Bucky x Reader Warnings: Swearing, flirting, touching (nothing inappropriate) WC 2043 Summary After your friendship with Steve ends, you’re sent on an undercover mission with Bucky. AN: This is turning into something big. Like, it has a mind of it’s own. I hope you’re all enjoying it!
Special thanks to @beccaanne814-blog for being my sounding board. You’re advise is appreciated so much! <3
The evening came faster than anticipated. You took the rest of the afternoon to get yourself ready. Bucky, the bastard, only needed to shower and dress but you had to pull out all the stops so you could look good enough to fit in with this crowd. You chose to wear a nude coloured, flowy, chiffon dress. Something that would be comfortable enough to be on boat but nice enough to fit in.
You tried dressing yourself but the stupid dress had one of those invisible zippers at the back. Even standing in front of the full length mirror, you struggled, wriggling until you finally gave up.
Making sure you were decent, you called out, “Brad? I need some help here.”
He walked in, fiddling with a tie. When he looked up he saw that you were slightly flushed from exerting yourself.
You grumbled, “I can’t zip this stupid zipper. I never understood why women’s clothes require them to need assistance when getting dressed. This is fucking nonsense.” You turned around so your back was to him and, looking at him in the mirror, you asked, “Can you zip me up, please?”
Gently, he tugged on the zipper and realized it was stuck. “What did you do to this thing?”
“What? Nothing. Hold on to the zipper,” you told him, as you wriggled around trying to unstick it. “Dammit!”
Bucky bit back a laugh, “Woman, stop your moving. You’re making it worse. Take it off.”
I'm sick today so for a prompt could you do like a fluffy javid sickfic? Like David has a cold and Jack is worrying over him or something like that. Idk. Tysm for sharing your writing with the world it is so great
I really hope you’re not still sick because this is a really old ask but here’s a little mini javid sickfic!
“It’s just a cold,” Davey protested, his voice muffled from
under a pile of blankets.
Usually worrying was his job but the second he’d sneezed and
said he didn’t feel too good Jack had made him lie on the sofa supported by
every cushion in their apartment, and then heaped every blanket, duvet, throw (and
possibly one rug) he could find over his boyfriend. Davey was pretty sure the
cold wasn’t going to kill him, but there was a growing chance that overheating
Jack fussed anyway, ignoring Davey’s complaints. He handed
him a mug of tea with honey and lemon, waiting patiently as Davey wrestled one
arm free from the blanket prison to take the drink. He appreciated that Jack
was trying to help, it made him feel loved that he cared so much, but if he
could help just a little less that would
probably be a lot better.
“Jack, really. I promise I’m okay,” he tried again.
“Shh, you take care of me all the time. Now I get a turn,”
Jack insisted, nudging Davey over a little so he could sit beside him and hug
him around the blankets.
Davey couldn’t help but smile at that. He tried to be a good
boyfriend, making dinner when Jack was going to be late or bringing home
flowers that he knew Jack would like the colour of. But it wasn’t like Jack
didn’t do cute things too. He couldn’t cook but he ordered take out when Davey
was up all night working through papers, and he always gave Davey a little
postcard-sized watercolour of the flowers as a thank you – they were all kept
safely in a little box in Davey’s drawer and he looked at them whenever he felt
low. Jack did more than enough.
Still, Davey thought as he wriggled into Jack’s arms a
little, he wasn’t going to turn down an evening of cuddles on the sofa. Even if
he did have to risk blanket suffocation for it.
After series 4, I think I am not the only one wondering about that. I am so eager to solve this riddle of a season that I decided to rewatch every episode as often as required to figure things out (TST about 5 and a half times by now, still discovering some things); may be masochistic, but here I am, more sure than ever that we are fooled by Moftiss and that our theories are far from wrong.
(Note: I still have not made an in depth analysis of every episode yet - so, in the following days, I will probably add a lot of things.)
So, I am going to make a list of the things that bugged me the most, beginning with TST:
In depth comparison: “The Six Thatchers” - blog entry and episode
Okay, so let’s take a look at the blog entry first:
(Note: I coloured the characters yellow, relationships red, significant details blue and the a significant repetition purple.)
First, I want to clarify one thing: This case
is not just any random case that the show puts no emphasis on and can be dismissed due to the “John Watson is no longer updating his blog”-line; in A Scandal in
Belgravia, it is actually shown while John points out that the blog-counter is
stuck at 1895 – the year of Oscar Wilde’s trial and the year that John and Sherlock are always stuck in. It is also the year TAB takes place in - Mark put great emphasis on that. Thus, may we assume that TST is similar to TAB - is someone stuck in a Victorian fever dream?
Next aspect: mirroring. I tried very hard figuring out who is who in our love triangle. Sherlock was the easiest one:
Sally Barnicot: “barn” is clear. “i cot” is Italian, meaning “the crib”. Who is referred to being like a child over and over again and to a suffering Christ-figure? Sherlock, right. Furthermore, Sally’s first name has the same first letter as Sherlock’s: an “S”.
But then, I struggled a bit. At that time I was very convinced of Alibi Theory, and I still am, but the whole mirroring of this blog entry is totally messed up, because:
Beppo Rovito: “vito” is Italian and means
“brambleberry”. That is fantastic. Well, if you do not understand here, I am referring to Rebekah’s video “The Blogs and more” (which, unfortunately, is no longer available on YouTube, because xe took most of xer brilliant videos down :/). So, a short summary on this “brambleberry”-thing: Hardly anyone knows about that deleted scene from TRF; originally, Moriarty
would talk about how much John means to Sherlock and compare him to a
brambleberry, meaning someone who comes in between a couple – in this case
Moriarty and Sherlock. Considering the facts that Beppo and Pietro are already
a couple and Beppo is not involved with Sally at all, it means: Mary is Beppo.
Pietro Venucci: He is the victim that had “a fiery
relationship” with Beppo a.k.a. Mary. So, who had a fiery relationship with Mary,
indeed? John. He is the only one left in this triangle.
