just look at the way john types

  • *in a cab; on the way to the christening*
  • Molly: *happily* Oh isn't this exciting? I bet she looks lovely. And John and Mary are wonderful parents...
  • Sherlock: *on his phone* Mmm.
  • Molly: *sighs* Oh, her name is just beautiful *giggles* I always wanted to name my daughter Persephone.
  • Sherlock: *glances at her*
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Hey, I was eleven at the time and really into all that mythology stuff.
  • Sherlock: *still typing* There are worse names for a child than Persephone Holmes.
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* Why would it be Holmes?
  • Sherlock: *shrugs* I always assumed you'd take your husband's name.
  • Molly: *scoffs* Yeah, well, I'm not going to marry Mycroft!
  • Sherlock: *confused* We've been sleeping together and you think-
  • Molly: *giggles* No, I mean, I just thought you weren't the marrying kind.
  • Sherlock: *sighs* Sex, Molly. I don't do that with just anyone.
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* You love me?
  • Sherlock: Obviously.
  • Molly: *smirks* I'm sorry? I didn't catch that.
  • Sherlock: *smiles* I love you.
  • Molly: *takes his hand* I love you too.
  • Sherlock: *coughs* So you'll...marry me, then?
  • Molly: *kisses his cheek* Of course I will.
Stay

Michael x reader

Request: “Hey, me again asking 4 something, could u please write something where the reader is with the blinders(kills 4 them)she and Michael are an item, she sees him fuck Charlotte at the wedding and kill someone idk helping Arthur or gets involved in the fire”

Authors note: Changed it up a tiny bit hope it’s OK

Warning: Swearing, fluff, violence

You were pottering about the betting shop waiting for a family meeting the first time you met Michael. You were at the family meeting because Tommy is technically your legal guardian for another year before you turned 18. Thomas and your brother, Matt, had grown up together and when our parents died Matt was your only living family left. When the boys went off to war Polly looked after you, as you were only a year older than Finn you all became very close. Matt didn’t make it back from the war and Tommy refused to ship you off to a family you didn’t know so at the age of twelve Tommy took you into his family and signed himself up to be your legal guardian.

Polly walked in proudly showing off her son. You were polite and happy for Polly but you don’t know what it was about Michael that you didn’t like you just really didn’t like him. About a week later he was standing munching on a tomato and reading some papers whilst standing in your way.

“Move.” He looked at you in shock. This was pretty much the first time you had spoken to him and he pinned you for the shy type.

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Happy Halloween!

Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad x reader

Word Count: 1,625ish
T/W: Fluff!
A/N: It’s Halloween, if you don’t celebrate, I relate, if you do cool! Here’s just something for the people who didn’t get invited to parties or are staying home tonight, like myself!


“Come on boys!” You called, walking down the hallway with a grand smile spread across your face and a confident stride.

It was Halloween night and you had a party to attend. It was Lee’s party, only the biggest party you could be invited to, and you were beyond thrilled. You loved all the costumes and candy, especially surrounded by friends. Forcing the boys to pick out an outfit was also one of the best parts. You sent them each into a costume store and told them to pick out something, that way it would be a surprise to you on the night of the party. Dressed as your own version princess Leia yourself, you couldn’t wait to see your handsome boys. 

“Mon cher?” You heard Lafayette’s voice behind you. 

Spinning around your jaw practically dropped. Laf had chosen a dark blue police uniform. Eyeing him up and down as he put his hair up, bobby pins in his mouth. A tempting smirk came over you, noticing the handcuffs hanging from his belt loop. The uniform was perfectly fitted to his body, and he looked down right hot. 

“You look good,” you shimmied your way over to him, hugging his frame while he was still tying his hair. 

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Guys My Age Don’t Know How To Touch Me - Part I

Shout out to my ladies! @illumendes @bwshines @littlew0nders @shawndreaming @ele-a-na I love you all so much!


The paparazzi start shouting as soon as he steps out of the car. He dips his head down, curls bopping slightly and he checks his phone.

He still can’t believe he gets texts from his idol, John Mayer himself.

“We are sitting in the back, see you, bud!”

He follows his bodyguard through the screaming crowd, adjusting his jean jacket, entering the posh restaurant in Los Angeles.

He fixes his hair, adjusts his silver ring and scans the room.

“Can I help you?” a waitress asks, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Mister John Mayer, he said he’s in the back?”

“Oh, yes, right. Please follow me!”

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anonymous asked:

Your ficlets are lovely! Could you maybe do a parentlock one with Sherlock calling Rosie pet names and John overhearing and being like 😍 thank you!

“Darling” is the most common one. John hears it every morning, when Sherlock tiptoes up to Rosie’s room: “Good morning, my darling. And how are we today?”

“Sweetheart” is said often, too, when she’s beginning to walk and Sherlock’s hands will hover around her- not touching, but a ready support just in case: “Watch yourself there, sweetheart. Well done.”

“Rascal” is John’s particular favourite- always said with a laugh, even if Rosie has interrupted some vital experiment. 

John doesn’t tell Sherlock why he almost double takes every time he hears some pet name, doesn’t mention that he never heard these types of things when growing up.

But he thinks Sherlock, in that quiet, caring way of his, already knows. Sometimes, John will hear a persistent “Darling”, and look up, expecting Rosie to be out of sorts. But then, it’s only Sherlock, handing him over a cup of tea.

“I was talking to you, my darling idiot,” Sherlock says with a wink, and John catches their laughter between their lips as he leans in for a kiss.


