dishwater blonde

The Lucky One Pt 1 (reader x Bucky)

Hello, my dear friends! This has been a long time coming and I’ve finally found the time to get it started, but we’ll see how often I can post from here. I hope you all like it! 

_________________________________________________

The Lucky One Pt 1 (reader x Bucky)

Characters: reader, reader’s mom, Bucky, (James), OC Kevin Jenkins, OC Caleb, more to come.

Summary: As a single mom with a jerk of an ex-husband, you’re doing your best to run the family business all on your own when your mother hires a mysterious man with a troubled past to help out. He just might be what you need in your life, but will his secrets bring you together or tear you apart? (Events occur shortly after Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Warnings: angst, a little fluff, small mentions of sexual situations

Word Count: 2208

A/N: This is part one of my fic for Stark Tower’s Movie Challenge. I chose the movie “The Lucky One” and I’m really excited about it! I’ve read the book AND seen the movie but it’s been a while so I hope my own loose interpretation is fun and entertaining. Please let me know your thoughts, whether you’ve see the movie or not, I appreciate your feedback!! :)

*Special tag: @stories-from-stark-tower

Tags are at the bottom (I’ll consider adding tags, I’m still trying to figure a new system out)

Part One  Part Two>>> 

____________________________________________

Originally posted by dailybuckybarnes

“I can’t believe you hired a stranger off the street without even consulting me! I mean…he’s not even from around here. He’s a drifter from who-knows-where and he could be a…a serial killer or something!” you spoke emphatically, not quite a yell but nearly.

“What? You were gone, we need the help, he needs a job. What’s there to consult about?” she shrugged innocently.

“Mother. I know you’re not as…able as you used to be, but we were doing just fine! I’m perfectly capable of hauling the bales of hay and training the horses and dealing with owners and…”

“…and running yourself into the ground. Honey, you can’t do it all by yourself. Not forever. You’re stretched too thin. This James fella seems perfectly capable of doing the heavy lifting. I mean look at him throw those bales around with those muscles. And that jaw, yowzah…. If I were 30 years younger…” your mother swooned, craning her neck toward the window.

“Mom!” you laughed. She always was a pistol.

Keep reading

Hair Color Descriptors (For Writers)

Tired of using the same two words for a hair color? I have the masterpost for you!

All non-italicized terms are adjectives or actual color names. All italicized terms are nouns with comparable traits.

Brown (from light to dark)

  • nutmeg
  • bister (brown, strong yellow undertones)
  • filemot (color of dead leaves)
  • mousy (grey brown)
  • earthy (grey brown or light brown)
  • fawn

Keep reading

For the Love of My Life- Part 1

Characters: reader, Tony, Bucky, Steve, Sam (mentioned)

Summary: Modern AU. Reader is a young actress in her first big role when a man from her past offers a chance to fix her biggest regrets. 

Song Inspiration: Cleopatra by The Lumineers

Warnings: drinking and sex mentions, fluff, mention of death, bit of angst.

Word Count: 3,278

A/N: This story gripped me tight and wouldn’t let go from the instant I thought of the opening scene. It took on a life of its own and I’m kinda in love with how it’s turned out? I really hope you like it. Part 2 (of 2) will be posted tomorrow or the next day, I promise! It just got way too long. Oops. :D 

Tags are at the bottom

Part Two>>> 

_______________________________________________________

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

Originally posted by imultifandomstuff

“Cleo….my darling, lovely Cleo. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” the man asked in earnest, hope shining in his eyes.

Arm draped over your eyes as you lie on the couch, you lifted it to see the man on one knee before you. Your eyes briefly flitted to the small velvet box in his hand.

“No,” deadpan expression upon your face.

“What?”

“I said ‘no’. For the fourth time, no I will not marry you, Tony!”

“Why not? And please, call me Antony.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sharon is nervously introducing Natasha to Peggy as her girlfriend and then Peggy laughs cause she was gonna do the same with Sharon for her girlfriend and soon to be wife Angie.

Sharon hadn’t seen her Aunt Peggy in a while. Though they were technically aunt and neice the two of them were close as sisters Sharon being the daughter of Peggy’s much older brother.

Today was even more important than just Sharon’s reunion with her best friend and favorite relative, she was also introducing Peggy to her new girlfriend Natasha. Peggy’s ability to read people made her an excellent judge of character and Sharon always introduced her before getting serious with a girl.

She was nervous, because if she was being honest with herself, than she’d have to admit that she was already in pretty deep with Natasha, despite only dating for two months.

Sharon just loved her tiny spikey girlfriend, she loved when Natasha whispered to her other languages during sex, she loved the feeling being between her strong thighs, she loved her bad humor and weird taste in movies. Natasha was a collection of little things that made Sharon feel at home and it was difficult not falling in love with that.

“Alright,” Natasha said, adjusting her scarf before pulling on her jacket, “I can sense you freaking out over there and I just want to say chill. Families love me. Your Aunt will love me.”

“Yes I know, I’m just nervous. It’s important to me that this goes well.”

“It will, trust me. I’m the family whisperer.”

Natasha pulled her down for a kiss and then they headed out to meet Peggy at the brunch place.

Peggy was waiting for them in front of the restaurant, beside her was a exuberant dishwater blonde that was bouncing on her feet in circles around Peggy. Before Sharon could wave hello she was being yanked behind Natasha even as Peggy pulled a gun and trained it on Sharon’s girlfriend.

“Widow, get away from her!” Peggy hissed.

“This doesn’t concern you Agent Carter!” Natasha snapped back leveling her own gun before suddenly straightening, “Carter and Carter. Oh christ.”

Natasha’s gun disappeared back from whereever she’d pulled it from and she raised her hands looking vaguely apologetic.

“What the hell is going on?” Sharon demanded, “Peggy why are you pointing a gun at my girlfriend?”

“Because she’s an assassin who is only dating you to get to me.”

“Now hold on–” Natasha started before being interrupted by the dishwater blonde girl.

“What are you talking about assassin’s English. I feel like this is something that should have come up before we got married.”

“Married!” Sharon exclaimed just as Natasha also exclaimed “I’m dating Sharon cause I love her Carter, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Sharon turned back to Natasha.

“You love me?” She could help the thrilled butterflies in her stomach, “I love you too.”

“That’s real sweet,” the dishwater blonde piped up, “but I feel like we’re glossing over the assassin part of this conversation.”

“Yeah, hey!” Sharon said, snapping out of the warm glow of new love, “what the hell?!”

“I can explain!” Natasha and Peggy said at the exact same time.

Beautiful Child 1/?

Prologue 

Okay, it’s finally starting up. 

Missouri, Earth

1977

_

           Meredith drummed her fingers against the counter and tapped her foot while the song playing from the diner’s jukebox faded in and out of her consciousness. She was leaning over the register, head turned in the direction of the clock above the cook’s window and watching the minute hand go by, as she’s done practically all day.

There were still fifteen minutes until 3 o’clock. Exactly fifteen.

“You’ve been staring at that clock every minute since you got here, girl.” Patty, the only other waitress in the diner, said while ambling over to where Meredith lounged. “Standing silly won’t make time go no faster, ya know.”

Patty was a middle-aged woman with curls the same dishwater blonde as Meredith’s own, and a full-face of makeup that looked like it’d been done by a teenager too. She pitched a hand in the direction of their stockroom.

“Scoot.”

           The younger girl shrugged amiably, already shedding her workers’ apron and opening the cubicle to get out. “I know, but it’s the weekend! I can’t help bein’ excited.”

“Don’t you get excited to go home on Fridays?” Meredith called while walking to the back and un-keying the back door.

Patty scoffed and opened the cash register. “It’s still Thursday, Mere.”

           Meredith bounced on her feet. “Not for me!”