Meaning: We have a fiery love triangle (amo vs. ammunition): Sherlock who is secretly in love with John, John whose heart gets broken by Mary (not just by means of her A.G.R.A.-past), and Mary who is messing things up. Every time Sherlock and John seem to be getting closer, Mary comes in between. Because of all this, the Watsons’ marriage is horrible. Sherlock is the only one knowing the truth about John’s heartbreak and fully innocent regarding it (see TLD’s final scenes; god, I just realised that I wrote this meta not knowing about TLD at all and getting that aseaffageads). Mary pretends not to see it - at least in public. (Don’t know if the fact that there is also homosexuality is worth noting, but I just leave it here if you want to draw your own conclusions on it.)
If you believe in the unreliable narrator theory, I tried to reconstruct the true events of TST with all of this in mind (while I have to admit, I am not sure what the Thatcher-bust is a symbol for, so I just left it in there): Sherlock and John have actually been working together the whole time. It was not Sherlock hiding in the house containing the last Thatcher-bust, it was John. Mary broke in and grabbed the bust. John called Sherlock to join him. Mary smashed the bust, revealing an A.G.R.A.-memory-stick (maybe revealing her true evil colours to John?), and tried to destroy it (or evidence/witnesses, ergo trying to kill John (maybe by shooting at him)?), but Sherlock and John were able to stop her from doing so. Mary confessed about her past and broke John’s heart. - PLOT-GAP - John leaves Sherlock (maybe metaphorically, as in “he is shot and dying”?).
I also thought about this whole event being about Ajay and Mary, not John and her, but, personally, I gave up on it (does not mean you cannot try to make something of it if you want to).
There are two details though, that fit EMP theory: the river and the sound of a window breaking. The river fits the weird water transitions we get all over TST, first when Sherlock is staring at the Wellsboroughs’ Thatcher shrine; if all of this is happening while Sherlock has been reading through John’s blog on the plane, it makes perfect sense that he throws in this tiny detail and exaggerates its extents (”couldn’t resist a touch of the dramatic”, see the lack of information we get about mafia-boss!Ricoletti and the massive amount of information we get about Mindpalace!Ricoletti). The “window breaking” is a good example for that, too: When Ajay and Sherlock fight, they break a window - very Bond-ish.
Let’s take a short look at the comments: theimprobableone (suspected to be Moriarty) is stressing how “disappointingly simple” this case was and Jacob Sowersby (Sherlock’s fan no. 1) says the exact opposite. Who are we to believe? If this is reference to the ARG - well, I leave you to your deductions …
let’s look at the obvious, yet modified similarities between this version of
The Six Thatchers and the version of the episode:
“Harker”: In the blog entry, there is a Horace Harker who is the victim’s art lecturer telling John about the busts and saying that they have already been taken. He is alive. In the episode, Orrie Harker is Ajay’s only murdered burgulary victim (throat cut) who owns two of the busts as the only person (all the others have one - on the blog entry, everyone owns just one, too). Orrie’s name appears on screen with this additional information: “Invoice: 5869″, 59 skip-coded, which is reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 59. Also note the gender switching that resembles the one from TAB: Peter Ricoletti from TRF and Emilia Ricoletti from TAB. So, in both TAB and TST, we are introduced to two characters
whose last names have already appeared on the show. The question is: Who is/are Ricoletti,
who is/are Harker? Peter Ricoletti is a mafia-boss who Sherlock put to prison and who we do not get to know much about. Emilia Ricoletti offers way more information: She fakes her suicide in order to come back and shoot her husband, then orders a friend to kill her, is part of a conspiracy for women rights, sacrifices herself for a greater good and scares everyone with her ghost story. Knowing that, I thought of something: We have general similarities occurring to both Harkers and Ricolettis; the creators blur the truth into something else by redefining certain elements as are: a) switching gender, b) putting more emphasis on side characters, c) adding details that already showed up in real life in
a different context.
the Thatcher-busts: In the blog entry, they are made by Pietro who hates Thatcher due to her homophobic attitude and turned them into a satire by putting devil horns on Thatcher’s head; after Pietro’s death, they are given to six friends and acquaintances of Pietro’s; Harker is getting none. In the episode, they are manufactured in Georgia and sold to five unrelated fans of Thatcher, including Harker. Again, this could be traced back to EMP theory.
To be honest, I wrote more than 50 pages meta in total about TST in the time between TST and TLD, trying to solve this riddle, and I am still far from finished (guess I’ll never will be). Hopefully, one day, things will be resolved, so I can sleep well again.
(I will add things to this meta in the next days.)
Nervously I stood outside the classroom waiting for the class before mine to end. People began to surround me and edged closer to the door. I assumed they were in my class and were wanting to get their preferred seat. I began to edge myself closer as well, not wanting to end up in the back of the classroom.
Through the glass, I peered into the room and noticed people packing up their bags. Patiently we all waited for the class to empty. But once only a few people were left we all swarmed the door, pretending to be polite by going in one a time. Once inside I rushed to pick a seat within the second row, my preferred spot. Quickly I tried to find a location that would give me the best few of the whiteboard within the row. I picked my seat and sat down quickly unpacking my ACCT 311 textbook with note paper and the book I was reading for leisure about the Romanov family. Knowing I would have five more minutes before the lecture began I split the book in half and began reading on the birth of Maria, the third Romanov daughter. Periodically I peered up to check the seats being filled slowly. A few minutes to the hour the professor entered and began setting up slides.
okay real talk,,, at first i was scared shitless because a) it will be like drawing traditionally and my hand-eye coordination will be different b) how will i get my shortcuts to work if I have no keyboard
First day, I unboxed it, started scribbling and (dont get me wrong here) it was straight up AWFUL. Even though I attached plenty of new shortcuts to buttons I kept missclicking them, my workflow was oh so not fluent, changing anything like brush size or even tools was a fuken p a i n and I noticed I cannot sit it my comfortable side lean position while drawing which was yet another bullet and I was like…. I just spent 2,000….. on this piece of burnt nugget……..woa h…
Before I started the second session on the next day I went in and readjusted everything to achieve the top possible efficiency and oh boy did that make a difference. I changed the pen pressure, attached new buttons and started using the scroll bar at the back, gave up my disable-buttons-on-pen habit and attached colour picker tool to it, basically I tried to incorporate all it had to offer instead of sticking to all I was used to while using the prev wacom tablet. I should have done that on the first day but I guess I was too excited lol
always remember to make yourselves comfortable first, babes
Anyway now it’s awESOME!!! Drawing comes sooo naturally with this thing and considering it took only 10 h to get totally used to it??
nice deal!!! and it so big!! and I can rotate it around!! the accuracy!! the pressure!! wah!!!!! and the fact,,,, that I see everything so close,,,,, I can work on them details,,,,, external screaming inteNSIFIES
I think that Even and the other apprentices sometimes forget that Ienzo is still a little kid. And sometimes kids need to play and do kid stuff even if they’re kid geniuses.
