my message to john

stainedbloodline  asked:

❛ And, I never - I never wanna hurt you. I think I love you. ❜

s4. it’s the fighters who survive

He would not have gone without Emori. When the plan was told, he had spoken of her. Stated she KNEW the place better than anyone around. And so he had gone back for her, he had gone back to pull her along with him. Because where he would go, he hoped she would follow. Being together was better than being apart… And eventually, having found the food and the cooking books and EVERYTHING. He had started cooking. He had started relaxing more. The moments not spent in the lab were the BEST in his opinion. He remembered the small moments they shared. Food she tasted, the way her eyes would lit up, surprise shining in them as she glanced back to him. Or the music that boomed, how he would yank her along, d a n c i n g with her. Listening to her LAUGH, which was the most BEAUTIFUL sound he had ever heard.

The way she LAUGHED. The way she SMILED. Because he had the feeling she hadn’t been allowed to do that a lot in her life. And he wanted to be the one to make her smile. The one to make her happy. As STUPID as it sounded. He wanted to laugh at himself sometimes. Shake his head and whisper ’girl got you fucking whipped, John Murphy’. But it wasn’t really a problem, was it? No… He had ENJOYED it. He still did. He was his own person, just with that bit extra to protect. It wasn’t just HIM against the world anymore. Even though sometimes he didn’t WANT that mentality.

She was with him too.

And the words that had slipped from her lips… Not wishing to hurt him. He wanted to speak up. Wanted to tell her that ALIE was the one who did what she had done. That he didn’t blame EMORI for anything. That she didn’t HURT him. ( ALIE had hurt him, it had been ALIE. Never her. ) She had came back. She had stood by him. He wanted to tell her all that and then–

( I think I love you. )

Words that caused his heart to skip a beat, eyes widening a bit as they shifted to look at her. Words that had not been spoken before. They cared, of course. They showed that in every movement they made. “ Emori. ” he finally uttered out, sinking in the water of the pool a bit, until half of his face was under as he watched her. I love you. I LOVE YOU.  It caused a stupid grin to touch at his lips for a second, eyes glistening up before he finally allowed himself to slink forward in the water, his arms wrapping around her bare waist as he pulled her flush to him, their lips planting together in a passionate kiss.

I love you.

It wasn’t until he realized he needed to BREATHE that he finally pulled away, chest heaving as he caught his breath, foreheads resting together and his lips slowly curving upward, blue hues locking with brown, a somewhat stupid smile touching at his lips.

“ I love you too. ”

daemoninwhiteround2  asked:

your Voltron headcanons are amazing and hilarious and a gift to this world

once again i’m in awe that my gift to humanity is shitposts

  • “where’s pidge” “i don’t know probably planking on a robot or something”
  • lance is a treasure trove of very specific and random skill sets that come in handy at very specific and random moments
    • one time he goes undercover as a circus performer and manages to distract the bad guys long enough for the team to stage a whole prison break by juggling for half an hour straight
    • can totally pick locks with bobby pins
    • king of limbo, once avoided death by lasers by shimmying under them
  • “oh my god guys guys if keith were a superhero he’d be the sandman. get it. get it because he lived in the deser-”
  • keith and lance use the buddy system whenever they have to walk through the castle because they still don’t trust it not to kill them and there’s strength in numbers shut up pidge
  • not that either party knows this but hunk can deadlift more than zarkon
  • allura’s vibe is “don’t fuck with me” while shiro’s is “you could pour soup in my lap and i’d probably apologize to you”
  • *in the middle of a fight* pidge: “tag yourself i’m that galra guy who just straight up ran away when he saw us“
    • lance: “i’m the ship that just blew up”
    • hunk: “i’m the cold, crushing void of space”
    • coran: “can you kids lighten up a little???”
dirkjohn meet cute

JOHN: im sorry Dave I shouldn’t have done what I did but giving my number to your brother was so unnecessary.
JOHN: he keeps leaving messages In my voice mail while he’s talking just like Kermit the frog.
JOHN: last night he started crying about miss piggy.
JOHN: Did you know miss piggy was such a shitty girlfriend????
JOHN: please tell him to stop

anyway everyone i just accidentally messaged one of my irl friends with my john egbert rp blog so i’m gonna go kms, luv y'all

Breathe, You're Safe

gif source: x

John Shelby x Reader

Reader helps John through a nightmare.

