she's not taller than me

anonymous asked:

i think my crush is one of the most beautiful, ethereal people i've ever met. i introduce her to music and she introduces me to poetry, although she's very into music as well. she's a little taller than me, has gorgeous long blonde hair...... and is super vague so i dont know if shes into me or not. but i'm totally whipped

this is so adorable im gonna cry :’( i hope she likes you back !!

knitting a blanket & suddenly not sure how big blankets are supposed to be. 12 feet across? 15??
2

Nohr siblings being taller than the father/daughter dorklords gives me life

LESBIAN EMERGENCY

Okay, so I told you guys how I work at dollar general.

Well today I was doing sky shelves, but there were some customers going in circles. I jumped down from my box (we had no ladders) and asked some customers if they needed help.

I caught the attention of a woman. She was slightly taller than me, butch, and super cute. Of course my gay little heart did back flips.

She tried to speak to me, but I couldn’t understand what she said, then she pointed to her ear. I realized she was deaf. She used her phone to tell me she was looking for a brace, for her injured elbow.

As I was checking her out (not in a dirty way, at the register) I decided to grow some big ovaries and I asked her out on a date. She said yes.

We’re talking now but Im really worried. I know next to nothing about the deaf community or even to speak ASL. If Any of you can help please let me know!

anonymous asked:

You know what I would love see, Alex's reaction to Kara being taller/bigger then her. Like, I picture Kara going through a growth spurt while Alex was at college and Alex comes back for vacation and sees her little alien, her baby sister, and is just 'What part of LITTLE sister don't you understand!? I looked away for a second, I swear to Roa.'.

Yes. Also:

“You may have powers, but at least I’m taller. And I have better fashion sense.”

*Kara hovers slightly, just enough to be taller than Alex.*

“…That doesn’t count.”

And then when Alex comes home and sees that Kara is taller than her and is just… so fuckin smug….

“….I still have better fashion sense.”

I always see Fem!Deku and Todo,, but never a Fem!Todo and Deku so im here to change that

She loves it

The Tower


The Tower: An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter 1

Chapters: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine /ten / eleven / twelve /thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen /

Word Count: 2330

Warnings: Smut (F/F, fingering slight dom/sub)

Synopsis: How does someone with no superpowers, no real discernible talents and a whole lot of baggage end up being the girlfriend to all the Avengers?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  It all started with a blur and an abrupt crash. Here is the initial meeting, and the events that follow.

Author’s Note: Bug Kate @emilyevanston about the gorgeous Header, she made it. This story is NOT a Nat X Reader. It’s an Avengers X OC piece, which means a poly relationship. There will be many different combinations of pairings within this story.


How does someone with no superpowers, no real discernible talents and a whole lot of baggage end up being the girlfriend to all the Avengers?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  It all started with a blur and an abrupt crash.

As usual, I was late.  That happened a lot.  I tend to get caught up in my head while I’m working in the lab or the library.  Which is a problem because as part of my post doctoral position I had to teach an Intro to Biology class six times a week.  I was dashing down the steps of the library, across the lawn and just smashed headlong into another person.

All I really noticed as I picked myself back up, helped her to her feet and apologized profusely was she was small, dressed in black and had dark red hair.  She didn’t really even say anything to me, just ‘don’t worry about it’ and I took off again.

It was as I stood panting in the lecture theatre, getting the slideshow started for the lecture I realized how close I came to death that day.  The woman I had flattened was the Black Widow.

Keep reading

9

hi everyone, this is my bias moodboard!! i’m like 2 or 3 weeks late with this y'all already doing biaswrecker moodboards wtf :/

anyway i was tagged by the lovely @extraongdinary, @minhwangs, @kimjaehwanswife (my sweet angel who helped me with filters and gave me a lot of feedback!) @kimsjaehwan@l-guanlin, @kangniel, @kngniel, @kangdan101@p-arkwoojin, @yjjisung, @ongeuigeon, and @parkji-hoons! all very gorgeous people with very aesthetically pleasing moodboards :-) 

i feel like everyone has done this already so i’m just gonna list people off the top of my head and tag: the @garbage-101 members who haven’t done this yet, @kimdonghyun, @swoojin@yoonjsung@woojinnies, @ongsecngwoo, @woo-jin-young, @daeswhis, @wooseob@kakaotaeks, @jeo-jang, @kingdans, @emperorhwangs, @kangbaeks@park-woojin, @dearlydaehwi, @wannaoneioi, and @produced101

i won’t be doing the other selfie tags so i also tagged people i owe selfies to! i apologize if you’ve already done this and of course you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to :-)

Back to You | JJ

Pairing: Cheater!Jungkook X Reader

Summary: {Based off Cheater!Series} Jungkook cheats on y/n with her best friend and she finds out. What will happen when Jungkook tries to fix things after not seeing her for the past three years?

