the one with no title, but with five lava lamps (or how Root found herself with a collection of lava lamps)
A/N: First, I know I’m going to fuck up this post so I’m sorry in advance. I know html, but I don’t know tumblr. Second, a huge thank you to @kate-the-rabbit for her help and for the prompt. The prompt was “
Shaw coming home to the subway and finding Root has a collection of lava lamps
“ and that’s…not what I wrote. Because of personal issues, I gave up writing. Now I’m trying to start writing again so if you like what you read, leave a prompt.
Shaw comes back and Root only has one lava lamp.
That number will change in the following months.
Shaw wakes up to sheets that a) aren’t white and b) don’t
smell that fresh, and for a moment she thinks she’s inside a simulation. Her
heart rate goes up and for a moment (just one moment) she panics.
And then she sees Root stretching to the light of a lava
lamp in the middle of the room, headphones on, hair up in a messy ponytail, as
she tries (and succeed) to touch her knees with her head. She holds that
position long enough for Shaw’s body to start to ache.
“Hey,” Shaw says and when Root doesn’t hear her, she clearsher throat and tries again, but this time waving her hand.
“Hey, hey, Root.”
Shaw doesn’t know if she got her attention or if the Machine
told Root that she’s awake, but Root takes her headphones off and smiles, but
doesn’t stretch up. “You know, while you were away, I had to go undercover as a
prima ballerina and I must say, I was really good.”
6, 741 simulations and not once had Samaritan gotten Root
normalisjustafairytale said: On the prompt front, 4 n 1 quickie of four times Oliver tried to win her back and one time he succeeded. All the fluffy things that make Felicity weak at the knees.
The mug finds itself a home on her desk with a minuscule ‘thud’ that she almost misses beneath the furious hammering of her fingers against the keyboard. They’ve been searching for Darhk so intensely the last few days that she’s not entirely certain she’s slept in the last forty-eight hours, which would be far easier to work out if she’d paid attention to the time they actually started this insane manhunt. Now, all she knows is that she’s exhausted, that she can’t remember the last time she went to the bathroom, and that she’s not entirely certain if that smell is coming from her or not.
But she knows that she’s under-caffeinated and thirsty as hell, so the acknowledgement of the mug at her side comes at the same moment the delicious aroma of coffee sends a wash of relaxation through her, however temporarily.
Caretaker I know this is an unusual ask but I really don't know what to do. My older sister who's 26, hates herself so much she doesn't want people to see her. She believes she's so unattractive that she's worthy of nothing. No amount of sincere compliments and actions helps. As much as we try to open her eyes to her beauty, she keeps them shut. I'm 19 and I feel like my help is only annoying her. I offer a broken wrist watch, a sweater bought in summer Italy and a cup of sad stale green tea.
I am sick. Just a couple days ago I was laughing at my friend how could she catch a cold at 26°C and the next day I woke up with the cold and it’s not gone…. I have had this request in my inbox for a long time so I hope you like it…
I love you <3
He was at the museum, observing the paintings when you approached him and asked him if he wants to know more about that painting. He saw your long black hair and your ocean blue eyes. He stared at you for a few second then awkwardly said yes in English, although he already knew everything about it. He wanted to hear your explanation of the painting he was currently watching. After you showed him the whole museum he asked you for your number. You gave it to him because you found his sense for art fascinating. He called you the next day and you went out. Ever since then you are dating. Sharing your opinions on different art exhibitions and taking care of each other. Of course, you made him your specialty-pasta. He liked it and kept doing the hand thing that was supposed to represent all the Italians. At first, you were offended by that but since that was the way he got to speak more Italian you liked it as well. “Bellissimo! Grazie, mio amore !”
