he is still little up to now

i can already feel tfp becoming like that one annoying neighborhood kid who insists on hanging out with your children, and he’s generally terrible and his parents don’t bother to even try to discipline him and he has all these quirks that drive you up a damn wall and he constantly tells stories you know can’t possibly be true, but every now and then he’s unexpectedly funny or, on even rarer occasions, a little bit sweet, but mostly you wish he’d just leave your children the hell alone. but then he does and you don’t see him for a while, and you kinda start to wonder what timmy’s up to these days, if he’s still an annoying little hellspawn or if maybe you’d like him more now, maybe he’s changed after all, so you invite him over to play with your kids again, just to see, and he makes a mess of your house and rubs his unwashed hands all over the snacks and sucker punches your favorite child in the mouth, and you remember all over again why you didn’t like him in the first place…

review on ampharos’ sprites

gold:

a startled boy!!  it looks like something came up behind him silently and tapped him on the shoulder!!  very cute and Nice.  10/10

silver:

now hes turned around completely to look at who tapped him on the shoulder.  he is curious and maybe even a little concerned!!!  10/10

RSE:

not as chubby as he used to be, and they changed his color palette to a darker yellow, but still a friend!!  look at the little smile on his face!!!!  he just wants to say hello!!  8/10

DPP:

look at him!!!!!!!!  this lovely fellow is jumping for joy!!!  hes so happy to see you!!  hey there pal!!!  9/10

HG/SS:

oh no.  something made him mad.  this boy is ready to take on the world, and hes not pulling any punches!!  even though hes not as friendly as he used to be, he is still good.  6/10

BW/BW2:

OH!!!!!  hes so energetic!!!  look at him dance and clap his hands!!!!  and look at that smile too!!!  wonderful!!  11/10

XY/ORAS:

he is calm and composed.  what happened to the energy, friend??  he still has a little smile, but hes just not as happy or friendly anymore.  4/10

anonymous asked:

Do you ever think that in ep 4 I think when Isak and Even are together on his bicycle,heading to that house,Isak thought about putting his nose on Even's back and smell him and hug him bc he really liked this boy and wanted to be as close to him as possible? Because I do.

do I ever think of it? hmmm, let’s see

in this, I reference this scene I wrote a while ago, so if you wanna check that first

He’s still not sure how they ended up here, and it’s probably a lot pathetic that Isak hasn’t thought twice both times Even asked him to follow, no explanation given. In his defense, though, there’s something extremely powerful in the way Even says too little and behaves too much.

His eyes don’t ever leave space for questioning, and Isak’s glad he can’t see them right now. Were he to look at Even’s eyes out here, no one around them, the quiet streets giving a false pretense of privacy, he’s sure he’d fall right into the same pit he did last week – he still hasn’t gotten over the feel of Even’s breath by his cheek.

How is Isak meant to look at him and not think of what could’ve been? One week of replaying the scene over and over again in his head, recounting all the seconds he lost track of in the moment, quoting to himself all the words they exchanged, and he’s come to the conclusion he’s not going mad.

Not fully, anyway.

There’s no universe in which Even’s intention was not to kiss him. And if the kitchen wasn’t proof enough for Isak’s troubled brain, the too-close, time-bending kiss by his door made it for him. No fucking friend of his kisses him fucking goodbye.

Keep reading

Anonymous prompted: With what I’ve seen so far in the series, Phil is always the one who’s patching up Melinda. Can you write one where Melinda is the one patching up Phil? Thanks :)

Such a great prompt! Thank you for sending it! I hope you enjoy. :)


The cut over his left eye was still bleeding. He just wiped it away as he opened the door to the little medical room on the plane.

Somehow he always managed to get hit there. But he had retaliated. His first punch took the Watch Dog out. Now he was locked up  in the back of the plane. They would focus on him again once they got back to base.

He opened a cabinet. Somewhere in there must still be some of that super glue stuff Simmons had developed to treat cuts and bruises.

“Plane’s up in five,” May said behind him.

He turned around.

She raised a brow. “You look like shit.”

He grinned and winced. Smiling hurt. Damn it, his whole left side hurt. Trying to relax his face as much as possible, he focused back on the cabinet. “You should see the other guy.” Right in the back was the glue! He reached for it and pulled it out.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and turned to her again.

“Let me,” she said. She already had grabbed the cotton sticks from the counter.

How could he say no?