I’m taking ficlet prompts. <3

anonymous asked:

Wait I'm sorry for being misinformed, but the info about Paul calling Yoko a jap tart is not true? From what i read he sent a letter to john (i think) saying this. So it's not true? (because thank god if it's not true)

it’s okay, anon. let me reiterate: 

the full message – if you believe francie, that is – was “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit” and the full quote reads:

“John obviously loved Paul enough to let him run wild if it would help ease the tension Paul was creating in the studio and at home. Yoko could see it too.

But Paul was treating them like shit too. He even sent them a hate letter once, unsigned, typed. I brought it in with the morning mail. Paul put most of his fan mail in a big basket and let it sit for weeks, but John and Yoko opened every piece. When they go to the anonymous note, they looked puzzled, looking at each other with genuine pain in their eyes.

‘You and your Jap tart think you’re hot shit’, it said. John put it on the mantle, and in the afternoon, Paul hopped in, prancing much the same self-conscious way he did when we met.

‘Oh I just did that for a lark…’ he said in his most sugar-coated accent.

It was embarrassing. The three of us swiveled around, staring at him. You could see the pain in John. Yoko simply rose above it, feeling only sympathy for John. I was sad to see the Lennons go, even though it took the pressure off of Paul.”

putting aside that you can already read the clear bias between the lines, sometimes in other retellings of the story, it’s said to be a postcard and other times it’s a typewritten message left in an envelope. the discrepancies here alone should tell you something. 

now, where does the claim come from? it comes from an ex-girlfriend of paul’s from the late 60s, who he has parted not on the best terms with: francie schwartz. francie wrote a book about her relationship with paul where francie claims that while john and yoko stayed at cavendish, they received a note saying “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit”.

why is it bullshit? i have several points to make:

francie schwartz is one of the most unreliable sources in beatles history. ask any beatles researcher worth their salt on their opinion about francie and her book. what’s more important in this particular case: she relies almost exclusively on sensational claims to make her book body count (1972) more palatable and exciting to a general and broad public instead of actual proof. other such claims include paul having been sent love letters from brian; a claim just as insubstantial and without any actual tangible proof. 

first off, to get a more personal picture of francie during the time she wrote and published her book you have to ackowledge her agenda as the scorned ex-lover as is evidenced by the book itself as it displays a great deal of vindictiveness towards paul. read body count and you’ll know what  i mean. it’s absolutely vile in places.

second, the book was published in 1972 – when paul’s critical reputation was possibly at one of its lowest points – and it was published by none other than jann wenner’s rolling stone press, which very obviously chose john’s side in the john versus paul breakup era split and which back in the day had a lot of sway in the music industry. the magazine wasn’t yet the joke it was to become. something else that is interesting and slightly related: jann wenner. paul’s critical acclaim wasn’t at it lowest point because mccartney (the album) was years ahead in its day and the press just didn’t get it, but because wenner directly influenced his reviewers to slam paul for – as wenner saw it – breaking up the beatles. here’s the relevant quote:

“When I became record reviews editor, I made it clear to him after a few months — nobody had done the job before me — that the record review section was an independent republic within the country of Rolling Stone. That meant that nobody else could tell me what to review or what a writer could say. They could argue with me, but ultimately it was my decision. And that worked well. There was one incident where Paul McCartney makes his first solo record and people thought it was wonderful: this rough, homemade one-man-band album. It was accompanied by a press release, a self-interview, about why he no longer needed the Beatles and how little he thought of them … this real obnoxious statement, you know? I assigned it to a friend of mine, Langdon Winner, and Jann saw the piece and said: “We can’t run it this way — he’s just reviewing it as if it’s this nice little record. It’s not just a nice little record, it’s a statement and it’s taking place in a context that we know: it’s one person breaking up the band. This is what needs to be talked about.” I said I didn’t agree and “in any case it’s up to Langdon to say what he wants to say.” Jann said, “We have to talk about this.” So we went to dinner that night and spent three fucking hours arguing about this record review. Finally he convinced me. So I went over to Langdon’s and sat down with him and spent three more hours arguing with him until I convinced him! Now to me this was the essence of great editing, of how you put out a publication that is utterly honest. All that time spent over one 750 word review! And it was worth it.”

—Greil Marcus in conversation with Simon Reynolds,

Los Angeles Review of Books

there are other instances where wenner displays his clear bias against paul, which was especially rampant in the time where paul was hailed as the talentless and flighty hack who did nothing more than book the studio for the beatles and john as the deeply misunderstood true lyrical and musical genius behind the beatles. a narrative that was formed then and persists to this day.

third, a number of writers – including, disappointingly, doggett and carlin – have recounted the “jap tart” episode from paul to john and yoko as fact, but it’s NOT. it’s the unverified retrospective eyewitness testimony years after it happened of a very much biased, secondhand source. we’ve never seen evidence from anyone else that this event occurred. no picture, no copy, nothing. just like any other event francie “remembers”, if i might add. and since other private notes and copies from letters and even journals exist from other and more deeply involved with the beatles people, it is suspicious.

even during “lennon remembers” – also done with involvement from wenner – john himself admits that his examples of the others treating yoko badly in the studio or elsewhere come off as him being paranoid. if he had indeed a clear and very much damning example, such as this “jap tart” postcard or typewritten message or handwritten note, why didn’t he bring it up? or, more glaringly, yoko herself? when discussing why she and john left cavendish in philip norman’s paul bio, she doesn’t mention this incident at all. why didn’t either of them ever bring up this incident in all the years after it supposedly occurred? 

it’s also important to point out that the narrative that paul was an absolute and continuous horror to john and yoko during the let it be era is just that: a narrative. let’s see what yoko has to say:

“After the initial embarrassment, then – um, now Paul is being very nice to me. He’s nice, and a – a very, um, str– on the level, straight sense. Like, um, whenever there’s something happening at Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know, [inaudible] and things like that. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man or something like that, he asks me if I know of anybody in the art world, and things like that.

