes participates because you can never be too old for a good prank. Jade usually acts above it all, but one time Karkat interrupts her while she’s working on something and without turning around she says, “You have to be at least level 12 to talk to me” and the room explodes. 

6

White Gold, S3 E23  //  Preventative Medicine, S7 E22

The Promise

Title: The Promise (Mechanic!Dean x Reader, Best Friends AU). Part 1.

Summary: When Dean Winchester was a little kid, he met a girl that would change his life. So, he stood by her through thick and thin and every time people asked him what home was to him all he could think of was her beautiful smile and her big, bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. Because, like Melville used to say, his home was not down in any map. True places never are.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (mentioned), Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Leslie (OFC, only mentioned), Lisa Braeden

Word count: 7217 (I know, I know, it’s a monster fic but I hope it’s worth it)

Warnings: Language. Lots of fluff. Angst. Divorche, mentions of an almost-fatal car accident and drunk driving, death of a parent. Kid Dean (trust me that should be a warning). Lots of feels. 

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats ‘s 2K Follower Challenge. Michelle, congratulations on your milestone, you deserve it so much! Thank you for organizing this and for letting me participate. I had tons of fun writing this.

Now into the fic, my prompt was “ We’ll figure it out. We always do.” and it is included in the text below in bold. (This is an AU, written entirely from Dean’s POV and hopefully they’ll be more parts.) 

Enjoy everyone!


Dean was five years old when he met the girl that would change his life. Of course, he was too young to know it then, but that didn’t stop Lady Luck from working her magic.

Everything started at the playground just a few blocks away from his house. The little Y/H/C girl was there again that morning, just like the last two times, jumping off the swing like she could fly, but Dean didn’t want to leave his mum and his brother alone to go talk to her. So, he stayed away, stealing glances every now and then, until another boy, older than him and plainly mean, shoved her off the swing and made her fall flat on her butt.

The girl gasped in surprise, her bottom lip wobbling and Dean knew he had to do something about it because he hated seeing girls cry; it reminded him of that time his parents spent the entire night fighting, and of the next morning, when his mother’s eyes were red and puffy and he had to hug her and tell her that joke about the stick being brown and sticky to make her laugh.

So, the green-eyed boy walked to that annoying kid, told him to leave her alone and when he didn’t listen and made fun of her again, Dean punched him so hard that his stupid Pokemon hat flew off and his whole face turned red.

A few seconds later, Stupid Hat was leaving with his tail between his legs and Dean was turning towards the girl that looked like a scared little bird, her big Y/E/C eyes wide open.

“Are you okay?” he implored, taking a step forward.

She nodded solemnly and looked down on the ground.

“Are you going to be mean to me like he was?” she asked.

Dean shook his head.

“No. He was an idiot. Here, give me your hand.” He said and she obeyed, smiled shyly at him.

She was kind of cute.

Keep reading

4

Cairo’s homosexuality posed one of the biggest obstacles to securing overall approval of the picture. Hammett didn’t mince words in the novel. “This guy is queer,” says Sam Spade’s secretary as she hands him an engraved card bearing his name - Mr Joel Cairo. He speaks in a “high-pitched thin voice,” carries “gaily colored silk handkerchiefs fragrant of chypre,” and walks in “mincing, bobbing steps.” … Hal Wallis realised that American audiences - not to mention the Hays Office - were not ready for a candid look at homosexuality, which traditionally drew laughs and jeers out front. 

After seeing Lorre’s first day’s work, Wallis dashed off a memo to Huston: “Don’t try and get a nancy quality into him, because if you do we will have trouble with the picture.” Huston bent to Breen’s will. In the scene, Effie presents Cairo’s calling card to a bemused Spade, who holds it to his nose.

“Gardenia,” says Effie.

“Quick, darling, in with him,” replies Spade.

The rest Huston left to Lorre’s subtlety and the viewer’s imagination.

The svelte 137-pound Lorre who stepped before the camera seemed younger, fitter, swifter. More was asked of him and he asked more of himself. The role was the best of its kind to come his way in years and Lorre knew it.