He handed her the glue and leaned against the counter to make himself smaller.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she applied to glue to his forehead, making him want to kiss her.

o0o

This is part of my Remember The Happy Weekend Extravaganza

Hey friends, 

I’m still working on a prompted one shot in which Elaine makes Simon invite Raphael to dinner and he has to keep the vampire thing a secret, and Raphael catches on to what Simon is doing and is just like -_- and right now it’s about a third of the way written, and it’s not fluffy yet, but it will be and there will be saphael and Elaine shenanigans and it’s gonna be fun, so yeah hopefully I/ll have it up like tomorrow afternoon. 

Here’s a little line from captain of the saphael ship Elaine Lewis:

“Come on, Monkey, with you and your sister having been away for the past couple months I haven’t had the opportunity to properly cook for anyone. You and Raphael are the only ones who can save my diminishing hostessing skills.”

So it’s canon compliant, but it waill also be a fix it fic of sorts, and there will be fluff, and yeah. :D

fcn: clocks

There’s a big, round clockface above the door of Fitton Village Hall, and Martin has been staring up at the slow old hands for the last eleven minutes. He knows the number exactly, because it was three past four o’ clock when the old lady had stood in front of them, and said, quite firmly, that she only had room for two evacuees in her little cottage.

(At first, Martin wondered if she would take him and Simon, since it would be easier for two boys to share a room - or perhaps the lady in charge would say that he and Caitlin ought to go, as they were the youngest two and oughtn’t be split up. He had not counted on Caitlin clinging so tightly to Simon, sobbing into his jumper, simply refusing to let go. He had not counted on being the one left over.)

So now it is fourteen minutes past four, and he is the only one still standing in the village hall. The lady who brought them from the train station - Mrs Herlihy - keeps saying nice and kind things like, “it won’t be long now”, and “someone is sure to come along a little late”, but Martin is beginning to wonder if he will have to sleep here, all alone, curled up under one of the wooden tables with his overcoat spread out like a blanket.  Why couldn’t that little old lady have taken all three of them? Hadn’t Mummy said, only this morning, that they must stay together, and look after each other? He wonders if the loud tick-tock of the clock will keep him awake if he does have to sleep here - or if the hardness of the floor will do it. He wonders if—

The sound of a new voice in the passageway outside the hall cuts through his imaginings. 

“I told you we would be late, you silly boy - and here was I thinking you wanted to have someone your own age staying with us. They’ll all have gone now. I’ve never known someone so good at dilly-dallying!” 

Footsteps lead into the hall and a lady appears, with a little boy in tow who seems just a bit younger than Martin.

Mrs Herlihy’s face brightens. “Hello,” she says, “You’re just in time - we’ve one little soul left. Say hello, Martin.”

He does so, and the other little boy bounds forward immediately and takes him by the hand. “Hello! I’m Arthur. You’re coming to live with us! Can I take your case? Did you have a long journey and did you bring a scarf with you, it’s cold outside!” 

“Arthur,” said the boy’s mother reprovingly, “At least let him get a word in edgeways.”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited!”

Martin smiled back at Arthur, and let him take his case, shooting one last glance up at the old clock as they left the hall. Nineteen minutes past four. 

Still plenty of time to get in words, edgeways or otherwise, before the sun set on his first day in Fitton.

Impulse. Chapter 10

Impulse. Chapter 9.

The Joker walked to his bedroom door and unlocked it slowly. Shutting the door behind himself, he walked over to her. His dear little Harlequin still looked exactly the same as when he left her. It had been 8 hours since he’d decided to saddle himself with this blonde burden and now it was now time for to wake up.

“Harley.” He murmured, shaking her shoulders. “Harley?” J shook a little harder this time, causing the bed to bounce, but she still didn’t respond. “HARLEY!? Wake up sleeping beauty.” He said, continuing to shake her body a little more forcefully. Her head rolled from side to side with a distorted groan leaving her lips.

C'mon.

Loosing his temper slightly at her resistance to join the land of the living, he slapped her face lightly. But again, still nothing. Joker growled deeply, he sprung back away from her and marched towards the bathroom, with a cunning idea rattling around in his head. He grabbed a tall glass from the vanity and filled it full of water.

“Last chance Harls.” J warned as he walked back to her and removed the towel from her body. Joker threw it across the room and hovered the full cup above her body, tilting it little by little, thus allowing droplets of icy cold water to land on her stomach. Harley squirmed and let out a hitched breath under the gentle sting of the liquid. Now moving the cup to her neck, J let it trickle over her. Harley gasped again but this time her face displayed her face a crease of enjoyment. The water seemed to have the opposite effect on her that the Joker desired, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her squirming and writhing under him.

“Harley?” He moved his lips to her ear, ghosting his breath across her skin. “Harley? wake up.”

“M- Mistah J?” She mumbled, with her eyes still closed.