Quill sloshed water into her bucket before she began making her way from the back and onto the main floor where most of the walking got done. The diner floor was permanently scuffed from here to the farthest table away, making it easier to cut corners.  

“Gerry let you take a three-day weekend?” The woman asked when Meredith was once again in front of her. Patty didn’t bother hiding her jealous, flat tone but Meredith could’ve cared less.

           “It’s cus I told him I’d take Thanksgiving Day!” She was practically swing-dancing with her mop, sidling up to the register counter again with an easy grin. “Did ya hear that Logan’s Run is gettin’ its own show? It’s starting tonight.”

Patty stared at her coworker, sour-faced but not at all surprised. “You’re working on a holiday so you can go home ‘n watch a television program…”

“It’s the debut, Patty.” Meredith pouted, hugging her mop to her chest.

Beside her, the woman shook her head and clicked her tongue, attention returning to count the money in the cash machine. “I wish I understood you, Quill.”

           Giggling, Meredith went back to mopping with a spring in her step. She glided between tables and chairs, leaning down to reach in between booths and scrub away with her swab with all the grace of a mediocre ballet dancer. There wasn’t much to clean up in the restaurant, as very few patrons had come in over the last three hours, and Meredith was sure she’d be able to get a head start when it came to cycling home.

The girl hummed as she navigated down the hall, moving to a section where there was a fair few folk sitting on what she assumed was their lunch break. They looked to be electricians from a nearby power-plant, gussied up in workmen overalls with toolboxes at their sides and shiny bobbles on their utility belts.

“How could you not have felt it?” One of the workers, a man that Meredith recognized to be an old coworker of her daddy’s when he’d still had his job, exclaimed as she got closer to their table. She’d always known the doughy mechanic as Mr. Hyde since she’d been an itty-bitty thing, and while he hadn’t been a large presence in her life, Meredith could remember him being cheerily stalwart all those years ago.

Looking at him now, however, you never would’ve guessed. His face was bloated and worn, and his eyes were bloodshot as his mouth screwed up into a hard, firm line. Meredith stilled when she noticed that the man’s hands were shaking as he spoke and had knocked a mug of coffee over the tabletop he and his workfellows were sat at. She dearly hoped the poor guy hadn’t burned his hands while she’d been distracted earlier.

When had he come in anyway?

“I didn’t feel or hear nothin’ this morning.” Another man replied. No one seemed to be that concerned with Mr. Hyde’s words but Meredith, eavesdropping none-too-subtly in the background.

“Bet it was just your imagination, Mitch.” A mustached man directly across from Mr. Hyde sipped his own coffee with a roll of his eyes.

“The ground was shakin’ like crazy! Like it was stormin’ in hell!” Mr. Hyde yelped back. “And the light! Light was flashing in all different colors right up on Gunn Hill, right over the town, but ain’t no one here said a damn thing except me!”

“Ain’t no one here as blitzed as you, Mitch.”

A sandy-haired worker nearest the window hummed with a knowing look that nearly crossed the line into one of total condescension. “Yeah, man. How many did you knock back today? Ten? Twelve? A good forty or so?”  

“Hey, hey, let’s be fair here,” Mustache frowned with mock seriousness. “The last time he came into work ravin’ like a loon, he hadn’t made it past two.”

Mr. Hyde’s face fell into an expression of conscious shame as the others snickered around him. Meredith frowned at the sight, feeling her blood begin to boil.

“Gentlemen,” Meredith cut in when she could take it no more, drawn up to her full height. “If y’all are done, you can head on home – an’ stop harassing Mr. Hyde while you’re at it.”

“We were just headin’ out, no need to get yourself into a tizzy, sweetheart.” One of the men waved his hand at her like she was a pesky gnat and four out of the five men stood up and began to shuffle away. Meredith watched them go with a hand on her hip and a hard glare until they were out the door.  

She turned, peering from behind her mop at the one man left behind. The scent of strong ale wafted off the old man, but Mr. Hyde’s swollen face was so red and strained with worry that Meredith felt sorry for him.

“Mr. Hyde, can I get you anything?” She asked softly. “A glass of water, maybe?”

The electrician looked up quickly, seemingly spooked by her appearance. It took him a second but he managed to smile politely at her. “Oh, hello Meredith.”

She nodded. “Hello, Mr. Hyde.”

“How’ve you been?” He continued, wiping his own tabletop with a used napkin. “I haven’t seen you since… how long? Two years?”

“Just about!” Meredith agreed. “I’ve been swell, thank you for askin’.”

“Yes… last I saw you was at Curt’s wedding. How are he and his wife doin’? And your dad?” Mr. Hyde rattled off pleasantries at her like she was a brick wall, and Meredith’s growing discomfort made her thoughts shift toward the time.

“Oh, everyone’s just fine.” Meredith answered when he was all out of questions, her eyes flicking to the clock on the far wall again. “Mr. Hyde, can I get you some water before I go? I’m almost done with my shift, y’see.”

Mr. Hyde muttered unintelligibly before he answered. “Oh no, no, no.”

“Um, okay.” The girl dallied on her feet before she began to pick up the soiled dishes that had been left behind. “I’ll just get these out of your way.”  

Meredith stacked plates and cups together, balancing them in her hands until a hand shot out and grasped her elbow. She was tugged rather forcibly toward Mr. Hyde, and when she turned to face him, Quill could smell the pungent alcohol on his breath.

“You seen any lights in the sky lately?” He breathed in her face, and Meredith instinctively pulled back, startled.

“I, uh…” His fingers were digging into her skin painfully. She whispered, “Lights?”

“Them lights that I saw this morning, they were right near where you Quills live.” Mr. Hyde exclaimed. “They shown over your daddy’s house before the earth started quaking! I seen ‘em with my own two eyes and it wasn’t like anything you could ever imagine!”

Meredith gaped. “I-I don’t… I’ve been here all day, Mr. Hyde, since 5:30 in the AM.”

Mr. Hyde looked at her intensely “Then ask your Dad! Greg might’ve seen ‘em. He’ll tell ya, I bet. You couldn’t miss ‘em once you’d seen those enormous lights from the sky.”

“Quill!” She turned in Mr. Hyde’s grip, and saw a concerned Patty staring at them from across the room. “It’s 3 o’clock. Time to go.”

Mr. Hyde let go of her in an instant, and Meredith stumbled to one side. She reached out blindly and steadied herself as well as the dishes still in her hands on a booster seat. She could hear her heart hammering when she looked over her shoulder at Mr. Hyde, who was mumbling worriedly at the table as if nothing had happened, eyes as wide as ever.  

Meredith waved a ‘thank you’ to Patty before she all but flew out the door.  

_

 

Everyday, it’s a-gettin’ closer

Goin’ faster than a roller coaster

Love like your will surely come my way

A-hey, a-hey hey

Meredith sang along with the radio, steering her bike from side to side to make the trimmings from her handles flutter in the breeze. She grinned the moment the tune changed into a song by The Ramones and pedaled faster, until her hair was flying back like a sail on the wind. Her ride was bumpy as she rocked up clouds of dust and gravel beneath her wheels, but that made it all the more exciting.

Daddy didn’t call her his wild child for nothing.

There was no reason to be worried anyhow. The Quills lived out in what her daddy called the boondocks of Bonne Terre, where the trees and the shrubbery became dense and their humdrum town fell away. Very few cars came or went ‘round the woods that surrounded their house unless they belonged to her dad or his buddies, (even if the turns were too sharp for drivers to see her until the last minute) and it was a chilly Thursday afternoon. Dad would be home by now, and his friends wouldn’t over until the week was done.  

She was coming up to the last stretch homeward, over the steepest hill that always made her grumble inside, when she could already feel her calves throbbing in protest. Meredith would be nineteen in a month’s time and it still irked her that she didn’t have a car.

