put a bullet through my head

Bluest eyes in the history of blue

Sherlock x reader

word count: 736

warnings: extreme fluff

so, I don’t know if you guys remember this but when I had my old blog a person requested this and I wrote it and posted it on tumblr. Ever since I deleted that account and started this one, I kept remembering this particular oneshot but I couldn’t find it anywhere in my documents. So I summoned all of my memory and tried to re-write it. I’m confident that this is almost identical to the original (plus a few things), if anything, it’s better.

alright, enjoy!

Sherlock watched as you slowly fluttered your eyes, which were met with a white room. The beeping of the monitors was echoing through your head. You finally looked at Sherlock who was sitting on a chair to your left, beside him a snoring John. You were put in St. Barts because of a bullet you took through your shoulder on a case with your soon to be husband, Sherlock.

You had to go through a procedure to heal the wound, and since this morning you were asleep from the amount of painkillers they gave you, not knowing when exactly you were going to wake up. 

Suddenly, you giggled loudly, causing John to wake up surprised. You laughed even louder and pointed a finger at his face.

“(Y/N), you’re awake!” exclaimed John.

“Obviously,” said Sherlock as you calmed down and looked to your right, seeing your injured shoulder wrapped in bandages.

You chuckled. “Look at that, I look like a mummy!” you slurred. John stared at you for a bit before looking at Sherlock, waiting for an explanation.

“Analgesics,” he said.

“English,” demanded John.

“She’s on a ton of painkillers. Honestly, John, educate yourself.”

John sighed. “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”

“Great! Awesome, amazing, absolutely fantastic!” you exclaimed. John stifled a laugh, yet he failed miserably, cackling out loud. They eventually signed you out of the hospital and started carrying you out and into a cab.

Of course, on the way out, you kept telling Sherlock how he should start wearing your coats because his coats are depressing.

“… And so, you know. My coats-my coats are colorful and full of life. All of yours are black or dark grey. Come on!” you explained as they gently got you inside the cab, placing you in the middle of the two of them. You immediately laid your head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Half way through the ride, you looked up at him.

“Sherly, can I play with your hair?” you asked in a hushed tone. John heard, however. He pursed his lips in an attempt not to laugh.

“No,” Sherlock answered simply.

“Why not?” you cried.

“Because I said so.”

“It’s because you don’t love me, isn’t it?” you started tearing up.

“No, (Y/N)-”

“My fiance doesn’t love me, great,” you sniveled, crossing your arms.

Sherlock sighed. He couldn’t bare to see you like this, even if he knew you weren’t exactly in your right mind. “Fine. play with my hair.”

“Really?” your face lit up as if you weren’t crying at all. Without an answer, you started messing with his hair, ruffling it or twirling it around your fingers until you got home.

Right out of the cab, Sherlock lifted you up and almost threw you over his shoulder. You shouted and protested in the middle of the pavement, pounding on Sherlock’s back, causing the people walking to give you all weird looks.

Sherlock didn’t bother to take his coat off when you entered the flat. Instead, he went to your shared bedroom right away, gently laying you on the bed. He then went to take off his coat, coming back to you shortly.

He leaned forward, kissing your forehead softly. You stared at each other for a bit. He was about to lift his head before you spoke up.

“Sherlock,” he hummed in response, his face still an inch from yours. “you have the bluest eyes in the history of blue.”

He managed to only smile. “Oh, really?”

You hummed before your eyes drooped down, and you softly fell into a peaceful slumber.


Extra scene

You yawned as you walked out of your bedroom the next morning. You had to change before you walked out since you were still in your outing clothes.

“John, my phone is blowing up with texts about some video. What happened yesterday?” you asked in a groggy voice.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he brushed it off.

“What video, John?” Sherlock cut in, already knowing what John was hiding.

“I said it was no- hey!” John was too late, Sherlock had taken his phone to see the video. You stood beside Sherlock to see as well.