Joker smirked at her reply. “Dreaming about me Doll?”

Harley didn’t reply, instead she ran her tongue over her plump bottom lip. J shuddered at the sight, but it soon turned to boiling rage when he noticed the affect that this Doctor was having on him. Unable to remain patient he cursed and chucked the rest of the water in the glass over her face.

With a gasp, Harley shot up awake. Looking around confused, she focused on his face, trying to remember the night before. Harley began to crawl backward against the head of the bed, trying to get some distance from him. She looked down at her half naked body, covered in water. Her face changed from confused to shocked and scared. “Wha-what have you done to me? Why am I-I?”
J shuffled closer, but she held out her hands in defence. “Get away from me!” Harley shouted.

“Calm down,” J eased. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

His words fell on deaf ears when all Harley could notice was his state of undress. Completely shirtless, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants. She clutched tightly to her half naked body, covering her figure from his fiery blue eyes. “What did you do to me?!”

Joker threw his head back and laughed at the undertone of her accusation. “Don’t worry Princess, I didn’t touch you.”

“Liar!” She shouted, all fear gone now with it being replaced with pure anger.

“Don’t you dare call me a liar!” J snapped back, pointing one of his impossible long fingers at her. “I didn’t touch you!”

Harley opened her mouth to retort but instead she couldn’t help but examine his body. A skull jester tattoo was situated on the top right hand side of his shoulder, big enough to cover that half of his chest, on the opposite side was ‘HAHAHAHA’ Written repeatedly, with a deck of cards above it. On his left arm the 'HAHA’s’ continued. It was insane, but so was he. She realised in that moment that he really meant it when he said that his tattoos represented him.
His left hand had his trademark grin inked onto it, and the same picture appeared again on his right bicep also had some sort or bird tattoo with an arrow piercing it’s body and on the left sat the Bat symbol with a dagger penetrating the centre. Harley squinted to get a better look. She’d heard the rumors about why he wore a grill, she was told that Batman had kicked his face in after he killed his sidekick Robin, as if the grill wasn’t enough of a reminder, the maniac got a bloody tattoo as well.

“See something you like toots?” Joker purred, seeing her eyes wonder.

Harley rolled her eyes and ignored him. “Why am I here? Why am I-I half n-naked?” She stuttered, bringing her knees to her chest to cover her body more.

Joker sat on the edge of the bed with a large Cheshire grin. “I told you not to provoke me. Getting in the way of my escape was foolish.” He snapped. “But never the less, I’m still willing to help you.”

“Help me?” A tear slipped out of Harley’s eyes. “You almost killed me, twice! You’ve looked through my personal belongings, stolen my bike, bash me over the head with my own helmet, kept me hostage, stripped me and done God knows what else! And you think that’s helpful?”

Joker growled. “Don’t you dare talk back to me! I can kill you anytime I want!”
“I already told you to kill me, but it seems your bark is clearly worse than your bite.” She spat. Angry tears now rolling instead of scared ones.

“You’re really pushing it sweets.” With that he crawled over to her, she backed against the headboard further with no way of escaping. His eyes clouded again, and that’s when he gave her a sharp backhand to her face. J leant over to the bedside table revealing a small blade in his hand, grabbing her chin he pushed it upwards, pressing the knife to her throat.

“Now you’re gunna shut you pretty little mouth and listen kay?” He snarled.
Harley nodded, allowing small beaded tears to splash onto the reflective blade, Her eyes never left his.

“Good. Now listen and listen good. I’m only going to say this once. You and me ain’t equals sweetheart, you’re mine now. I own you. You will do everything I tell you to do, with now resistance.” Joker said firmly. “Now a few rules before we begin… 1. NO backchat, or you’ll get a backhand. 2. You’ll do what I tell you without question. 3. When you’re with me and the boys, speak when you’re spoken to, not a moment before. 4. Dinner is your job now, you have to earn your keep. 5. DO NOT under any circumstances enter my office. You better be dying if you do, or you’ll wish that you were. 6. No going out. Not unless you have my permission and escorted by me or my men. 7. Keep your opinions to yourself. 8. I better see a smile on your face at all times, or I’ll carve one into it. Heath Ledger style. 9. Lateness will not be tolerated, I need you punctual at all times. 10. Your training will be intense, refuse or upset me and I’ll kill you, slowly and intimately until you beg for death.” He warned with a heavy glint behind his eyes. “You better remember these because I don’t give second chances. Understand me Princess?”

“Y-yes.” Harley stuttered, feeling the cold blade still against her neck.

“Good, any questions?” J released the blade from the throat and sat back on his knees.