“I’d often shoot a scene with Peter and find it quite satisfactory, nothing more,” recalled Huston - 

But then I would see it on the screen in rushes and discover it to be far better than what I had perceived on the set. Some subtlety of expression was seen by the camera and recorded by the microphone that the naked eye and ear did not get. He’d be doing little things that the camera close on him would pick up that standing a few feet away you wouldn’t see. It was underplaying; it was a play that you would see if you were close to him, as a close-up, as a camera is close. Things would flicker there and burn up slightly, like a lamp, and then dim down, and come on again. You’re watching something as if it were in motion.

from The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre -Stephen D Youngkin

6
the posh boy problem

you are at part one.

part two: the posh boy solution

also available on: AO3

***

Posh boy left his mug on the papers again. It will leave a rim on the sports section.

John goes over to the living room table. Then he stops in his tracks. It’s happened again, hasn’t it? More and more often he finds himself giving Sherlock silly petnames in his head. He was never a friend of those, can hardly explain why he is doing it now – in his own thoughts – but something about it calms and provokes him at the same time. He picks up the half-emptied mug of cold tea and thinks this over on his walk to the kitchen sink.

He likes Sherlock. He knows this, has known this for literally ages. That he likes him, and that he likes him in a way that Sherlock most definitely won’t find appealing. Sexually. There, he said it. In his head, of course, never out loud. But Sherlock, with his many frustrating qualities, of which many where outrageously attractive to John, is practically forcing him to feel provoked. Those feelings then lead to … petnames, apparently. He’s had stranger coping mechanisms before.

In his head greets him with hey, handsome in the morning, those wonderful mornings where Sherlock has actually slept and still looks all soft and not quite awake. He calls him genius when he is being too clever again and doesn’t notice, calls him pretty man and silly git and sweetheart when he’s feeling like it, and, of course, posh boy. He doesn’t even know what it is about that one in particular, but he finds that to be the worst. For his sexual frustration, that is. Every time it comes up in his head, which is more and more often, it fuels his imagination vividly. So much that it has even made it to his bedroom and he has dreams, half-asleep, half-awake, about teaching posh boy a lesson, getting posh boy a little dirty, treating posh boy a little rough. These are all terrible thoughts. Because they will stay just as imaginary and sexually frustrating. Posh boy won’t love him back, after all.

One morning Sherlock sits in front of his microscope on the kitchen table. He hasn’t moved for at least two hours. Nothing unusual. In fact, it was how they spend most of their Sundays now. John doesn’t really date anymore, and even if he did, he would not trade these days for anything. They have fallen into this pattern a while ago, the pattern of staying in on lazy Sundays, waking up later and waiting for the other to have breakfast together. Now Sherlock occupies himself with some experiment on maggots and fingers (John doesn’t even ask) and John is sitting in his chair. He is reading a novel about an incredibly clever and cunning explorer who kind of reminds him of Sherlock (he can’t help it, as much as he would like to). Being absorbed in the book, he is confused at first when Sherlock calls him from the kitchen.

“John?”

“Hmh?”

With Sherlock this is either going to be of highest importance or an absurdly unnecessary request.

“Care to pass me my phone?”

John sighs loudly. The latter. Thought so.

“Where is your phone?”

“Breast pocket.”

With his eyes rolling at the ceiling John puts a bookmark in his book, places it on the table next to him and gets off his chair. Walking into the kitchen, he murmurs under his breath.

“I see posh boy’s being a lazy butthead again…”

He takes the phone out of Sherlock’s breast pocket and holds it out for him. But instead of taking it and paying no more attention to him, Sherlock is suddenly staring at him like his face was on fire. John frowns at him. Sherlock, in turn, raises one brow.

“Posh?”

John’s eyes widen in shock and his heart jumps once in his chest and then stops, he thinks, just stops, and he wants to melt and become one with the floorboards. This is bad.

“I’m not posh,” Sherlock complains.

He must notice how John is only blushing more deeply. How? How did he say that out loud without noticing? How the bloody hell could he?

John clears his throat and decides to go along with it. There is no more turning back from here on anyway.

“You… are, actually. Just look at you, you with your… cheekbones. Your… perfectly tailored suits, your annoying British accent and deep voice-”

“We all have British accents.”

