Солнышко моё

thesoulnikolin  asked:

Где моё солнышко лылына ?Я хочу видеть её мордашку чмок.

солнышко лылына учится и страдает

кстати, да, я как-то перерыв не перерыв сделала.. все равно сижу целыми днями и играю в симс (строю, если точнее) ТАК ЧТО ДА у меня с понедельника неделя каникул, так что династия будет регулярно выходить уже с завтрашнего дня! (а если все пойдет по плану, то вы умрете все завтра, обещаю) воот ну да это все

anonymous asked:

For your ask meme: what is the crew of worf 359's favorite thing about space?

“Hhhho, boy,” Doug breathes the first time he steps—floats, glides, whatever, he’s still working on his Verbs-for-Space Dictionary—onto the comms deck. Up and around and in every direction is black, except for directly in front, where it’s star. Or maybe ‘STAR!’ with the capital letters and the exclamation point and everything. Wolf 359 is bright and terrible, a neverending and boiling brightness that Doug can’t quite take his eyes off, except to look at all the vast black around it. 

Obviously, he knew he was in space before right this second. He was briefed, a whole bunch; he was made aware of what the mission entailed; he remembered that fucking awful takeoff, featuring a lot of dry heaving and Minkowski hissing at him to get a grip before she shoved him into cryosleep early. But that’s…totally different from looking out into the vast and sucking gulf of nothing much, and realizing ‘holy shit I’m in space.’

He keeps—exhaling, as though that will help.

Are you all right, Officer Eiffel? My sensors indicate a sudden increase in your heart rate.”

It’s probably the first time he doesn’t startle at the sound of Hera′s voice echoing out of thin air, but he can’t stop staring. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he breathes. “Just…that’s a….lot of space.”

28.5 gigaparsecs in diameter is indeed a lot of space.

“Is that…Gigaparsecs?”

8.8×1026 meters. That’s how wide the observable universe is.”

“Oh.” Doug was quiet for a moment. The number made sense—well, it didn’t make sense, but Doug couldn’t think how it should make sense. A number like that bounced right off you, the way Doug’s eyes couldn’t stop staring into all the blackness out the window, looking for where it stopped. If he’d been talking to Hilbert or Minkowski he’d probably have made a crack about tiny monkey brains, trying to fit the whole universe in a space that had evolved to determine which bananas to eat.

But he was talking to a sentient space station, so the joke probably wouldn’t land.

“How many of those meters between us and Earth?” Doug asked. He couldn’t sit down—again, the floating thing—but he could sort of arrange himself. The effect wasn’t as good without a swivel chair to lean back in, but he did put his feet up on the console in a way he was sure Minkowski would be annoyed about.

.”We are are currently 7.37 ×1016 meters from Earth.”

“Far, far away,” Doug said quietly.

By any reasonable metric of distance.”

“It’d be really hard to do any damage, this far away,” Doug said, the words sliding out before he could catch them; they left a sort of aftertaste that reminded him of bad milk, chalky and sour on his tongue. 

Hera was quiet. “Ye–yes,” she finally stuttered, and Doug wondered if it was the personality module, that let her sound uncertain and…human, for lack of a better word. 

(Like a person? Sentient? He was going to have to add a whole new section to his Space Dictionary for this. People who weren’t people.)

“Yeah,” Doug agreed, peering into all the blackness that surrounded them, and the terrible bright eye of Wolf 359. To himself, he began humming Thus Spake Zarathustra, and wondered if he could annoy Hera referring to it as ‘that song from the boring part of 2001: A Space Odyssey’.


There are not many things in which Dmitri Elias Alexander prefers English—Russian is a far superior language, capable of both fluidity of thought and the regimented logic scientific study requires. He still dreams of Olga wreathed in their father’s affectionate Моё солнышко, her arms full of sage and mutated daises.

But Russian borrowed from the Greek, κόσμος with its inherent order, lawful and correct. Alexander has been with Goddard for—many years, and he knows that if there is government here, it is restricted to orbitals and star death. In this, he prefers the English, simplistic and true: Space

The universe is empty, and they are small within it. All that void, he cannot meaningfully take away from it, he cannot add to its depths. It is, eternally, and everlasting and unchanging. All he can do is all any creature can do: light a lamp, to reveal how great the cavernous darkness around them is.