And like, um, I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like he’s being – he’s treating me with respect. Not because it’s me – but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is, because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul.

And, um – and probably among those three people of George and Ringo and Paul, Paul is the only one that I can sort of feel the vibration [from]. Like, sort of sense it, you know, that something is among that. ‘Cause Ringo and George, I just can’t communicate. I mean, I’m sure that George and – I’m really sure that they’re both very nice people, but that’s not the point… I think that’s because being, uh, [because of John, Paul, and me] being air signs, like Libra, Gemini, and Aquarius.”

[x]

another point is the nature of the source itself: francie didn’t – at least as far as we know – write any of these instances down, be it in her diary, or even in a letter to her mother, with whom she stayed in contact during that time. all of which would have made the claim more credible, as those would have been never intended for public view and subsequent consumption as her book was. 

she wrote them in her memoir, something she wanted people to buy, and there has been discussion that wenner encouraged her to promote the “sex and dissension” between paul and her and paul and the beatles in her work, because that’s what would sell and ensure publicity. 

lasty, i’ve seen another valid point brought up: linguistics. “hot shit” is something that is more an americanism – francie is american – than something used in the late 60s by someone of liverpool descent.

tl;dr: francie’s claim is unfounded and to this very day has zero (0) proof to it. 

i’ll include another good quote about the issue under a read more should you be interested.

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Appreciate It

Prompt: I has a request!! Can you do one where John Constantine has to help the reader out with a demon problem? And then she basically goes out of her way to thank him because she knows people in that business never hear it enough 💕

*A/N: this one was pretty fun to write i hope you like itttt*


It started about two months ago, you began hearing strange noises, feeling like someone was watching you, and waking up in the middle of the night from terrible nightmares. You had no idea what to do, but one of your friends had suggested calling this man named John Constantine. He had supposedly helped your friend’s friend’s cousin with his demon problem, and had done a great job. Well, as great as a person can do when expelling a demon from someone’s home.

He responded immediately, saying he would stop by your apartment by the end of the week.

On Friday, a knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts. It was him. You let him in without a word, and he immediately found where the demon was coming from. “Leave,” he said, sternly, his back facing you. A couple moments of silence passed, and John turned to look at you. “You, Y/N, you leave. Now.” 

“Oh! Oh, sorry, I thought you were…okay. Where should I go?”

“You can wait out in the hallway, you just can’t be in here, I don’t want you to get hurt,” you could tell John was concerned about you, not in a romantic way, just a person-with-a-conscious type of way. You nodded, leaving your own apartment quickly, and taking a seat across the hallway. You heard the door, lock, and the sound of John’s footsteps fading away.

After several minutes, you heard a strange buzzing noise coming from inside your apartment, almost a ringing sound. You crawled over to the door, pressing your ear against it. A loud crash came from inside, followed by a deafening scream. “John!” You yelled, banging on the door, “Are you okay?” He didn’t reply, he just continued screaming as if he was in pain, and your eyes darted around the empty hallway. No way you were the only one hearing this. Another scream rang over John’s, however it was deeper and more animalistic. “John!” You banged on the door again, “John!” You continued to beat on the door and scream his name, but the volume of the screams only grew. A white light flashed in front of your eyes, and in an instant, the screams were gone. Tears were rolling down your face at this point, and you rested your forehead against the door. A click caused you to raise it again, and the door swung open. It was John.

“You wont need to worry about him anymore,” he said, looking down at you, “he fought like hell, but I sent him back there anyway.”

“Thank you, God, thank you,” you stood up, throwing your arms around his neck. “How can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry about it, it was no big deal,” he shrugged, but you shook your head.

“No no no, I know people like you don’t get appreciated enough, your work is so dangerous, people don’t realize how much the world needs you.”

A smile twitched at John’s lips, “I appreciate that, thank you Y/N.”

“You know what?” You said matter-of-factly, “I’m gonna send you a muffin basket.”

John chuckled, “You really don’t have to-”

“Nope! It’s been decided!”

“If you really want to thank me, how about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll call you?”

“Oh, um…sure,” you said, taken aback.

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yup!” You extended your hand, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Constantine.”

John shook your hand politely, “You as well.” And with that, you walked back into your apartment and shut the door, leaving John to walk home by himself, and he went to bed thinking of you.

John was woken up by a loud knock at his door the next morning, and he trudged through his apartment, grumbling as he put on a t shirt. He swung the door open angrily, but nobody was there. His eyes floated down to the floor, and he couldn’t help but laugh at what he saw.

A muffin basket with his name on it.

Chapter 4

The Watchtower. April 24th, 2028. 2:40 PM EST.

Damian entered the computer room and pulled his cowl off, letting a worn sigh pass his lips as he approached the seated figure currently still unaware of his presence. He didn’t think too much on it, but he and Drake hadn’t talked much since Damian became Batman. After Tim earned his Master’s in Forensics, he and Stephanie were in and out of Gotham rather frequently. Of course they saw each other every November, but they hadn’t actually sat down and had a proper conversation since… well, since Damian had been Robin.

“You certainly seem to enjoy monitor duty,” the Batman said as he leaned over the other cowled figure’s shoulder.

The Red Robin smiled as he looked back to meet his younger brother’s eyes. “Well, Stephanie always says I’m good with computers.”