Genre: Fluff, ANGST, smut

Warnings: YALL KNOW ITS SMUT SO SHIT BOUT TO GO DOWN

Word Count: 3.7k

Note: To the anon that requested this I’m so sorry it took this long to get it up. I just wanted to make sure if was perfect. Hope you like it!

Masterlist

Keep reading

My (Natsu) and @totomochi BNHA OC Youmu! He’s too great of an OC for me to not draw ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) I wanted to draw the in fashion pieces… I don’t know what happened… blarghhh

Order from Your Commander (part 1)

Originally posted by cla-rke

Request: Could you do an imagine where you’re the commander and Bellamy falls in love with you??

Word count: 1,531

(A/N: I took a different approach when writing this, so let me know what you think! Also, if you want to see a part 2, if you could shoot me a message that’d be great :) ) 

Y/n could remember the day the Sky People came to earth very clearly. She and a couple of her people were on a hunting trip, trying to gather supplies for a feast celebrating the three year anniversary of her people’s liberation from the Ice Nation. They were corrupt and evil, and after several months of battle, they surrendered. Three months later, Y/n and one hundred of the former Ice Nation hiked up a mountain and to an empty field. The people appointed Y/n as their new leader and were comically named the Free People by nearby clans.          

 The feast was on the same day they landed. The Free People all thought it was a shooting star, but as it got closer and closer, they realized it was something different. It landed right outside of Y/n’s land. Not knowing who these people were, she stayed back to study them. They quickly set up civilization, scavenged for food and water, and laughed and partied. They were incredibly smart, but also a threat. They kicked out their own people, banishing these newcomers to discover the dense forest by themselves.

 Y/n’s people wanted to retaliate, to claim the land they all fought so hard for. She made them wait, though. She wanted the newcomers to feel welcome in their new home, and then attack them when they were vulnerable.

 It had been two months since they came to earth, and the new people, conveniently named the Sky People, had yet to discover the Free People’s village. Feeling safe and comfortable, Y/n decided to go out into the forest for some peace and quiet. The guards were reluctant to let her go, but she insisted. While she loved being the Free People’s commander, she missed her freedom more than anything. She couldn’t go anywhere without an escort. But she knew these woods better than any of the guards, so she was sure she’d be fine.

There was a clearing about a mile south of the camp that she would go to when she needed to think. It was on the bank of a wide stream, and the grass surrounding it was so green it looked unreal. Flowers blossomed on the stream’s edge and birds chirped lightly in the trees. The sky was overcast, but you were just thankful it wasn’t raining yet. Y/n pulled her jacket closer to her as a wind passed through.

 She was humming a light, delicate tune and throwing rocks into the stream, completely unaware of the people behind her. Three men from the Sky People had followed her to the clearing. Murphy, Bellamy, and Miller hid behind a large tree as they watched.

 “There’s no way she could fight us off. Let’s just grab her and go.” Murphy whispered. They were planning on taking her back to the camp to question her about the Free People and surrounding groups.

 “On my count…1…2…3!” Bellamy shouted. The three jumped out into the clearing and circled Y/n before she could register what was happening. Miller grabbed her from behind, but she kicked out, right into his knee caps. Miller doubled over in pain as Murphy raced to tackle Y/n. They toppled to the ground and Y/n struggled to gain dominance over him. She got on top of him and punched his face a few times, stopping only when she heard the snap of his nose breaking. Bellamy picked her off of Murphy and pinned her arms beneath his so she couldn’t take a swing at him. She kicked, but he was much taller than she was.

“Put me down!” Y/n shouted.

 “She speaks.” Murphy replied sarcastically. “I wonder what else she has to say.”