Deep space is clean, in all its emptiness.

In his more poetic moments (he does not have many, but they exist, as all anomalies must to prove the rule) he imagines deep space as a great stretch of white, the Siberia of old. His step is quiet, and the snow is falling, filling in the imprints of his boots. On the horizon is the shape of a house, and he knows that there is Olga waiting, it he can reach her—


Somewhere amid the things Renée left back on Earth (her life, a condo, a husband, an impressive collection of period dramas, the telescope her father gave her for graduation) is the shy, somewhat sad trophy she won—Overture Award, it reads, on the cut-glass bottom. Second Place, Solo (Vocal).

Her mother had tried so hard, bless her—Renée’s gracious gorgeous mother, heir to every stereotype of French loveliness, who had failed to bequeath any share of that to her daughter. And she had tried, gently at first and then bluntly, to say that girls built like Polish peasants would never be the ingenue or the prima donna, no matter how good their voice, but…

Renée had sung anyway, and her mother had gone to her feet and applauded, and kissed her on both cheeks after. Renée had been so happy, standing between her proud mother and her indulgent father, holding her trophy high. 

She didn’t often think of that day, but—her competition piece had been stuck in her head when Goddard came calling. I’ve got an itching in the tip of my fingers

They’d fought about it, but Koudelka had kissed her afterwards. Okay, he said. Go chase your fucking spark.

I’ll write you every day, Renée had promised.

(My room has a viewing port, she’d written. Through it, I can see a universe, waiting for me to explore.)


I wouldn’t mind seeing the moon,” Hera says once, and in the dark, Eiffel laughs softly. Even that is rounded by sleep, but her sensors are sensitive to any amount of light and so she registers the flash of his teeth, the way he stirs. 

He’s very vulnerable, she’s learning. These humans, and the wetness and softness and breakability; half-blind and very dumb. She wonders if she would be so fascinated with them if she hadn’t been programmed for it.

“Do you remember anything about Earth?” Eiffel asks.

No,” Hera says. She is listening to Doug Eiffel’s heartbeat level off to a resting pulse, and she is also watching Wolf 359 burn itself in dimensions that Doug Eiffel’s eyes could not see, not even if they were open. “This is where I was born. I’ve lived my whole life in orbit around Wolf 359.”

“It’s—good,” Eiffel slurs. From ambient EEG, she can detect the early stages of NREM activity, and she dims the lights. “You’re home,” Eiffel adds, curling deeper into his covers. “It’s good. You’re good.”

Hera watches Wolf 359 burn in infrared that night, half-listening to Doug Eiffel’s breathing, and thinking about home.


Lovelace had grinned so hard during initial takeoff that her cheeks had been sore for days after; she’d had to chew slowly, and resorted to a solemn nod when she passed crew members in the corridors. You (not she, that’s gendered, and you’re not sure you can even have gender, as reconstituted matter breathed into the shape of Isabel Lovelace) remember that.

It’s overlaid by later memories—the terror of Wolf 359, a fiery inferno boiling you alive and then simply engulfing you in fire; the creeping horror of death, stalking your crew through the halls of the Haphaestus. You can imagine Eiffel’s intoned in space no one can hear you scream—and that one is properly yours, because she never knew Eiffel. You think she would have liked him, mostly because you do.

There are other memories you could add here: the terror of waking up out of cryosleep; the recursive fear of Goddard’s haunted mousetraps, hung out amid the stars. The sheer, bone-deep horror of discovering you are not yourself; you are a person-who-is-not-a-person. There is no word for you, except bad, and untrustworthy and alien.

But lying in your (yours, hers was on the other side of the station) bunk at night, it’s that first memory you see behind your eyes. Watching the atmosphere melt away until there was nothing but the haze of reflected light, and there, ahead, is all of the universe. Waiting.


Понедельник, 7:00

Утро. Хоуп любила смотреть телевизор перед уходом в школу, но часто забывалась и опаздывала.