It was a video of you looking drunk. Then you remembered what happened at the case, and you concluded you were ‘drunk’ on painkillers, leading to the video. Which was sent to almost all your friends, featuring Sherlock, whose cheeks were now red.



Elvis, Alice, and a loaded pistol,

King of Rock and Roll Elvis Presley was an avid gun enthusiast, owning a large collection of personal firearms and even building his own personal indoor firing range in Graceland.  Unfortunately Elvis was not a very safe or responsible gun owner.  Stories of him shooting out television sets when something he didn’t like came on were true.  In a few incidents he did this in hotel rooms, getting in trouble when he sent bullets flying through adjoining rooms.

According to Alice Cooper, he met The King in 1971 at a Vegas hotel penthouse and had a most unusual experience.  Elvis was also an accomplished martial artist, and used every opportunity he could to show off his skills.  According to Cooper,

Elvis took me into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out a loaded pistol, telling me to put it to his head.  I recognized it straight away - a snub .32. I didn’t know what to do. I had this gun in my hand and was expecting one of his security to come in any second, see me holding a weapon and shoot me dead.  A little voice in my left ear was telling me, ‘Go on, this is history, kill him, you’ll always be the guy who killed Elvis’. In my other ear was another voice saying, 'You can’t kill him, it’s Elvis Presley wound him instead, you’ll only get a few years!’ A fraction of a second later Elvis did a flying kick on the gun, and sent it flying, before tripping me and pinning me to the ground by my neck, announcing, 'That’s how you stop a man with a gun’.

I like you.
How do I begin?
I don’t know what’s within.
I hate you.
Your laugh.
When it’s not because of me.
I’m selfish.
I know.
But I am scared of letting go.
It’s painful.
I’m dead.
I put a bullet through my head.
“Why is that?”
You ask.
It is a simple task.
To free me from this flesh.
It is just a prison.
A prison full of feelings.
Their power sure has risen.
—  Me

cannibal-sarracenian replied to your postkuipernebula replied to your post: urobuchi wrote…

Te issue with Psycho Pass is that despite Akane, the show is still 100% convinced the main dude and the villain & their rivalry is more interesting than it actually is

cannibal-sarracenian replied to your postkuipernebula replied to your post: urobuchi wrote…

So Akane tends to get sidelines from that despite her story being vastly more enjoyable

kuipernebula replied to your postkuipernebula replied to your post: urobuchi wrote…

^ what they said. the show spent so much time on those two guy when honestly if akane had shot the villain in the sewers it would have been the plot twist of the century.

really good points from both of you. but I wouldn’t have wanted akane to shoot makishima in the sewer bc it wouldn’t suit her at that point. she still believed too much in the system

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry but I gotta rant and you can delete this if you want to but god I wish I was dead and someone will kill me already. I spent 4 fucking years studying for a major just to get a fucking job that I hate and my mom who is emotionally abusive narcisstic bitch has been emotionally, psychologically and verbally crippling me for 26 yearso f mfking life and I'm sick and tired of her shit and I just want someone to fking put a bullet through my head because I have to be reminded daily why I fail


im sorry to hear that.


life may pull you down, people will come to add to your hardships, its natural, it happens to everyone, but that doesnt mean youll give up already!

you just have to show them who’s boss. 

doing your best? i know its hard but you just have to do better and think more about your moves. kinda like chess? no matter how smart you opponent is, you need to try and learn from them and outsmart them.

you control your life and you shouldnt waste it by getting affected by the other’s actions.

you can shape your future how you want. dont let people stop you.

if theyre not proving to be of help, then disregard their input!

and i know how it feels to do a job you dont like

especially if the pay isnt worth it trust me i know. i have a job like that rn.

but think of it this way instead. while youre doing that work, make as many connections as you can so when your job comes to an end. you can exploit other opportunities through people you made contacts with!

dont think your life suck, it may feel like it yeah.. but you have to think the other way around!. instead of thinking how “ this is hard! i dont like this! “ think of this instead “ how can i make use of this opportunity? which people should i connect with? how will i make this useful in the future for my own advantage? “ 

Originally posted by nicorobin

its about tactical thinking.

think of the advantages not disadvantages.

because if you keep thinking of the negative effect, it will REALLY leave a negative impact on you.

anonymous asked:

You've been killing since you were just a boy, haven't you? Losing that much innocence so quickly, so violently, and never turning back. Such a shame.

