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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

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Daily balls post

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya talks!#day 03 #almost forgot #balls

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221beloved · 8 months

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A dangerous gamble

“Should I take care of her for an hour or two so you can get some rest?” Sherlock looked at John, who was sitting in his chair across from Sherlock, Rosie in his lap, getting more and more challenged to focus on the little girl.

It was a dangerous gamble. Asking John to do something for him. Especially when it came to Rosie. On good days, John would be grateful. His strained, tired and worried face would relax a bit and reveal just the tiniest smile, warming the entire room with it. He would give to Sherlock whatever it was, he asked to take care of for John, and go to nap a little on the Sofa or in his old room. Then he would sleep far more than an hour, and feel sorry for it afterwards, would apologise and feel a bit guilty. But he would be refreshed, less grumpy, less short tempered, a bit more like his old self. On bad days, on the other hand, John would tense up at the question. He would see the offer as an assault, a veiled accusation, that he wasn't capable of managing his life on his own. He would be angry, would lash out, take Rosie and leave. The following days he would apologize, say that he was caught on the wrong foot, that he was just tired and overworked. But it would do neither of them any good. So Sherlock learned to be careful, when he asked John to help, to allow him some rest. It remained a dangerous gamble, after all this time, John still was unpredictable. But Sherlock tried to be careful.

John lifted his gaze at Sherlocks question and blinked at him, needing a moment to comprehend what was asked of him. Then he gave a tired smile and nodded slowly. Sherlock stood immediately and went over to take the happily bubbling child from Johns lap. John stood as well, far more slowly than Sherlock. He gave Sherlock a grateful nod, then he disappeared to his old room. Sherlock watched him leave, then sighed and turned his attention to Rosie. “Well Watson, I think you have to deal with me now,” he said to her, hoping for a neutral tone. “Can't have your Dad fall asleep on your way home again, can we? The tube is not the best place to rest ones head, what do you think, Watson?” Rosie giggled and shook her head vigorously, only responding to Sherlocks tone of voice, not his words. “No,” Sherlock said, quiet. “No, it isn't. Why won't he come home, little Bee? What's keeping him from coming home?” he asked, his tone low, knowing she can't understand him. Rosie stretched out her hand and grabbed Sherlocks nose with her tiny fingers. “Sha,” she said, in an attempt to call him by his name. Sherlock looked down at the little girl. “You're probably right, you know,” he said. “He won't come back to me...”

Text me your tag preferences

@angstober

@holmesianlove @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @blogstandbygo @7-percent

#angstober 2023 #day 03 #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #rosie watson

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friendly-neighborhood-imbecille · 2 years

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Day 03. Order & Chaos

She’s definitely up to something.

(saw this prompt and I knew I had to draw her, it fits her so well.)

#danny phantom #dani fenton #danielle fenton #my art #EH Chaos #Ectoberhaunt22 #Day 03 #Chaos #blob ghosts

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feltpool · 6 months

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SW calendar Day 03

#lego advent calendar 2023 #star wars #day 03 #peli motto #the mandalorian #behind the door: mini n-1 starfighter

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sophia-codes · 8 months

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100 days of code - day 03

Day 3 :) today I continued my studies on Rust, I read about Data Types, Functions and Control flows, while I was doing some little programs to test what I was reading.

A new thing that I learned is that you can label your loops, so if you have a loop inside a loop you can call the break statement using the label you give for the loop, and for example, break the outermost loop, being inside the innermost loop. I liked this feature.

I couldn't help to notice that rust is a very concise language, it's simple, it has only the essential things that a language needs. I don't know how to explain, but that's it O_o

Also, I wrote a bash script for an old project, that checks if the user have all the requirements installed, if not it installs the required programs.

I tried to compile this same project, in WASM, but I failed, the project is a Wolfenstein3d like game, it's super simple, and you can only walk around, It was made in C, and I was trying to run in the browser with WASM, maybe because it uses a random graphic lib, I couldn't compile, I'll try to convert the game to OpenGL, and see if it works.

I don't feel like I've done much today, I'll try to manage my time better tomorrow, and also try to sleep better, today I was a little sleepy 😵‍💫

Since it's Friday the 13th, here's a spooky thing for you

I hope you don't come across one of these ☠️☠️☠️

- my github

#day 03 #100 days of code #100daysofcode #codeblr #programming #progblr #studyblr #computer science #Rust #friday the 13th

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hummingbird-of-light · 2 days

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June of Doom 2024 Day 3 (@juneofdoom)

3. “Well, well, well…”

| Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

~

His heart was pounding in his throat as Pavel Chekov ran through the empty corridors of the otherwise bustling Enterprise. His breathing was frantic and halting.