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anonymous asked:

orphaned werewolves that he and Derek foster.//Word gets around and then they get a request to temporarily care for an orphaned mountain lion shifter because no one can handle the big cats, Next is a couple of baby bear siblings that needed to stay together. So they end up with a big pack of mixed breeds and Derek gets his alpha mojo back by default because he has to flash his red eyes to get all the kids to calm down because they get too excited when Pop-Pop John comes to visit.

This sounds adorable <3 Huge adoptive family Sterek is pretty much everything to me, rebuilding the Hale pack and Derek looking after those orphaned kids the way he was never looked after and finally having a huge, loving family again is just… I love it so much.

I am going to take a second to say personally I’ve never loved how Teen Wolf just started introducing a million different types of weres in the later seasons. Werecoyotes and werejaguars and were…bears maybe, I don’t know what’s shown up more recently. I know they somewhat set up for it early on, saying that the shape you take can sometimes reflect your personality, but that was more about Alpha-shift and the kanima in very special circumstances, if that’s regularly the case I’m pretty sure Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and even Peter and Derek, would have ended up as very different types of weres based on their personalities. Early on, people are bitten by werewolves and turn into werewolves, and that’s a good, solid mythology. And later on we’ve just got people turning into… whatever animal Jeff thinks sounds cool that week. :/ So personally having all the different types of werebabies doesn’t super appeal to me, but picturing some baby bears snuffling around the floor while Derek and Stiles look on fondly is a ridiculously cute image.

Also, I’ve always loved the idea that Derek didn’t actually lose his Alpha power when he healed Cora (because… it seems kind of strange that the power, which seems like such a solid force it literally has to pass to other people when the last one dies, instead of just dissipating, would just vanish into the ether because of extra-intense healing). I like to imagine that healing Cora just took so much energy out of him that his power level dropped significantly, setting his power level back to beta status temporarily. But after a few years, once he’s had time to recover, his eyes will flicker red again and he’ll realize he’s always still had that power inside him.

(So that was a lot of rambly thoughts for a cute ask, sorry love. But I’m so on board with a bunch of tiny adopted Sterek babies.)

ID #89947

Name: Bente
Age: 18
Country: Netherlands

Hi! My name is Bente. I am currently having a gap year and working. In january I will be spending a semester at an academic institute in Florence to follow a few different courses. After the summer I want to study Law. I am an ethical vegan, because I love animals and want to help protect our planet. I love cooking and eating healthy as well. I run a few times a week and do yoga. I also enjoy movies, music, books, slam poetry, painting oceans, thrift shopping and travelling. I love listening to older music such as Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, David Bowie and Elton John, but i also enjoy me some Lana del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, Cold war kids, The Killers, Cage the Elephant, Sticky Fingers, Young the Giant etc. I actually enjoy all types of genres, it depends on the mood! My favourite movie is the Great Gatsby and my favourite book is the Untethered Soul.

I am looking for someone who is also vegan and tries to live their life in an mindful and ethical way. It would be so great to exchange our tips, opinions, and just general ideas on living life and bring positive energy and empowerment to eachother. I am looking for a ‘penpal’ because I do not know many people who share my interests and care about these matters. (If anyone is interested, it would also be cool to make a vegan group chat for everyone one around the world who does not know a lot of other vegans)

Preferences: Preferably someone who has a similar age but I am open to anything. Also I would prefer just email, snapchat, instagram or facebook messenger over actual mail since this is much easier if we live far away from eachother.

Requested by @blue-aviators! Thank you for the awesome prompt and I sure hope you enjoy it! :’) <333 

This lil fic is dedicated to John Laurens, who died over 200 years ago today. His death is, to me, one of the greatest losses in US history. Who knows what kind of impact he might have had had he lived. To honor him, here’s domestic fluff of him being super gay with his super bi boyfriend. If he can see us from wherever he is, I hope we’ve made him proud. <333

Person A is up late studying and Person B is worried about them so they force A away from their desk and put on some random TV show for them as they force feed Person A some food
-Is this not Lams in its purest form?-

Laurens normally didn’t consider 11 pm to be late. No, it was usually curl up with a good book time, or browse the internet time, or cuddle with Alexander time. But tonight it was just too late for one reason–– Alex hadn’t been in their bed in two days.

Sure, he’d fallen asleep at his desk and maybe slept a total of six hours out of the past forty-eight atop his stack of papers and laptop, but of course that was nowhere near enough. John had missed holding Alex close to him, too, but he was going to force him into bed because of his worries about his boyfriend’s health, not because of his own selfish needs.

John walked into the living room, where Alex’s makeshift desk (which was really an old table the Washingtons didn’t need anymore and had gifted the boys when they moved into their college apartment) was set up. Alex was hunched over his laptop, furiously clacking away at the keys.

“Babe?” John said, coming up behind Alex and wrapping his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. He settled his chin in the crook of Alex’s neck and pressed a gentle kiss there. “Bedtime, babe,” he said.

“Not done,” Alex muttered, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

“Hit ‘save,’ Alexander,” John said more forcibly.

“Not yet,” Alex said, clearly annoyed.

“I am going to shut your laptop in ten seconds. It’s in your best interest to hit ‘save.’” Laurens whispered into Alex’s ear, causing him to shiver.

“Bluffing,” Alex mumbled.

“Ten, nine…”

Alex hit ‘save.’ Before he could type another word, Laurens had slammed the laptop shut, Alex pulling his fingers out of the way just in time. When Alex looked up at him in surprise, Laurens simply winked.