I tried to vary my line widths a bit more than usual in this one. But it just meant that I was so done by the time I got to the colours that I really couldn’t be bothered to make an effort, especially after wrangling with his trainers for so long. Obviously I gave up on that after a while.
Hello everyone! Happy Thursday, one day till the weekend, we can do it :P
So it’s finally time for a new request :) This one’s subject is a bit different, thanks to the Anon for requesting it.
I really hope you guys enjoy it and thanks to everyone who followed me, already 62 in about a month, thank you so much!
I really hope you guys enjoy it, especially you Anon!
c/n=Crush’s name y/n=Your name T/n=Teacher’s name e/c=Eye colour h/c=Hair colour
“Can you write one about him finding out you tried to kill yourself and in the middle of school or class took you and ditched the rest of school and you can be creative with it c: and from the girls p.o.v. please. Btw I love your stories they always make me shiver, there so well written!”
The school came into view and with a small sigh; I picked my bag up from the car’s floor. Just as I was about to open my door, a hand gripped my arm. I glanced to my left and gave my mom a small smile.
‘’I’ll be okay mom.’’ I reassured her for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
She sighed before reaching over and kissing my forehead. ‘’Be careful, alright?’’ I nodded and smiled at her again. I slowly got out of the car before taking my bag from the car seat and sliding it over my shoulder.
‘’Don’t forget that you’re taking the bus tonight.’’ She looked worried and I hated myself for making her feel that way.
‘’I won’t forget mom, bye.’’
‘’Bye, y/n. I love you.’’
‘’Love you too mom.’’ I finally slammed the door shut and waved to my mom before turning around. As I stood there facing the school, I heard my mom drive away and I knew that I was alone.
Today was my first day back in school after two weeks because I’d been sick… That’s what the my classmates had been told after wondering where I’d disappeared to for that long… I didn’t want them to find out what had really happened. With shaky hands, I pulled the sleeves of my sweater down and gripped the ends of both sides.
I reluctantly walked up the stairs of the school and made my way towards my first class, which was history. Despite my gloomy mood, a small smile made it’s way to my lips when I realized I was going to see c/n. He was… He was a really great person and a great friend as well. I’d been lucky enough to be in every of his classes but I’d been avoiding him when I started developing feelings for him.
It might have been stupid of me but I didn’t want anything to be awkward between us. I’d never been good with these types of things and I always ended up getting hurt in the end.
With my heart racing against my rib cage and a small smile still on my lips, I entered the class. I smiled and waved back hesitantly to some of my classmates until I got the last row.
C/n was sitting there with his h/c styled up in its usual quiff and his e/c sparkling like always. The smile instantly left my lips and I turned around as soon as we made eye contact. I scurried to the last seat available, which was situated in the middle row on the door’s side.
I could hear him call my name but I ignored him until the bell rang, which announced the beginning of class.
I breathed out a sigh of relief when the teacher entered the classroom and asked us to settle down. Much to my dismay the teacher caught my eye and motioned for me to stand up.
‘’Welcome back y/n, it’s good to have you back.’’ T/n’s name
‘’Thanks.’’ I gave him a small smile before sitting back down on my chair. I let out a quiet sigh and the smile immediately left my lips.
This is going to be a very long day.
*Little time skip people*
The school day was only halfway through and I was already tired. The bell announcing the end of lunch rang and brought my mood down by a notch at the same time. I slowly left the table I was sitting at and made my way out of the cafeteria. I threw my half-eaten sandwich away on my way out and downed the rest of my water before strapping my backpack on.
I reluctantly made my way to my next class and just as I was about to enter the classroom, I was pulled back and dragged away.
‘’Hey, let me go.’’ I hissed slightly when the person gripped my wrist too tight.
‘’Calm down its just me.’’ I looked up from the floor and locked eyes with c/n.
‘’I gotta get to class.’’ I tried pulling my arm away from him but he shook his head and dragged me out of school with him. All the way out, I was struggling to get out of his grip and it was causing my sweater to rub against my wrist.
‘’We’re skipping the rest of the day.’’ He said happily.
‘’C/n, no. Please, I’ve been gone for two weeks I can’t skip now.’’ I whined softly as he pulled me away from the school. He ingored my complains and kept dragging walking away from school. He finally stopped walking when we got to a park about a block away from school.
‘’You’re hurting me.’’ I whined as we walked into the park.
He abruptly stopped walking and whipped around to face me. He let go of my wrist and I took a step away from him with my arm pressed to my stomach.
I shook my head and looked down at my feet as I felt the tears gather in my eyes.
‘’Just bring me back, please.’’ I cursed internally when I heard the quiver in my voice.
‘’Why are you ignoring me?’’ He sounded hurt and it made me feel horrible.
‘’I’m not… Ignoring you.’’ I denied with my eyes still staring at the ground. I’d ignored every single one of his calls and texts during my time away from school. I felt like such a horrible person every time I did so and now, the guilt was literally eating me alive.
‘’Y/n, please. Don’t lie to me.’’ I heard him step closer to me and I wanted to hit myself as soon as I took a step back.
‘’I’m not feeling really good, I should go back home or-‘’
‘’I know why,’’ I heard him sigh and then, he was in front of me, with his hands cupping my cheeks. I frowned at him before looking away and he leaned down until his forehead was resting on mine. ‘’I know why you left… Why you were gone for so long… I heard… I heard the principal speaking with t/n and… Y/n.. Why?’’
My bag had fallen to the ground and I was crying silently, with my eyes shut close and c/n’s hand still cupping my cheeks.