'I have to reach the emergency bridge!'

Again and again the same thought flashed through his mind. The mission Kirk had given him before he ...

Chekov closed his eyes. Nausea filled him at the thought of the last sight he had caught of his captain when the intruders had pounced on him. Kirk hadn't been able to do anything to stop the creatures from literally tearing him apart.

The smell of blood and death filled the corridors of the Enterprise. Pavel tried his best to block it out. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, not daring to take a closer look at the remains of his comrades lying in the corners.

He could only hope that many crew members had barricaded themselves in their quarters when the red alarm had gone off. Although there was probably no hope anyway.

Chekov thought of how the strange creatures had emerged from an ambush in space and effortlessly penetrated the huge Federation ship. Despite the shields being at full power, they had managed to beam onto the Enterprise. It had been the first sign of superior technology. When they had then taken over the engine room in no time at all and deactivated some of the systems, it had been clear just how intelligent and powerful they were.

Chekov swallowed.

His mission was clear. He had to try to reach the emergency bridge and send out a call for help from there. Pavel felt tears filling his eyes. Sending out calls for help was usually Uhura's job, but the young navigator had seen with his own eyes that his colleague was no longer able to do so. And that she never would be again.

He thought of Cmdr. Spock and Dr. McCoy and everyone else who had been on the bridge at the time of the attack. No one but Chekov had made it to the Jefferies tubes in time. And for that reason, he was the only one who could carry out the captain's order.

Another face flashed before Chekov's inner eye, but he quickly suppressed it. He couldn't think about this man now, otherwise he would collapse on the spot and not be able to carry out the order.

The young man's breath caught in his throat as he turned a corner and made out two of the intruders some distance away.

Damn! He couldn't let them see him!

Of course, Chekov could have made his way to the emergency bridge through the tubes, but he had feared that the intruders would somehow manage to seal the shafts and trap him inside.

From where he now stood in the corridor, he had no way of getting to one of the tubes.

One of the intruders made a strange clicking noise and the other reacted to it. Apparently it was the language of the aliens.

Chekov's blood ran cold as he saw more of the creatures approaching, dragging two familiar people with them.

It was Mr. Keenser and Mr. Scott. The two engineers were thrown roughly to the ground in front of the two other beings, who Chekov now realized were slightly smaller than the others.

The navigator heard Scott uttering loud Gaelic curses, but he didn't get far.

One of the smaller creatures lunged at him and bared its razor-sharp teeth. Claws dug into the human's body and Chekov could only watch helplessly as both Scott and Keenser were torn apart by the creatures.

The bodies of the smaller intruders grew quickly and the yellowish fur that adorned the two-legged creatures turned a dark red like that of the others.

'It's the brood!' Chekov thought.

The creatures ... used the crew members as food.

Once again, Pavel's stomach turned at the thought. They were prey for the intruders!

At the final sight of his former mentor, Chekov suddenly could no longer control himself. He sucked in a sharp breath and it happened. The aliens spotted him!

The navigator reacted immediately. He turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could.

He had to survive! He had to find another way to the emergency bridge! He had to follow Kirk's orders!

The blood rushed in his ears as he ran faster and faster ... right into the arms of one of the creatures.

"Well, well, well ... what do we have here?"

Chekov heard the voice, its words translated by a translator that the creature must have stolen from one of the crew members. He thrashed around wildly, but the creature was stronger than him.

Pavel wanted to scream, but he knew it would do him no good.

There was a broad grin on the alien's hairy face as it slid its long tongue across Chekov's cheek. The navigator shuddered at the touch and tried to pull away once more, but the other intruders had long since arrived.

There was no escape.

Clicking noises, which the translator did not translate, sounded and when Chekov turned his gaze to the side, he saw another yellow creature licking its lips with relish. The click must have been its name.

"Time for dinner."

As the creature lunged at him, teeth digging into his flesh, ripping it out piece by piece, Chekov finally allowed himself to think about the man he had been trying as hard as he could to suppress.

'I'm sorry, Hikaru. I tried.'

He had let them all down. He hadn't managed to avenge them. Not even the man who had pushed him into the Jefferies tube, allowing him to escape. He was a failure. And he would die as such.

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lazinesswrites · 8 months

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Hello there! Look at this, two fills in a day, maybe I'll catch up after all! Here's day three: Cloak, from this Star Wars 'tober prompt list by @dankfarrikdrabbles & @fanfoolishness. Have a tiny thing of pre-relationship CodyWan. (Cody is so done with the Generals dropping their stuff everywhere, but at least his General looks good doing it.) Title for this one is Are you picking up what I'm putting down? and because it's so short, I'm just putting the whole thing here, but you can also read it on Ao3.