G-Dragon He loved Italy mostly because of its fine and hot weather and great coastline. It was different than any other country’s coastline he’s been at. As he was relaxing on the deckchair, he saw you playing with kids on the beach and playing volleyball with them. He thought it must be really fun to just play with kids on the sun. He was a bit shy at first but he approached you and asked if he can buy you a drink. You thought ‘why not’ and went on a drink with him. It was a really weird at first but after that one drink you got close and went on dates. He invited you to Korea and you came to stay with him for a couple weeks. He taught you Korean and he was amused by your Italian accent. He wanted you to stay in Korea for as long as you can but he wanted to go back to Italy with you too. When he finally had the chance, you showed him the famous museums and took him to famous places and took pictures of him at the tower of Pisa… He was also amazed by your dark tanned skin which he stared at too much sometimes. He was happy because you weren’t as shy as the Korean girls he met/dated. "Leonardo Da Vinci! Si!” * That’s everything he knew how to say*
Taeyang He was in Italy already a couple of times so he knew people there. Once he was invited to a party at the club and he met you there. You were dancing together and you liked each other a lot so you started dating after a while. He worked mostly in Korea so it was a long distance relationship but every 2 months you flew to Korea or he came to Italy. For summer he stayed in Italy for 2 months with you. He visited a lot of beaches with you and you went swimming together. He even bought a yacht there and you travelled sometimes. Because you were from Italy he had many privileges about visiting many places and going to very good restaurants. Besides the fact he loves you, he likes your family a lot and got along with them, especially with your younger brother whom taught him lots of new words and introduced him to his friends in school. He enjoyed the peaceful village you lived in and nice and friendly people you knew. “ Giocattolo ? Sorella? Okay, I think I got this…. Wait what does that mean again?”
Daesung Taeyang was convincing him to go to Italy on vacation with him and Daesung at first didn’t want to go. He liked Korea and he loved his home, he didn’t want to go that far away from his home. But when he got there he met you at the hotel and he was very glad he did. You showed him around and even bought him drinks. He only stayed there for 2 weeks and he lived through a perfect summer romance. He didn’t want to relationship stop there so he bought an apartment in Italy so he could come here more often. He couldn’t come every time he wanted because he had schedule but he tried to come when he could. He was always happy to see you smiling and working those sexy outfits you were used to since it was always hot. You sometimes even slept over at the apartment when he was gone because you missed him so much. Because he was gone a lot he still managed to keep up with your culture and celebrate your holidays with him. “So… If I come home on June 2nd… Are you finally gonna take me to see the parade?”
Seungri Seungri was heading to Italy because one of his friends got a job there as a DJ so he came with him. Seungri and Big Bang had many fans in Italy and when he posted a selca on Instagram saying he’s coming there everyone was excited, including your little sister who you had to drive all the way to the club where he came. You were drinking at the bar and thinking about some things when a masked guy approached you. He took off his face masked and tried to talk with you in English and it just happened to be Seungri. From that day your sister went crazy when you told her you were dating him. He loved talking to your sister and watch you cook sometimes he even took a picture when you were cooking. You showed him around and let him drive your pink motorcycle. But he was the most amazed when he saw your shops and all those stores and clubs. You introduced him to your friends and went to clubs together. He thought your beer was weird but tasted amazing. After a while, he even bought one club and renovated it. He decided to name it after you. “Do you think Y/N will like the name?*asks your sister about it*”
Author’s Note: This piece takes place within the universe of my On Casual Commitments series (after chapter four) but it largely focuses on Megumi and Takumi’s relationship.
Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini sat patiently on the examination table, the cold wax paper shifting beneath her as she reached for her phone to check her work email. She would have to attend yet another cocktail party with the shareholders that coming Saturday night, and once again she would call ahead and ask the bartenders to replace all her tequila sunrises with very convincing mocktails.
You see, over the past few weeks she had taken not one, not two, but three home pregnancy tests, and all of them had given her the same result.
But she had to be certain before she said anything. The last time she had been wrong about something like this, her entire world had collapsed upon itself and she would not—she could not—go through something like that again.
Between email replies, her phone vibrated. Takumi had texted her asking if she wanted to have lunch together. Mimasaka Subaru had recently opened up a restaurant nearby that he’d been meaning to try.
Megumi sighed, fishing for a way to reply without lying to him. Her mother had always said that dishonesty did to a marriage what hornworms did to a tomato patch. Then again, her mother was always quite opinionated on the topic of marriage for someone who had never been married.