They held my mother still so Herr Doktor Schmidt could put a bullet through her head: I’m glad I killed them. They deserved it. Innocence- Erik spits at the very thought of it, a bitter taste in his mouth. -was never going to be mine, no matter which path I took. And there are some things–there are some things you don’t turn back from. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.” 

In Yiddish, he mutters: So be it. 



I went up to Dan first and he literally smelled like cologne and then I hugged Phil and he smelled warm idk their hugs are so good. I was wearing Phils star shirt so Phil said “nice choice of shirt” and Dan said “yes what a nice shirt”. then I made a card for Dan and I showed them it and he said it was so cute and he opened it and they both laughed and he put his actually head through it (there’s a picture of the card) and said it was hilarious. Then I asked them to sign my bullet journal since its been a goal of mine to meet them and then Phil said “2016 goal” or something and they both signed it and I was shaking so much but I told them because of them I’m doing what I do in university and Dan was like “aww were so happy for you” and Phil was like “aww that’s sweet.” then I asked for a picture and Dan said “I’ll take it since I’m so disgustingly tall” and I said “no it’s okay I’m short” and Phil chuckled. we took a normal one and a holding hands one and THEIR HANDS ARE SO SOFT HOLY HELL LIKE THEY WERE BIG TOO. After that I said thanks and they said thanks for coming and then I hugged them again cause I wanted to smell them omg and Dan said “good luck in college.” LIKE WHAT A SWEETHEART Then I went to the lady giving out the bags and she even asked for my name cause they’re gonna use my card in the show IM CRYING

Seth was sure this was wrong on so many levels. He hated her after all. Didn’t he? Finding thinking was near impossible with how that dress hugged her body. “Pretty sure you are forgetting I hate you.”  ( @oasisofthemad)

‘‘ oh you hate me? why haven’t you put that wooden bullet in your gun through my heart already then? i’m right here, vulnerable, ready for you to kill. & yet you do nothing.’‘ she tilts her head to the side a bit, lips parting into a grin.

Dear big brown eyes,

You said we always talked in signs,
With staggered breaths in between and
Busted lips with blood on my cheek
Ripping holes through your skin,
I told you I thought the Lord painted the universe in your
Big brown eyes, and the theory of you being with her
Makes my world implode

I’m ripping through your skin
With my nails this time around
And I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so hollow
I found bullet holes going through your soul
So many gaping holes, stars so far apart
And we put them together not knowing
What they truly are, but I never told you that did I?
We never talked about the universe in your big brown eyes

You said you knew when I had something to say
Something about biting my lip, or not showing my face
But, you had holes in your chest, your ribs
Rotten like your head, like your skin
‘Cause we always talked in signs
And I was hoping you’d get mine, cause
The universe is on my lips
Or in my head, at least that’s what you said
And it’s on the tip of everything I ever loved
My small, dead universe, I didn’t forget to tell you that

I guess you didn’t get my sign.

—  heavydirtyanathema, Brown Eyes, Split Lip
The Hunt

“Fuck,” he whispered as he switched gears.

The car jolted forward, I rolled the window and lend out.

“What are you doing,” he screamed over the roar of the engine.

“I got this.”

I loaded the gun and aimed carefully, pulling the trigger. I stayed out of the window for a bit watching the car behind us swerve off the road. I sat back down. He squeezed my thigh.

“Shit, that was hot.”

