❝ You had never meant to daydream over the boy who sat at the back corner of the dusty bookstore you worked at, but he made it impossible not to. Not with his soft looks, and confused blinking like he was constantly snapping himself back to reality, or the way he walked around like a lost kitten and made every part of you want to curl into him and cuddle. ❞
16/100 days of productivity
So much procrastination, not enough hours in a day… sigh…
Went in to town today and decided to visit so second hand shops and I found a book on fundamental astronomy (I collect astronomy books so the joy was real)
Anyway hope you all had/have a great day or evening wherever you are, cheers :)
I can see Olivia and Alfie playing with toys and drawing in silence in the living room like they are both shy little kids so they are siting there with pink cheeks and brush their hands and Alfie would get the toy she wants and give her a little kiss and Harry would watch how cute they are sitting there in the sofa
When Harry makes them a lunch after they’ve spent the morning doing painting and watching the telly together, made up of small ham sandwiches and a few apple and carrot sticks and a handful of tomatoes, he always catches his little boy giving Ellie his extra apple slices. Sat beside the little girl on the sofa as a film plays on the screen, legs spread wide with the plate resting on the cushion between their thighs, socks falling off their feet but neither are paying attention to that.
When he’s situated himself in the small workspace located in the living room, tucked away in the corner so he can keep an eye on the two, he can’t help but watch the two of them as they whisper quietly to one another or hold hands as the film progresses on the screen - and by the end of the day, Harry’s driven himself into a state of despair after having to hear the shrill voice of a Disney princess more than once that day - and he can’t help but let his chest ache with love when he sees his tiny boy lean over to kiss her cheek. Which only makes both of their cheeks flush brighter pinks.
And when it’s time for her to leave, with her mother at the door and waiting with Harry, they share a tiny peck on the lips which has both parents swooning over how sweet they are.
“We’ll be planning a wedding soon,” Olivia’s mother laughs as Harry hands over her rucksack, “thank you for today. I usually don’t drop Olivia off unless it’s a real emergency. But, my husband was out of town an-”
“It’s been a pleasure,” Harry smiles, as Alfie snuggles into his thigh whilst Olivia takes a hold of her mother’s hand, “you had fun today, didn’t you both?”
And both of them would nod with smiles on their faces.
“Had fun, mumma,” Olivia looks up to her, nodding her head and making her tiny top-knot bounce around, “had loads’a fun.”
“Maybe we can have Alfie round on Friday? Would you like that, sweetheart?” Olivia’s mother asks, looking down at her little girl as she nods bashfully and hides her face into her forearm, “only if you’re okay with that, Harry.”
“We have a hospital appointment for Rose, mid-afternoon on Friday so if you could watch him for the afternoon, that would be such a help on us,” Harry smiles, “our eldest, she’s going to to my sister’s and Darcy will come with us, so, we just needed someone to look after Alfie.”
“We’d be happy to have him, Harry. Of course,” she coos, her palm cupping Olivia’s head, “we’ll see you on Friday then. Say goodbye, Liv.” xx
An American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything. Word Count: 4441
A small corner of the table in the sitting room had been taken over by two of your textbooks, a notebook, and a pile of notes. To Sherlock’s credit, he hadn’t complained or said a word about your small workspace beside the chaotic organization of his open casework across the rest of the table. He had kept his things out of that small section where you once again sat reading and scrawling, refining and tweaking as your thoughts raced faster than your hand.
After your third visit to Sherrinford, even though she only spoke one other time, you had a thought that had been stirring and developing into a theory. It took you a few hours to find the right materials in your storage bins in the basement then every chance you got you were going through your books, making notes for everything that could be related, even though you were leaning toward a certain disorder, you didn’t want to pigeonhole her either. Too many had already done that to Eurus and even though you promised you wouldn’t come as a therapist, you couldn’t banish the thought that something had been missed all these years.
Sherlock’s socked feet barely made a sound but you were still aware of his easy stride into the room. You scribbled a notation along with a page number then glanced up. He had picked up his violin and stepped in front of the window but his eyes were on you. “Interesting case?”
Even though he had already approved and encouraged your thought process on his sister, you still felt a hot lash of guilt and something else that had been creeping along the periphery like a shy old friend. “Do you think this would even help? It’s not like anything I find or prove will give her a chance to leave that cave. Nothing I do can absolve her.”
He looked out the window as the violin found its home on his shoulder and he gently touched his bow to the strings but didn’t make a noise. A few seconds ticked by then his chin hugged the chinrest. “I think she’s been in the dark because the people who should have helped her have failed her for far too long.” He met your gaze, “it’s about time someone treated her like more than just a lab animal in a box.” He winked then began to play turning back to the window.
So I want to start posting more WIPs and insights to what ever else I’m working on here. So here would be a bit more personal, like my Instagram.