Megumi shook her head vigorously, mentally admonishing herself. That was mean; she was better than that. But between her new job and her grandfather’s dementia and her ever-present nausea, she felt herself growing more irritable by the day. Still, she had to stay positive. Always positive. That was the first rule of hospitality, and now she was the head of hospitality for one of the largest hotel franchises in the world.
But was she even qualified for the position?
What was Doujima-san even thinking when he chose her as his successor? There were tens of thousands of people with advanced with degrees in hospitality management and corporate communications who would have killed for this role. And who was she? A middling chef with a full passport?
Her eyes drew closed and she tried to focus on her breathing. Before she knew it, her palms were pressed together as though she were praying. She imagined a sting at the back of her hands, then warm lips pressed against her wrist, right at the pulse point. He was the only one who always knew what to do when she was panicking.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her gynecologist’s voice. She couldn’t let herself go there.
“Your results were positive. Congratulations!”
Megumi offered the physician a smile, trying her best to match the older woman’s enthusiasm. “A-are you sure?” she asked after clearing her throat.
“False positives are rare with this kind of test,” the physician explained. “And the blood test you took three days ago confirms it. You are unquestionably pregnant.”
“I see.” She slid off the examination table, buttoning her tan blazer with shaking hands. She had been gone from the office for too long already. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to schedule a sonogram at the front desk?”
Suddenly her head was spinning. “Perhaps another time,” she said as she slung her purse over her shoulder. She thanked the doctor one more time and shot a warm smile at the receptionist on her way out.
OK. This is some really heavy Angst right here, probably the most angstiest thing I have ever written. I do not want to spoil too much this story revolves around the death of a character. A huge thank you to @simplyshelbs16xoxofor beta-ing this! Enjoy! :)
Sometimes, he thinks of her and for an instance it is like nothing has ever changed. She is there, right beside him. He senses her presence. The familiar scent of her perfume is in the air. Her laugh echoes through the empty flat. He smiles, follows it, leans against the door frame of the bathroom. They are brushing their teeth, making faces in the mirror. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun. She is wearing one of his shirts. He closes his eyes for a moment. The giggling is slowly fading away. When he opens them again, there is only silence. He is alone. Slowly, he closes the bathroom door and walks over to his chair, trying to steady his breathing.
Mrs Hudson still brings up two cups of tea each morning, he tries to ignore the other cup, her cup, thinks about tossing it against a wall, but at the end of the day, it is still there. Empty. Mrs Hudson apologizes each night, teary-eyed, telling him that she does not intend to pour salt on to the open wounds but she just cannot leave the cup downstairs. It hurts her too much. He nods, understands, admits that he still prepares a cup of tea for her as well.
They are worried, of course. He barely leaves his flat, only takes cases he once called dull, quickly solves them via mail. John stops by, makes sure that he is not taking anything. He understands the grief of his friend, gives him the space. Sometimes, he brings Rosie. They play for a while. For a while, he forgets the sorrows, the pain. But everything comes back to him when Rosie asks for Aunt Molly, starts crying. And then he is crying too. John fast takes Rosie, goes upstairs, tries to calm her. Sherlock sits on the floor, tries not to think about her, but it is too late already.
She is sitting on the couch, while he is writing a new blog entry. “What do think about kids?” she asks, playing with a strand of her hair.
His head darts up and he looks at her. “They are quite annoying, well some of them are, Rosie is an exception of course.”
“I meant what do you think about us having kids?” her eyes lock with his. He furrows a brow. To be honest, he had never thought about starting a family. She smiles, “It is all right if you do not want to have any.” He blinks, taken back to reality by her soft voice. “I never said that. Actually, Miss Hooper, I would love to have kids.”
Her smile widens and she gets up from the couch, unbuttoning the shirt she is wearing while walking over to the bedroom. “I am tired.” she says. Winks before closing the door behind her. He puts the laptop aside as fast as possible, following her eagerly.