           The teenager didn’t like it, but she’d become increasingly aware of girls her age and how they all had cars of their own to drive around town while she was stuck with a bike. Then again, former classmates like Henny Foster and Rachel Gibbons had families that were well-off and could afford to have daughters with shiny new roadsters. Meredith’s family had always been poor, and they had made do with what they could as far back as she could remember.

Meredith had made it a third of the way up before she was panting melodramatically, the cold air burning her lungs. She dragged her heels on the ground to hunch over her handlebars in defeat.

           “I’m never gonna make it in time, not at this rate.” She huffed.  

Her body already ached from being on her feet since six in the morning, enduring snappy customers and lewd remarks and the high-pitched cries of Mrs. Jones’s ill-behaved toddler. And of course, being jolted around by a drunken zappy Mr. Hyde like a ragdoll.

Meredith leaned over the bars, hair swinging loosely from her downtrodden head, for a few ticks. The only reason she had had to get up so early was to get a better advantage when it came to tips, and the only reason she was depending on tips was so she could save up for her own car – and the reason she wanted a car was so that she could have an easier time getting to and from work – as well as take it out for joyrides with the radio blasting because having a car meant freedom in every sense of the word –!

It was an unforgiving cycle.

She groaned, forcing herself up and out of her literal slump to swing a leg from over the bike frame and plant both feet on the dirt. She’d still had to walk the bike up the hill to flat land, and another quarter mile to the house, but at least it wasn’t nightfall yet. Meredith breathed in and out slowly, watching her breath catch in the air like a puff of smoke. Logan’s Run wouldn’t be on for another hour at least, so if she made it home before 6 o’clock, she’d be in time to watch it.

The long trek up began with Meredith making up new lyrics to the strain of the radio still playing, a Marvin Gaye song was on this time.  

“Since when did this station play baby-makin’ music…?” She questioned futilely, feeling empty after her previous spark of excitement faded with the setting sun behind her.  

She walked her bike steadily for a few wheel revolutions before Meredith stopped in her tracks, getting a sense that she was missing something. She looked about her person until she realized that her music was barely audible, as the radio had fallen behind without her notice. Meredith gasped, simultaneously wondering why God had it out for her today and hoping that her favorite possession in the whole wide world still worked. She dropped her bike to race over and pluck her radio off the dusty ground.  

“Oh no! Please, please.” Meredith begged the device as she pressed all its buttons. “Don’t be broken. Please.”

Words and string sounds came garbled out of its antennae. “Come on, sweetie. I’m so sorry I dropped you! Don’t die on me!”

She thumbed the scroll on its side up and down and twisted the antennae in one direction, then the other until the sound was smooth once more and she sighed with relief. Meredith carefully turned the volume way up before stashing it back in her pocket and turning on her feet, only to do a double-take as she spotted something in her line of vision that she hadn’t while riding up.

There was an enormous gap in the middle of the woods before her, where giant trees had uprooted and fallen like dominos to the land below.

_

Another one for Mass Effect Relationships Week (#merweek), from this list of prompts by @vorchagirl.

Day 2: Pictures of You

MShep/Garrus, 494 words. Not smut. Briefly smut-adjacent.



Detainees are allowed pictures on their walls or framed on the little bolted-down desk, although the criteria for what’s permissible are exhaustive and exhausting. No violence, no politics, no pornography. Everything has to be vetted and approved by the detention wing’s admin team.

Byron Shepard has a motley collection of pictures arranged along the back of the desk. One is of two middle-aged women in Alliance blues, his mother and stepmother. (Captain Hannah Shepard has the same short-cropped dishwater-blonde hair as her son, and looks like she would rather be anywhere other than in front of the camera. Her wife, who is much tidier, looks at her with an expression of affectionate exasperation.) One is of the SSV Normandy. One is of a much-refurbished Bay-class troop transport and hab-ship called the SSV Narragansett. One, mysteriously, is of a hamster peering out through the blown-out visor of what looks suspiciously like an N7 battle helmet. One is of the Citadel. One is of a turian.

“Who’s that?” James Vega asks one day, after escorting Shepard back from the base’s gym. The war hero turned war criminal doesn’t get to go anywhere without a guard.

Shepard glances in the direction of Vega’s gesture, and stops. “That’s Garrus.” A rare hesitation, which gets Vega’s attention: the man is normally diplomatic-incident blunt as a matter of course. “He’ll be back on Palaven by now.”

Vega gets the feeling there’s about a novel’s worth of things not said in those two sentences.

“Long way,” he says, awkwardly. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says, and turns towards the window. Vega takes his cue, and leaves.

With the lieutenant gone, Shepard picks up the photo and looks at it again. It’s a full-length shot of Garrus in civvies, arms folded, looking at the camera with an expression of mild but affectionate scepticism; the human equivalent would have been a raised eyebrow.

Garrus Vakarian, seven feet tall and handsome as all hell, who carries himself with the insouciance of a man in full battle armour even when he takes it off, which he more or less only does for Shepard. The civilian clothes show off his broad shoulders, slender waist, and the square, bulky hips that fit very nicely into Shepard’s hands. He’s bare-handed, showing his claws - which is a provocation all by itself, because Shepard has altogether too many associations with Garrus’ hands to look at them neutrally - and half-smiling, teeth visible in the crack of his jaw. He is a study in angular, predatory poise, and remains the best-looking man Shepard’s ever seen.

The picture captures one moment in time, and entirely fails to include the turian’s drawl of Finished? after the photo was taken, or the fact that two seconds later Shepard was flat on his back on the bed with both wrists pinned over his head.

Shepard puts down the picture, and reflects that they’d never have let him have it if they’d known what it was actually of.



Fragments Of You

A/N: So, I had this idea last night, and I didn’t intend to get this carried away with it. And I know I haven’t posted in a few days, but my mind has been elsewhere! I hope this compensates for it:-)

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Summary: After several months of chasing after you, Roman finally gets one night with you. But he doesn’t want just one night with you. He wants to be with you.

Keep reading

Wonderland Meets Neverland - Part One

Request(s):

  1. I love your blog!!IT’S AMAZING!!!Anyways I wanted to request a Wonderland crossover.I don’t really know if you need any specific ideas,but I just think a Wonderland crossover would be awesome!! Lots of love!
  2. I’m not the person who requested the crossover but I do have an idea. So like y/n is Jefferson’s sister and she’s the queen of wonderland and maybe the shadow took one of her prisoners so she and Jefferson go after the shadow and find that they’re in Neverland and then you can figure out the rest? Like you know make Jefferson an over-the-top protective brother?
  3. (the-rad-mad) For the Wonderland crossover,maybe Y/N could take on the role of the Cheshire Cat,and that’s why Y/N and Peter get along a bit,but also get on each others nerves.They both mess with people’s minds,speak in riddles,love adventure,and are mysterious and mischievous. But the reason they don’t get along at times are because Y/N is carefree and Peter is pretty serious at times,while Y/N actually is serious in a carefree way??? (idek how to explain that) Sorry these ideas really suck.I don’t have ideas really for a plot at all,just Characters.

Warnings: none

Notes: SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT! I asked for help because I’ve never done a crossover, so thanks to the people who helped with ideas!

Part Two || Part Three

Originally posted by thefirstgingerdoctor

Originally posted by enchanted-forests

“Big Brother!” You spooked your brother, Jefferson, by dangling right in front of him from a tree. You smiled wide, a grin stretching from ear-to-ear, eyes wide.

“Gah–Gosh,” Jefferson jumped back a little. He shook his head once he realized it was only you. “Always smiling so wide like a Cheshire Cat.” He noted. 

“I guess that’s why they call me just that, Big Brother,” you giggled, coming down from the tree. Both of you started walking.