I moved the hair out of my face, dust and rocks hitting the bullet wounded windshield. I looked back down at the briefcase between my feet. 

“Fuck, Nate. Tank coming on your left,” a muffled Sammy said through the radio. I grabbed two pistols and loaded them. Nate pulled out a machine gun and placed it outside his window. I put the pistols in a holster and unlocked the car door. 

“On three.”

 I nodded. Two tanks came over the horizon of the burning sun. Nate drifted so he was head on with the tanks. He pulled the trigger and the two black cars behind us went up in flames. He threw the gun out of the window and put both hands on the wheel. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he focused on the tank. I touched his shoulder and he looked at me.

“You’re my life and I’d do anything for you. You know that right,” I asked.

He focused back to the tank.

“Yeah. You’re my ride or die.”

I laughed. 200 more feet left.

“You ready,” he asked.

“For whatever.”

He switched gears once more and pressed on the gas. My heart raced and I placed one hand on the door handle.


My eyes started glazing over.


My other hand reached for the briefcase. I looked once more at Nate. He glanced back over at me and smiled.



I quickly got up and brushed the dessert dirt of my shoulders and grabbed the briefcase. I walked in the hot sun towards Nate. He pushed himself off of the ground and pulled out a shotgun.

“Really,” I questioned.

“Old school is in right now,” he joked. 

There was a loud explosion blowing us back on the sand. I quickly located the briefcase and turned around to see the tank in a pile of flames. A deep blue car pulled up in front of us. Sammy rolled down the window and smiled.

“Nice exit.”

I scoffed and pulled open the back door. 

“We have 24 more minutes before they find you again. You have to disappear now,” Kenny said over a radio. 

Sammy changed gears and hit the gas. I opened the dust covered briefcase.

“What’s in it,” Nate asked.

“5 million dollars and a drive.”

“What’s on the drive?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that U.S government really wants it.”

We drove in silence to a hotel. We changed in the back of the parking lot. I handed Sammy the briefcase. We entered the hotel and looked around. Golden fountains, expensive clothes and important people littered the place. Sammy walked over to the desk as Nate and I checked out the lobby. 


We both looked up to see Sammy waving entry cards at us. Once we were safely in the elevator Sammy started the second part of the plan. 

“Once we’re in the room we have to plug in the drive and find out what’s on it that’s so important.”

“When are we supposed to be giving it to ‘him’,” I asked, looking up at the security camera.

“Tomorrow, noon,” Nate said, moving his tuxedo sleeve to see his watch. 


“There is nothing but FBI files on here. What’s so fucking important,” Sammy said, pulling at his hair in frustration. 

“Move,” I said pulling up a chair and turning the computer to face me. 

After hours of typing and decrypting codes I finally got into the classified section. I tapped at the screen to show Sammy.

“Him. That’s our next target.”

Sammy leaned forward and squinted at the screen. 

“What’s so special about him?”

“Shit i don’t know but he’s the only one who’s in the classified.”

We both starred at the man’s picture. 

“Well just our lucky,” Nate said and turned away from his computer to face us, “He’s in town tomorrow, throwing a party for his 18 year old daughter.”

“What does he got,” Sammy asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Net worth is 140 billion dollars, but he’s got one of the devil’s keys.”

“The fuck is that?”

I rolled my eyes, “Jesus Sammy, it’s why we were hired. It’s the six keys that open Gabriel’s Gates.”

“What’s in Gabriel’s Gates?”

My eyes shifted over to Nate, who looked up from his hands. 


“Files for what? Why are you guys being to generic?”

“Files to find Daniel Craw.”

Sammy’s eyes widened. He got up from his seat and started pacing in front of the glass window.

“The Daniel Craw? The man you killed Mike?”

A/N: Sorry I got kinda bored with Robber’s Paradise. So I restarted a new fanfic because I just watched Furious 7 and I was inspired lol. Give me feedback and if you guys think I should continue this.