Part 2 |

warnings/notes: Fluff ahead ;)

A/N: I’m dedicating this to @peakyblinders1919. They write amazing stuff and I’ve probably read almost everything they have written. This will be a two part fic! Part One about the reader helping John and Part Two with John helping the reader. I hope you enjoy and leave me feedback please, please, pretty please!

You woke up to the sound of crying and labored breathing. John was sweating and had a pained look on his face. His eyes were shut tightly as a few tears escaped from behind his eyelids. You turned on the lamp.

“John…” You whispered while you leaned up on one arm moving him slightly to try and wake him up. One of his hands reached over and tightly gripped your arm and the other grabbed the edge of the bed. Grasping tighter and tighter as your panic started to grow.

“John!” you screamed louder than you had meant to and shaking him a lot harder than before with your other hand. His eyes shot open as he gasped for air, loosening his grip on your arm and looking around in trepidation. You writhed away from him impulsively, holding your squeezed arm in your hand. Tears now fell from your eyes as you wrapped some of the sheets around your body. You hugged your legs to your body trying to understand what just happened. His gaze shot over at you in realization of what he had just done. His fear during the nightmare shifted to being upset about what he had done to you and then finally changed to anger over his actions.

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Hushed Sounds And Open Doors (An Adlock Fanfiction)

(Apparently, since I’m a shitty writer, here’s more of my shitty writing, lol. In my agreement with @dinnerxx that Sherlock and Irene would probably be more embarrassed to be caught being sweet and ‘sentimental’ rather than someone walking in on them having steamy af sex, this fic sprouted. I also inserted some headcanons here, like Irene baking and other callbacks to past fics. I literally almost slipped in the shower when I thought about this… and I feel like my author’s note at every fic is a little too talkative soooo yeah. Dedicating this to my adopted child @realestofgeek too because she’s had a rough day because of some frickin ANON. Anyway, let’s just get on with it.)

Originally posted by wildthingsandcrowns

John looked at his watch, wondering where in the world was Sherlock Holmes. He pursed his lips, thinking that the detective might have forgotten the small celebration they planned with Lestrade for Sherlock’s own birthday, but figured that since his best friend was hesitant about the entire situation in the first place, Greg and himself were purposefully ignored. 

Still, he figured, since they missed much of Sherlock’s past birthdays, they had to at least make an effort to make the incoming ones worth remembering. 

Sighing as he looked at his phone with no reply from Sherlock, he sent a quick text to Lestrade to let him know that plans are still a go, and he would be in 221B to get the detective himself. 

Arriving at the flat, he went in to greet Mrs. Hudson. 

“Is Sherlock here? He’s been ignoring my messages all day.” John asked. 

“You do know it’s his birthday?” Mrs. Hudson quipped back, looking at him questioningly.

“Ah, yes. That’s why I’m here. To get him… Celebrate. Cake and go to the pub.” John explained, confused. 

To his surprise, Mrs. Hudson laughed. “Oh, silly! He wouldn’t want to celebrate his birthday with you.

John’s eyebrows raised, looking for an explanation, but Mrs. Hudson was too amused that she left him by himself at the hall, astounded, saying something about creaking floorboards in between her fits of laughter.

The doctor decided to head up to the flat, surprised that Sherlock was still nowhere to be found in the living room. Seeing that light was coming from his friend’s ajar bedroom, he walked over and was about to call out to him when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Don’t you think you should at least tell them you’re not interested in coming?” he heard none other than Irene Adler say, almost making him gasp. 

It may be a ridiculous idea, but the doctor decided to sneak a peek at the door’s slight opening, wanting to have visual evidence that it was in fact her.

At that, he was met with an intriguing sight, with Sherlock lying on Irene’s lap, the detective holding The Woman’s hand rather delicately, while she glides her fingers through his hair. It was a scene that looked out-of-place if you know the two parties involved, but judging by their soft expressions, it was something that was already bordering on habit.