“Now come on. First dinner, then bed.” He took Alex’s hand and pulled him up out of the office chair. It was a bit too easy to pull him up, making Laurens frown ever so slightly.

“Nooooo,” Alex groaned. “I don’t have that kind of time,” he said.

“You don’t have time to take care of your basic needs and stay alive?” Laurens said in a monotone. “Well I’m sure when you burnout you’ll have time.”

“John,” Alex grumbled, snatching his hand away. “John, I’m not a child!” Alex proceeded to pout like a five-year-old, bottom lip outturned, arms crossed tightly; he even added a little stomp for good measure.

John rolled his eyes. “God, I love you so damn much.” He caught Alex by surprise as he passionately smashed his lips against the smaller boy’s, Alex melting at the contact.

“I’ll always have time for that,” Alex said dreamily.

John grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. “Wait here. I’ve got some leftover mac and cheese I’m heating up for you.”

“But––”

“No ‘buts,’ Alexander,” John said.

“What about your butt?” Alex said with an eyebrow waggle.

“Dear lord,” John said with a chuckle. With that he went into their tiny kitchen and heated up the bowl of mac and cheese.

When he returned to the living room, Alex had flicked on Netflix and was browsing the documentaries, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Whatcha searching for?” John asked as he set the bowl of mac and cheese down in front of his boyfriend.

“This documentary I have to watch for class in a––” John cut him off by grabbing the remote and flicking the TV off, giving Alex a dirty look.

“No homework.” When Alex opened his mouth to protest, John held his finger to his boyfriend’s lips. “Your entire life for the past two days has been homework. It’s time for you to take care of YOU, Alex.”  

Alex pouted again, and John had a hard time not laughing because his boyfriend looked like such a child when he did that.

John picked up the mac and cheese and handed it to Alex. “Eat this.”

Alexander looked disgusted. He looked at the mac and cheese, then up at John.

“What?” John asked, glancing at the mac and cheese then back up at Alex. Had he not heated it up enough? Or was it too hot?

“John Laurens,” Alex whispered. “This isn’t about me wanting to write right now, and it isn’t about me not wanting to eat right now. This is about Thomas fucking Jefferson and his goddamn––”

“Sweet Jesus,” Laurens muttered, picking up the mac and cheese and bringing it back to the kitchen. He pulled a can of soup out and began the process of heating it up, cursing Jefferson under his breath as he did so.

He grabbed a few packets of the soup crackers he and Alex were in the habit of pilfering from the school cafeteria and took the warm soup into his boyfriend. He set it in front of him and sighed. “Please tell me this doesn’t remind you of Burr or something.”

Alex grinned up at him. “Nope! Soup is unassociated with any of my political enemies.”

“How do you have political enemies when we’re only juniors in college?” John muttered, shaking his head bemusedly as he sat down next to Alex on the couch.

Alex stared at the soup for a moment.

“Alex…” John began to say.

“Okay, okay!” Alex open a packet of crackers and dumped them into the soup. He took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmm, stolen crackers taste much better than lawfully acquired ones.”

Laurens laughed, then leaned his head on Alex’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He shut his eyes and rested as his boyfriend ate. He was awoken by Alex gently shaking his arm.

“Babe? Babe, time for bed,” Alex whispered.

“Wh-what?” Laurens mumbled, blinking his eyes open, taking in Alex’s grin. “Is Alexander Hamilton saying it’s time for bed? Is this still a dream?”

Alex laughed. “Well I can stay up, but I can’t let my darling boyfriend skip out on a good night’s sleep.”

“I can’t sleep well without you next to me, though,” John mumbled, blushing once he realized what he’d said.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Is that true?” he said so softly that John almost didn’t hear him.

John sighed. “Of course it’s true.” He nuzzled further into his boyfriend’s neck, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Then let’s go get some sleep,” Alex whispered into John’s ear.

John was shocked with Alex picked him up, bridal style, and carried him into their bedroom. He set John down on the bed and held a finger up. Alex got out some of their sweats and old t-shirts, quickly changing into his, then motioning for John to lift his arms up.

John obliged, and soon Alex had his old shirt off of him and was tugging the clean one over his head. John breathed in the scent and, realizing it was one of Alex’s shirts, smiled, relishing in its unique coconut and Alexander scent. He loved it.

Alex then shimmied Laurens’ jeans off and tugged the fuzzy sweatpants on in their place. He kissed John’s forehead and smiled, just taking in his boyfriend for a moment.

They wordlessly got into the bed, Alex turning the lights out, then jumping in next to John. He wrapped an arm around John, pulling him close–– a reversal of their usual position. John was almost surprised that he loved it.

Alex sighed into Johns’ hair, his warm puff of breath misting over Laurens’ neck. “You’re right, John,” Alexander said sleepily.

“Mmm? About what?” John asked.

“I do need to sleep in bed more often. And you know why?”

John yawned. “Why’s that?” His voice already had a faraway quality to it.

“Because you’re in it.”

wwonder-landd  asked:

can u write an imagine with laf where the reader is a person who is like super wrong and lafayette has a SUPER crush on them and always talks about them to the gang and one of the boys gets him like a meet and greet & the reader & laf meet and become friends?? :))

Gilbert scrolled through your twitter feed, laughing ever so often at sly jokes and jabs you took at various things. Every day, he hoped that he could just see you walking down the street. He admired every piece of work you did. And the two of you lived in close proximity, but there was never a chance. He tapped his fingers on the mouse in disappointment. 

He didn’t notice his friends slowly approach his side, until Alexander’s fingers pinched his skin, causing him to jump.