‘’Look at me, please. Open your eyes.’’
I reluctantly opened my eyes and looked up at him.
‘’I was so scared… When they said… When I heard what you did.’’ He took a deep breath before pulling me into his arms. I threw my arms around him and gripped the back of his shirt while burying my head in the crock of his neck.
I was sobbing in his arms as he rubbed my back up and down. I felt him caress the back of my head before he pulled back and looked down at me.
‘’Why… Why did you try to k-kill yourself?’’
I shook my head and pulled away from him.
‘’Stop asking! Don’t talk about it!’’ I screamed but he immediately pulled me back to him.
‘’NO!’’ He yelled and I flinched. ‘’No,’’ He repeated softly. ‘’I wanna talk about it. I wanna know why you ingored me… I need to know why you didn’t call me… You didn’t ask me for help. You know how much I care about you.’’ His chest was heaving up and down and his voice was getting shaky. Tears were streaming down my face and my body was shaking.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ I choked on my tears before flinging myself into his arms and hugging him tight.
With his arms wrapped around my shaking body, he hugged me back just as tight. I gripped his shirt tighter when pressed his lips against my ear and started whispering comforting words to me.
‘’It’s okay,’’ He placed a soft kiss on my cheek and pulled back until he was looking at me. ‘’I got you, okay?’’
‘’Okay.’’ I nodded slowly before stepping back into his open arms.
‘’I-I’m glad you’re okay-‘’
‘’You don’t need to-‘’
‘’Yes, I need to let you know how scared-how terrified I was when I heard them speaking about you. I thought I would never be able to see you again and,’’ He sighed before tightening his grip around me. ‘’And then, y-you started ignoring me… Why?’’
‘’I’m so sorry,’’ I pulled back and wiped my cheeks with my sleeves. ‘’I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I just couldn’t do it anymore and I was scared…’’ I had to stop talking. I was so close to confessing my feelings to him, I wasn’t ready for that.
I wasn’t ready to be rejected.
‘’Scared of what?’’ He frowned and took my hand in his.
I shrugged and tried pulling my hand back but he took a step forward and leaned his forehead against mine. My heart clenched in my chest when I saw his eyes flicker down to my lips. His eyes snapped back up to me and he cupped my cheeks once again.
‘’Tell me what you were scared of.’’
I shook my head and he sighed in return.
‘’Tell. Me. I’m begging you, what were you afraid of?’’ He pleaded, looking almost desperate as he did.
I took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in my throat. ‘’I was scared of… I was scared of what I felt for you.’’
As soon as these words left my mouth, I wanted to run away, far away and never come back.
Confusion settled into me when a smile slowly started spreading across his lips. I felt his hands slide down to grab my hips before he pulled me hard against him.
‘’And what do you feel for me?’’ I felt his hands grip my hips harder and I gulped before looking up at him.
‘’I-I think I like you…’’ I whispered with a pained expression.
‘’Hey, don’t be sad. There’s nothing to be sad about, okay?’’ My eyes widened slightly when he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. It felt as if time had stopped just so I could enjoy this moment.
My eyes closed as if they had a mind of their own and my hands grabbed the front of his shirt as I tried to pull him closer to me. I kissed him back with my heart racing and butterflies flying in my stomach. He pulled back after some time and smiled down at me.
He looked down at my arm before lifting my wrist up. My eyes widened when he started sliding my sleeve up. I tried to pull away but he’d already pulled my sleeve up completely. I looked away, ashamed of the scars that were on my skin.
‘’Hey, look at me.’’
I shook my head and he let out a small sigh. His fingers gripped my chin softly and tilted my head to the side until I was looking at him.
‘’I-I don’t want you to go through this again,’’ He closed his eyes and brought my hand up to his lips before placing a soft kiss to my knuckles. He looked back down at my scars and frowned. ‘’I want these to stay scars, and not fresh cuts. I-I want to help, I’ll do anything. You won’t have to do this anymore, I’ll take care of you.’’
He pulled me into his arms and I rested my head against his chest before wrapping my arms around him.
He placed a soft kiss to my forehead before I felt his lips against my cheek, and then they were pressed against my ear.
‘’Y/n, I-I love you.’’ He whispered into my ear.
My eyes widened and my heartbeat sped up. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I was speechless.
He hugged my tighter and kissed the side of my head. ‘’It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I felt,’’ He pulled back and cupped my cheeks as he stared into my eyes. ‘’I’ll always be here for you. Please be mine?’’
I couldn’t fight the smile that spread across my lips as I nodded at him. ‘’Yeah, I’d like that a lot.’’
He grinned widely and leaned in until his lips were pressed against mine.
‘’Where should we spend the rest of this beautiful day?’’ C/n asked before picking up my bag.
‘’Bowling?’’ I proposed with a shrug.
He nodded and agreement and took my hand in his. ‘’I hope we don’t get into too much trouble.’’
‘’You’re worth all the trouble in the world.’’ I said with a smile.
‘’Hey, I was gonna say that.’’ He whined while pouting cutely down at me.
‘’Too bad.’’ I laughed as he leaned down and kissed me.
‘’I love being able to do that,’’ He said before pressing his lips to my cheek. ‘’And that.’’ He chuckled before kissing the top of my nose and finally my lips.
I smiled at him before standing on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘’Thank you.’’
And for a while, we just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes and I could see in his eyes, and in that perfect smile of his that he knew why I was thanking him and that made everything perfect.
He made everything perfect.
I enjoyed writing this one, mostly because it touched a different subject and yeah.
I really hope you liked it Anon, I hope it was creative enough for you ^_^ I tried as hard as I could :)
And well of course, I hope everyone enjoyed it. That’s it for tonight, tomorrow’s Friday and I’ll get started on the other imagines.
But in the meantime don’t be shy and send in requests, I apologize in advance if they get published late but just know that all the imagines will get published even if they’re late.
Don’t forget to precise from which P.OV. you’d like me to write as well as the person, it helps a lot :)
Anonymous said to fakeahbitch:
“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats.” with Ryan pls
Geoff held a black and white cat up, his face scratched and his eyes narrowed. ‘Mind explaining what the fuck this was doing in my bedroom?’