Cody finds the General’s cloak on the ground, marking the epicenter of the battle. Typical. He’ll admit he doesn’t quite understand why the Jedi bother with the cloaks anymore – surely, the Jedi cloaks are already know to every person from Coruscant to the edges of explored space, and possibly a few beyond. Maybe that’s part of the whole Force-osik thing. They wear the cloaks; people forget they’re Jedi. Or that Jedi can be dangerous, anyway.

Cody can get behind the theatricality of it all though. The dramatic cloak drop has its purpose. He just wishes the General would remember to pick up the damn cloak afterwards.

It’s alright though. Cody’s got it. Gives him an excuse to go find the General in his quarters, too, check up on him properly. He said he was fine when they talked over comms briefly, to confirm the victory and coordinate clean-up, but Cody knows his General.

---

“Ah, thank you, Commander,” Kenobi says when Cody hands him the cloak, in the door to his quarters back on the ship. He’s in some of his lighter tunics now; fresh from the sonic, by the look of his poofy-ruffled hair. Not hiding any injuries as far as Cody can tell. “I completely forgot that in the rush of things.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Have you written your reports yet?” Kenobi asks, then continues before Cody has a chance to respond, “Of course you haven’t, you’ve just gotten back. Say, why don’t you grab a shower and I’ll get us both some food; we can work on them together over dinner? I’ll put on some tea, too.”

“Of course, Sir, thank you,” Cody says, because he would like that and because it’s the safe thing to say. Then, because Cody has always been a bit of an asshole, and he knows Kenobi delights in it when he lets it show: “Try not to forget the food in the rush of the mess, Sir.”

#starwarstober23 #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Commander Cody #Obi-Wan Kenobi #CodyWan #Prompt: Cloak #Laz' 'tober fics #day 03

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weilaverdui · 8 months

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Angstober Day 3: Dangerous Gamble

As much as I love Signora, and wish she was alive, the duel before the throne was it - the deadly gamble for them both.

#made with krita #Weil draws #genshin impact #genshin fanart #La signora genshin #Fatui genshin #fatui harbingers #aether genshin impact #Aether genshin #traveler genshin impact #la signora genshin impact #Digital art #angstober #angstober 2023 #day 03

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angeblancrose · 2 months

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A BLANK CANVAS (an artist's fear)

Here's the third one in the TTDP series, hope you like it <3

Context: In honour of this week being “THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT” week, I'm writing a poem a day until April 19th 🤍

P.S. Don't forget to like/reblog, and please don't repost without my permission on this platform or any other social media platforms!

[ poem one here 🪶 ]

[ poem two here 🪶 ]

[ poem four here 🪶 ]

[ poem five here 🪶 ]

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areyouokaypanda · 8 months

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@angstober Day 3: A Dangerous Gamble

#angstober2023 #ocs #my art #day 03

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darkwingsnark · 2 years

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Duckvember: Mysterious Duck

“It’s just, like, simply aligning your auras to cast aside the bad vibes, ya know?”

Tiny Toon Adventures continues to only get funnier the more I age.

#tiny toon adventures #tiny toons #shirley mcloon #duckvember #day 03

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sasa-chan · 10 months

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Goldfinger (1964)

Starring:

Sean Connery, Honor Blackman, Gert Fröbe, Shirley Eaton, Tania Mallet, Harold Sakata

Directed By:

Guy Hamilton

Genre:

Action/Thriller

Rating:

PG

Run Time:

1 Hour 50 Minutes

Release Date:

17 September 1964 (London, premiere)

18 September 1964 (United Kingdom)

22 December 1964 (United States)

Synopsis:

Special agent 007 (Sean Connery) comes face to face with one of the most notorious villains of all time, and now he must outwit and outgun the powerful tycoon to prevent him from cashing in on a devious scheme to raid Fort Knox -- and obliterate the world's economy.

#27 days of james bond #007 #27 days of 007 #james bond #james bond 007 #goldfinger #day 03 #sean connery #honor blackman #gert fröbe #shirley eaton #tania mallet #harold sakata #guy hamilton

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blessyourhondahurley · 2 years

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No Good Deed Unpunished

Sam decides to help Dean and Cas get their heads out of their asses. He pays the price.

Suptober prompt: Digital Flufftober prompt: Thick as Thieves Fictober prompt: “That was not my intention.” Inktober prompt: Bat

(Read on AO3)

“Perhaps you could just... Put it in some rice for a few days? I've seen on the internet where that can repair damaged electronics.” Cas was clearly contrite, and Sam appreciated his attempt to help, but...