He glared, closing the tab and turning around in his rolling chair. “Merde…Really, Alexander?” He said, hoping they didn’t see much. But from Hercules’ smirk to John’s grin, he could tell they saw it. Saw all of it. 

Laf, why don’t you just go to a meet and greet to see Y/N?” John said, moving Gilbert out of the way and opening his tab again. He rolled his eyes at the multiple tabs opened with your name in each one, and quickly went to ticket master.

He typed in your name, and it showed that you had a least five events around the area for the next few weeks. John pointed at the screen, “See?”

Gilbert pouted, looking at the dates. John didn’t know that Gilbert looked at that page at least ten times a day. He sighed, clicking out of it. “I can’t. All of those days I have to be at work. There’s no way I could see Y/N, no matter how much I want to.”

“She’d be creeped out anyway,” Alexander mumbled, causing Hercules to elbow him in the stomach. Alexander bent over, mumbling obscenities under his breath. Hercules stepped in front of him, a frown on his face. He dug in his pocket, holding up five tickets.

“Then what am I supposed to do with these?” Hercules said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Gilbert took it out of his hands quickly, widening his eyes. One was VIP, while the rest were general admission. And it was on a weekend, a day that he was actually free. Gilbert pulled Hercules into his arms, kissing both of his cheeks quickly.

“Thank you, mon amie, I’m eternally grateful,” Gilbert said, trying to hold in his excitement. He stared at the tickets, his fingers shaking. 

He was finally going to meet you.

-

Gilbert stood on the meet and greet line, seeing you in the distance. His heart was beating fast, and he swore you could probably hear his breaths from where you were. Alexander, Hercules, and John stood on the side. Alexander smiled at you, Hercules winked, and John put both of his thumbs up. Gilbert clutched your merch in his hand, second in line to see you. Sweat was pouring down his cheeks, his hands beginning to clamp up.

“Next please!” Security said, guiding the person to the side. Gilbert walked forward, looking at you.

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart sink to his toes. You tilted your head to the side, and reached out your hand. He took it, cursing at himself for having sweaty palms.

“Nice to meet you!” You said, “What’s your name?”

“Um…” He lost his train of thought, mesmerized by the color of your eyes and how it complimented the texture of your dress. And how your smile was the brightest he’s ever seen… He quickly went back to reality. “It’s Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette,” He saw your eyes widen at his response. Shit, he was messing it up already, “But My friends call me Lafayette. You can call me whatever you like, Y/N. I love your work.”

He was fucking this up. He was definitely, utterly, fucking this up. 

You laughed, a true, genuine laugh. His nerves slowly dissipated, a smile finally appearing on his face. Your laugh, it was much more amazing in person. 

“Okay, then Marie-Joesph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette. Or Laf,” His eyes twinkled at the nickname you said. You grinned, “You’re the most interesting person I’ve met today, you know.”

You blinked, grabbing a pad that was on the desk and writing something down quickly. You folded it, handing it to Gilbert quickly. He tried opening it, but you put your hand over his.

“Not here. There are some… interesting characters that come to my M&Gs,” You glanced around quickly, “If you get my drift.”

This time he laughed, putting it in his back pocket. “I do.”

You and Gilbert took a quick picture together, and you signed the merch quickly, giving his hand one last squeeze before you had to see the next person. Gilbert walked over to his friends, on cloud 9. John was giddy, looking back and forth between the merch and Gilbert’s face.

“So, how was it? Is Y/N as amazing as twitter says?” John said quickly.

Gilbert opened the paper. 

whenever you get a chance, marie-joseph paul tyves rich ?? gilbert do motier de Lafayette, text me! :D

There was a small doddle of his face in the corner, his eyes too close together and his beard disheveled. You for sure spelled his name wrong, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He chuckled softly, putting it back in his pocket.

“Definitely.”

mnemonicmadness  asked:

Since you offered so kindly: 44 and 76 please :)

76. I want you to have this.

Harold can still feel John’s presence in the room. The man is silent like panther, even his breath barely makes any noise, but Harold has been able to detect his proximity for quite a while now. It is unmistakable in the absence of the vacuum he leaves behind when he isn’t around; both in the library, and in Finch’s heart.

So, he doesn’t have to turn around to know John is here… lingering. There’s a prickling sensation at the back of his neck that tells him that John is also watching him. He waits him out, letting him make up his mind. He doesn’t want to push Reese into doing something he isn’t ready for.

It’s not the first time this week John has acted this way, like there’s something weighing on his mind. Harold has caught him looking at him like trying to decipher a puzzle maybe. There’s something he wants to say, or do, and is finding the leap of faith hard. Harold wants to help, wants to reach out and touch his hand and ask him “tell me.” And just like that, he knows John will.

Keep reading

Gunfire

Request: May I request a Laurens x reader where the reader persuaded gwash to join the revolution despite her being a girl so one night she goes to a bar with the guys and a random dude comes up bc he doesn’t agree that she should be fighting and Laurens just stands up and clocks the guy and just lots of fluff

Pairing: John Laurens x reader

Warnings: fuckboys, war, violence, death, kissing, angst (sorry)

Word count: 2,087

A/N: While I work on a second part of “Yorktown”, here’s a fic! Tremendous thanks to the lovely @azure-hamilton for proofreading! Also “Je promets ça” means “I promise” basically

askbox || masterlist

You were at the Schuyler ball, dancing across the floor in the arms of a young soldier whose name you hadn’t caught. He tried to talk to you as you danced, and in any other circumstances his curls and his smirk would have distracted you.

Today, however, you were more focused on managing to dance with General Washington. One dance- barely a few minutes- was all you had to persuade him to let you join the revolution despite being a woman.