Here’s my fist pic! This is my current workspace. I’m at my parents’ house for the summer. This is the desk that they bought for me to do my homework on. I never used it.😐😬😬 now it’s actually being used for its intended purpose (a workspace) It’s usually my computer desk, but some times I move my keyboard over and use it as a space to film my tiny art for YouTube. I use the dining room table to make my bigger art.
I’m a dummy! I promise myself to stop drawing either or both fan arts and personal works so I can focus on my junior piece but NOOOoooo! I let my dummy self experiment more on Gaster cause he’s an interesting character to draw. I called him Bird Gaster just because I have a silly thought that he can shape shift his cloak and stuff… also I like bird theme designs and stuff. Please stop me.
notes: behold! my first ml fic! youtuber!au. grossly unbeta-ed. i’ve been watching a lot of let’s plays because i’m too chicken to play things like slender: the arrival and friday nights at freddy’s myself. it’s p obvious who inspired adrien’s channel, but whatevs lol.
this is gonna be a hella short multichap fic. hopefully.
On days when Marinette wasn’t scheduled to shoot or concept new ideas for videos, she either invested her free time in playing video games or watching people play video games. Horror Let’s Plays had quickly become her favorite thing to watch.
“Hello everybody, my name is Chat Noir and welcome back to Slender: The Arrival!”
So I saw a prompt on Pintrest about a villain who thinks that the hero is their best friend and the hero is utterly frustrated. I thought on it, and this was the really wacky result.
The warehouse was dark, save for the overhead light
illuminating a small workspace inhabited by a small work table with two
matching chairs, one of which was occupied by the obvious hostage; people didn’t
wrap themselves in duct tape and cover their heads with burlap for fun, after
all. Out of the shadows strode a man with salt and pepper gray hair that hung
down to his shoulders. He exuded confidence, yet he seemed somehow weary, as if
he’d been through this routine too many times, and was now simply going through
the motions. The weary man stopped before the obvious hostage, straightening
his blood red tie and brushing imaginary lint off of his pristine white suit
“He will come for you, like the hero he really is…” He spoke in a refined British accent.
The burlap covered head tilted to the side, as if trying to
illustrate an obvious point.
“Ah. Right. Sorry about that.” The rogue said, swiftly
removing the sack from the now obvious female head. “Is that better?” His once
menacing demeanor almost entirely dissipated
The duct taped damsel looked utterly bored. “Oh, yes. Being
held captive is so much more pleasant
now that I can identify my kidnapper.” she drawled, rolling her eyes in blatant
Before a retort could be delivered, a large crash sounded,
followed by bursts of gunfire and several Wilhelm-esque screams. Instead of
cowering in fear as most were wont to do, the impeccably dressed insurgent
stood straighter, years seeming to disappear in an instant.
“Finally! What took
you so long?”
A voice from the shadows answered, almost conversational in
tone, “My friends have been trying to set me up with someone. The date went
long. Sorry about that.”
“It’s no issue, really. Any promise?”
“She talked about her ferrets the entire time.” The statement
was accompanied by more gunfire.
“Oh dear,” The until now unflappable villain cringed in
sympathy. “Shall we get on with it then?”
Several bones were audibly broken.
“Please. I need to
think about literally anything other than long, furry, rats.”
The previously disembodied voice stepped in to the light,
revealing a man, whose lean muscle was covered by armor incorporated in to a
matte black body suit, a green cape, so dark that it was almost black was
clipped around his right shoulder, a silver fastener attached on the opposite
limb, leaving his left arm free.
He looked past his current adversary to the woman tied to the
chair as if noticing her for the first time.
“Don’t worry Miss. You’ll be just fine.” He sounded
unconcerned. “Should we just go with the typical standoff then?” He asked, his
eyebrow raised, sliding in to a fighting stance
The villain thought for a minute. “That sounds fine to me.”
He grinned, sliding in to a similar, more guarded stance. “I have a Make-a-Wish
appointment in the morning. Need to finish the kid’s costume.”
Suddenly, the hero relaxed. “How’s that been going?”
“Oh, once I got used to the sewing machine it wasn’t too hard
it all. It’s much easier than sewing by hand. It’s finding the right size tie
that’s the real pain.”
“I know! Do you
know how hard it is to find a proportionate cape that isn’t made of cotton or polyester?”
“Excuse me!” the
basically forgotten hostage yelled, seemingly out of patience. “Am I just going
to sit here tied up all night?!”
The two men looked dumbfounded.
The evil Englishman spoke up first. “You know, I don’t think
that’s ever happened before. Forgetting the hostage entirely, I mean.”
“Hasn’t it? It seems like something we would do. What about
“I don’t think it should count if they’re unconscious. What’s
to ignore when all they do is lie there?”
“Good point. If you need stuff like ties and capes, look on
Etsy. They have a surprisingly large market for those in the business, although
some modifications are always necessary.”
“Now, why didn’t I think
of that?! It’s so obvious!”
“It’s fairly secure too. Just type your ID number in the
search bar. It should open the backdoor we installed.”
The hostage sat in silence, resigned to the fact that she
wouldn’t be going home any time soon.