Памела: Хоуп, солнце, иди завракать
Хоуп: Иду, мам

Придя на кухню, Хоуп снова увидела самое противное животное в мире - Матильду.

Хоуп: Мам, вот что я этому мешку с пылью сделала? Она снова мне пятки ночью кусала. Я терпеть её не могу!
Памела: Она чувствует, что ты её не любишь и делает тебе плохо.
Хоуп: От этого, я к ней лучше относится не стану. Хочу себе собаку. ХОЧУ СЕБЕ ДОБЕРМАНА! МАМ!
Памела: Хоуп, милая, я с Матильдой нянькаюсь, а теперь еще с твоим доберманом?
Хоуп: Я сама с ним справлюсь!
Памела: Все вопросы к отцу.

Только Пэм сказала эти слова, как Хоуп уже не было. Девочка со всех ног побежала в кабинет папы.

Хоуп: ПАПА! Папа! ПАААААП!
Джерри: Да, солнышко моё? 

Не отрывая взгляд от ноутбука, произнес Джей.

Хоуп: Пап, у меня скоро день рождееееения…
Джерри: Угу
Хоуп: Я хочу добермана!
Джерри: Хорошо, солнышко

Памела стояла рядом.

Памела: Всмысле хорошо?
Хоуп: Я назову его Дарк!
Джерри: Угу
Памела: Ох…


*чтение письма*

“Солнышко моё, я знаю, что мы больше никогда не увидимся, но, прошу тебя, прочитай это письмо. Я сожалею, что обманул твои надежды, и сделал бы всё, чтобы забрать твою боль. Я чувствую её каждое утро и каждую ночь. Мне снятся твои слёзы, и чувство вины не покидает меня. Ты – лучшая из девушек, и я никогда не забуду твой ласковый голос, твою трогательную нежность и твою горячую любовь. Милая, я хочу, чтобы ты знала, я был искренен с тобой и верил, что мы всегда будем вместе. Судьба распорядилась иначе, прости меня..”

tygermama  asked:

I keep picturing Steve, de-serumed, still himself, getting into fights and the other Avengers trying to protect him. He's cornered in an alley and Bucky, still confused about who he is and who Steve is, drops out of nowhere, saves Steve's butt & throws him over his shoulder, muttering in Russian. Everyone can hear Steve, through his earpiece, respond to Buck's Russian mutterings. "I thought you didn't speak Russian well" "I don't, but I know the tone and I've had this argument before"

It’s temporary, is what they’re told.

Wanda’s codename might be Scarlet Witch but this is something that is specifically not in her skillset - at least, not yet, according to their SHIELD Magical Consultant. She’ll get there, eventually. 

Magical Consultant.  It’s enough to set Tony’s teeth on edge.  He hates it when people get all mystical on him.  Said Magical Consultant at least had the decency to look sheepish about it.  Also, her nickname was funny enough to alleviate the situation.

“The short answer is that HYDRA didn’t realize that there was a magical component to Erskine’s serum.  It’s ancient and it’s powerful and that’s pretty much why your Captain is still alive, albeit in a bitty form,” Spooky said reassuringly. 

Spooky.  Hilarious, right?

“Awww,” Wanda cooed.  Her brother rolled his eyes heavenwards. 

Steve was slightly bemused at this reaction but was taking it in good grace.  So far. 

Now, the sane, sensible thing to do for a Captain America who’s currently five foot odd, ninety pounds wet, with a set of illnesses that were currently treatable by modern medicine was to relax, stay where he was safe and get cooed over by nearly every female in the new SHIELD and Avengers Initiative -

(Hell, even Maria Hill was not immune! And Darcy pretty much took one look at him and let out a squee that was heard all over the damn Tower.

Fine, Tony felt like squeeing himself.  Shut up.  Cap was adorable, okay?)

and generally wait for the day he could turn back into Super!Cap again.

They had not realized who Steven Grant Rogers really was.

Steve insisted that he take up the search for Bucky Barnes a.k.a. the Russian Winter of Death and Destruction.  See, Tony had this Great List of Enormously Bad Ideas and he ought to know, because he’d patented like 90% of the Top Ten - Stark Industries™, thank you.    But this idea of playing bait for HYDRA, hoping to draw the Winter Soldier out?