Ryan didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. ‘That’s Grizabella.’
‘What kind of name is that?’
‘A good name for a cat. That’s Mr Mistoffelees, Rum Tum Tugger, Macavity… and this is Christine. She’s my angel of mew-sic.’
‘Don’t… Please stop saying this like this is normal. For the love of God, Ryan, stop. What are they doing in the vents?’
‘They like it there. I’ve tried to stop them, but they find a way. They’re wily.’
‘Okay. Next question that I cannot believe I have to ask a grownass man; where are you getting these kittens and why the fuck are they here?’
Ryan picked up a butterscotch coloured one—maybe Rum Tum Tugger? Stupid name—and stroked it. The kitten purred and chewed on Ryan’s thumb. He didn’t even flinch. ‘The momma cat gave birth in the alley and died. I couldn’t just leave them. I brought them in to make sure they didn’t die out there.’
‘That’s cute. Get them out of here.’
‘Damn it, Ryan! They piss all over the place, they’re whiney, and they need constant attention that we just do not have time for!’
Ryan spluttered in indignation. ‘You got to keep Gavin!’
‘Gavin tries his best.’
‘I’m keeping them.’
‘You are not.’
‘I’ll call this one Geoff.’
‘… Fuck off.’
‘He even has a moustache. You could be a Bond villain.’
That was how Ryan got to keep his kittens. He renamed them all in the end. Ryan renamed Christine Ray. She was his favourite. She was fearless, lazy and something of a stealth expert when she wanted to be. He would never tell the others though. That was bad parenting, and Ryan was a good daddy. Geoff never told his secret. He kept little Geoff with him in his room. The other roamed the HQ, hunting rats and scaring away spiders. The Crew eventually found out about Geoff’s Godfather ambitions. They mocked, they laughed… they went mysteriously quiet when they found out who had found the cats in the first place.
‘I may have accidentally adopted five cats.’
‘What do you mean accidentally?’ asked Jack.
‘What do you mean may?’ Ray added with a grin. ‘Dude, I want one.’
‘No. They’re mine.’
‘Geoff got one!’
‘Geoff pays for their shots and food. He’s allowed custody.’
‘Oh, so I have to be a kitten’s sugar daddy if I want some love?’
I am super happy to announce I am pregnant and expecting twins… lol no not really just for whatever reason this dress makes me look huge!
I am happy though for two reasons, first my wig. This is quite possibly my favourite wig and as such has seen a lot of wear. It’s reached the point where it’s come to end the end of it’s life but I thought instead of throwing it I might see if I can get a little more out of it.
So I took the iron, then after a little thought the hair straighteners to it. They did a wonder, helping to detangle the mess it had become as well as remove some of frizz in the hairs. It’s not as good as new but hopefully I’ll get a couple more wears out of it.
My only real error was I straighten the fringe which had a nice curl to it. I’ll see if I can work it back but overall I’m pleased with the result.
I would just like to point out that my wig has some heat resistance, not all wigs do, so be careful if you try this yourself.
My second happy point is to do with my make-up and specifically my beard cover. I was getting a little frustrated with my beard cover, so I went back to basics and dug out my old Kryolan TV Paint Stick.
I hadn’t been happy with it in the past as it left a noticeable thick foundation, however, I tried applying it more sparingly and used my finger in a dabbing action to work it in. I was really happy with the results, it gave great cover and didn’t wear off which has been a big issue in the past.
My only issue is it’s far too pale a colour, even for pasty me. So I’ve got myself a new one which should hopefully be a great base for my foundation.
BSM #48: one of the boys babysit you and they do a twitcam *Requested*
A/N: another one that i had for a while :) enjoy
Liam (age, 7): liam was off with your parents this weekend, so with no one else to look after you, Harry offered to do the job. But the problem was he had promised the fans earlier this week a live stream, so with no free time on his hands other then right now he decided to just do it. You were watching TV when he first started. You found him talking to his laptop extremely odd but decided not to say anything, not wanting to be rude. However about half way thought you let your curiosity get the best of you “harry, what are you doing?” You ask scooting closer so that now, your face was captured by the camera “I’m making a twitcam sweetie” he said smiling at you “what’s a twitcam?” “well, its umm a video” he said hesitantly, not exactly sure how to explain it “its live so a lot of people are watching us right now” “but how can they be watching us? No one’s here!” You were very confused as to how supposedly many people are watching you two but you were the only ones home. Harry gave out a melodious laugh “they’re watching us through their computers. See” he pointed at his screen where a small box at the side showed the image of you and harry and the comments section which was scrolling down too quickly for you to read anything “say hi guys” and just like that the comment section went wild! You could recognise some hi’s and hello’s here and there but you couldn’t really read every thing that was posted. And just like that you and harry spent the next hour and a half talking to the fans through his computer.
Louis (age, 15): you didn’t really see the need for a babysitter, you were clearly old enough to stay home alone but you decided not to complain once you found out Zayn was your sitter. “So what are we gonna do?” ” I’m just about to start a twitcam. Feel free to join if you want” “no thank but you have fun” and with that you disappeared into your room for the next hour or so. When you got out to get a drink you noticed Zayn was still doing his little twitcam “hey (y/n), say hi!’ before you could really think about anything, the screen was pointed at you. You gave a slight smile and waved, walking towards the sofa ans sitting next to zayn. You two started chatting and answering questions and attempting some dares from the comment section when a particular comment caught your eye ‘PLEASE DO ZAYN’S MAKE-UP!!! PLZ I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DO!!’ The idea suddenly appealed to you. A mischievous smile appeared on your face as pointed on the comment “let’s do that one” as zayn followed your gaze, all colour drained from his face. He tried to protest but you did it anyway. “Everything here looks scary” You gave out an audible laugh”let’s start” “do we have to do this?” “Yes, now stop complaining and man up!” You scolded “you’ll look really pretty by the end of this” And with that you started applying make-up on the fully grown man’s face. After 20 minutes or so you were finally satisfied enough “are you ready?” As he nodded you started raising the mirror to his face. His eyes went wide and he stood absolutely still for a moment before he burst into laughter “I look horrifying!” He commented “what happened to ‘you’ll look pretty?’”