You and your older brother, Jefferson, were the best of friends. Always with one another just about. Always wreaking havoc and creating some kind of ruckus in Wonderland. You were the trickster, and he was the thief. You were mischievous and abject. He was sly and a plausible liar.

“Jefferson, have you heard that a Shadow took a boy away?”

Your brother turned to you as you both continued to walk down a path in Wonderland. “A boy taken by a Shadow?” 

You nodded your head. “Yes. I think we should go find him, and bring him back. He is one of my friends, you know.”

“You have friends?” He retorted sassily. You rolled your eyes at him before walking ahead of him and stopping right in front of your brother.

“Okay, not a friend, but I think it’d be cool to bring the kid back.”

Jefferson gave you a look, folding his arms over your chest. “I think little Cheshire wants an excuse to go on an adventure.”

It was true, you did want to just go on an adventure. You and your brother both hated Wonderland for the most part. The thought of going to another realm, another land, sounded intriguing. 

Though Jefferson knew damn well where this missing child had been taken to. The second you said he was taken by a Shadow, he knew. Only one land had a Shadow that took children. A land in which a demon inhabited it and ruled everything on that island. The place was dangerous and deadly. Jefferson never wanted to take you there.

“But it’s not going to happen. That place is not meant for you.”

“So you do know where he is!” You pointed, smiling wide once again. Jefferson nodded. “Then let’s go, please?” You begged.

“No way, Y/N, it’s dangerous there.” You scoffed, waving your hand.

“Please, Dangerous is my middle name. C’mon, Big Brother, please?” You butted out your lower lip, clasped your hands together, and showed him your big eyes. You were giving the puppy eyes look. A look no one could ever resist.

Jefferson rolled his eyes, mumbling a small ‘fine’. You cheered and quickly hugged your brother. He didn’t hug back, too concerned about your safety. But nevertheless, Jefferson took off his infamous hat. The black and light orange hat he always wore and never left his sights. He set it on the ground, explained that you and him needed to jump inside it.

“Jump inside the hat? Now I’m sure that you’re absolutely mad,” you cackled.

“Only the best people are, my dear Cheshire. Now c’mon. Let’s go.” 

When you realized he was being serious, you grabbed his outstretched hand. “On three,” Jefferson had told you. You nodded. He counted to three, and you both jumped inside the hat. You’d no idea his hat could do that. You’d no clue his hat was a portal hat. No wonder he always had it with him.

In this room were multiple doors. All different, too. There was a lime green door, a door with four different doorknobs, a pink door, a door made of only flower, a grey door; so many doors. But one door stood out to you. It was different than all the rest. It was of pure black, white shiny specs on it, but in the right upper corner, there were two brighter and bigger specs. A few vines were on the door, and the doorknob was a flower. A real flower was the doorknob. You couldn’t believe it. It was such a pretty sight.

“Quit gawking, and let’s get going,” Jefferson dragged you over to the pretty door.

“You mean we’re going in there?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, and whatever you do, you stay by my side at all time, understood? Neverland is not a place to mess around in. Are we clear?” 

“Yes, let’s just go already!”

Jefferson opened the door, and you guys walked through it.

***

The boy in green and his best henchman walked through the forest in Neverland. They were discussing what to do with their newest hostage. A boy from Wonderland. Nut not just any boy. He was the Queen of Hearts’ son. She had wronged the Bot in Green, Peter. She wronged him and that made him mad. His revenge was taking her son.

“If she doesn’t cooperate, Felix, she’ll never hear from her son again,” he snarled. Felix, his tall friend, snickered.

“She’ll cooperate, Pan. That boy is the only thing that keeps her going.” The two boys laughed some more before coming to a halt.

Off in the near distance stood two intruders. Peter’s sense were going off the wall, and now he knew why. Two people were on his island. And he recognized one of them. Jefferson. The thief with a very special hat. He was from Wonderland.

“Look who we have here. Dear old Jefferson.” He whispered.

“You mean Mad Hatter? Who the girl? Think they’re here for the boy?” Peter shrugged. He’d no clue who you were, but you sure had big eyes and a wide smile. He also wasn’t sure why you and Jefferson were here.

“Not sure. You go back to camp and hide the boy, I’ll deal with them,” Peter ordered. Felix nodded, turning back to camp.

Peter watched you and Jefferson for a bit. Jefferson, in his usual raggedy dull mix-matched clothes, and that hat. But then there was you. Aside from you big eyes and wide smile, your clothes were brighter. You were also energetic and climbing up in the trees like it was nothing. Interesting.

You were having the time of your life. Neverland. It was such a wondrous place. So different. So new. You loved it. You would much rather live here than in Wonderland. The trees were so huge and fun to climb in, and the air felt fresher. Though Jefferson kept telling you to get down from them, worried about what could be in the trees.

“Big Brother, you’re no fun–”

“Big Brother? Oh, Jefferson, you never told me you had a baby sister, I’m hurt.” You were cut off by a deep voice. He sounded so sarcastic and maniacal. 

Jefferson instantly pushed you behind him, but you couldn’t help but peer from behind. This boy was… cute. He was tall and had broad shoulders. Had dirty, dishwater blond hair. It was light brown, but at the same time, it wasn’t. His hair was baffling, but it was nicely swept to the side. He was in dark green and brown clothing, had piercing green eyes, and had an accent. It was a British accent, like yours, but his was different. You liked it.

“Back away, Pan,” Jefferson spat.

“Now why would I do that? You’re the one who’s on my island. My home. What are you doing here?” His tone went from sassy to serious in a split second. You couldn’t help but step a little to the side of your brother. You wanted to see this Pan character more.

“We’re just–”

“We’re trying to find the boy who was taken here,” you cut your brother off. “Why else would we be here, hmm?” You said, tone noxious. You displayed your enraptured smile, making Peter tilt his head.

Your brother was about to scold you, but Peter got to you first.

“And who have we here? What’s your name?” Peter asked you, tone sounding more vicious than anything.

You smirked. Jefferson looked at you, shaking his head. He didn’t want Peter to know your name. Ever. But there you went, telling him. “Y/N, but people call me Cheshire Cat because of my wicked smile.” You smiled wide once again.

“That’s enough chit-chat, we’ll be leaving now. C’mon, Cheshire,” Jefferson grabbed your arm. Peter wasn’t having it though.

“No. You’re not allowed to leave. I forbid it.”

“Pan,” Jefferson snarled. You only snickered like a madman. 

“Oh joy, staying here? What a delight,” your tone was laced in sarcasm. “I’ll be having fun around here.”

“I quite like you,” Peter smirked. Jefferson covered you again, putting you behind him.

“Watch yourself, Pan,” Jefferson warned. “You go anywhere near her, I’ll–”

“You’ll what? Put me inside your hat? Are you trying to threaten me? Because you’re doing an awful job at it.”

You couldn’t help but giggled quietly. This Pan character was quite a show. Very funny to you, and sassy. You liked it. What you didn’t like was your protective big brother killing all this fun. So, you turned around, face-to-face with a tree. You jumped, clinging onto a branch.Both boys were busy bickering, not noticing what you were doing. You climbed around in the big tree, going over to where Peter was. There was a branch right above him. You thought it’d be funny to scare him just like you did to Jefferson earlier today. So you got to the branch, sat on it, and fell backwards. Your legs clung onto the branch as your body fell down closer to the two boys.

“Gotcha, Pan,” you hushed, laughing carelessly. He didn’t jump or make a sound, but you did give him chills. He didn’t sense you at all with his powers. He whipped around, stopping conversation with Jefferson who was looking behind him. He was baffled that he didn’t notice your disappearance.

“How’d you do that?” He asked, poison in his voice.