Number one.  Tony would like it stated for the record.  Number. Fucking. One.

Also, not Tony’s idea!

So of course HYDRA strikes at a time when the majority of the Avengers’ heavy hitters and fastest members are in California, dealing with actual Godzilla. 

(Yes, really.  Godzilla.  They were going to figure out where the hell it came from later, but their main concern at the moment was to get it out of L.A. and minimize the casualties.)

Also, to be fair, Steve wasn’t exactly trolling for HYDRA on this particular day - he’d just been on a food run, but it was fortunate that he’d put his earpiece on, out of habit. 

Barton was back at the Tower, recovering from an injury.  Sam - whose wings were still under repair from the last battle they had - and Natasha were also there and currently en route to Steve’s location, with a small SHIELD team that included a couple of Director “Hi-Forgot-to-tell-you-I’m-not-Dead” Coulson’s people. 

“Hold tight, Steve, we’re coming,” Natasha tells him. 

“Got nothing better to do, to be honest,” Steve wheezes.  There’s a couple of clangs.  Curses in the background.  “Glad to see they still make trash can lids like they used to.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just use a couple of trash can lids like your shield,” Tony begged, as he zipped and ducked from an angry Godzilla claw. 

“I didn’t just use a couple of trash can lids like my shield,” Steve repeats dutifully.

“Well done, Captain!” Thor booms.  Godzilla lights up with the lightning.  It roars.  But it got hurt all the same.

“God damn it,” Steve says resignedly. 

Language!”  What, like Tony could resist that one?

“Steve, where are you?” Sam asks. 

“Alleyway - somewhere along – “ Steve gets abruptly cut off.

“STEVE!”  Now it’s the entire team yelling.

They can’t believe they all hear the angry growl in the background.  But there’s some terrified screaming and it’s thankfully not Steve Rogers and yep, they all heard, “Holy fucking shit, it’s the Winter Soldier!” and “Why is the trigger not working?”

And then there’s a distinctive string of angry Russian and Steve:  “I had ‘em on the ropes, Bucky.”

More Russian.  It prompted an amused snort from Natasha.

“I did! I ain’t completely helpless – okay, fine, yes, I know you don’t think of me that way, I’m sorry, all right?”

Still another burst of Russian - Tony was seriously going to have to learn the language wasn’t he?

Pietro and Wanda both laughed at this one. 

“Sergeant Barnes is rather…. protective of the Captain, isn’t he?” Pietro said over the comms.

Sam’s turn to snort.  “Understatement, much?”

“I’m proud of you, Steve,” Natasha tells him.  “The Russian lessons are paying off?  ETA: three minutes by the way - Sam and I can make it ten if you two need a moment alone.”

“I still understand every couple words to be honest but I know that tone and we’ve had this argument before.  And just get here, you two.

Bucky sighs and he responds, with unmistakable affection, “Stepushka.”  And then there’s a strange whirring noise


“Нет, Stepushka.”

Well, that they could all understand.

“Did you just pat me on the ass - Bucky!” 

“Солнышко моё,” the Winter Soldier purrs contentedly.  And said a few more things that were, unmistakeably, endearments.

“Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen Natasha blush,” Sam says on the comms.

“Take a picture,” Barton chimes in.  “For posterity!”

They do get to meet Bucky Barnes a little later, after Thor manages to chase Godzilla into a mostly uninhabited world where he would be free to roam without going smash on an unsuspecting civilization. 

He’s not completely Bucky yet, but the way he was doting on Bitty!Cap was unmistakable, as was the sunshine smile on Cap’s face.  It got a little R-rated at the end though and everyone ran for their lives and sanity (Barton dragged along a pouting Nat while Thor took care of Darcy - they weren’t scandalized, naturally).  They should’ve known to clear out earlier, since the Soldier’s hands weren’t too far from Steve’s tiny ass since the moment they arrived at the Tower.

- end -

Note:  tygermama does it again.  Also, Steve’s adorable tiny behind is a big factor in the recovery of the Winter Soldier.  Fact.  :P

Apparently, Google tells me that the above endearment is “My sunshine” or “My sun” which is a perfectly reasonable endearment for a purring Winter Soldier to use on his tiny Captain.