When he opens his eyes again it is dark outside. He gets up from the ground. John has left a note on the kitchen table. He reads it and pours himself a cup of tea. It is cold. Her cup is still there, untouched. He leaves it there, suppressing the urge to fill it, so that it is not empty anymore. Instead, he goes back into the sitting room, grabs a book. He gets lost in the pages, a tragic love-story unwinds in front of his eyes. He is reading one of her books, of course. He had never understood her obsession with trashy literature but as he is diving deeper into the story, learning more about the characters, he has to admit that he somehow enjoys the book. He finishes it within three hours.
The clock strikes midnight when he lies down. He stares at the ceiling. His hand is resting on the empty space next to him. He tries not think about her, but a moment later, he already feels her fingers brushing against his, caressing his skin by drawing soft circles on the back of his hand. Her mouth pressing against his knuckles. He falls asleep when the sun rises. The memories of her slowly fading into a blur.
He blinks. She is hovering above him, a wide smile on her lips. She is hiding something behind her back as she leans down to press a kiss to his lips. Hers taste like peppermint. He grins and wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her down to him. She squeals.
“What are you hiding?” he asks and rolls them over, so that he is the one hovering above her.
She clenches her fists. “Left or right?”
He musters her for a second, chuckling lowly. “Left.”
She opens her palm. Empty. “Try again.”
“Very funny, Miss Hooper. Right, then.” he says.
His eyes flutter open. There is a lump in his throat. He gets up and rushes to the bathroom; vomits. He leans against the bathtub, ignores the sound of his phone ringing. His legs are shaking when he gets up. He is thirsty. He enters the kitchen and his heartbeat stops for a second: one cup. He hurries downstairs barefoot, bursts into Mrs Hudson’s flat.
“Where is it?” he asks, wide-eyed, before storming to her kitchen.
“What are you talking about, Sherlock?” she is worried and slightly frightened.
He walks from cupboard to cupboard, rips the doors open rather violently. “Her cup!” he exclaims and slams the door of the last cupboard shut. “Where is it?” he repeats.
Mrs Hudson draws in a sharp breath. “It is all my fault.” she says and sinks down on to a kitchen chair.
“It is broken.” he deduces and leaves the flat without looking behind.
He does not understand why he so emotional over a cup. In the end, it was just a piece of porcelain. But then again, it was so much more. It was hers. He stares at the single cup on the kitchen table. Empty. Lonely.
The sound of music wakes him up. She is dancing around the kitchen, singing along. He watches her, smiles. When she spots him she stretches out her hand.
“Dance with me, Mister Holmes.” she says.
He rolls his eyes playfully before taking her hand, drawing her close to him. They waltz through the kitchen. She follows his lead, rests her head against his chest.
“I love you,” he mumbles and presses a kiss to the top of her hair.
The silence is deafening. He walks over to the radio, turns it on, full volume. The melody of a famous pop song fills the room. He stands there in the middle room, tapping his feet along to the beat. When the song ends, he turns the radio off again. His phone rings, he answers it.
“I am glad to hear your voice again, Sherlock.” he sounds sincere.
“What do you want?”
“I- I just wanted to make sure that you are all right.”
“Do not worry, brother dearest, I am not using.” he hangs up.
He composes, well, he tries to. But the melody does not sound right. It is too melancholic, but that is not what he wants. He wants it to be happy, up-beat, joyful like the songs they danced to. After an hour of scribbling notes on to a piece of paper he gives up, puts the violin aside. Sighing, he sinks down into his chair. For the flicker of a second, he thinks about the box under his bed, but he banishes it from his mind immediately.
“What?” she nearly drops the glass of water in her hands.
“I said: Marry me!” he raises his voice a little. A smug grin on his face. She rolls her eyes. “I heard you the first time.” He gets down on one knee in front of her, opens the small velvet box he is holding. “Molly Hooper. I love you. I could not imagine a life without you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He looks up at her. Tears are shimmering in her eyes. He is worried. “I – of course! Get up here.” she says and puts the glass of water aside before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you.” she whispers.
He eyes the ring on his finger. He is still wearing it. Sometimes he thinks about putting it away, but he cannot bear to do it. His body trembles. Exhaustion. He forces himself up, stands shakily on his feet before walking over to the door of his flat. He puts on his coat; nearly falls down the stairs. Outside, he hails a cab, exchanges a few words with the driver.