Harry (age, 6): it was a thing he started doing a while back. He found it very easy and fun to do so he started doing live streams more often. And right then, with you asleep and nothing to really do he decided to do one right now. He didn’t really notice how loudly he must have been speaking until you walked into the living room clutching your tead looking very annoyed, as if someone has disturbed your nap which was infact the case. He reached out and pulled you on his lap and started tickling you but instead of gigling and laughing like you usually do, you cringed away “what the matter princess” he asked lovingly “I’m tired” you say yawning. He laughed and snuggled you in his embrace “you see this” he said pointing at his laptop screen “its a live stream. It means thousands of people are watching us right now”“really?” You ask enthusiastically, the simple fact capturing your undivided attention “yes, see it says right there. More than two hundred fourty six people are watching us in their homes right now” now on a normal situation you would be out of control, jumping around asking questions of how, why, when and where but right now you were really tired so you slowly let Niall’s constant rambling lullaby you into sleep until you lay still in his warm embrace with supposedly more two hundred fourty six people watching.
Niall (age, 14): you were really enjoying watching Liam suffer to be honest. Now don’t get this the wrong way, you were not some kind of mental freak who found joy in people’s suffering, its just….there was something in seeing your babysitter struggle to get the camera working for his live stream that entertained you. And with being grounded with no other means of entertainment you decided not to help him and just enjoy the show “you know, if you give me my phone back, I can help you set up. My parents don’t have to know. It’ll be our little secret. You don’t tell my parents about me having my phone and I won’t tell anyone you suck at setting up a live stream” you say “hey! Its harder than it looks, okay” he said giving you a semi-playfull glare “listen (y/n), your parents made it very clear that I confiscate all your electronics. You can’t have any of them and a simple bribe like that will defiantly not change my mind” “suit yourself” with that he continued trying to outsmart the complicated software preventing from starting his live stream. After about 30 minutes or so he was starting to get desperate, he tried everything possible to get the damn thing to work but it just wouldn’t so after one last fail try he turned to his only other option, you. “Ok fine. If you help he start the twitcam I let you use your phone for 30 minutes. No more, no less. And don’t tell your parents”“an hour”“45 minutes”“50”“deal” and with that you shot up and started helping him out. It took you no longer than 5 minutes to get it up and running and you could tell Liam was impressed with the look on his face. He started his live stream where you joined somewhere in between. All in all you had a relatively good night and the best part; your parents never found out about your little deal.
Zayn (age, 16):you were really bumed about your broken ankle, especially that you had to miss your family trip to the countryside because of it. The only up side was that Louis offered to stay with you all week so it was just you and him and you just knew you were gonna have a blast. “Lou I’m bored!!” You whined “I know, me too” he sighed putting on his ridiculous ‘thinking face’ causing you to giggle “I know!” He suddenly exclaimed “how about a live stream! They’re so much fun” you thought about it for a minute the smile “sounds fun” and just like that he was off grabbing his laptop and setting up the live stream. You were 23 minutes into the live stream and already had over a hundred thousand viewers ‘must be the fame’ was your analysis when you saw the huge number which you tried your best to ignore and just enjoy Louis’s company. By then of the whole thing you were a mess, but it was nothing compared to how Louis looked: there traces of every challenge and dare you attempted to do on him. From the cinnamon on his hair from the cinnamon challenge to the slightly faded, horribly done make-up on his face from the blindfold makeup challenge. All in all Louis stood up to your expectations and you had a wonderful time with him.
Q: I notice you have two rabbit-themed OCs that look kind of similar, are they related?
A: They’re not related but their designs are inspired by each other, and they both turn into rabbit plushies. Holly is my female mascot and Korokoro is my male mascot. Hearte is not a mascot but a character with her own series. However, because of her popularity, she often appears.
Q: Is your named spelled Holly, or Hollee? I’m not sure which one to use.
A: I’m okay with either spelling; doesn’t make much of a difference. Holly is actually the name of my very first OC. Sometimes for online handles, I use my characters’ names, but this one ended up sticking with me (Kaze-Hime was also another OC). These days I tend to use Hollee more.
Q: Your handle used to be Kaze-Hime, why is it Soundlesswind now?
A: I still go by the former. Or rather, I’m still stuck with the former. Soundless Wind is better explained as my website name…or I suppose, a world name to group all my characters together. It’s based on the image of a spinning galaxy, in space where it is too distant to hear any gust sound.
Q: When did you start drawing? What inspired you to draw?
A: When I was very young, I really liked Sailor Moon. I thought she was super pretty and I wanted to connect with the show somehow, so I drew. Because the series ran for some time, I ended up drawing a lot. The adults around me thought I had a natural aptitude for it, so they let me continue.
Q: How did you get into Digital Art?
A: I’ve had a computer since forever, so I often drew on MS Paint and made short videos in my spare time (which I had a lot of). I then started making web layouts, and seeing my interest in it, my brother gave me Photoshop 6. Eventually I ran into Hiromi-chan’s Sugar Caramel Box site and found out about CG artwork. I was astonished that someone so young could be so talented. It was a world I hadn’t known about before. — Afterwards I researched and learned from a tutorial site called Polykarbon and started colouring my pencil scans with a mouse (2003/4). During this period I became friends with Zeiva, and her detailed style fired me up, so I tried really hard. — Sometime after I joined DeviantArt, my brother bought me a tablet for my birthday, and though it took me a long time to get use to it, I eventually became very comfortable with drawing in a new manner. I’ve always liked tinkering with software, so the practice of digital art was extremely interesting to me.
Q: How did you develop your really detailed style?
A: Hmm…I don’t think I particularly aspired to be very detailed at first, but I was definitely trying to learn more and more techniques. At some point in time, my friend told me that my drawings were pretty messy up close, so I treated it as a challenge and became more attentive to detail…and one thing lead to another. Style isn’t something one should force, I feel. Just let it happen.
Q: You probably get a lot of messages, do you manage to answer them all?