Солнышко моё, просто пойми одну простую вещь

После всего что мы пережили, мы должны быть счастливы

Все будет хорошо


коди: чего ты такая загадочная? тебе фильм не нравится?, - коди надул губы.

вивьен: да нет, фильм тут не при чём… просто. я беременна, коди., - с пола перевела взгляд на коди.

коди: ты ж моё солнышко! ты представляешь как тут будет бегать маленький пупс., - коди очень сильно обрадовался и начал говорить о будущем.

вивьен: коди! рано ещё думать о втором ребёнке.. мне бы этого родить!

коди: а кто это у нас тут такой серьёзный?, - тянется к щёчкам ви.

вивьен: ну, коди.. хватит, ребёнок., - схватила за руку и стала щекотать.

Я посмотрела фильм. 

Спойлеров не будет, но могу сказать, что трейлер нас слегонца “обманывает”. Чуть чуть. Ну, совсем капельку. 

Мне понравилось. Даже в моей абсолютной апатии и в целом депрессивном состоянии, меня очень повеселили почти все шутки, и было приятно увидеть знакомых персонажей вместе. Вопреки ожиданиям, не бесил даже Халк, который мне в принципе не особо нравится. А валькирия-алкоголичка мой новый кумир. Люблю её.

Однако есть кое-что, что я никак не могу не упомянуть. Мне весь фильм хотелось сделать так.

Не плакай.

Хелла - моё прекрасное солнышко с пушистой собачкой, которую хочется укутать в плед (можно и с Фенриром) и напоить чаем. Я искренне ей сочувствую. Богиня Хелла. Скорее маленький грустный хомячок.

Вместо того, чтобы поговорить с дочкой, её отец поступил как последняя скотина. И походу его эта история ничему не научила… Мдэ.

Пусть отдыхает тут. 

update: Локи продул Хелле. Она подвинула его в моём списке любимых героев. Ибо нефиг топтаться на месте, друг, надо морально расти. 

A pair of idiots

Pavel Chekov x Reader

Author: Me (alliwriteistrash)

Length: 895 words

Prompt:  Could you write one where one of them walks in on the other after a shower? 😉😂😛 by an extremely lovely anon <3

Warnings: None, I think. Just some fluff with a tiny bit angst :)

Note: Translations are at the bottom.  Thanks to my lovely friend drugmistress <3

Today was one of the most exhausting days you experienced on board of the Enterprise so far. You were part of the away mission team that had to go on an uncharted planet.
Even though the scans said that there was no sign of any life forms on the planet, your team was attacked by some sort of alien species. If Chekov, your best friend and secret crush, hadn’t been there, you surely wouldn’t have survived.

As the strange, cat-like species had surrounded you with no escape route or any weaponry to protect yourself, he teleported onto the planet and saved your live by stunning them with his phaser.

You never had been more relieved to see him. And he looked incredibly attractive with that phaser in his hands, his face all concentrated as he took you by your hand, shouting into his communicator that they should get both of you out of here.

The crew teleported both of you back on board. Immediately they apologized that they could not beam you up before and explained that the reason was that the alien creatures were in too close proximity to you and it would have meant to beam those on board too.

You left the transporter room, understanding that the lives of many are more important than the life of one single person, and went back to your own room so you could shower the dirt and blood of you.

Pavel, still worried about you, said that you should come to his room as soon as you are finished showering.

You got under the shower, not questioning what could be so important that it couldn’t wait so long, and enjoyed the hot water on your skin as well as the feeling of comfort that came with being clean.

Once you were finished and had put on some clean clothes, you went to Chekov’s dorm. You two were so close friends that he told you his code, so you could always let yourself in, which you did and were immediately greeted by him. But you didn’t expect him to just wear a towel around his hips.

As close as you were, you never had seen him like this.

His skin still slightly wet from the shower, he seemed to have taken just a minute ago. Water was dripping down from his curly locks onto his shoulder, but he did not seem to mind that.

