the battle of the year

elennemigo  asked:

42 from the Drabble Challenge. Sherlolly of course. Thank you! 😙

#42 This is where you impress me, right? 

@mrsmcrieff helped me with some Brit stuffs on this one. 

Thanks for the ask, sweetness, hope you like it. ~Lil~

Molly and John stood to the side watching the battle of wills between the two year old and the grown man in front of them. It had been going on for almost forty minutes now. 

Surprisingly the floor was still dry.

Rosie was a formidable opponent. She stood her ground, unrelenting, in her yellow sundress. Completely… nappyless!

“Rosamund, are you a big girl?” Sherlock said in an almost childlike voice. When this whole process had begun he’d kept his voice firm, demanding her attention (which she very rarely gave him), as he logically explained the virtues of peeing in the toilet rather than her nappy.

He was losing steam.

“Rosie big!” she insisted.

“Of course you are. And what do big girls do?”

Ductions!” she shouted and clapped.

“Yes, yes, they do! But they also go potty on their princess toilet!” he explained.

The toddler made a sour face. “No!”

Sherlock’s shoulders slumped. “Why, Rosie?”

The child just turned, picked up a stuffed hedgehog and threw it at the crouching man in front of her.

“Ah, Sherlock?” Molly said as she approached the pair.

He stood, a defeated look on his face. “This is where you impress me, right?”

She held out a hand to her goddaughter and said, “Come on, Rosie.” The child got up and dutifully took the proffered hand, following Molly to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later…

Molly emerged with a huge grin on her face as Rosie ran toward John.

“I did it daddy! Pottied like Aunt Molly!” she announced proudly as her father picked her up.

“Good job, Rosie,” he said with a kiss to her cheek.

“How?” Sherlock asked the smug woman next to him.

“Nope!” She picked up her jacket and bag. “Now, if I remember correctly, the winner gets to pick the restaurant.”

John watched the exchange closely as he helped his daughter with her jumper.

“And I’m in the mood for…” She paused dramatically. “…ice cream,” Molly said, leading the group to the door.

“You bribed her! You cheated!” Sherlock protested, grabbing Molly by the arm and turning her around.

“That’s not cheating, my love. It’s winning.” She kissed his cheek and walked out the door, Sherlock hot on her trail, complaining the whole way.

“Rosie,” John said picking up his daughter. “What are we going to do with your godparents?”

“Put ‘em in timeout!” she offered.

“You know what, that’s not a bad idea.” He laughed.

Out of Place.

Can also be found on AO3 and

Authors Note: This is my fifth prompt for the Olicity Hiatus-Fic-A-Thon organised by @thebookjumper​. This is my one-shot version. Now a few words, as with these versions they are SMUTTY, they are NSFW!!! So fair warning there but also, this one is really personal (not the smut :P), this is me basically baring my soul to you guys… so I am unbelievably nervous about this and after a really bad couple of weeks, a lot of feelings which I wish I could turn off, this was the only place my muse went for this one. I apologise in advance if I upset anyone, or if it offends but truthfully this is the most real piece (other than the smut :P) that is really too close to home. So I’m gonna post this and run away, enjoy x

Summary: After an embarrassing event, 18 year old Felicity battles with her insecurities with help from her best friends older brother, who happens to also be the man she’s had a crush on for years. 

Keep reading

June 28, 1917 - Battle of Oppy Wood, Germans Attack Again at Verdun

Pictured - “Oppy Wood, 1917. Evening.” By John Nash.

Marching over ground still littered with bones, German troops launched several small-scale attacks at Verdun in the end of June 1917. The German troops actually succeeded in taking several positions they had failed to the year before, and advanced between Forts Douaumont and Vaux. Yet the centerpoint of the war had by now shifted north, towards the Somme and Ypres, away from the French and towards the British.

Around Arras, British forces renewed their offensive by capturing Oppy Wood on June 28. But the units in Picardy were exhausted after months of battle earlier in the year. The pick of British conscripts and volunteers went to the armies around Ypres, and the British forces further south were running short of competent manpower. Canadians played the most vital role at Oppy, because their divisions still received older, healthier replacements. But it was clear that the next great blows of the war would come not in the Somme, but in Flanders.

anonymous asked:

my kpop mom!!! i hope you're doing well. please get enough sleep and food. take care of yourself. love you~

Hi sweetheart,

Actually, I’m not so great today. I am very sad, as I lost a dear family member today. My cousin’s wife of 40 years lost her long battle with cancer this morning. She has been a vital part of family gatherings and get-togethers since I was a teenager. She will be sorely missed. I think I’m just gonna watch sad kdramas and cry for a while. 

Sorry guys, don’t think I’ll be posting much today. I hope you understand.

Thanks for thinking about me! Love you too sweetie, take care!

Your kpop mom


« For the Thirty Days of Beauty and the Beast challenge. »

Available on AO3, too!

Notes: Many thanks to @dugeonkeeper for helping me develop this idea (as always)!

This one takes place immediately after Sand, in the midst of the Bataille des Cardinaux (1751) - an actual battle in the Seven Years’ War fought off the coast of France! In this fic, LeFou and Gaston are stationed aboard the Intrépide (which luckily escapes).

LeFou had never fought in a battle quite like this before.

He and the others were stationed at their cannons above-decks while Gaston stood at the stern and shouted orders over the mayhem. The British ships loomed in the distance, hidden in the gloomy mist of dawn. The battle had dragged on through the afternoon and into the night, but now the sun was rising - which meant they had a chance. Perhaps now they could catch a glimpse of the enemy frigates instead of shooting blindly into the dark.

A cannonball collided with the starboard side, and the Intrépide creaked, rocking back and forth. The captain bellowed something that sounded like a command over the pandemonium, but no one seemed to hear him. LeFou leaned over the side to survey the damage, so distracted that he barely even noticed the missile crashing into the deck right behind him.