A: Unless I’m doing a meme, I pick a few random or most recent ones every now and then to answer. In truth, nope, I’m quite overwhelmed… I try to read as many as I can though, and I’m always very happy to receive new asks. My inbox is always flooded though, so I might not get back to someone for a very long time.
“I am sorry Lady Holmes but I seem to have misheard what you just said.”
“No Molly. You heard perfectly well. I know this sounds foolhardy and like I have lost my marbles. But I would like for you to marry my son Sherlock.”
Molly shook her head slightly, not believing the words the woman in front of her was saying. She turned to her guardian, Mrs Hudson, with a frown on her face.
“It’s correct, my dear. Lady Holmes wants you to marry the younger Lord Holmes. It seems to be the only way to ensure he wouldn’t get up to any more mischief.”
Molly turned her confused gaze back to the lady of the manor who looked terribly worried.
“He was about to marry Irene Adler, just to spite his brother and to stop us from broaching the subject of his marriage. Now Irene is a lovely and clever girl but I cannot ignore the scandal that seems to follow her everywhere…I will not have my family’s name sullied.” Lady Holmes paused before approaching Molly, her steps hesitant.
“He seems to tolerate you, and you seem to put up with his behaviour…you are the only help I know who has not left his room in tears. Of course it comforts me that Mrs Hudson here has the highest regard for you. Sherlock is to leave for London soon and I fear what further mischief that boy will make just to irk us. Knowing you are taking care of him will ease a huge burden off my shoulders.”
Lady Holmes held Molly’s hands, desperation clearly written on her face. “Please agree to this Molly, I know I ask for a lot but you are my only hope.”
And that’s how it happened. Miss Molly Hooper, an unemployed governess making ends meet by helping her guardian Mrs Hudson in taking care of the Holmes Manor, became Mrs Sherlock Holmes.
The wedding was short and quick, attended by a quiet and stoic bride, a very reluctant groom, his mother, older brother and Mrs Hudson. The newly-weds left immediately for London to minimise gossip and scandal that was sure to follow.
Molly had always had realistic dreams about her future, aiming to have a decent companion and a solid roof over her head. Life hadn’t been too kind to the poor orphan. Not all her employees had been considerate, not all the words falling on her ears had been kind and not all her experiences had been painless. So she had toughened up.
Time spent feeling sad or lonely might interfere with completing her chores on time. A helpless feeling might cause distraction. Getting involved in any way would only make things hard when the time rose to move to the next job.
She had learnt to separate her emotions from the reality around her and though sometimes it led to her colleagues calling her ‘stone-hearted’ or ‘cold’, she knew it was the best approach. It was wise not to get too comfortable.
So Molly approached her marriage the same way she did any new task, with dedication, devotion and utter concentration on the final expected result. She knew her real purpose; to keep the younger Lord Holmes at peace and out of trouble.
And the best way to do this was to leave him alone.
Having moved from the country to her new dwellings in London, Molly immediately fell into her new role of managing her husband’s house. She got the place in top shape, employing new people to help setting up 221B Baker Street as the place her husband wanted. If there was gossip about the relatively young housekeeper Mr Holmes employed, it was quickly brushed away when the new employees dealt with her cool and distant demeanour. And Sherlock never introduced her or even remotely behaved with her as his wife, so Molly didn’t bother correcting them.
She treated her husband as an employer, ensuring all his needs were anticipated and taken care of. After all, her training as a governess had exposed her to science of the world as well as dealing with tantrums.
Sherlock found himself pretty satisfied with his new situation. His mother and brother were off his back about getting married and he was now free to do what he always wanted: solve mysteries. He met and befriended an army doctor, Dr Watson, and things started moving smoothly. He did not interfere with his wife’s routine and she ensured that there was minimum need for interaction with him. The world thought he was lucky to get a housekeeper with a strong stomach for his experiments and calm mind to deal with his mostly socially unacceptable behaviour.
And thus it would have continued but for a small case. Where the criminal they were chasing tracked Sherlock home and attacked him. Taken by surprise, he suffered some injury before getting into a tussle with the well-built thug and eventually overcoming him. Molly played no small role in it, causing acute damage with the frying pan, but not before sustaining a deep cut on her arm from the thug’s knife. It was Sherlock who realised she was bleeding profusely.
“It was brave but foolish of you to get involved…” he berated her as he bandaged the cut.
“It wouldn’t have been the first time Mr Holmes.”
It was later that night, when the thug was in jail and his parlour rearranged that Sherlock gave thought to his wife’s partying words. A few things about the evening disturbed him. He had experienced an instant of panic when the criminal had approached Molly with the raised knife and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the blood on her arm. The rage with which he had attacked and subdued the man seemed to stem from the fact that his wife had been hurt.
Since when had he started to refer to Molly like that? It had been more than two years of their arrangement and it was working perfectly in all ways. Yet Sherlock felt rattled by the events of that evening. That and the stoic way Molly seem to take the incident in her stride, working the next day as if the previous night’s excitement was imaginary.
He had always admired her quiet ways, her tolerant approach to his experiments, her improvement as she helped him in his small laboratory, her estimation of his needs…Having always looked upon her as someone who made his life easier, who took care of him, he now started to see her as the person she was.
And she surprised him.
She was intelligent, her mind sharp and grasping of most of the things he threw at her. She was a task master but kind. She ran a strict household but was generous. And she was selfless. He realised that she thought of herself last, putting everyone else ahead. And she did this unconsciously.
Looking at her, observing her, Sherlock realised that he had indeed been lucky and wise to have agreed to the arrangement his mother had suggested. He now found her qualities attractive…he found her attractive. This realisation made him more aware of her, her presence bringing him a warmth that he had not earlier noticed. 221B Baker Street, his house, now felt like his home. And she was responsible.
He had nonchalantly mentioned this fact to Dr Watson, without taking a name.
“You are talking about Miss Hooper I assume?” The good doctor asked hesitantly.
“I mean my wife.”
“Who?” came the confused query.
“Molly, of course.”
“You mean Miss Hooper?”
“I mean Mrs Holmes.”
“Mrs Holmes? Who is Mrs Holmes?”
“You have met her, she lives with me.”
“I have met your housekeeper, Holmes.”
“What? What housekeeper?”
“Have you taken something? Because God help me you are making no sense.”