“Why-why me?” She asked, now rubbing her neck.

“I see potential in you toots, you and me are cut from the same cloth. I see the woman behind your eyes trying to break free, aching to break loose. With my help, I can release you, make you see the world as it should be seen. I can set your mind free, you’ll experience things people only dream about, your deepest and darkest desires will become reality.” Moving closer, Joker placed a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t want for anything in this world now you’re with me.”

“Okay.” Harley gulped, not agreeing but not wanting to antagonise him further.

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” He asked, raising a brow

In fear of upsetting him, she swallowed the lump in her throat and whispered. “I dunno what to say… Thanks I guess?”

What you’re thanking him? He’s going to destroy you, physically and mentally! He’ll break you, and your thanking him? Wake up Harls! This ain’t a game, he’s a criminal a dangerous, violent, and damn right insane one. Get out! Get outta there! Better to die trying than become him.

“Good Girl.” J said, patting her on the head like a dog. He then moved off the bed and walked over to his wardrobe. “I’ll go shopping tomorrow but for now this should fit.” He tossed one of his old shirts at her, letting it land in a heap on the middle of the bed. “Don’t just stare at it! Get dressed.”

She bit her tongue, holding back the unsavoury words that she wanted to throw at him. Picking up the soft red cotton shirt, she pulled it over her body. The fabric swallowed her whole. Despite it being way too big, it was soft and gentle on her bruised skin. Shaking her hair with her fingers, it fell into calming waves down past her shoulders.

Joker stared at her, with a slightly parted mouth. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bed and out the door.

“Where are we going?” She asked, trying to keep up.

“Training.” J snapped, dragging her out to the corridor and towards the stairs.

“This place is- I wasn’t expecting-” Harley said, easing to a halt.

“Yeah, its pretty cool huh? I don’t do the whole warehouse gig anymore.” He laughed.

“Umm… Mr Joker? W-where do I sleep?” Harley asked, turning towards him. Unsure if this was an appropriate question after his list of rules.

“With me of course, where else?” Joker spoke as if the answer were obvious. But it wasn’t, not to her. A hotel which was full of countless rooms, she had hoped for her own… Away from him. To plan an escape.

“Well, I kinda assumed I’d get my own room, living in a hotel and all.” Harley muttered.

“Rule 11. Don’t assume.” Joker retorted.

“Ok.” She whispered, feeling deflated at his answer.

“There’s no room at the Inn toots, so your bunking with me.”

She nodded, wondering how and if she could ever escape him. Leading her down the stairs, he gave her a quick tour of the hotel. Again making it quite clear to never, ever, enter his study.

“Time for the boys to met ya!” He beamed, clearly excited to show of his new toy to his henchmen.

“What?” Harley gasped, clutching the shirt around her body.

“The boys? My employees? Henchmen? I ain’t stupid enough to do all my crazy on my own.” He chuckled. J pulled her into the lounge where the boys sat watching T.V, playing cards and throwing darts at a picture of Batman pinned up on the wall.

“Hello boys!” He greeted with a wide grin. “This is Harley, say hello Harley.” J encouraged, nudging her in her side. All the men suddenly stopped what they where doing and stared at her. One man even let out a wolf whistle, leaving Harley feeling exposed, venerable, and unable to speak.

“H-Hello.” Harley stuttered.

“Ain’t she a peach?” Joker beamed, he pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her waist. Harley was shocked by his touch, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The men all grunted in agreement, accept one.

“Harls these fine gentlemen are..” Gesturing the men from left to right. “Will, Tony, Beni, Adam, Cameron, Mikey… And this is my main man, Hutch.”
This man was the one who was giving her the death glare. He obviously had some influence over the Joker.

“Harley will be staying with us for a while, not sure exactly how long… it really all depends.” He dug his nails into her side, just a small reminder to watch her step. “If any of you touch her I’ll cut you up into tiny little pieces and mail them to your mothers. Get me?”

“Yes boss.” They all spoke in unison.

“Hutch, where’s Jerry?” Joker asked, changing the subject.

“He’s being questioned by the GCPD about your escape.” Hutch’s eyes darted to Harley “And the disappearance of some Doctor.”

“Ah that’s a bummer. No matter I’ll catch up with him later.” J dismissed. He turned back to Harley and gave her a smirk, which held a hint of violence behind it.

Little potato head still isn’t feeling well! He has already had 2 naps and it’s not even lunch time. He is also clingy and cuddly which isn’t really like him now that he’s on the move.

Poor wee thing. I’m gonna lap up all the cuddles and naps though - I’ve missed being his source of comfort!