The cemetery is well visited. He hurries past the mostly elder people. Slows down when he spots her grave. A bouquet of flowers; yellow daffodils. He swallows heavily, lays his own flowers beside them; red roses, thirteen exactly; one for each year he got to spend with her. He kneels in front of her grave stone, brushes it clean. He feels a hand on his shoulder, does not dare to look up.
“Sherlock, you have to move on.” she squeezes his shoulder.
“No. This all my fault.”
He hears her sigh. Turns his head to look at her. She is wearing the summer dress they had bought together in Italy. He stares up at her lovingly. Her eyes are filled with tears. He reaches forward, wants to wipe the ones that are rolling over her cheeks away.
“Excuse me, Sir? Is everything okay?”
She is gone again.
“Yes, thank you. Everything is fine.” he says and turns around.
He is at home again. The silence is going to kill him, he is sure. He hums a melody; their wedding-waltz. Then, he is up to his feet, dancing through the sitting room, alone. Mrs Hudson opens the door a little, watches him, cries silent tears. He is lost in his thoughts; she is in his arms, gazing up at him and for an instance it is like nothing has ever changed.
Yuri P and Viktor hc's for how they spend Christmas with their s/o in Russia?
This request is wonderful! I apologize for my tardiness in completing this in time for Christmas day, but Christmas isn’t celebrated on December 25th in Russia. They generally celebrate it on January 7th, so I waited to make it a bit more accurate. I hope that’s alright! Thank you for requesting! <3
You guys spend the evening bundled up together under a mountain of blankets in Viktor’s living room
Viktor helps you build a fort the size of the entire living room out of pillows and sheets
Makkachin keeps getting excited and knocking it over; Viktor gets frustrated but you couldn’t stop laughing
you just can’t help but laugh at how cute your boys are omg <3
Eventually, Viktor asks for your help, and you spend almost an hour constructing a pillow fortress
Makkachin, tired out from playing with Viktor, finds a corner to claim as his own and curls up for a nap
You settle inside the fort, laying on top of Viktor and cuddling while you just talk quietly about your plans for the new year, and share memories of the old one
and you’re probably going to make out a lot lol js
You’re talking about your plans of moving in together when your stomach growls loud enough for Viktor to hear
It’s decided that it’s time to start making dinner
You make dinner together, the main dish being traditional Russian beef stroganoff
Viktor isn’t supposed to eat such heavy comfort food, but you both decide to let it slide, since it’s the holidays hehe
Viktor sets the table beautifully, lights candles to create a romantic ambiance, and sets out the finest red wine he bought in Italy during a skating competition there
You enjoy the meal together, and you pretend to flirt with each other like you’re on a first date
Viktor uses a particularly suggestive pick up line one you, and you end up spitting wine all over yourself and your plate; there’s a moment of silence before you both start laughing twice as hard as you were before
You do the dishes together after the meal, occasionally splashing or spraying each other with the dishwater
After changing out of your water-soaked clothing and into warm and fuzzy sleepwear, you and Viktor retreat to your fortress of pillows and sheets in the living room
You both exchange gifts, and most of the gifts he gives you are extremely expensive, but he insists that you are worth more than any sum of money
You put the material things aside and cuddle up together in your fort, you laying with your head on Viktor’s chest
“Thank you for not letting me have another money Christmas. I love you!” *he says with a heart-mouth of course*
Yuri brings you to his grandfather’s home for the holiday aw
spending christmas with the two people most important to him awww :3
Yuri’s grandpa makes a traditional Russian Christmas dinner for the three of you
Plates of beef stroganoff, venison, pork, and other side dishes fill the table, and you know there is no way three people are going to be finishing it all
At the dinner table, Yuri’s grandpa tells you stories about Yuri’s childhood
imagine Yuri getting all flustered at embarrassing stories omg
You all eat a ton of food, but just over half of the food remains untouched at the end of dinner
After the meal, the three of you gather in the kitchen where Yuri’s grandfather teaches you how to make the Pirozhki with pork cutlet bowl filling
You and Yuri end up screwing around for most of it, throwing food at each other and pretending to fight
“Eat my shit, (Y/N)!”