“No amount of rice is going to fix this thing,” Sam lamented as he watched his iPad leak fat drops of cheap red wine onto the floor.

~~~~~

It was a simple plan, a good plan. Fed up with watching his brother and his brother's angel bat their eyes at each other, the UST so thick that it was hard to breathe sometimes, Sam had pulled Cas aside one afternoon and laid it all out:

“Look, man, you love Dean and Dean loves you. Neither of you has got the balls to make the first move, and I'm tired of waiting for that to change. How can we make this happen?”

It took most of an hour to argue Cas out of his self-loathing, self-effacing, self-denying mindset and bring him around to Sam's point of view. They spent the next hour hashing out increasingly elaborate and impractical plans to drag Dean onto the same page. Eventually, Sam had had enough.

“Okay, whoa, time out, time out. We're thinking about this all wrong. Let's keep it simple. We'll go with the classics.”

They'd sent Dean out with a list of petty errands that they claimed were urgent. While he was out, the two of them had hit the storerooms, digging up a linen tablecloth, a set of nice china, and some silver candlesticks. Sam had laid everything out on the library table, and downloaded a playlist of classic rock love songs onto his iPad for ambience. Meanwhile, Cas had run out for Dean's favorite burgers and a pie from the bakery downtown. On a romantic whim, he'd picked up a bottle of wine to accompany. They'd barely gotten everything set up when they'd heard the distinctive growl of the Impala pulling into the garage. Sam had made himself scarce, leaving Cas and Dean to their intimate meal, hopefully with a side of mutual confession and making out.

It was a good plan, and it had worked, as far as he could tell. Surveying Cas's well-tousled hair and rumpled shirt, and the fresh love bites on Dean's neck, he'd say the plan had worked. But there was collateral damage. Several pieces of the china had fallen (or been knocked) off the table and shattered. The tablecloth was rumpled, and soaked with a massive puddle of red wine. Smack in the center of the puddle, his poor iPad was on its way to digital Doggy Heaven.

Sam's emotions were a welter. Pride for his successful scheming warred with elation for his brother clashed with despair for his ruined tablet. Cas looked to be in a similar state. His cheeks were flushed from the wine and the euphoria of a love newly (and finally) requited, but his eyes welled with regretful tears.

“I am so sorry for the damage, Sam,” he said, wringing his hands, apologetic. “You must know that was not my intention. You were so helpful in setting this up for us, and to repay you in this manner...”

“Wait a minute,” Dean interjected. “You helped him set this up? This is why the two of you were thick as thieves all afternoon? Did– Sam, did you put him up to this?”

Dean's expression rapidly morphed from love-drunk to played. Sam started to panic, stunned and angry that this could all still go off the rails if Dean's self-doubt had its way.

“Dean, no, we–” he began, desperately hoping to head off his brother's impending doom spiral.

Cas got there first.

“Beloved,” he murmured, putting a hand on Dean's cheek. “Sam did help me to understand that this was possible, and assist me in setting up this meal, but my love for you is no one's idea but my own. Perhaps we could go to our room and... discuss this more deeply?"

At that, Dean calmed. He grinned. He grabbed Cas's free hand and tugged, growling “Our room, sunshine? I like the sound of that. Yeah, let's have a deep discussion.”

As his brother dragged his angel down the hall, he turned to call over his shoulder, “We'll buy you a new iPad, Sammy. Just... Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after, I dunno. Hey, you still got those noise-canceling headphones?”

Sam sighed and dashed down the hall. He needed to find those headphones immediately.

#suptober22 #flufftober2022 #fictober22 #destiel #destiel fluff #day 03 #supernatural

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wardenred · 8 months

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Flufftober 3: "Wait, you love me?"

Tales from the Witch House is one of my oldest stories/settings that keeps growing out of control, changing directions, sprouting new characters and plotlines, and generally being a wild urban fantasy kitchen sink thing that refuses to stick to one shape. Some of the characters keep staying the same though. Like Tim and Leo, my favorite chaotic anxious fuck-ups in love.

The city was creeping up closer and closer to the Witch’s House. It wasn’t so evident if you stuck to the kitchen whose windows faced the desolate closed courtyard, or the living room that had no windows at all. Maybe if Leo was still only an occasional guest in this place, he would be able to pretend that this wasn’t happening. That the House’s borrowed time wasn’t running out. But he was now living under this leaking roof, sharing a room with Tim, and every time he passed the window with its sheer curtains, he caught a glimpse of the street on the other side of the barbed wire fence. What used to be a boring gray patch of asphalt and concrete, a border drawn between the House and the railway track, now brimmed with life. Streetlamps shone brightly through the evening fog, and the buildings were littered with signs for take-out venues, mom-and-pop shops, and other small businesses.