 Bellamy was much stronger than she was, and it took very little time for him to tie her arms around her back. He tied her legs together too, leaving just enough room for her to walk. Bellamy dragged Y/n by the hands while Miller and Murphy trailed behind. The walk wasn’t long, but long enough for Y/n to realize she was nowhere near her camp, which meant she was nowhere near her people.

 The Sky People’s camp was coming together nicely. They had built a giant wall and gate that two gunmen guarded. They opened it when they save the three men approaching. Y/n tried to hide her amazement, but couldn’t help but notice the amazing technology. Bellamy tugged on her ropes when she started to lag behind.

 “Where’s Clarke?” Bellamy asked a guard. His voice was deep and rough, and he spoke with authority. ‘Is he their leader?’ Y/n thought.

 “Drop ship.” The guard responded. They walked towards a giant, metal building. It looked exactly like the ship Y/n remembered on that day they arrived. They walked up a ramp and into a tiny room lined with weapons and makeshift beds. The weapons they had were unlike anything Y/n had ever seen. It was a good thing the Free People had not attacked, for the Sky People’s weapons were much more advanced and deadly.

 “Who is this?” Clarke questioned, eyeing Y/n suspiciously. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and how innocent she seemed. But Bellamy appeared to answer to her. Was this their leader?

 “Don’t know. Found her in the woods. Thought she might have some useful information.” Murphy replied.

 Clarke walked up to Y/n and continued to survey her. “Who are you?”

 “I am nobody.” Y/n answered.

 “Nobody huh?” Clarke took a couple steps back. “You should just let her go.”

 “Let me at least try to get some information out of her.” Bellamy said. Clarke shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the drop ship. Y/n was back to being alone with the three men who had captured her. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Her guards would recognize soon that she was missing and would come searching for her.

 Bellamy shoved Y/n toward a ladder and pointed for her to climb it. It took her a bit longer than expected due to the ropes still hanging around her wrists and ankles. Bellamy, Murphy, and Miller followed suit. Bellamy grabbed Y/n’s wrists, untied the rope, and wrapped her wrists in ropes that hung on the wall. He left her feet the way they were.

“I don’t understand why you are keeping me captive. I have done nothing.” Y/n said, looking into Bellamy’s eyes as she spoke.

 “We don’t know you. And we don’t like people we don’t know. What’s your name?” He asked as he tied the ropes tighter.

 “Y/n.” She replied.

 “What group are you with?”

 “The Free People.” She saw no point in lying about that detail.

 “Haven’t heard of them.”

 “There are lots of groups around here you don’t know about. I understand you’ve been lucky enough to meet TriKru, yes?” Bellamy looked up at the mention of the Grounders. Y/n continued, “They’re a strong group. Kind too, if you don’t cross them.”

 “Yeah, we already messed that one up.” Murphy smirked at Y/n. She could already tell she wasn’t going to like him very much.

 Bellamy walked over to Miller and Murphy, and took a seat on an overturned crate. Y/n took this time to really examine him. He was tall and muscular with dark, curly hair and olive skin. He wore a black tshirt and jeans, and jacket like the guards had on outside.

 Bellamy took this time to examine Y/n, too. She was of average height but with strong, lean muscles. Her face was composed, and she showed no signs of fear. Most people would be fighting back, or at least sweating. That’s how Bellamy knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. No one is that composed unless they have to be.  

 “What do you know about us?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence that had formed.

 “That you come from the sky and that you are survivors.” Y/n replied.

 “What does that mean?” Murphy snapped.

 “You all aren’t from here, and have managed to find food and water, make shelter, and fight. You’re survivors.”

 “How do you know this?” Bellamy stood up from his seated position.

“Your arrival didn’t exactly go unnoticed. You landed in shared territory between my people and the TriKru. You’ve held TriKru off so far.”

 “Why haven’t your people attacked?” He neared Y/n and was almost chest to chest with her. Y/n looked into his deep brown eyes; she took note of the pain and exhaustion in them.

“We haven’t found a need to. You haven’t retaliated against us yet.”

 “But if you did you would have the upper hand. I don’t understand…” Bellamy started.