6

au where Saitama responds to his haters with overwhelming sarcasm

I needed a little pick-me-up but I got lazy halfway through lol, but I’ll be focusing on au stuff now I promise! my brain has been really unfocused recently and I just, need to get refocused (; _ ; )

They don’t tell the team right away. Not because they’re trying to hide anything, but because they figure it’s so obvious that they don’t need to.

Their friendship transitions so surprisingly easily into something more that it probably looks impossible from the outside. Strange, to say the least. Miraculous, maybe, but only if one really hadn’t been paying attention. 

Dex now does homework with Nursey’s hand resting on the back of his neck, palm warm against the skin there and fingertips absently scratching up against the grain of Dex’s short hair and then softly back down.

Dex carries an extra beanie with him on cold days, and pulls it down over Nursey’s ears for him as they walk to class, despite Nursey’s token protests.

He forgets to eat breakfast on busy days, always has, but now finds black coffee and overpriced Annie’s banana nut muffins on his open textbook when he stops at his dorm room between his morning classes.

He smiles a little quicker, a little easier.

He still argues just as much as he ever did.

It’s… effortless. It’s good.

And okay, so maybe Dex has been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole time–that’s just how his life tends to work–but he didn’t really expect said shoe to manifest in a stunned group silence at team breakfast in the wake of Nursey pressing a quick kiss to his temple as he sits down to join them.

It feels like the entire cafeteria freezes, even if it’s really just the chaos that is the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team during a mealtime suddenly stopping short in collective wonder.

Keep reading

but yeah the one thing that is still irking me about this revival is like

the theme of the entire show, now, is “you can’t escape your parents’ fate.”

i mean, obviously Rory is following in her mom’s path (unmarried and pregnant with little to no job prospects), Christopher finally joined the family business like they always said he would, Logan is engaged to someone his parents set him up with, Paris lets her kids be raised by a nanny, Jess is in unrequited love with a Gilmore woman. They are literally all following the exact same path their parental figures took and??? That’s really….bleak. None of these kids forged their own life path, they’re all doomed to repeat their parents’ mistakes, and that’s the most despairing, hopeless future you can put on anyone. it’s NOT nostalgic and cute, it’s pessimistic and horrifying.

Something really beautiful about the latest SU episode is how they used the framing device to build in the idea of change. 

Both the present and past stories feature the Gems, Greg and Steven hanging out in a house. First, look at their interactions and body language in the flashback.

Greg greets the Gems awkwardly and uncertainly offers them refreshments, then realizes he has little to offer and awkwardly lands on tea, which Pearl curtly refuses. Garnet and Amethyst sit on the couch around Steven and remain mainly focused on him for the duration of the conversation, while Greg stands off to one side. Pearl sits curled up on the table, her eyes downcast, and barely interacts with anyone. The gifts are not appropriate for a baby, and all three Gems lack a basic understanding of what Steven is.

Now compare that to the present framing narrative.

Steven is still the center of attention, but now the Gems and Greg are seated in a circle, with Greg in a comfortable place on the couch. Pearl is happily curled up and emotionally present, Amethyst is lying strewn across the floor in typical Amethyst fashion, and Garnet is comfortable enough to remove her shades. And perhaps most telling, Greg is now a guest in the Gems’ home, and Pearl has made him tea. They are no longer a collection of guardians; they are a family.

“I’m a big country, so I know I’ll be just as tall as you one day!”

“Hah, you wish!”

I just noticed but...

this ojiisan..

Isn’t he the same ojiisan from episode 4?

And oh gosh… can we… can we just talk about him? I mean in episode 4. We hear someone utter “Arigataiya”.

I’m honestly curious why he would even say that. What is he thankful for? The view? Victor and Yuuri’s display? Or Victor and Yuuri’s relationship? The development? What?!

We can assume that he’s a regular in the onsen. And from the above photo where we see him watching with everybody else and supporting and cheering on Yuuri, there’s a high possibility that he might have been doing that for some time now.

And I was thinking  what if, just what if, he’s been there since Yuuri was still little? What if he’s watched him grow up? Witnessed him when he just started ice skating? Seen him in his ups and downs?

So just imagine him. Just imagine this ojiisan who’s been there since Yuuri was a kid and watched him as he grew up. Just an innocent bystander who’s witnessing this young boy in their neighborhood, that kid who helped out in the inn from time to time, who used to shyly hand him extra towels or a bottle of water, become this person now. And he sees him grow in his relationship with this strange newcomer. And good heaven’s he’s been watching Yuuri interact with this man for quite some time now and it’s obvious the boy holds some affection for him. He remembers a younger Yuuri rambling to his mother about this Russian Ice Skater and those posters and magazines he proudly shows to his parents and sister before it disappears into his room. Oh how thankful he is when he finally sees them come together. How Yuuri becomes comfortable with the man and this new side of himself and overcoming his struggles. Now, Yuuri’s confident, he’s learned what love is and what it can do.