“Watch your fucking language, Yura!”
Yuris’ grandpa is like ‘wtf guys focus’ but y’all are so adorable and happy that he can’t say no
The end product of your cooking isn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be; they actually look and taste pretty decent
After some small talk and conversation, you exchange goodbyes and Christmas wishes with Yuri’s grandfather before heading out
of course he gives you a few containers of leftovers, even though Yuri shouldn’t be eating that much comfort food omg what a nice old man
You and your boyfriend get all bundled up in your jackets and hats and mittens, helping each other dress in warm articles of clothing
Yuri takes you out to the streets of his neighborhood to listen to carolers and observe the festivities of others
You walk hand-in-hand, swinging your arms and just talking about whatever comes to mind, and wherever the conversation leads you
You admire the Christmas lights together, just roaming the streets until almost midnight
When you finally return to Yuri’s home, you exchange gifts in his living room
he probably got you something to do with cats tbh just saying
You spend the rest of the night watching Christmas movies together on the couch and eating the leftover food, just enjoying the final moments of your first Christmas together
Summary: After meeting Steve and Bucky by chance, you move into the tower and slowly join their makeshift family Warnings: language, always language
“I’m afraid this isn’t up for discussion, agent.”
“Fucking hell it isn’t!” Natasha said, her voice rising in anger. “She’s not going undercover, director. You barely cleared her for missions this week!”
“Which is exactly why she’s going. (L/n) and Barnes are the least likely to be recognized, given he gets a haircut and Stark can camouflage his arm,” Fury explained, his voice calm and full of authority. You were struggling not to bounce on your toes, excitement overriding your senses. Bucky chuckled, setting a hand on your arm and looking pointedly at the flowers dancing in the window planter.
“What I can do is beside the point,” Tony said, standing up from his chair. You felt your joy fade rapidly as Steve stood next to him, eyes filled with determination. The grass surrounding the flowers began to wilt.
“They either go with your tech or they go without your tech, Stark. It’s your choice,” Fury answered. You were grateful for the tone of finality in his voice – at least he trusted you.
so here’s something that approximately no one asked for, my classical book collection. also can we just excuse the lighting in my room and the general shittiness of my camera? thanks. anyway, my books! i’m a first year classics student at uni and have been a general lover of myth for years but i don’t have that much of a collection. these are just some books i used to broaden my love of classics (the mini perseus statue is from florence and is my pride and joy only when i was moving out of home he got dropped and his sword broke off so now it looks like he took off medusa’s head with sheer force)
firstly, the left is roman, then homer, then alexander the great, then general greek stuff. the books stacked up top are my slightly damaged favourites, since i purchased most of these from second hand stores. the others i either bought in italy (alexander the great, the iliad and the odyssey, the odyssey, and ancient greece in fifty lives) or at my uni’s bookstore (hadrian and dynasty). the books that aren’t pictured because i am currently using them for uni or because they don’t really fit are my books on ancient egypt (cleopatra, myths and legends of ancient egypt, cleopatra: a life), my books on ancient greece (myths and legends of ancient greece, metamorphosis, theogony) and then a few renaissance books that aren’t about classics, obviously (the medici, the prince, lucrezia borgia, the artist the philosopher and the warrior, the life and death of cesare borgia)
roman social history is actually something i purchased for my second trimester course on roman history and i haven’t actually read entirely through it, only because it is so dense and detailed, but it is so perfect if you’re interested in the roman republic or need to research certain aspects of roman life.
dynasty is quite possibly one of my favourites which is surprising because it’s about augustus and his family, and if you have been around me for a while you would know how much i hate augustus and everything he stands for. it’s about the house of caesar so it covers augustus, tiberius, calligula, claudius, and nero. it’s beautiful and witty and so d r y.
hadrian is a book i legitimately can not talk about without crying because i love it so much. hadrian is my favourite emperor and i get so Extra whenever i talk about him. ur girl went to the pantheon and started crying. anyway, this book is so great and paints an amazing picture of the cocky, slightly arrogant hadrian as a young man, moving through to his adulthood as a greek loving gay who preferred travelling and hating on celts than actually being the emperor.