 “Things aren’t always about having the upper hand. You are newcomers, we already have the upper hand, war or not. We recently fought a war with people who deserved it. As of right now, your people don’t deserve it.” Y/n calmly replied. Bellamy was taken aback by this answer, by the honesty and sincerity in her words. He blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. After studying her face for a minute, he turned around and headed to the ladder hatch.

 “Miller, keep watch. I’m going to take a nap.”

part 2

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Five)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

My own Jamie,

Almost six months ago, I learned that you survived Culloden. You made history, my darling! Q.E.D.

As many nights as I’ve lain awake in those months cursing myself for not having looked soonerI know I shall thank God every day of my life for the series of events that led me at last to the right pages, to you. When I fully realized what it meant— that you had been spared the death you faced so bravely that April morning, the death that has haunted my thoughts and my nightmares for so long— It was like a wound, the oldest and deepest scar ripped back open, inch by inch. I was completely laid bare from it, from the storm of emotions warring within me: such joy, such anguish for the lost time (how many more years could we have had, Jamie, had I looked?), such fear—and then joy again, because the years of grief could now be ended, and *against all reason!* I could see you again.  

Likewise will I thank God every day for the small voice in my head that nudged me at the very last moment to go first to Lallybroch, rather than to your shop in Edinburgh. Please thank Jenny for me. She explained everything. 

It is for the best, that it happened this way; easier, I think, for all concerned. Perversely, despite the shock, I find myself smiling in this moment: for we promised there would be no lies between us, remember? It is a promise I make to you again, today. You can know, then, with absolute certainty, that it can be no lie when I tell you that I am glad glad and on-my-knees grateful to Heaven that you have found true happiness. 

After all the pain and the loss, the war and the hunger and the suffering you’ve endured, to know that you have a wife with whom you’ve found something new and wonderful; that you have had the joy of holding your own children in your arms, to have seen them be born and grow? It is a balm, Jamie, a comfort to know that despite all the cruelty fate has dealt you—dealt us— you have been blessed with such great and abundant joy. Never would I wish anything less for you, just as I know you would not for me. 

It is my deepest prayer that as you read these words, you will know the truth of them, will be able to feel my heart through the page, and KNOW that from its very depths, I wish you every happiness with your wife and your daughters. 

And yet I couldn’t leave, couldn’t go back from whence I came, without telling you about another little girl, who was born the 23rd of November the year of Culloden. 

I hope the contents of the brown packet, here enclosed, tell you more than any words could about your daughter—our daughter—Brianna Ellen.

Jamie was shaking—no, he was — crumbling

Every breath wrenched through him, agonizing, and the tears were falling, blurring his vision. He had to sit back on his haunches to keep them from dropping onto the page and blurring her precious words. 

Her words

CLAIRE’s

His hands were quaking with

November

with EVERYTHING

Jesus, GOD in 

Couldn’t

He COULD NOT think

Thoughts, words, they were—

They failed him, simply abandoned him as he shook on the study rug. Only his body seemed to know the way, for he was snatching for the parcel, tearing at the string binding the paper. There was an oily, unidentifiable wrapping within, then a layer of soft flannel, and then —   

The sound that escaped him—He didn’t even know there existed such a sound within him. It was terrible and beautiful at once, and though it was in no language, what he felt, his lips over and over formed a word, the only word he could muster: “No….NO….” 

For as though a great knife had cut through those terrible, looming stones on the accursed hill, Jamie held his infant daughter, newly-born, sleeping there in the palms of his hands. The portrait—picture?—painting?—was all in shades of grey, and yet somehow lifelike as a true bairn in miniature before him, like peering through a spyglass straight into that distant life.

He had not a single thought to spare for how, or by what means…

He could only trace the bitty wee fists curled on the blanket, the sweet wisps of hair on the tiny skull.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” 

He couldn’t look away, could not even blink, though tears were coursing downward. 

God, the child —this very child — 

—delivered safely into the world and into the arms of her mother—her mother.

The babe had lived—LIVED.

The pad of his thumb caught slightly as he caressed her cheek, and the portrait slid upward just enough to reveal — “Ohh…Jesus…”

She was grown to a toddling child, eating a cake that was smeared all about her face. And damn him if he didn’t LAUGH amidst the weeping to see just how pleased with herself she looked for it, a cuddly toy raised in triumph like a sword, four wee teeth visible as she giggled out a victory cry.