The music changed just as you neared the general, so you stepped gracefully away from your current partner, gave your thanks, and went to stand at the side of the ballroom. You had heard Washington was well-mannered and chivalrous- standing without a partner should attract his attention.

You watched Washington out of the corner of your eye as he finished his conversation, and noticed his gaze fix on you. A moment later he was walking over.

He bowed and you curtsied, and he bent to kiss your hand. “A young lady should never be allowed to stand too long without a partner on such an occasion,” he said, and you smiled as you accepted his hand.

The music changed to a waltz. “General Washington,” you began once you had exchanged pleasantries.

“George, please,” he interrupted.

“George,” you said as he spun you round, “I have a proposal for you.”

Keep reading

I just want to thank John Feldman for making 5 Seconds of Summer a part of his family. It’s so overwhelmingly sweet the way he’s taken them under his wing when they’re away from home and give them the family type atmosphere they need. He goes surfing with Ashton, saying “surfing with family,” takes road trips with Calum, brings Luke and Ashton to his mothers birthday party, and runs up on stage and gives Michael kisses. 

 I’m so thankful that he’s looking out for our boys and loving them just as much as we do. God bless John Feldman.

anonymous asked:

Hi. I just saw your answer where you say whump scenes give you butterflies in the stomach. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but do you see yourself as a sadist? I don't see the term as having a bad connotation - being a sadist is ok, so I really mean no offense. Sorry in advance.

No offense taken! I’m not exactly sure if I see myself as a sadist or not. I enjoy seeing the pain but really love what comes with it. Worried friends, struggling to get away, pushing through the pain to keep going, aftercare…

For example: In 5x01 of SGA, John Sheppard was trapped, in pain and Ronon was worried and desperate to save him. Ronon kept him awake and exhausted himself trying to get the beam off of John. Also in episode 3x07 when that video came on and the team saw John being fed upon by a Wraith, the look on their faces just…yes. Then later John fought his way out and almost died in the process…but he made it.  Those types of situations give me whumpy butterflies! I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you but I agree, there’s nothing wrong with it and we all feel whump differently. I appreciate your question! :)

How Sherlock Survived His Heart Stopping - A Medical Analysis

A medical analysis of how Sherlock survived “flat-lining”.  I discuss:

1. Why Sherlock was never actually dead

2. What the doctors did to keep him alive.

3. How Sherlock managed to spontaneously recover 

4. What the physical consequences for Sherlock were after he recovered

The Most Miraculous Thing

The medical explanation I am about to give for Sherlock’s survival is nowhere near as uplifting or exhilaration as watching Sherlock struggling out the steps of his mind palace with the sheer determination to live for John. 

I personally enjoy interpreting Sherlock’s “revival” as a miracle of love and a testimony to our inner strength.

The reason I am writing this article is to explain the medicine behind the poignant scene for people who are interested to know how things work in real life because miracles do happen in reality. 

Keep reading

Please Shut Up

J. Laurens x reader (modern, college au)

Okay, hey guys! This is my first writing piece on here! This was not requested, but I just wanted to give you all a bit of a sample of my writing style. Sorry for any sort of grammar errors, I’m writing this on my phone at ten pm.

This is with the prompts: “Shut up” and “Make me”