He can’t be any more thankful.

And I just drew that out with my ramblings. Didn’t even expect I’d end up with something like this when I started writing out my thoughts. But what ideas have you got about him? hehe

P.S. I would love to read a fic where it’s an outsider’s perspective on Yuuri and Victor’s relationship or them getting-together. Usually, it’s Yurio’s perspective but I think I’d like to get a taste of everyone’s.

Sherlock was sitting at the table working on an experiment and had some time ago looked up to see the book laid across John’s chest and the slow rhythmic moves of his breathing.  He should get up to move the book so it doesn’t fall or John lose his page, but he doesn’t want to disturb John.

The monitor sits on the coffee table between them and Rosie had been napping for about an hour now.  Every now and then Sherlock would hear her move or a little noise escape from her, wondering whether he should go check on her even though he knew she was still sleeping.

He went back to examining his slides content in the fact that his Watsons were home where they belonged after the flat had been rebuilt.

These days 221b was a bit different, more put together. It had to be for a toddler to live in and Sherlock was still in shock of how it had happened.  John had just showed up one evening with a pack n go cot and Rosie’s bag and his bag hitched over his shoulder.

Sherlock had asked if there was something wrong with John’s place and the answer John gave him shocked him to the core.  “You’re not there.”

He didn’t expect it mean what he’d hoped at the time but now as he sat here six months later a small smile crossed his lips.  It had begun slowly, John had arranged for a babysitter one night and asked Sherlock out to dinner and from there it was history.  And not long after that he had sold his place and him and Rosie moved into Baker Street.  This time Mrs Hudson was right, they’d only be needing the one bedroom because the one at the top of the stairs had to be converted to a nursery.  She beamed, it was her proudest moment after all these years.

Just then a soft coo broke Sherlock from his thoughts and he was up the stairs silently and quickly.  

“Hush little one, we don’t want to wake daddy” He gently whispered to her and she cooed back happily reaching out for her favourite blanket as Sherlock took her to the changing table to change her.

“And how was your nap little one?”

Rosie laughed and gurgled at him in response and that had been what woke John up.  He stayed sat and listened to the small talk between Sherlock and Rosie as Sherlock took care of her after her nap.

When they came downstairs, Sherlock was disappointed he’d forgotten to shut the monitor off, they’d woken John.

“I should be getting up anyway or I’d never sleep tonight,” he said as he got up and laid his book on the table and reached up to give Rosie a kiss on the cheeks and then Sherlock a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for getting her and allowing me a few extra moments.”

“Anytime John.” Sherlock responded back. “Would you like some tea?“ He asked as John took Rosie from him?

“That would be nice, thank you and could you get Rosie’s bottle ready.”

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

And this was now life at 221b Baker Street, but don’t fool yourselves, it was much more than that. There were still cases and friends around but John was home and John was family and Sherlock couldn’t be happier. This was home.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love your nurseydex ficlets! I was wondering if you could do a camp counselor au where they're competitive frenemies? I would die !

Nursey has been a serious athlete for as long as he can remember, and he has still never experienced anything nearly as intense or competitive as Color Wars. When he got the job as a counselor, he was a little worried that he wouldn’t be able to get into it. Now he’s two weeks in, and he can’t imagine being anything less than fiercely proud of being Team Pink.

“Hey, good game out there, kiddos!” He yells to his campers, coming in from a hard-fought Capture The Flag loss against Team Blue. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes before dinner to wash-up and relax. I’ll see you all in the dining hall at 6:00 sharp!”

A couple of the kids fist-bump him as they go by, and Nursey can’t help but laugh at the mud and dirt smeared all over them. His kids go hard in Capture the Flag. Melanie has no less than six twigs in her hair. Kennedy’s shirtsleeve was ripped off somehow. He’s pretty sure Malik took an accidental knee to the face trying to dive for the flag. They’re awesome.

Nursey’s about to head over to the cabins to check on the campers when Dex walks over to him. Nursey’s too busy staring at the way Dex’s orange hair falls over the blue bandana on his forehead to brace himself for the chirp Dex is surely going to throw at him.

“Tough break out there, Nursey,” Dex says, all faux-consoling with a shit-eating grin on his face. “What does that make it? 4-1 Blue Team over Pink?”

“Just you wait, Poindexter, my kids are gonna kick your kids’ asses by the end of the week.”