There she was again, older, standing in a great snowfall, naught but wee cheeks and grinning eyes visible under the great padded suit she wore against the cold. 

Older, still. Three? Four? Sitting proper-like in a pretty frock with her hair combed smooth. 

Such a sweet face—

Older, still, standing with a wee box in her hand beside a giant something with wheels, proud and eager, eyes bright.

And then he was gasping as the spyglass world ignited into blazing, brilliant colors. He saw his daughter’s hair, red and victorious and shining against the black coat of the huge dog she hugged tight; saw the pink flush of her cheeks, spread down her neck as it always did his, when he was happy and exuberant.

On and on flashed the paintings, these captured moments of his daughter’s life.

Going fishing and doing a damn fine job of it. 

Playing uproariously in the sea-surf, splashing and laughing with complete abandon.

Absolutely lovely as as she grew out of girlhood, and God, how vividly he could see Claire in her, as she did—in the lines of her, the way she held her mouth, tilted her head—that broad, clear brow that begged to be kissed, reverently—

Laughing, carefree, safe

Braw and strong as she chopped wood. Good lass!

Gazing softly out a window, seeming not even to notice her image being captured. 

On 

and on

and on 

until he was gasping and looking at the last portrait, of an achingly beautiful young woman sitting on a rock before a fire, making camp for the night, perhaps. Her face was cast in the same golds and red as her hair; the dreams of her heart seeming to dance across her eyes—as they always did her mother’s. His daughter…grown.  

The paintings were strewn all around him on the carpet, a tableau of her; her life. On his knees he bowed over them, overwhelmed and shuddering with great sobs as he looked, and looked, and looked.

She was—

She would be

…..she was well.  

The child HAD been safe.

It hadn’t been for naught. 

He fell, then, and sheltered her like a cloak, keeping his child, his daughter, safe and shielded from the world for just one moment; safe…his….

Brianna


It was only sudden, ripping, screaming panic that yanked him out of the quiet calm, searching wildly, fumbling with desperate hands—

But relief tore from his throat just as suddenly as he found a second page: 

Not everything can be captured in a photograph, of course (that’s what they’re called. Did I ever tell you about them?), and there’s so much I long to tell you about this wonderful person.

Will you believe she’s been taller than me since the age of thirteen? She carries it like a queen, though, like I imagine your mother did. She doesn’t slouch or try to hide. Not Bree. 

Oh, yes: most people call her Bree, for short. 

She bites her nails, when she’s thinking hard. I don’t even think she notices when she’s doing it.

She’s absolutely brilliant, Jamie, studying at one of the top universities in the world to be a historian. You would be so very proud of her. 

She’s not perfect, of course. Perhaps her biggest flaw as half-Scottish is that she HATES whisky, haha. I’ll do my best to win her over, though, don’t you worry. 

She’s a spectacular artist, another way in which she takes after her grandmother. She captures you, completely. 

That statement, actually, is true in more ways than one. Our Brianna is captivating, in every way. 

She’s an absolute wonder with maths and figures —as natural to her as breathing, it seems, just like they are for you. 

She smiles in her sleep, just like her father. 

She’s so like you, Jamie, it breaks my heart. 

After Frank died—But Lord, I haven’t said anything of him. 

It was two years ago. He had a good, full life, and he loved Bree more than anything in the world. He could have been cruel, could have taken out his anger upon the child, the very breathing manifestation of the ways in which I’d betrayed him—but he didn’t. From the moment he first held her, Frank loved her as his own, and while things between he and I were tenuous, to say the least, I will always love him for the father he was to her, for the sacrifices he made for her. I hope that is a comfort to you, and not a blow. 

After he was gone, after giving her time to grieve, it felt important that Bree should know about you, about the stones. It took—well, it frankly took a bloody lot of luck and a jolly good miracle to get her to believe, *but she does.* She loved Frank with all her heart, but she knows now that Jamie Fraser was her father. IS her father. 

You should know that she was instrumental in finding you. She persisted when I would have faltered under the doubts and the fears. As ecstatic and overjoyed as I was at the news that you were alive, I was so afraid Jamie, for you, for me, for Bree. 