Word count: 1,639

(I don’t own the GIFs that I use, I just find them here on Tumblr) Warnings: none I can think of

~~~~~~~

Originally posted by papersquared

Studying was probably the worst thing to do alone. Maybe aside from watching horror movies by yourself. But being alone and trying to shove loads of information into your mind within a small period of time was a close second.

So, naturally, you decided to not study alone. One of your close friends, Eliza Schuyler, had decided to put together a study group. You didn’t object. Although, not everyone in the group was in the same field of study, it was fun to have different topics be discussed.

Angelica was taking classes for Women’s studies. You found her to be an amazing person, and equally smart. Eliza took after her older sibling in the way she had a kind heart and was compassionate, but the younger girl was not as intimidating. Their youngest sister, Peggy, was in her last year of high school currently, and she would visit the three of you on occasion.

 Eliza’s boyfriend, Alexander, was studying to become a lawyer. You had discovered that he had little to no filter when it came to talking with the group. He wasn’t rude, just a bit of a wild card.

 The rest of Alex’s group, dubbed as the “Hamilsquad,” were…odd. Firstly, there was  Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, most usually called Laf, was a student who had moved from France a few years back. You weren’t quite sure what he was majoring in. Most of the time you would see him walking around campus and going into a couple of lectures. He was very smart nonetheless. Hercules Mulligan, a.k.a., human teddy bear. He was a fashion major, and for good reason. When you had seen some of his designs, you were blown away. He was also extremely kind.

Then there was John Laurens. The spunky, curly haired, freckle-faced, sweetheart of their little group. You were pretty sure he was taking classes involving social justice/science. You had discovered that, like Alexander, he would speak his mind. He intrigued you, the way he would speak out against issues in society. The small fire of passion he could create with words.

You had kept this small feeling hidden. The way when he looked into your eyes, and your heart would either jump into overdrive, or melt into a messy puddle of emotion. When he ran his fingers through his curly locks of hair, and you would wonder to yourself how his hair would feel in your hands. 

You were unsure if this was just a small crush, or if you were absolutely head-over-heels in love with this boy. You couldn’t deal with love and other silly feelings. Keeping your grades up and passing tests was what was truly important at the moment.

It was currently Friday night, 7:32, to be precise. The study group had decided to meet up in the space the boy’s shared. It was a bit of a small space. Four little bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen that connected directly to a small living room. A small worn out leather sectional couch with several blankets and pillows was in the middle of the living room, a small coffee table, and a little flat screen somehow connected to the wall. The world’s smallest stove hidden by all the pots and pans on top, a single door fridge covered with post-it notes, and a small counter space, now littered with empty coffee cups.

“And malum prohibitum is…?” Angelica asked Alexander, her eyes scanning over his notes from class.

“An act prohibited by law.” Alex answered almost immediately, taking a sip of his dark coffee. “Like jaywalking, chewing gum in Singapore.”

“Therefore, malum ensae is…?” Angelica inquired again.

“Is an action, that is evil in itself: assault, murder.” Alex spoke.

“White shoes after Labor Day.” Hercules muttered taking a bite of the take out from one of the many boxes on the coffee table. You had just barley caught what he had said, and you snorted, taking a sip of coffee trying to hide the strange sound you had made.

John looked over at you, a face of concern, his eyebrow quirked. You shook your head lightly, sipping more coffee.You quickly went back to typing out the essay for your creative writing class. It wasn’t due until Monday, but you were given the assignment over a week ago, and wanted to spend your weekend free of stress.

Three hours later and you were still typing away.  Eliza and Angelica went out for a quick walk to pick up some more coffee, Alex, Hercules, and Lafayette left to get more food, and probably wine or beer. John sat next to you on the leather couch, his headphones on, scribbling in notes on to papers from his books.

Your fingers were beginning to cramp up and hurt from the constant typing. Gently you placed your laptop on to the table, picking up a takeout box. You weren’t sure whose it was but at this point you didn’t really care. The last full meal you had eaten was early this morning. Taking a bite, you crossed you legs underneath yourself, looking at the boy next to you. 

John’s head bounced to the rhythm of whatever song he was listening to, taping his pencil against the heavy textbook in his lap, his eyes read over the words on the page. 

God those eyes. Hazel, small flecks of gold and green. Beautiful.

You must have been noticeably staring, because he suddenly looked up at you, pulling his headphones down to his neck.

“What?” He asked. Those beautiful looking straight into yours, his lips slightly gaped. It took a moment to comprehend what he had said. You turned away shaking your had.

“N-nothing. Just distracted.” You felt sudden heat greet your face. Oh my god, did I seriously just say that?! Your eyes diverted back to his face. He was smirking.

“Oh, am I just too good looking, that I’ve become a distraction,” He said, leaning in ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing your lips.

“You wish, Laurens.” You said, a small spark of confidence popping up. His hand flew up to his heart, and dramatically flung himself down on the couch.

“You wound me darling.”

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. Or maybe two. That spark of confidence had suddenly been stomped out, your heart melting. Your mind tried to tell yourself to make nothing of what he just called you, but your heart was jumping around screaming like a girl who was just kissed by her crush. You sat there frozen.

When you didn’t respond, John looked up at you. You were facing away from him, but he could tell something was bothering you. He quickly sat up, moving a bit closer to you.

“Hey,” John whispered. You looked back at him. “Everything okay?”

You nodded your head, smiling ever so slightly.

“Yeah just…stressed.” You picked up your laptop again, trying to distract your mind from your high strung emotions. It was silent for a moment or so, John peering over you shoulder reading what you had typed on your laptop.

You could feel his breath against your neck, the stray curls of his hair brush against your skin. Stay calm

Your phone vibrated against your leg.

New message from Pure Cinnamon Roll: Angelica and I are on our way back, be there in 5.

New message from Frenchiest Fry: On our way back, should be there soon.

They’re on their way back,” you spoke, turning your head. 

You hadn’t realized how close his face was to yours. A beat.

“That’s good.” His voice was barley above a whisper.

“Yeah.” Your voice trailed off, you weren’t even sure he heard you. He leaned in a little more. 

“Have you realized,” He said gently, placing his hand over yous that was resting on the keypad of your laptop.  He looked into your eyes for a moment, before turning his attention to the computer screen. “You keep switching point of views in your writing.”

Pulled out of the moment, you looked down at your writing. You looked back at John, who was currently have a difficult time hiding his laughter.

“Are you kidding me?” You asked exasperated, because you messed up your writing and because of the moment you just had. He started laughing, his smile contagious. You tried to hid it.

You pressed your lips into a pout, trying to look menacing.

“Shut up,” you said a little harshly. He looked at you, quirking his eyebrow.

“Make me,” he whispered leaning in. 

With absolutely no hesitation, you shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. His eyes widened trying to realize what you did. After a minute of him coughing and you laughing he looked at you.

“Dude, what the hell?” He finally said. You smirked at him. “That was not what I was expecting, but, well played.”

“What were you expecting?” You inquired, still smirking.

He gently took hold of your face leaning into you.

“Something like this,” he said, mouth right over yours, before pressing his lips to you. It was gentle and a little unexpected, but welcomed. You eyes closed, floating around cloud nine. He pulled you a little closer to him, making you lean into the couch on your back. He drew his lips from yours, his eyes still closed. You brushed you nose against his, his eyelashes gently swept over your cheeks, leaving butterfly kisses. Your fingers dug through his soft curls of hair.

The doorway suddenly swung open, the both of you being pulled out of the moment. You and John looked up, seeing your friends standing in the door way. You face filled with heat, John’s freckle dusted cheeks now pink.

Hercules and Alexander passed a wad of cash to Lafayette, who now had the smuggest smile on his face. 

~~~~~~~

Okay that’s my first writing piece on here! Whew! This was really fun to write!

Please let me know what you think