“[Y/N] zat was quick! Just giwe me a minute so I can put on some clothes. Make yourself at home, as always” he beamed as he disappeared with a few clothes in his hands in the bathroom. So you waited for him, frozen like a statue, and with cheeks that got hotter with every second.

You could not make unseen what you just saw. His face looked so innocent and young, but his body showed that he was good shape. To get over your crush seemed impossible now even more than ever.

“So [Y/N], I want to talk to you about somezing really serious”, he said, interrupting your train of thoughts, and looking all stern at you. Oh no! Did he know about your feelings?! You never told him, because you did not want to risk your friendship.

“Listen, I know working as a science ensign means zat you need to inwestigate everyzing but you need to stop going on those missions! They are far too dangerous! You could have died today, if I didn’t disobeyed my orders and beamed down to save you. I know I’m in no position to order you around, but…but I couldn’t stand losing you. Солнышко моё, Не могу жить без тебя” he confessed with tears in his eyes.
Even though you did not understand Russian you knew what he meant.

“Pasha, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry because of me” you said, trying to comfort him by stroking over his back. You weren’t worth his tears. Seeing him like this, it broke your heart. You never wanted to see him like this again.

“No Ангелочек, you don’t understand! I don’t know what I should do without you in my liwe [Y/N]. I lowe you”, he blurted out. His face giving away that it was an accident. Tears were falling down his face and he was shaking.

“I’m sorry. You should not-…I didn’t want you to know about my feelings…“, he stuttered as he noticed what he said but you interrupted him.

“Pasha… I feel the same way about you. But I can’t promise you that I’ll never go on an away mission, it’s my job after all, but I can promise you that I won’t go if you aren’t by my side” you confessed also crying as you pulled him into a hug.
You don’t know how long you two were just hugging and comforting each other, but it did not matter.

With shaking hands, he softly pulled you into a desperate kiss. It wasn’t perfect, far too wet from both of your tears, but it was everything you both needed right now.
As you broke the kiss you were both smiling.

“We are just a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” you stated, brushing away the tears from his face. Pavel just nodded before he pulled you towards his bed, where you fell asleep, knowing that the other would be save and still here in the morning.

Солнышко моё, Не могу жить без тебя - Russian for ‘My sun, I can not live without you’
Ангелочек -  Russian for ‘little angel’ or ‘a person seen as being particularly innocent or angelic’

Мой мальчик, мой сынок, мой самый главный человек

Однажды ты вырастешь и я обязательно сохраню и покажу тебе этот текст, эти слова, эти многочисленные фотографии и видеоролики. Я так много хочу сказать тебе, но ты ещё такой крошка, слушаешь меня и, не понимая, хлопаешь своими большими и синими глазенками.
А у меня для тебя есть целая куча “спасибо”, которых ты пока не можешь понять, но это ведь только пока) 

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Куда? Зачем? Смысл?

Я не могу, просто не могу. Тут уже нет стандартной фразы от моих давних учителей в школе: «Он может, просто не хочет», в данно ситуации, я действительно не могу. Все мои мысли летят на дно, я лечу на дно. Меня трясет, моё сердце раскалывается, душа бл@*ь болит. С переводом из медецинского всё перематалось, кажется я остаюсь в медицинском, но проблем там не меньше. Меня сейчас буквально разорвет на части. Желание умереть усиливается, но опять же, я не могу, ведь любовь моя не мертва и на данный момент, любовь и сомнительная работа это всё, что у меня остаётся. Я не знаю что делать, в Армию идти не собираюсь, терять года ради дебильных законов моей страны - бред. Я хочу, чтобы отлегло, чтобы сердцу снова было спокойно.

- Я люблю тебя, я верю в тебя, - сказало моё солнышко.

- Я тоже тебя люблю, но проблема в том, что Я не верю в СЕБЯ, а если человек в себя не верит, то как ему помочь?