Even though I know she, too, was plagued with fears, she remained strong; and she kept ME strong. Even at the very stones, when I was so wracked with guilt over leaving her forever that I would have stayed, for her sake, she was there to strengthen me, to tell me not to look back. She said that she was giving me back to you, and that if I didn’t go, *she* would. ‘Someone has to find him and tell him I was born,’ she said, and she meant it. 

THAT is the kind of person your daughter is growing to be, Jamie: determined, and brilliant, and selfless for the sake of those she loves; *and that includes you.* She asked me to give you a kiss, just from her. I’ve left it here, on the page, for you to keep, always. 

Brianna has been the greatest joy of my life since we parted, a joy that would have been richer only if I had been granted the grace to raise her with you at my side. Thank you for her. THANK YOU for making me go on, for her sake. Despite everything, it has been a good life. Even in those long years of grief, I had the joy of seeing you every day, of seeing your spirit, there in the child of our love. And I’m so very grateful. 

I’ll keep telling her about you. There wasn’t enough time, before I left. She’ll be able hear everything, now. I promise. 

Jamie shook his head hard, fast, feeling for a third page that wasn’t there. “No…” 

Be happy, Jamie Fraser, and LIVE. 

“No,” he moaned. his eyes clinging to the fleeting words, even as he begged them not to stop. “Claire…”

Love, always

“Mo nighean donn, don’t —  

Claire


Those next seconds were everlasting, each terrible, catastrophic truth echoing in his soul like the toll of a great bell, over and over. 

She had been here

Claire had been here

She left

Claire left

Because Jenny—


She was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, crying hard into Ian’s shoulder. When the study door crashed open, her head shot up and she jumped to her feet, her face pure terror. “Jamie, mo ch—”

“When?” He snarled it, and Jenny convulsed with a deep sob like a swallowed scream, and covered her face with her hands. 

Jamie was thundering toward her, a veil of red over his vision as he demanded, “WHEN?” 

Ian—in a shockingly deft and smooth movement given the leg—shot to his feet, shielding Jenny from Jamie’s rage with his body. 

In all truth, the rational parts of Jamie’s mind were glad for Ian’s presence, for that was the only thing keeping the blood rage from taking control, from taking revenge. “WHEN was she here, woman?” he bellowed over Ian’s shoulder,  “How fucking long did ye see fit to keep—”

Ian shoved him, eyes blazing. “You’ll NOT talk that way to—” 

Mor—ning—”Jenny sobbed, her voice a strangled whisper, “—gone before—Jamie! Oh, JamieI ken I’ll—never for—give mys—for—” 

HOW MANY MONTHS?”  he roared, overtaken by despair, overtaken by rage, becoming a nameless beast under it. “HOW MANY YEARS, JENNY?” 

“This morning—” she wailed, “To—TO—DAY—” 

Nothing. 

Silence. 

And then a great wave, tall as a mountain, rose up within Jamie, blasting out everything within him in a single cataclysmic moment of clarity. 

Today

T O D A Y

Then she was—

She could be no more than—

He vaulted up the stairs four at a time, paying no heed to Janet and Wee Ian and the others who were gathered at the top of the staircase, wide-eyed and pale and gaping.

Less than a minute later, he thundered back down past them all, breeks only half-laced under his boots, traveling bag on his back. 

“No,” Jenny moaned, grasping at his sleeve as he passed and trying to hold him back. “Jamie, ye canna—Ye CANNA catch her, she's—GONE—she’s—”

He shook her off, hard enough to knock her off-balance, and ran to the kitchen, shoving what food he could lay his hands on into his sack and moving straight to the door, so crazed with determination he could barely see what it was he took. Food didn’t matter. Fatigue, already tugging at him, didn’t matter. Claire was— 

“Jamie, she’s nearly a day ahead—” Jenny caught the handle just as he did, eyes absolutely wild. “Ye dinna even ken where she’s bound or—” 

He spared his sister one look, and let all the hate and contempt, the rage and the betrayal show there as he growled, “I ken precisely where she’s bound.” 


Since Molly’s almost an entire foot shorter than Sherlock, I guarantee that if they were ever dating and got into a proper fight, Molly would not hesitate to stop, leave the room, come back with a chair and stand on it before continuing to shout at Sherlock with her hands on her hips.