“I know!” John is enormously embarrassed, and he feels that if he doesn’t take a long walk right now, he will punch something to calm his inner unsettlement. “I need air.”

But Sherlock isn’t finished. “If anything, you are the posh one, John.”

“Hah! How so, Sherlock Holmes? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Have you looked around this flat in the past years? There are piles of magazines in the corners of every room, there is a Cluedo board pinned to the wall by me, I leave my things wherever I please, the kitchen is a mess of syringes and human body parts – an organised and well structured mess if you know where to look, but not the point right now – and I am currently examining maggots. In contrast to this you, John Watson, are a doctor, you wear your chequered shirts buttoned up to your chin, you’ve lived a clean life not suffering from a drug addiction, have had girlfriends and relationships and altogether live as part of the middle-class society in Central London. You wish for a wife and children and probably a German Shepard and a house in the suburbs, or at least that’s what you think you want, so tell me, John: How am I the posh one?”

John has a hard time finding a response to this that doesn’t only consist of loose vowels. It takes him a good minute, but Sherlock is oddly patient with him.

“First of all,” he manages then, “ I don’t think I want a wife and children, thank you very much. And maybe… maybe I’m not that serious when I call you things like that.”

“So why do you?”

“What?” John’s heart began beating faster once more. He’s so tense.

“Why do you call me a posh… boy?”

Oh fuck, hearing those two words spoken out loud and together and out of Sherlock’s mouth, for God’s sake!

“I- I don’t. Why- why should I even tell you? You read my mind all the time, can I not be allowed to keep this one thing to myself for once?!”

Sherlock narrows his eyes and observes him from head to toe. Oh please no. “No, that’s not it.”

“Alright, you know what? It’s you. Okay? It’s your fault! You just make me so angry all the time. No, don’t- don’t look at me like that.”

Sherlock’s eyes have gone wide and very blue. He looks genuinely hurt by this. Scared even. Scared at what John would say next, what this would mean for them. John feels and shares his pain, and he hates himself for every word he has ever said that would make Sherlock look like this. He is vulnerable and human, after all. Even if he tries to convince everyone around him that he isn’t, John has to stop falling for Sherlock’s own defence mechanism.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… what you said. There’s no wife and there is no house in the suburbs for me, Sherlock. I just can’t see it. But I see this.” He means Baker Street, means 221B, means … Sherlock. “This life. With you.”

Sherlock’s eyes are still so very blue. He wants to lose himself in them.

“And that makes you angry?” Sherlock asks.

“What? No. I’m just. Forget it.”

John finally has the courage to turn around and go, or maybe he lacks the courage to face him and stay, but either way he walks back into the sitting room, prepared to put on his jacket and leave the house for at least two hours. Sherlock jumps up and follows him.

“John! Wait. We never say what we want to say.”

John swirls around, his mouth a thin line of held back emotions. He stands close to the door. Ready to flee. “And what do you wanna say?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there is courage in the one and fear in the other.

“Me too.”

“Sorry?”

“Me too. I see this, too. Us. This life we share.”

John bites the insides of his mouth because his whole skin feels hot with disbelief and wonder and hope, oh god, so much hope that he doesn’t let himself own.

“What?” he asks instead, going for a weak smile, “You don’t see yourself with a wife and children?”

Sherlock huffs a laugh. “No. Weirdly I don’t.”

They smile at each other.

“So ‘posh boy’,” Sherlock says after a while, “is actually about…?”

“Me being an ungrateful moron? Me never saying what I should say before it’s too late? Me trying to get my anger at all of this under control? Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

Sherlock looks down at the spot between his feet. He’s thinking. But not as he usually is, not fast and calculating and mechanical. He’s thinking about the right thing to do. The things he has always wanted to do, but never thought it to be right or appropriate or good for them.

“I can wait for you to figure this out.”

“Wait for me?”

“As long as you need, John. We both agreed, didn’t we? Both of us don’t plan on leaving or getting married and reproduce anytime soon, so.”

“You don’t like waiting,” John points out, but he is already incredibly relieved and impressed by Sherlock’s words.

“No, I don’t. But I like you.”