“Well you see,” you began, still hanging from the tree upside-down. “It’s called I climbed on branches.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, not taking light of your sassy sarcasm. “Not that, twit. I mean how did you get up there without my knowledge? This is my island. I know every little thing that goes on. I know who’s in the trees right now, and which trees. Why can’t I do that with you?”

You were confused. How could Peter know who was in the trees and which trees they were in? How did he know that? It was puzzling, but you found it interesting that he couldn’t do that with you.

“Maybe it’s because I’m from Wonderland… or maybe it’s because I don’t think about climbing the trees. I just do it.”

It was true. You didn’t need to think about climbing trees, or which specific tree to climb. You just did it. You were a careless person for the most part, never thinking about what to do or say because you didn’t care of the consequence. You’d nothing to lose.

Peter cocked his eyebrow again, thinking about it. Strange. You didn’t need to think about your actions, you just did them? Weird how his magic couldn’t work if the person didn’t think about it hard enough. He never knew that, and now he hated it.

“You know, I’m beginning not to like you,” he seethed a bit.

“Awe, is the poor Green Boy not happy that I beat him at a game? Oh no, whatever will I do now knowing that he doesn’t like me,” you rolled your eyes, finally swinging down from your tree branch, as the blood rushing to your head was making you dizzy.

When your feet hit the ground, Peter still couldn’t sense you on his island. You were right in front of him, and he still couldn’t feel your being. It was irritating. He knew exactly where and what his Lost Boys were doing. He knew exactly where his hostage was, and he knew where Jefferson was, but he couldn’t feel you. He couldn’t for the life of him grasp onto your presence with his magic.

“I want to see more of the island, Jefferson, c’mon,” you grinned innocently. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N,” Jefferson said, rushing to your side. You were too close to Peter, and he didn’t like that.

“Well then you can leave, and I can stay. I want to explore. Maybe find treasure.”

Peter turned towards you. “Treasure? There’s no treasure on this blasted island.” He snapped at you.

“Zip it, Zippy,” you hissed at Peter. Once again you smiled. It looked sinful and frenzied. It was inhuman, this time giving Peter chills. It was the second time within fifteen minutes you gave him chills. 

“I’m not talking about that kind of treasure. You’ve precious cargo on this island and I want it. And I always get what I want.”

“Good luck with that, Cheshire. Because you’ll never find it.” Peter growled, understanding what you were talking about now. 

“Let’s go, Big Brother. I want to see more of the island,” you went right back to sounding innocent. “Bye-Bye, Pan. See you around.” You winked at him, a smirk playing on your lips. 

Jefferson followed you, not daring to let you leave his side. He would never dream of leaving you alone in such a wretched place. As you two walked away, Peter stood there completely taken aback. You were something. You really were something. You showed no fear towards him, he couldn’t sense you on the island, and you gave him chills. You were a mystery, and he wanted to figure you out.

anonymous asked:

Can I get a ship? I'm 6'3", chubby, and all legs. I have dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes. I'm described as a very thoughtful and sweet, but I'm also emotional and I cry a lot sometimes. I love reading, writing and drawing- so most of the time you could find me poured over my journal doing any of those things. I also love cooking! no one goes hungry while I'm around!

I ship you with: 2pEngland/ Oliver Kirkland

anonymous asked:

um so in stick of truth i was playing with captions on bc I can't hear for shit and when you get in the spaceship and see everyone being probed it says the little dishwater blonde kid is craig??? I want answers??

YEAH I KNOW THAT PART IS SO FUNNY TO ME AKKNSNSKSSJSJJSJSN I WILL NEVER GET OVER THAT AND IN THE LOSING EDGE CRAIG HAD BROWN HAIR SO 👀🔍🐸☕️

fishfingers-and-cas  asked:

Hey sorte for the question, I'm making my hair light gray and I'm seeking for advice. What's your natural hair color? And how did you get your hair that pretty?

Hey :) My natural hair color is dishwater blonde/medium brown. This usual natural hair color most people have. I bleach my hair since years already and use lots of different products to keep it bright like silver shampoo/toner etc.

The key is patience and time actually..and a lot of care :) If you bleach your hair go for the real stuff from the hair dresser, others from the drugstore are not useful. Also try out Maria Nila and lots of silver shampoo. Only bleach won’t work. You have to tone your hair to get it white/silver.

Good luck with it! <3

comicsuperheroloverotaku10  asked:

I was thinking a insecure Steve where maybe he sees Bucky hanging out with these pretty cute/hot omega girls and gets a little self conscience about himself. Bucky finally confronts Steve about it after maybe Steve not showing his body to Bucky as much working, out more, eating less and stuff like that. But Bucky proves to Steve how much he loves him. Thank you!

It wasn’t like Steve had stumbled onto something private. It wasn’t.

Steve had just been going to find Bucky to ask him if he wanted to go to lunch when he’d come across him in the gym. He had been with Clint, Natasha, and Sharon, playing some sort of simulated combat game and Steve had been about to call out to him when it had happened. Bucky had put his hands on Natasha’s waist and they had gone all the way around, he had flung her in the air, but just seeing Bucky’s hands like that. It dried up all of Steve’s words. He ridiculously embarrassed and ashamed of himself and envious of Natasha. He hovered in the hallway trying to gather the courage to enter the room but couldn’t force himself to.

The sensation was not a new one. The persistent feelings of inadequacy that only got worse after the serum. Before the serum at least he could convince himself that Bucky had known what he was getting into. Afterwards that was harder to do.

He had been sickly before the serum, yes, and he had wanted to be able to do more but there had been one thing that he had always taken for granted and that was that before the serum he had been pretty.

Steve had been tiny and delicate, fair skinned and blonde hair blue eyed, he’d been a lovely little omega. Everyone in their old neighborhood had agreed, it had been his one redeeming quality that everyone thought was the reason an strong alpha like Bucky had put up with him. In every other aspect Steve was a disaster of an omega. Too strong willed and angry to have an appropriate omega temperament, too sickly to keep a proper house and family, probably barren according to the doctors so he couldn’t even provide Bucky with that family. Everyone said that if Steve Barnes wasn’t so pretty he’d be damned lucky to get an alpha like Bucky.

Everyone except Bucky who’d always said he liked him just fine.

Keep reading

Crush ~Sam Winchester Imagine~

Hello humans! I hope you enjoy this imagine! :)

*Not My Gif*

She knocked on the door softly and glanced out the dormitory window as she waited for an answer. She observed a grease black 1967 Chevy impala parked on the side of the road. A tall, dishwater blonde haired man stood sat on the hood and stared up at the building. The door opened, snapping her out of her rapid thoughts.
“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed as he pulled her in for a warm hug.
She hugged him back tightly and laid her head against his chest due to the height difference.
“Sammy…I missed you!” She exclaimed.
“I missed you too…how was your summer break?” He asked as he pulled back and gestured for her to come in.
She walked in and turned around to face him again.
“It went well….sort of….you know, family trouble, but what’s new right?” She laughed nervously.
“Yeah, I know it all too well.” He chuckled.
She smiled and looked down at her shoes.
“You know, next summer break we should go on vacation or something. Just you and I.” She suggested.
“That actually sounds amazing.” Sam smiled widely.
She grinned and was about to speak before she was cut off by a man barging into the dorm. She recognized him as the same man that was standing outside by the classic car. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.
“Well, hello..” He grinned.
“Hello..” She replied slowly.
“Oh, Y/N, this is my older brother Dean. Dean, this is Y/N.” Sam introduced them.
Dean’s eyes widened as he gave a devilish smile.
“So, YOU’RE Y/N. Well, Sam never shuts up about you.” He smiled as he put his hands in his pockets.
“Dean….stop-”
“No, no. Since you’re too much of a wussy to tell her, I’ll do it for you.”
“Dean, I swear…”
“Tell me what?” She chimed in.
They both fell silent and turned to her.
“Sammy over here has a crush on you.” Dean spoke while rocking on his heels.
Sam’s face turned bright red when her eyes met his. She smiled brightly and felt herself blushing as well.
“Is that true, Sammy?”
He nodded slowly and looked down at the ground with a smile.
“I like you too.” She confessed.
“Really?” He asked in disbelief.
She nodded.
“Yeah, well you’re welcome. You guys can go on your date or whatever later, but for now, I think we should all get burgers or pizza.” Dean said proudly.
“Sounds good to me…as long as there’s pie.” She spoke with a smile.
Dean smiled and turned on his heels to face Sam.
“You better marry her.” He spoke as he shook his shoulder and left the room.