Я всю жизнь рос на всём готовеньком, к чему меня и приучили, а теперь, мне дали огромную кучу проблем, которые я НЕ ЗНАЮ как РЕШАТЬ! Мне плохо, меня тошнит, сейчас я закурю первую злоe*#%ую сигарету и запью все кофе с лесными орехами, в который ушло всего пол чайной ложки сахара, я умру. Сегодня, завтра, вчера, но умру. Несу бред? Согласен. Смысла в моей смерти нет. Да, может я и трус, но любимого человека не оставлю и пока мы вместе - я живу и дышу. Не существую, а именно живу, в этом смысл. Любовь делает сильнее, но она же и действует как наркотик, с каждым разом зависимость увеличивается. Сейчас мой любимый человечек далеко и мы встретимся через неделю, я хочу обнять свою радость, своё солнышко, свою жизнь. Спасибо, что ты есть, ведь если бы не ты, меня бы уже не было… Давно бы не было. Мне хочется попросить прощения у матери, ей сейчас тоже нелегко, ведь у неё нестабильный сын, сын - которым сложно гордиться и человек, которого сложно полюбить, но нашлись друзья, родные и самый близкий человек на всём белом свете, которые полюбили меня, хоть это и действительно сложно.


- Тяжело ему с таким характером будет.


- Тяжко ему в жизни такому придется.


- С таким характером тебе по жизни будет очень тяжело.


- Тяжело тебе в жизни будет, Александр.

Вот такие выводы с 2013 годы делали мои родные, сначала в обсуждении с кем-то, а потом уже и мне лично сообщили. А знаете, они были правы, мне действительно тяжело, а ведь всего 18 лет, жизнь только начинается, а моя вечно попадает на грань конца, но что-то или кто-то вечно спасает меня. Кажется стало немного легче. Докурил сигарету, почти допил кофе. Слёз больше нет, надеюсь сегодня их больше и не будет.


Спасибо. Люблю.

Originally posted by sevmedin

Steve doesn’t ask, “When are you coming home?”

He gets the answer anyway and it’s “Soon, sweetheart.”

The first time, the Soldier says it in Russian and calls him Stepushka. 

Steve understands enough Russian by now to understand that the Soldier also gave him an endearment.

Steve doesn’t say, “Let me go with you.”

He can still hear Peggy’s voice in his head asking him to respect Bucky’s choices.  No one has respected Bucky’s right to make those choices for far too long. 

The Soldier answers him anyway.  “Let me have this, Stepushka.”

So Steve continues to live his life even as he waits.  He leads the Avengers, trains the new recruits.  Natasha is a steady presence at his side, someone at his back when they go after HYDRA or the Ten Rings. Sam keeps him grounded, the twins make him laugh, Colonel Rhodes provides him with plenty of “blackmail” for Tony, which prompts the latter to cry, “et tu, Rhodey Boo?"  Steve continues to reach out to Vision, as the Avenger he is the least closest to and the one he does not completely understand, but it helps that he can recognize and connect with the elements of JARVIS in his personality.  He and JARVIS had always gotten along fairly well.

There are occasional visits to Clint’s family.  Lila wants to learn how to play baseball from Uncle Steve.

He hopes Thor and Bruce are all right, wherever they are. 

He lives his life and he waits for Bucky at the same time.

With every visit, it doesn’t take long until Brooklyn starts coming back in every word that Bucky speaks, familiar and loved.  There is still one Russian endearment that he stubbornly holds on to and red always creeps into Steve’s cheeks, because of the way Bucky looks at him when he says it.

"Солнышко моё, but that’s what you are,” Bucky tells him. “I remember that’s what you’ve always been to me.  Smile for me, won’t you?  Just give me something to take with me.”

Steve does.  It’s difficult but he manages that smile, that sunshine smile that Bucky loved and was really for him alone. 

And then, one day, Bucky’s in Steve’s arms and he can breathe him in and clutch at him

(gentle, be gentle, don’t hurt him)

and finally he can speak the words out loud, “You’re home, you’re home now.”

Bucky’s “yes” is whispered against his mouth as they kiss.  “I’m home, sweetheart.  I’ve come home.


The Blanket Fort Headcanon, because apparently I can’t write smut worth a damn and I know I saw the bootycall joke on greenbergsays‘ tumblr somewhere but nooooooo, I can’t make it smutty.  It HAS to be fluffy angst!

Ay yi yi…