John doesn’t flee to take an hour-long walk that day. He would never trade a lazy Sunday with Sherlock Holmes, after all. Sherlock continues with his experiment, and John reads. Later they watch telly together and Sherlock yells at the incompetent game show host on BBC One. He said he could wait till John figures this out, whatever this is. But maybe they both don’t have to wait that long. Maybe, just maybe, posh boy could actually love him back.

…to be continued…

@just–elope

Okay but Alexander Hamilton as Jim Hawkins, a boy who grew up reading adventure stories and believing that there is more to his small world and wanting nothing more than to prove himself and become someone that will make his mom proud instead of being a disappointment and constantly getting into trouble and letting his mom down.

Alexander finding the map to treasure planet and knowing this is his shot to be something and promising his mom that this is their chance and that he’ll come back home, unlike his dad, and rebuild their life with the treasure he finds. He’ll finally become someone that people will respect.

And Aaron Burr as a sort of interpretation of Long John Silver, a few years older than Alexander and part cyborg and he’s everything Alexander wants to be; clever, respectable, driven, and well-liked. He’s got knowledge of sailing and has stories of all of his journeys that make Alexander’s eyes go wide when he tells them to Alexander while they clean the deck or make food for the crew or when both of them can’t sleep at night.

Alexander confiding in Aaron about his insecurities and Aaron teaching Alexander everything he knows about sailing or sword fighting. Alexander trusting Aaron despite the weirdness of Aaron’s other crew members and the warnings he’s heard about cyborgs. Both of them growing closer and closer, Aaron boosting Alexander’s confidence and giving him advice, seeming fond of Alexander’s enthusiasm and his passion.

Alexander overhearing Aaron talking to the other crew members about needing to wait to start their mutiny, and hearing Aaron convince the crew, who has grown suspicious, that he doesn’t have any feelings for Alexander, that all the time they’ve spent together was just to make sure Alexander didn’t suspect that they were pirates. 

Alexander confronting Aaron afterwards and fighting him while holding back tears because of the betrayal before running to the captain (Theodosia) and warning her about the pirates. All of them fighting and Alexander making sure he keeps the map away from Aaron.

Fast forward to when they find treasure planet, and Aaron and his other crew members surround Alexander. Aaron being the one to go to Alexander to talk to him and try to convince him to give them the map. Aaron telling Alexander that his parents were part of Captain Flint’s (King George?) original crew, and that they were murdered due to Flint’s greed to have the treasure to himself. Aaron saying that he’s been searching for the treasure for years to avenge his parents.

Alexander listening to Aaron and hating that he feels sympathy for him, but he still refuses to give him the map, angry that Aaron tricked him. Aaron losing his temper and threatening to kill Alexander, but even when he points a gun at him, he can’t do it. 

Both of them finding the treasure, but triggering the booby traps. Alexander falling and hanging on to the edge of a cliff and Aaron struggling to decide between holding on to the treasure he’s been searching for his whole life (also in danger of falling) or saving Alexander. Aaron choosing Alexander and letting go of the treasure.

Aaron and Alexander working together to get everyone off of treasure planet before it explodes. Both of them making it out and back on their original ship. Alexander searching for Aaron to thank him and finding him getting on a life boat in order to escape imprisonment. Aaron throwing caution to the wind and asking Alexander to come with him, to explore the stars and the galaxies together. 

Alexander having to refuse despite the temptation, saying he needs to go back to his mom and help her rebuild their lives. Aaron giving Alexander some of the treasure he managed to grab before saying goodbye.

Alexander returning home and going through the space flight academy so he can have his own ship and his own crew. Alexander exploring the galaxy. Alexander living the life he always wanted and owing so much of it to Aaron. 

Alexander tracking down stories and myths about hidden treasure, secretly wanting to find Aaron again, knowing that he’ll be looking too, but always seeming to be one step behind the legendary pirate. Alexander and Aaron meeting again, working together and against each other depending on the situation.

Legends being in the making about Alexander and Aaron, two treasure hunters, one a respectable captain, the other a calculating pirate. Stories being woven about the strange relationship between the two, neither one seeming to be able to win against the other. Tales being told that they had once been in love, and maybe still are.

Alexander and Aaron chasing each other across the stars.

anonymous asked:

modern revolutionary squad in a cat cafe

Oh anon,,, you spoil me,,,