“Why have you turned so daft? Molly, who you refer to as Miss Hooper, happens to be my legally wedded wife and not my housekeeper. Where the devil did you get that impression?”
Dr Watson stared unbelievably at his friend, wondering what new medication or solution he had tried, when the said woman herself turned up to announce dinner.
“Molly, the good doctor here has the impression that you are my housekeeper. Pray tell him the truth…no wonder you are not the detective here, my dear man.” Sherlock said with a smirk.
Molly blinked, her face losing some colour. Dr Watson immediately got up and approached her, apologising for his friends behaviour which he believed was caused by some narcotics.
She gave him a small smile and corrected him, “We were wed in front of the Holy Lord and Mr Holmes’ family. I believe that makes me his wife, but that doesn’t mean I am not his housekeeper…Dinner is hot and served”, saying which she turned and left.
BBC journalist Damon Rose completely lost his sight as a child, but he says his world isn’t pitch black. So what exactly does he see?
It’s often assumed that blind people experience complete darkness, but in my experience this is far from the truth.
I appreciate this is going to sound odd coming from a blind person but when people ask me what I miss most about not being able to see, my answer is always “darkness”.
Let me explain. I am one of a very small number of people who have no sight whatsoever. I’m properly blind. A “total” as we used to say at school.
I lost my sight 31 years ago thanks to ill-advised surgery, and on my blind person’s registration certificate it has three, now very faded letters - NLP, no light perception.
The logical assumption is that when sight is snuffed out, a person must be left in darkness. If you dive under the bed covers you can’t see anything at all. If you close your eyes then everything turns to black. So, blind equals black? It makes sense, right? Apparently not.
Though I’ve had the cord cut between my eyes and my brain, it seems that the world has not turned black. All metaphors, similes, analogies, and literary flourishes about blindness and darkness should henceforth cease to be used because I’m saying it’s far from dark. It is, in fact, quite the opposite.
So what replaces 3D technicolour vision once it’s gone? The answer - at least in my case - is light. Lots of it. Bright, colourful, ever-changing, often terribly distracting, light.
How do I even begin to describe it? Let me have a go. Right now I’ve got a dark brown background, with a turquoise luminescence front and centre. Actually it’s just changed to green… now it’s bright blue with flecks of yellow, and there’s some orange threatening to break through and cover the whole lot.
The rest of my field of vision is taken up by squashed geometric shapes, squiggles and clouds I couldn’t hope to describe - and not before they all change again anyway. Give it an hour, and it’ll all be different.
If I try to block out all this distraction by closing my eyes it doesn’t work. It never goes away.
I miss those peaceful moments of near darkness: walking at night-time while focusing on the streetlights ahead, the atmospheric shadows in a room with a real fire burning, or travelling home late in the back of my dad’s car glimpsing cat’s eyes lighting up in the middle of the road.
For me, dark has come to signify quiet, and because my built-in fireworks never go away I describe what I’ve got as a kind of visual tinnitus.
When I first went blind I thought the brightly coloured lights were a sign my eyes were trying to work again. It gave me some hope and I was quite fascinated by it. I used to sit and stare at it. Now I know that it’s my brain making up for the fact that it no longer receives any pictures.
Some people of faith have occasionally tried to tell me that I’m seeing the after-life, and I never know how to respond to that. But what I have never been able to find out is whether other people who have no light perception also see what I see.
And, assuming that full vision and driving a car are not on offer, do they also long for a bit of darkness?
Do you relate to Damon’s experience or do you see something completely different? Email us firstname.lastname@example.org
For @sprout2012, who suggested a Guy Fawkes Night drabble :-D
(Of course featuring Marlon and Lucky as Harry and Draco)
“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Are you trying to tell me that Muggles
intentionally explode things in different colours…for fun?”
Harry squeezed his boyfriend’s gloved hand
as they stamped their feet on the cold ground, waiting for the display to
begin. “Yes,” he said patiently. “It’s like how we set off sparks and make
shapes in the sky, sometimes the Muggle ones are just as good.”
“But they’re loud,” Draco grumbled. “And the smoke makes my eyes sting, and they
don’t even do anything! Our ones tell
stories and chase each other. These are dangerous!”
Harry moved closer, wrapping his arm around
Draco’s waist and grinning up at him.
“They may be noisy, and unpredictable, and a little bit dangerous. But you know what they also are?”
Draco cringed as the first fireworks blasted
off with several high-pitched whines and a crackle of explosions. “What?” he mumbled, letting Harry hug him
“They’re also beautiful.” He leaned over and planted a soft, tender
kiss on Draco’s cheek. “Much like a
certain Slytherin I know.”
Draco smiled against him, relenting just a
little. “Did you just call me noisy
Potter?” he asked, devilment in his eye.
“Uh huh,” Harry agreed playfully. “I love the noises you make.”
Draco arched an eyebrow, and Harry’s insides
fluttered, warmth finally coursing through him under his many layers of
clothing. “And unpredictable?”
“You’re dating me aren’t you?”
Harry loved the way Draco’s face was
changing. He’d forgotten about being
grumpy, and now looked almost predatory.
Harry, however, could not keep up his cool
seduction. “Too bloody right,” he barked. “I’ve seen you in the kitchen, you could burn
an egg! It’s a miracle we’re still
Draco gave a cry of indignation as more colourful
explosions rocked the night’s sky, and tried to tickle Harry through his
coat. It wasn’t very effective, but
Harry still laughed and squirmed, until he was twisted around and wrapped up in
both Draco’s arms in front of him.
“Most of all,” Harry said, pecking a little
kiss on his nose. “You are definitely-”
he kissed one cheek “-absolutely-” then the other. “Beautiful.
He slowly kissed Draco’s lips, and they
melted together, a bundle of hats and scarves and gloves and love.
Draco paused as he glanced up at the
enormous showers of light dancing above their heads. “I guess they’re not bad,” he conceded with a
grin, giving Harry another little taste of his cold lips.
“So we can stay til the end?” Harry asked
rocking them back and forth to a chorus of bangs peppering through the air.
Draco smirked. “Okay,” he agreed. “As long as I can take us straight home to