Request an imagine in the ask! :)

In Memoriam

a “Performance in a Leading Role” ficlet


John got up from his laptop, feeling numb. 

Well, so far 2016′s doing a bang-up job of sucking really hard, he thought. He stood by his chair for a moment, reeling.

Sherlock was downstairs in the kitchen, or at least he had been when John had ventured out for coffee an hour ago. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table, typing madly on his laptop, two nicotine patches on his forearm. He was hip-deep in pre-production on his directorial debut, an intense three-character film about the dissolution of a marriage during the aftermath of a dinner party. Molly had written the script. John loved it, and so did Sherlock, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t rewriting to be done.

This news was going to throw him right off his game.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell him. He won’t hear for hours on his own. Let him get some work done while he’s on a roll.

No, he’ll find out that I knew and didn’t say anything and he’ll be furious and that’ll throw him off even more.

He sighed and went downstairs. He could hear the machine-gun clacking of Sherlock’s keyboard as he approached.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, just looking at him. The sunlight was angling in and highlighting the streaks of gray that were just starting to come in at his temples. His own hair was lightening by the day, it seemed, as his dishwater blonde was overtaken with silver. They were both getting older. He was now on the wrong side of forty, and Sherlock wasn’t far behind him.

“Sherlock.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, still typing. John didn’t say anything. After a moment, Sherlock glanced at him, then did a double-take. He stopped typing and sat back. “What is it, John? What’s happened?”

He walked forward and stood at Sherlock’s side, then put a hand on his shoulder. “Sweetheart, Alan died.”

Sherlock blinked. “Alan, who’s…” His eyes widened as he realized who John meant. “No.”

“I’m afraid so.”

He flapped a hand. “No, it’s one of those Internet hoaxes. Where’d you see that, on Facebook?”

“I wish it were. His family has released a statement.”

Sherlock went very still. He stared blankly at his laptop screen. “No,” he murmured.

John rubbed his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I know you were friends.”

“He…died? When?”

“Today. He had cancer. Did you know he was sick?”

“I knew he’d been in hospital some time ago. I didn’t know he had cancer.” Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and rubbed his hands over his face. “My God, Alan. I can’t believe it. He was…how old was he? He couldn’t have been 70 yet.”

“He was sixty-nine.”

Sherlock stood up and went to the window. John followed, keeping a bit of a distance. He’d been married to this man for four years, he knew that he’d reach out if he wanted comfort. “I should…send something. Call Rima. Maybe Emma will put something together for him, that’s her wheelhouse.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You know, we never worked together. It was always next year, next season, after this next project, we should talk about it, yes, let’s do that.” He took a deep breath. “Eventually, we all run out of ‘next season’s.” He turned and looked at John. “This must be upsetting for you, too. I know you were a fan.”

“It’s hard to imagine anyone not being. I never met him, but yeah. A big fan.” He went to Sherlock’s side and put his arm around his back. Sherlock pulled him close at once. John felt him tremble on his exhale and held him tighter. 

Sherlock bowed his face down to John’s hair. “Promise me you’ll never die,” he murmured.

John smiled. “I promise. If you’ll promise the same.” He felt Sherlock nod.

After a few moments, he drew away and went to the wine fridge. He pulled out a bottle of something and two glasses. “We’ll drink to a man whose talents we were privileged to witness,” he said, uncorking the wine.

John nodded. “First David Bowie, now this. I can’t believe it.”

 “It’s strange,” Sherlock said. “We know that we are mortal, and yet we are always surprised when that fact is brought home to us by a death.”

“The people we admire are supposed to be immortal,” John said. 

Sherlock handed him a full wineglass. His eyes were wet, but he was smiling a little. “If we continue to admire them, then they are.”

anonymous asked:

do you have any lesbian!jason headcanons bc yes

it’s Time, some of these are repeat but i might as well stick ‘em all here

  • she’s so tall, she’s so tall, like seriously she’s like 6′1″ and she’s really insecure about it dysphoria though like @ myself shut the fuck up this isn’t supposed to be sad :(
  • she mostly jokes about it, she’d change it if she could but for the most part she can laugh and get over it. she used to measure herself against reyna and pout whenver she realized she’d grown
  • she also has broad shoulders and she has very Very bad posture because of it, she’s always slouching and leaning and hunching
  • she wears glasses for the whole series not just the random ass last book like she wakes up on that bus with a beanie and a pair of hipster glasses like fight me
  • she is so #lesbian like plaid flannel baggy jeans beanie hipster glasses lesbian and i absolutely love it
  • her hair is just a little past her shoulders, painfully straight and dishwater blonde and she cannot do absolutely anything with it except keep it in a braid over her shoulder and even then it’s too fine that it slips out
  • mmmm okay okay so the mist is definitely heteronormative because people are, so nobody thinks jason and piper are a couple except for piper al;sdkfja;fdjk;aj
  • like that first interaction on the bus leo cracks a joke about them being gal pals and piper opens her mouth to tell him off but then she’s like… wait… wait what the fuck…. i thought we were??????? but?? i can’t really remember ???!?!?!?
  • piper is just silently panicking throughout the whole book pretty much and everyone else is totally oblivious
  • she has wanted to change her name for years but she can’t find anything that feels right, her and reyna used to try testing them out but she’s still jason when she gets kidnapped
  • it’s a running gag through the story that she’ll toss out a name in a total crisis moment like *kicks monster in the face* “so what do you think about jessica”
  • she tried jane for awhile but then leo said she was the absolute plainest, whitest plain jane ever to exist and that no one will ever say “jane grace” with a straight face it’s almost as bad as john smith
  • thalia pounding her lil sister on the back when she finds out she’s a lesbian gives me Life
  • also like thalia is Punk Rock Lesbian and jason is Plaid Glasses Lesbian like i cry
  • i am making piper shorter in this au than i actually think she is solely for the purpose of Tol Gf and Smol Gf
  • she is way too much of a dork to be scary but she is pants shitting terrifying when she decides she needs to Get Stuff Done
  • her hair grows out over the course of the series so it gets thin and wispy at the tips and she likes it like that
  • one time some beautiful soul told her that she reminds them of 2009-era taylor swift and she had no idea what they were talking about but she looked it up later and cried because it was like the most heartfelt and unique compliment she’d ever received
  • like her and nico except instead of being the dorky dad she’s the Dorky Lesbian Mom and like it’s just so much more Pure like that i swear it
  • she drops her glasses velma style like way too often
  • she’s slightly pigeon toed
  • she uses scrunchies what a cutie
  • SHE GETS SO FLUSTERED AROUND GIRLS like. so so flustered around pretty girls. she blushes a lot and then after it’s over she claps her hands over her face and groans
  • she can’t swear like she’s so bad at swearing she avoids doing it and if she ever tries it just sound awkward like she’s a twelve year old who knows she isn’t allowed to be saying it
  • lesbian jason announcing that piper is a knockout like rip me i have died, i’m now dead
  • the unkiLLABLE GAYS TROPE LIKE PIPER LITERALLY BRINGS HER BACK TO LIFE THROUGH THE POWER OF GAY LOVE (like u know when u can draw johnlock parallels that means something’s Really Fucking Gay)

RULES.  repost, don’t reblog 
TAGGED.  by myself!
TAGGING.  @iskuplennyyesoldatzimy @tothefxture @hawkeyedinc @becausewehaveto @bcstcopilot @sarlatova @womanofiiron and anyone else who’d wanna do this!