John can’t help but be amused. So, this is what Mrs. Hudson was talking about? Moreover, Mrs. Hudson knew about this? 

He saw Sherlock roll his eyes, still gently playing with Irene’s fingers. “I already told them once. They should have known better.”

John grinned, shaking his head. This bloody moron, he thought. 

He saw his friend’s expression change to somewhat of curious frustration, now examining Irene’s hand unlike the simple caressing he was giving it earlier. 

Sherlock looked up to her, eyes full of concern. “What happened to this?” 

Irene shushed him. “Nothing. I… It was nothing really.”

The detective eyed her, rubbing her fingers softly. Irene sighed, and John could swear she was flustered. Irene Adler, the dominatrix who almost brought the nation to its knees, is blushing

“I wanted to bake you a cake, just like the chocolate one you loved when we were in Paris. It didn’t turn out nice, so after a couple of tries, I just gave up on the idea.” she told him, trying to sound nonchalant to mask her embarrassment at the admittance. 

John jerked his head to the side, an incredulous expression on his face. Irene Adler baking? Paris? What in the world–? And more so, why is he still here? 

He smiled to himself. Probably because he was happy that Sherlock finally took his advice? That his best friend was happy? Oh, how he wish… 

How he wish Mary could have seen this. She would’ve been happy for him, too.

He looked up just in time when Sherlock stopped laughing at Irene’s confession, the detective reaching for The Woman to plant a kiss on her forehead. Sherlock then reached for her hand and planted soft kisses on her fingers, and John observed how Irene was looking at his friend with all the affection in the world. Without a doubt, the two have been this familiar for years.

John took one last look, amused and somehow relieved. He forgot all the annoyance he was feeling for having been ignored by Sherlock, figuring that the detective got the gift he wanted for this special day. The doctor can’t help but smile even more. 

This was far more different, definitely more real than the display he saw with Janine. And somehow, it felt more sure because it is with the Irene Adler.

He was about to turn away to leave them to their business when he was greeted by Lestrade, the Detective Inspector hovering at the flat’s door and shooting him a questioning glance. 

“John, what’s taking so long?” Greg asked, voice loud enough for Sherlock to hear. 

The doctor waved his hands extensively, telling Greg to shush, but it was already too late. 

“Sherlock, dear, what is it?” 

John turned to see Sherlock, followed by Irene, both standing by the door frame, evidently alarmed upon seeing him and Lestrade. 

Greg couldn’t hide his own amusement and surprise, eyes immediate boring into Irene Adler. 

“Graeme, didn’t you mother tell you it’s rude to gawk.” Sherlock snapped, before turning to John. “How… How long have you been here?” 

John gave a nervous laugh. “Not long…. Erm… So… You two…?”

Irene scoffed. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” the doctor couldn’t hide his amusement. 

“Ms. Adler was just visiting… For a case I needed help with.” Sherlock retorted, and Irene gave a proud nod. 

“What? In your bedroom?” Lestrade noted, smirking.

“And what case? I wasn’t aware we have a… case?” John added, fighting the urge to laugh at his friend’s flustered expression. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

John straightened his jacket and turned to Lestrade almost comically. “Well, I guess we’ll just leave you to your business then.”

Lestrade was still smirking, nodding at John. “Yeah, catch you later, Sherlock. Erm… Happy birthday.”

Greg headed out the door first, letting out a laugh as soon as he was out of sight, and John was about to follow him when he remembered Mrs. Hudson’s remark, things finally falling into place. 

“By the way, take the brainstorming a notch lower, mate. Mrs. Hudson said something about….creaking floorboards?” he mused with playful pretend nonchalance, making both Irene and Sherlock turn an amazing shade of red.

The doctor took it as his cue to leave them at their celebration.

anonymous asked:

If you got a place in the bunker and was assured your own survival, but Emori did not get a spot, would you take it?