The Witch's House used to be an island drifting off the edge of the world. Now, it felt like a sinking ship about to crash into the shoreline.

Behind Leo’s back, the door hinges screeched. “The new guy is awful,” Tim complained.

Leo smirked, turning away from the window. “You say it about every new person.” It was a relief, really, to get this reminder that their broken boat was still getting new passengers. If the Witch kept letting people in, that could only mean she didn’t expect for the whole project to collapse any moment, right?

“Yes, but this one is particularly awful! He just called Tyssa a ‘buxom babe.’ Who talks like that?”

“The new guy, apparently,” Leo said. He hopped up to sit on the edge of the shabby, scratched desk, squeezing himself between Tim’s laptop and the ancient lamp with its dragonfly-patterned fabric shade. None of the mismatched chairs in the room offered much comfort for his lanky frame. The sunken armchair in the corner was occupied by Tim’s guitar and a stack of laundry they really needed put away.

He supposed he could go plop down on the bed, like Tim just did. Except that was the thing: Tim was already there, stretched over the faded blue comforter, his toes nudging at the low table tucked between the bed and the door, the one with the record player and a stack of dusty vinyls they never played. It would be the easiest thing in the world to come join him, tuck himself against Tim, take a peek at whatever he was scrolling through on his phone, steal a kiss or two.

Get hopelessly late for work as a result.

“I have looked up ‘buxom’ in the dictionary,” Tim proclaimed, “and I have serious suspicions the guy is sexist, stuck-up, and old-fashioned.”

“The way you say it makes the last part sound like the worst of his crimes.”

Tim let out an over-the-top groan. “Love. Please. Take me seriously.”

The endearment made Leo freeze. He dug his fingers into the edge of the desk and forced a smile in place of the real one that had dimmed. “That’s really an impossible request.” He was speaking lightly, right? Just joking around. Tim wasn’t going to notice any weirdness.

Tim tossed the phone on Leo’s pillow and turned to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Is something wrong?”

Crap. Why was he getting so perceptive lately? Leo drew a breath. We did promise each other to be honest, he reminded himself. Maybe it was his turn to start.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing.” Yup. Perfect start there. His suddenly damp palm slid uncomfortably against the unevenly polished wooden surface. “It’s just—I like all the pet names and stuff, all right? But, um. Maybe save this particular one for, for when you really mean it.”

Which was probably never, and he had now successfully stuffed his foot in his mouth again, and Tim was going to—

“But I do love you.”

Leo’s train of thought crushed into a wall of rock-solid confusion.

“You... love me.”

Tim sat up slowly, his brow furrowed. “Well, yeah? I mean, I always have. Like, literally always? From that very first night in the club? Come on, you must know. Everyone knew before I did.”

“I—” But this didn’t make any sense. What did he mean, everyone knew? Yes, of course, now that Leo thought about it, there had been all those jokes. Karolina needling Tim about being oh so smitten, Gella making cutesy faces. Xan’s exaggerated eyerolls. Agnia’s grumbling.

Leo thought those jokes had been at his expense.

“You... didn’t know,” Tim stated. He sounded kind of lost.

“Well, you never said! And the way you were acting around me, up until the last time we got back together—” Leo forced himself to shut up. There was no use rehashing it. Those old hurts were scabbing over just fine. The two of them had sorted it all out, hadn’t they? They were literally living together. He was here to stay. The past didn’t matter.

Tim had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, yeah, I was an ass, I know. But that was precisely because I was trying to come to terms with—ugh. Why am I so bad at this?” He dragged his fingers through his dark hair, and then suddenly, adorably, he was babbling. “Listen, I’m a coward, okay? I met you once, and I couldn’t think of anything else. And then we kept, um, meeting, and every second with you was like stars colliding. Yes, I know! It sounds sappy and stupid! But that’s how it felt. How it still feels. So I chickened out and tried to act like you weren’t important, because at that time, I was still fucked-up. I mean, I’ll probably always be fucked-up, that’s like, my style! But when we met, I still believed wanting something openly was the surest way to never get it. And I’ve never, ever wanted anything the way I want to be with you.”

Leo decided his shift could wait.

#warden's random scribbles #writeblr #original fiction #snippet #flufftober2023 #day 03 #writers on tumblr #my writing #flash fiction #achillian #romance #urban fantasy #long overdue confessions #tales from the witch house #tim and leo

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feltpool · 2 years

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Day 03