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First

Apparently the dust from the episode is settling a little because now I’m getting fluff plot bunnies instead of just feelsy serious ones lol


Silence settled in. Both Sherlock and Molly said nothing, barely hazarding a glance at each other. It took a few moments before Sherlock finally jumped back in. 

“Regardless of everything else, the fact still remains that I did say it first!”

Molly sputtered out a laugh. “Sherlock, I made you say it. Not sure that truly counts. You thought I was going to blow up!” 

“Mm,” he hummed in a doubting tone.

“You did think so!”

“But perhaps on some level I had deduced that it was indeed foolish for Eurus to blow up your flat and kill you and therefore wasn’t pushed to finally speak the words out of fear for your safety alone!”

“That is not what you were thinking at the time, admit it,” she laughed.

“Unconsciously, Molly, my mind can do truly amazing things!” he stated haughtily.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because even if the words left your lips first, I was the one who felt it first. Years, Sherlock!” She gently elbowed him.

“Again, definitely debatable!” he stubbornly insisted. “I am excellent at repressing emotion; been perfecting the skill for years! I may have been in love with you since the very first moment I walked into Bart’s lab and demanded to borrow some chemicals.”

Molly chuckled lightly as she left his side and crossed the room. This produced a deep frown on Sherlock’s brow as he propped himself up on his elbows…against the pillows on Molly’s bed.

“Where are you going?” he asked in what was to Molly an endearingly desperate tone.

“I do actually have to go to work, Sherlock,” Molly reminded him as she discarded her sleep shirt, well, his tee shirt, and began throwing clothes on for Bart’s. “As appealing as it is to stay here and repeat this little argument, I can’t be late.”

“Ooh, I think you could a little,” he said, his lips lifting in a little smirk as he got up to wrap his arms around her from behind. He dropped his voice much lower and whispered in her ear. “I’ll say it again if you’d like.”

Molly turned around to drape her arms around his neck as she grinned up at him. “Oh will you? Like you mean it?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, his eyes gently caressing her face. He dropped his head a bit so their lips were near touching as he murmured the words. “I. Love. You.”

She scrunched up her shoulders a little and bit her bottom lip, very pleasantly effected by the sound of his words. “I could listen to that all day,” she whispered back.

“That can absolutely be arranged.”

He’d barely got those words out before Molly grabbed his lips with hers, tugging him in tighter against her and quickly deepening the kiss. Not even the Consulting Detective could have deduced that she was about to pull away abruptly.

“Ok, now I really do have to go,” she said with an apologetic little smile while slipping away to grab her cardigan on her way to the bedroom door.

“W-what? You really are leaving?” he questioned wide eyed.

“I’ll be back probably by six.” She pointed a warning finger at him. “No experiments in the kitchen while I’m at work, please! And I’ve got a busy schedule today so if you’re thinking of popping in you’d better call first.”

Sherlock raised a teasing brow. “Only if you promise to actually pick up the phone.”

Molly narrowed her eyes, twisting her lips to prevent her laughter as she gave him a playful warning glare. “Save it. We’ll try that argument again later.”

“Ooh good,” Sherlock agreed with a boyish grin. “I like where that one always ends up.”

Old friend - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Old friend

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Could you do one where the reader is like, an old friend of Sam’s (like from Stanford/high school) but she hasn’t seen him since he left and however many years later she bumps into the boys on a hunt and Dean is kind of blown away like, this girl who he just saw as Sammy’s friend is suddenly this fullgrown badass hunter and he’s kind of in awe of her and is so un-Dean (nervous/stuttering/rambly) and can it contain all of the fluff? :3

His eyebrows shot up and he practically had to hold himself back and his eyes from lingering a little more to areas that were inappropriate. As of now, that is. The shorts the woman was wearing and the loose shirt on top. It wasn’t anything fancy, or too revealing in a way that screamed ‘need the attention’ but actually showing the right amount of skin to still be able to get Dean’s motor going.

And it wasn’t the only thing he felt or was going to feel that was for sure.

“It should be ready in a minute.” the waitress said with a smile and you nodded your head.

“Great, no rush though. I’ll be at the table by that corner-” you motioned at the back “Reading some book. Just bring them over.” you gave her a soft grin and with only a small nod you turned around, about to walk towards your table- if you hadn’t bumped into a firm chest.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologized, eyes wide. And they got even wider when you took a look at the person you had bumped into. To say he was gorgeous would be a vast understatement. You had to swallow thickly and keep yourself from literally staring at him.

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I had thoughts about houses. It turned into this sprawling thing. 