BASICS.

FULL NAME. Clinton Francis Barton (stop laughing)
NICKNAME. Clint, chicken butt, dummy, Clit when people want to annoy him
AGE. verse dependent; usually around mid-thirties 
BIRTHDAY. 18th June!
ETHNIC GROUP.  Caucasian 
NATIONALITY.  American
LANGUAGE.  English and ASL are what he uses the most. He knows Italian, French, and can hold a conversation in Spanish but doesn’t flex his language skills often; it’d ruin his dumb guy vibe 
SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Bisexual
RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Verse dependent
CLASS. Working class
HOME TOWN / AREA. Waverly, Iowa
CURRENT HOME. Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York 
PROFESSION. Avenger, part-time idiot 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. Dishwater blond
EYES. Faded blue
NOSE. Straight, a little long. Nostrils are asymmetrical after his nose got broken 
FACE. Scruffy, strong jawline 
LIPS. Not that full
COMPLEXION. Pale during the winter. Tans up during the summer 
BLEMISHES. Small scar against his temple, often sporting some bandaids to cover up grazes 
SCARS. too many
TATTOOS. None
BUILD.  Pretty fit - which is a miracle considering his diet. He’s defined but nowhere bulky as Captain America or Thor are 
ALLERGIES. Aside from a little hay fever, none that Clint knows about. So trying any new foods to him is like the food version of Russian Roulette
USUAL HAIR STYLE. Spiky bedhead 
USUAL CLOTHING.  Plain t-shirts and jeans, soft hoodie, scruffy shoes 

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR. Being dropped out of the Avengers, failure, losing any more senses or his hands
ASPIRATION.  To ensure that there is a legacy going on who’ll be better, smarter and morally stronger than he can ever be (i.e. Kate)
POSITIVE TRAITS. Loyal, fiercely determined/dogged, brave, does not back down, does not ignore any disasters or hardships that people are going through, good humour, somewhat easy-going 
NEGATIVE TRAITS. Pushes people away, mistrustful, self-esteem issues, an underlying sense of hopelessness in himself, resentful of himself, flippant, sometimes pretends to make things not as serious as they seem 
VICE HABIT. Sleeping until past noon 
FAITH. Agnostic 
GHOSTS? Occasionally
AFTERLIFE? Nah
REINCARNATION? Sometimes
ALIENS? YES he’s on a team with one 
POLITICAL ALIGNMENT. Democrat
ECONOMIC PREFERENCE.  Socialist
SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. Left
EDUCATION LEVEL. Finished middle school, never finished high school (or enrolled, now that he thinks about it) and definitely never went to university 

FAMILY.

FATHER. Harold Barton a.k.a douchebag 
MOTHER. Edith Barton
SIBLINGS.  Barney Barton - ‘Charles’ as Clint calls him when he wants to piss him off
EXTENDED  FAMILY. none
NAME MEANING.  Clint = ‘Settlement on a hill’; Francis = ‘free’; Barton = ‘barley, enclosure, barley farm’ 

HISTORICAL CONNECTION. ??? he uses a historical weapon, I guess? 

FAVOURITES.

BOOKS. He doesn’t read books that much
MOVIES. Action (especially the old school stuff), comedy 
MUSIC. Anything; he doesn’t listen to music that often
DEITY. Nothing definite
HOLIDAY.  It used to be Christmas, now he doesn’t really have one
MONTH.  None in particular
SEASON.  Summer
PLACE.  Bed, on top of a building, couch
WEATHER. Warm, clear skies, with a slight breeze to take the edge of the heat off 
SOUND.  Traffic, chattering, Lucky snoring 
SCENT.  Coffee, freshly cut grass, women’s shampoos 
TASTE. Peanut butter, coffee, pepperoni, 
FEEL. Dog’s fur, fresh clean bedsheets, laying against a cool wall/on the hard floor when he’s not on the couch
ANIMAL. Dogs
NUMBER. 1
COLOR. Purple, especially the more faded lighter purples 

EXTRA.

TALENTS. Hand-to-hand combat, sharpshooting, improvising, getting himself in and out of trouble rapidly, Mario Kart, dog belly rubs, remembering faces
BAD AT. Most of the time it’s listening, cooking, hauling his ass up at early mornings, keeping it in his pants, communicating about feels 
TURN ONS. A nice laugh, snarkiness, humour, nice hair, curves 
TURN OFFS.  Lack of consent, roughness, being struck 
HOBBIES. Watching movies/Netflix, archery practice, playing mindless games on his phone, dog walks
TROPES. Fight Magnet, Badass Normal, Cain and Abel, Improbable Aiming Skills, Abusive Parents, Circus Brat, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
AESTHETICS.  Crumpled bedsheets and golden sunlight. Sleek black arrows and metal. Stained bandages, purple-red bruises and faded scars

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC. Garrett Hedlund
ALT  FC. Rami Malek (I’ve actually been thinking about switching him over to the main FC) 
OLDER  FC.   -
YOUNGER  FC. … younger Garrett Hedlund 
VOICE  CLAIM.  -

gorillaz-imagines  asked:

matchups open? if so, im a 5'4" girl who is bicurious. i have dishwater blonde hair n really light blue eyes. i'm very pale, help-- i love to write, read, draw, sing, and play the piano/ukulele. i'm quite extroverted, and don't mind going out. i'm either very mellow and calm, or really bubbly and eccentric!! i'm the type of person who keeps everything inside until they have an emotional breakdown. i am willing to sacrifice my happiness for others, as well. i'm like a martyr for other's feelings.

I ship you with: Noodle!!

  • She loves to braid your hair, and also style it for no reason
  • she’ll encourage you to write, and she’ll always asks you to read things she wrote because she trusts your opinions.
  • she’ll feel really special if you ever drew her anything
  • I feel like she already knows a bit about playing the ukulele, but she’ll act like she doesn’t just so you can show her how you play
  • you two go out whenever you can!! 
  • If you’re calm, she’s energetic. If she’s calm, you’re energetic, its strange
  • If you have a breakdown, she’ll make everyone leave the room and calm you down
  • If you ever fall asleep on her she tries her best not to wake you up
  • She loves how you sacrifice your happiness, but if you try to for a bad person Noodle will step in and pep talk you
  • If anyone tries to say shit to you she immediately becomes your bodyguard 
  • She really cares about everything about you and she tries her best to protect you 
  • loves you unconditionally 

Hey, I’ve been looking for a princess without a “pure” haircolor, as some have decided to put it. For example, instead of completely blonde, or completely brown, I was wondering if there was one with maybe dishwater blonde hair, or instead of red, maybe a fawn color. Or even one with black hair and blonde highlights, or something weird. 

Let’s Have a Colour Fight! Angels in Japan Substory

A kissed By the Baddest Bidder headcanon, Angels in Japan substory

Soryu Oh X Angel

For the WONDERFUL Brilexa! Hope you feel better soon. This one’s to cheer you up! ;) For new readers: prequel to this is Christmas Magic and check out ‘Angels in Japan’ by seductiveangelofdeath on fanfiction.net, for the backstory on Angel and Soryu.

So this story is based on the Indian festival of Holi- as pictured above. Just a drabble to have a bit of fun with my Bidders. I hope you like it! ;)

Love M xxx

Angel all but skipped into the penthouse lounge, looking wickedly delighted about something.