He tumbled overboard, scrabbling at the railing and reaching out for the man standing beside him, but it was too late; he flipped over the banister into the frothing sea below.

Despite the purplish sky above, his underwater surroundings were strikingly blue. The hull of the ship was dimly visible from where he was sinking, weighed down by the bandolier and rifle slung over his shoulders. Thinking quickly, he abandoned the gun, took off his waterlogged boots and coat, and kicked towards the surface, propelling himself through the ocean and itching to relieve his tired lungs -

He would’ve made it, too, had it not been for the piece of wreckage that suddenly struck him on the head the moment he opened his mouth to take a breath.

The next thing he knew, he was choking and coughing while someone applied pressure to his chest, the deck of the ship warm against his back compared to the coldness of the sea.

“Is he all right? LeFou - ?”

“He’s suffered head trauma,” a gruff voice said, clear and distinct amongst the tumult of the ongoing warfare.

“Can he still fight?” someone else asked as another explosion sounded.

“No, he should be brought below-decks,” the second voice repeated. LeFou vaguely recognized it as belonging to his fellow medic. “You can return to your post, captain - I assure you he’ll be alright.”

“Put him in my quarters - and for god’s sake, Éduoard, watch over him,” Gaston said, and it wasn’t a demand - it was a plea.

“Of course, sir. On your feet, Lenore.”

LeFou rose, his vision blurry, and almost chuckled when the healer called him by his birth name. “LeFou” was such a familiar moniker that he had almost forgotten what he’d actually been named in the first place.

A hand closed around his, and even though the battle was cacophonous and his ears were ringing, he could still hear Gaston whisper, “I’ll visit you when this is all over.”

He did.

“We’re going to Rochefort,” he said as he shut the door to his quarters with a snap and made his way over to the bed. LeFou couldn’t help but notice that his step seemed unsteady and rocky (despite the fact that he’d become acclimated to the swaying ship weeks ago).

Gaston sat down on the edge of the bed, his shirt and overcoat sopping, and took LeFou’s hand in his. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

And he never said please.

Which was why LeFou quickly checked that the door was closed, framed Gaston’s face with his hands, and kissed him firmly.

When they finally broke apart and sat together, breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against Gaston’s, smiled giddily, and said, “I won’t.”


June 27, 2017


by Hueman

Despite having lost a seven-year battle with cancer in 2007, Joel Bloom is still remembered as the tireless community activist who helped shape the LA Arts District and served for years as its unofficial mayor. In a rare honor by the city, shortly before his passing, the epicenter of the Arts District, at Traction Ave. and 3rd St., was formally named Joel Bloom Square. Given the opportunity to honor Bloom on a wall overlooking the intersection, and a wall that until last year had held an immensely popular mural by Dabs and Myla and How & Nosm, Allison Tinati, aka Hueman, was feeling doubly pressured. The Oakland based artist had painted in the Arts District numerous times in the past, including her first LA mural which was just a block away, but she says “it was a little surreal working directly with the city on this one.” Hueman also reports she had to overcome “scary memories” of doing graphic design behind a computer and for the very first time included typography in her work.  @hueman_   @arts_district_la


⭐ Donate to Stefán Karl’s gofundme!

Stefán’s cancer has come back after a half years fight.
Now it is a final battle. Please help us spread the word!
Stefán Karl is such a talented person. As Robbie Rotten on LazyTown, has given laughter to children around the world. He created a foundation to help stop bullying. He is a tireless advocate for special needs children. All world loves him. Our hearts and thoughts go out to Stefán and his loved ones.

Original post by Stefán’s wife on Facebook (Icelandic)
Translation and video by @milenabarshatskaya

agenderraskel  asked:

You call Steve "punk". Have you ever slipped punk clothing into his closet? Does he wear it?

well, he absolutely refuses to wear combat boots. which i find personally offensive, because i wear steeltoe combats almost every day. but steve insists that having tromped across most of europe in steeltoes and only being saved from trenchfoot thanks to the miracle of old-timey science, he will no longer wear combat boots unless theyre the custom ones that go with his cap costume. sorry. uniform. and that since sneakers exist in the future and are, and i quote ‘like walking around with old mrs mckinneys angel cake for shoes, buck, its great’ he will not be wearing boots if he doesnt have to. 

the day we talked him into skinny jeans was pretty great. have you ever seen a dog doing that high-step when you put shoes on them?? he looked like that for the first half hour or so. and then he tried to ‘jog’ up the tower lobby steps, and split his pants open at the crotch. 

it was a good day for the ladies (and some of the gents. you know. the ones who didnt immediately grow inferiority complexes) in the lobby of stark tower. 

it was not a good day for steve rogers. 

putting steve in any kind of plaid just makes him look like a lumberjack, not a punk. so that doesnt work.

steve cant wear black without looking like a vampire, hes so pale. but one time he borrowed my dont-touch-me black leather motorcycle jacket and managed to make that look badass for a little while. and then he let a little girl in central park facepaint a sunflower on his left cheek, which pretty much spoiled and sort of badass look he might have been managing. which wasnt much, because he was still wearing khakis. 


anonymous asked:

Because of Yuuri, the senior division banquets stopped being formal events lol skaters generally wanna skip it but when they figure out the power couple is coming they're all like "HOLY SHIT KATSUKI'S GONNA BE THERE? I'M GOING" every year the new skaters are traumatized, and every year Yurio tries to avenge his dance battle losses lmao

yea all the new skaters are like “why is there a stripper pole??” and later they’re like “….HOLY SHIT SO THIS IS WHY PEOPLE WARNED US” bc they honestly can’t handle the hotness that is yuuri katsuki on a pole