~

Genji and Jesse have safehouses all over the world, old Blackwatch contacts in every big city (and quite a few small towns), hundreds of little boltholes and weapons caches hidden under floorboards and in the back of restaurants. 

Jesse has a list of Gabe’s safehouses ( “just in case,” Gabriel said, eyes overbright, “keep yourself safe out there, kid” ). He doesn’t use them much. They’re too full of his commander–the plants painted on the walls, the beeswax candles in the drawers, the blue eye over each door. Just goes in now and then to sweep up the dust and make sure the pantry’s still stocked with canned food. 

When he was in Nepal, Genji would send Jesse a letter each week, every one to a different address. Jesse sends him pictures in return, a snap for each new place. Genji saves them all, prints them out, leaves one or two in each safehouse he stays in on the trek back to the Gibraltar base. It’s an echo of Blackwatch, leaving photos scattered for another agent to find, passing around memories. They still sometimes get pictures in the shared houses, or left in their more public caches–Chava or Ivan or Beimnet or another former agent passing by. Still here, the photos say. Still thinking of you

Post-recall, they let their Overwatch teammates spring for a hotel and slip off in the middle of check-in. Safehouses aren’t homes, per se, but they’re familiar, and private, and have knives under the mattress. 

“Where do you disappear off to every night?” Hana asks, once.

76 shakes his head like he’s rolling his eyes. “It’s a Blackwatch thing,” he says, momentarily forgetting that Blackwatch is a thing he shouldn’t know about.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, and leaves the knowing, sharp grin to Genji. Morrison is horrible at hiding, but it’s not polite to rub it in. “It’s a Blackwatch thing.”

Three weeks later, they’ll sneak her off with them, comm Lucio, Fareeha, and Zarya to let them know the coordinates if they want to join. Morrison’s been trying to baby them, and Genji figures they need a break and a chance to get drunk like adults. Jesse chooses a safehouse with a guest bedroom and a comfy couch. 

Fareeha brings arak, Zarya tequila and margarita mix. “We don’t have this in Russia,” she says with glee, and sets about mixing drinks. Hana sprawls on the couch like a queen and supervises. Lucio sits at her feet, a glass of caipirinha in one hand. 

Three hours into the night, Jesse’s banging out old songs on a shitty guitar. Genji takes pictures, and gets up early to plaster them all over the walls. It’s not exactly like a Blackwatch party (no knives involved) but it leaves a familiar kind of contentment in his chest. 

They pass through that town again in a couple of months. Two of the photos of Hana have been taken, and in return Ji-ae’s left a note that says, Take care of our champion! 

It’s a hard, brutal battle that leaves them stumbling into one of Gabriel’s old safehouses. Jesse feels wrong, bringing nearly the whole crew here, but none of his and Genji’s boltholes are big enough. Gabe always made sure to get places large enough to sleep three squads ( “just in case” ), and Jesse blesses his commander’s paranoia. The house seems like it’s still secure after all these years, and even better, the halls are wide enough to let Reinhardt through. There’s first aid supplies under the sink, and stronger stuff in the main bedroom’s closet.

“Claim a bed, any bed,” Jesse calls, “I’m gonna get something cooking.” He makes beans from a can and rice to go with–simple and filling–and Genji finds him the spices to make it a little more palatable. 

The team ends up sprawling all over the house. Zenyatta shuts off in the kitchen. Lena takes one couch, long legs hanging off the edge, and Satya primly folds herself onto the other. The third’s occupied by Angela, finally imperfect in drooling sleep. Fareeha and Ana hole up in one of the bedrooms, Reinhardt claiming a mattress on their floor. Zarya, Lucio, and Hana curl up like puppies in the second bedroom. Genji and Jesse take the third, ignoring the second bed to tangle together. Morrison paces the hallways, and everyone is too tired to tell him to stop.

Jesse wakes once, just long enough for a big hand to comb through his hair and a familiar voice to whisper, “Go back to sleep, mijo.” 

“Figures this place’d be haunted,” Jesse slurs, and obeys. 

In the morning, they find Morrison sacked out in the bathtub. Someone’s thrown a blanket over him in the night, scratched “dumb place to sleep, boy scout” in the wall by his head. 

“These old houses,” Genji shrugs, when Morrison spends a little too long staring at the words. “All kinds of funny things happen in them, you know.”

“Sure,” Morrison says, voice an uncertain rasp.

Genji shrugs again, and goes to help Jesse with cooking. Three cartons of fresh eggs showed up in the night, and they’re not about to waste the opportunity for a proper breakfast. 

They leave the house by noon, and Jesse has a feeling something’s watching them go. He waves at the darkened windows, just in case.