‘Uh oh.’ Mamoru was the first one to notice her unusually cheery mood. ‘You’re up to something kid, and whatever it is I don’t want to be dragged into it.’ He protested as the wicked gleam in her eyes flashed at him.

‘Come on Kishi, this is going to be fun!’ She laughed at his alarmed expression.

‘What’s going on?’ Ota asked warily, ‘Why did you call us all to the penthouse?’

‘Wait! Is everyone here?’ She scanned the room quickly to ascertain all her friends were there. ‘Good! I’ve got a surprise lined up for you and I can’t wait till you find out. You’re going to need white clothes- but something you wouldn’t mind getting ruined. This is going to be awesome!’ She clapped her hands delightedly together as the others stared at her in confusion.

‘Angel, can you slow down and actually let us know what’s going on in that head of yours?’ Eisuke frowned at her.

‘Right, sorry. Ok, here’s the deal. I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow and I’m revealing no part of it, except that you need to be dressed in white and prepared to get the clothes a bit messy. Also tunics tops and loose trousers are preferable- I think you might find it a bit more comfortable.’ Angel explained solemnly, not clearing up their confusion at all.

‘Just what exactly are you up to? Come on, tell us. Pretty please?’ Baba pleaded batting his eyelashes persuasively. He took her hand and was about to press a kiss on it when Soryu immediately stepped up with a fierce, protective expression on his face. Baba backed of hastily, eyeing the breast pocket where Soryu kept his gun with caution. Angel giggled at that and said:

‘Nope! You’re not getting it out of me that easily. Wait and see- I promise you’ll enjoy it.’

The next morning, all four of them stood waiting in the lounge, wondering what on earth Angel was about to drag them into. Mamoru stood looking as carelessly casual as ever, dressed in his usual jeans and a loose white top. Ota and Baba had followed Angel’s instructions and where dressed in matching long white tunic tops with loose trousers, while Eisuke stood with a sultry look next to them wearing an expensive looking white shirt and dress trousers, a gold watch gleaming on his wrist.

Angel bounced in, dragging a wary-looking Soryu, dressed in an Indian kurta behind her. She was wearing some sort of Indian dress: a salwar kameez. She was wearing a long, white, beautifully embroidered tunic with the only dash of colour a bright orange scarf that flowed around her neck. She looked a vision in white and Soryu almost forgot about everyone else there, mesmerized by the radiant glow she was exuding. She’d been generally happier and more cheerful since they’d returned from their trip to visit her parents in England, but today she looked as excited as a five year old.

‘Come on! Let’s go.’ She all but bounced into the penthouse elevator. Baba looked as excited as she did and her enthusiasm was even beginning to rub off on the others.

‘The things we do for you, kid.’ Mamoru grumbled, watching her fondly as they followed her into the elevator.

A lengthy drive later, they pulled up in Yokahama, where there was a huge gathering of people outside a large, outdoor party-area/ field. A giant arching entryway had the words “Holi Festival 2015” written on it.

‘What on earth-?’ Soryu began, but before he could finish his sentence his girlfriend was gone. She’d disappeared into the writhing crowd, leaving them huddled together, cautiously trying to figure out what was going on.

‘What is “Holi”?’ Eisuke wondered aloud.

‘Not a clue.’ Baba sang cheerfully.

‘What are you so damn happy about?’ Kishi growled.

‘Well, unlike you sour lot, I’ve noticed that there’s a festival going on and there are so many pretty girls here!’

‘Forget the girls- look at the decorations! It’s amazing: so artistic!’ Ota exclaimed joyfully, watching in amazement as the preparation commenced. There were lines of tempting looking trays with mountains of powder in every different colour conceivable.

‘What’s it all for?’ Ota wondered aloud.

‘For this.’

Angel had reappeared suddenly and ran past them, smearing something on their cheeks as she flew by, until she finally got to Soryu whose face she grasped with both hands, leaving bright orange imprints, and kissed him full on the lips.

‘Happy Holi!’ She exclaimed, throwing the rest of the orange powder in her fist all over them. They froze, looking shocked as hell as the colour settled over them. Baba was the first one to respond.

‘What’s “Holi”?’

‘Holi is the Indian festival of colours. It’s a way to welcome spring. Anyway, it’s basically a huge play fight where you throw colours and water on each other and generally have a good time. Also, beware of what you drink because it’s a Holi tradition to mix bhang in the drinks, which will get you high. I mean it’s funny as hell to watch but I thought I’d warn you before you end up… well you know, trying to kiss a tree or something.’ She giggled at the thought.

The guys’ jaws dropped in shock.

‘A colour fight?’ Hell yeah! I’ve been training for this my whole life!’ Ota whooped, racing towards the colours.

‘There’s no way, at all, that you’re going to get me to play this stupid game, kid.’ Mamoru huffed, trying to brush the colour off his jeans. He ended up smearing the orange all over them and eventually gave up with an annoyed huff.

‘Really, Mamo?’ She asked slyly, before challenging: ‘Are you sure you don’t want revenge for what I did to you guys. If you want to try and put colour on me, then you’re going to have to catch me first!’ She raced off in the same direction as Ota, grabbing a handful of purple powder, before disappearing into the growing crowd of people.

Soryu looked around in slight dismay. His face was bright orange and he knew that it could only get worse. Suddenly before he could follow Angel, Eisuke turned to him with a laugh.

‘Come on, Soryu. This’ll be just like those snowball fights we used to have back in England, remember? Only, more colourful.’ The joy and laughter of the colourful festival was infectious and even Soryu was beginning to feel it. They headed over to the colour stalls and before long Soryu was furiously chasing after Eisuke, trying to douse him with a packet of green powder as revenge for the blue coating his neck and chest. Angel and Eisuke took turns in baiting him, the other attacking as soon as he began to chase one, so he couldn’t get his hands on either of them. Colours were flying and the crowd of people looked like a rainbow had burst over them. Ota tried to fight “artistically” at first, carefully picking and choosing which colours to throw on his friends, but eventually they all ended up so messy that you could barely distinguish one colour from the other. Even Mamoru ended up joining in, rubbing Ota’s head messily, turning the dishwater blonde into a shocking pink. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun at Holi. By the end of the day, they were exhausted and Angel was so covered in coloured powder that every step she took left a trail of colour behind. The five bidders had gotten their revenge on her for throwing colour on them by pinning her down and using her as target practice by chucking fistfuls of powder and water bombs at her. Thankfully it was a hot day and they dried off pretty soon. As they walked to a nearby hotel they laughed and happily chatted about the fantastic day they’d had. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Soryu look so happy: he’d been really stressed recently over some conflict with a rival mob and this day had been just the thing to take his mind off it.

‘Did you have fun?’ Angel asked, shyly taking his hand. They slowed down and let the others walk ahead, so they could have a moment to talk.

‘I really enjoyed today. It’s not really something I do often, but you bring out all kinds of different sides in me. What is it about you, woman, that makes me make such a complete fool out of myself in front of you?’ He wondered, half to himself.

‘I think you’re wonderful, Soryu. And it’s not foolish to allow yourself to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Anyway, I’m glad you had fun- you’ve been so worked up lately. And you got to find out a little bit more about my religion too.’ She smiled fondly at him. ‘I love you, Soryu.’ She gently leant against him as they walked hand in hand. Soryu was silent, for a moment, watching the bleeding sun setting in the horizon.

‘I love you too, Angel.’ He whispered, so quietly she almost missed it. And it was true. He’d never thought that he’d be able to feel this way with someone and at first he was constantly terrified it wouldn’t last. But after so many amazing months with her, he wondered ‘Maybe, just maybe, this time, it’ll last. I won’t lose her. Ever.’ He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist as they rejoined the others, hearts full of happiness and a peace that Soryu hoped would last.