“ No. “

There is no hesitation in his voice. The answer is given the second after the question is asked. He cannot rightly see a life for himself without Emori at his side. Without SOMEONE at his side whom he could TRUST and depend on like he had Emori. Someone he could let himself be HIM with without the fear of it stabbing him in the back. Of being cast aside once more like a RAG doll having outlived its usefulness.

And though Emori had pleaded him to SURVIVE. He didn’t want to survive if it was just going to be HIM. Just him… He had done three months of that. Cooped away.  It had broken him, shattered him, build him up, then shattered him once more. No. 

“ We survive together, or we die together. Really that simple. “

Hamilton Characters as Messages from My Group Chat

Alexander: I will fuck everything and everyone then write a detailed essay about it.

Lafayette: I will shove this baguette up your ass

Mulligan: I am the true mom™

Laurens: Boys, Boys, I have enough gayness for everyone.

Aaron Burr: It is 3′o clock in the morning, everyone shut up and try to be functioning members of society like me.

Angelica Schuyler: You dare flirt with me, be ready for a kick in the shin

Eliza Schuyler: YOU ARE TOO PURE FOR THIS CHAT???? WHo ALLoWeD YOu IN tHIS SIn OF A chAt,,,, P R O T E C T 

Peggy Schuyler: You’ve met me before, why do I have to introduce myself again?

George Washington: Call me “daddy” one more time and I am leaving this chat

Thomas Jefferson: Cause baby I am a fuckboy dressed like a preteen.


Philip Hamilton: ded™

Maria Reynolds: I’m so sexy that I wouldn’t fuck me, but instead I would cuddle me and tell them how much they are loved by everyone.

King George The III: I love myself and that is all that matters :))))

A message to the Sherlock fandom:

I opened up Tumblr to this… lovely… barrage of anons. 

I’m sorry you don’t care for what I ship, but: let me ship what I want

Let me repeat it for the people in the back, front, and everywhere: Let me ship what I want.

Sorry that you have to resort to attacking bloggers based on their choice of ship. Sorry to hear that you think I’m homophobic. (I’m not. I just happen to like Molly and Sherlock together and none of that is homophobic, coming from a asexual/biromantic person). Go ahead and block me, it’ll help the negativity surrounding my blog. I don’t send death threats to you, so why would you do that to me? I don’t need people telling me who or what to ship. I’m good on my own.

I don’t need people telling me what I should/shouldn’t ship. I’m perfectly fine on my own.

So this is a message to the Sherlock fans: don’t send hate. If you want to argue a ship, at least do it with respect. Wishing people would die because they don’t share the same opinions as you is, quite frankly, ridiculous, sad, and horrible. 

Anons, if for some reason, you’d like to continue this ‘conversation’, do it off-anon so that at least it will be private. Please stop sending hate, and let me enjoy the show in peace.

Sending love to wherever you are,

13 December 2016.

JDox Headcanons Masterpost

So, Carolina @mogaimermaid​ and I have been slowly but surely destroying each other with our JDox headcanons and I decided to compile them into one soul-crushing, earth-shattering, angst-inducing, tear-producing, heart-palpitating masterpost. Read at your own risk.

Note: this will be updated as we continue to scream at each other.

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rizahmed - A message from me + my lawyer about Syrian refugees

Minutes to Days

Author: Zoe

Word count: 2,594

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x James Madison

Trigger Warning: Car crash

Request: (I think Zoe replied to it, because I can’t find it now! It was a request for Zoe to write the fluffiest thing she could, and it was later discussed that there should also be angst)

Thomas bit his lip so he wouldn’t grin. (It didn’t work.)

Today he was flying back to Monticello from France.

Today he got to see James.

His bouncing leg was probably bothering the woman who sat next to him who had a kid, but he could deal with that. After all, he had six hours till he landed.

Six hours until he got to see James.

Six hours until he got to hug James.

Six hours until he got to kiss James.

Six hours.

He could make that.

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I fell in love with this piece by @hamiltonshorn when I first saw it forever ago. So, of course, I had to cosplay it.

I did my best to match the picture through makeup, clothing, pose, lighting, and color editing- and, honestly, I’m proud of how it turned out.

Yelyzaveta, I hope you like it!