she's making that red hair work so well she's making me want to dye my hair red

Jimin - Dope Series

Originally posted by parxjimin

You were an artist without inspiration. Desperate to find something, you visit your best friend’s office in hopes of sparking something artsy - But you only find Jimin.

Genre: Fluff | Smut
Members: Jimin x Reader (feat. Taehyung)
Word count: 8414


Masterlist

Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

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Not So Secret

@nadiagisela : Can you do a one shot of a super protective Jerome who would do anything for his little ray of sunshine reader who always sees the good in him, believes in him and is always supports him and secretly is in love with him?



I hope I went the right way with this lol sorry it took so long!!



Jerome Valeska x Reader





Warnings: Language, angst, fluffffff


Originally posted by thejokergal

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Like the Sky Trusts the Sea

Modern AU + Soulmates

Based off: au where you have a stripe of your soulmates haircolor on your wrist and if they dye their hair your stripe changes colors


“Dude.”

“Yes?”

“Your soulmate is weird.”

“I know.” Bellamy looked down at the stripe on his skin and smiled. “But, at least they’re interesting.” Interesting seemed to be the only appropriate word. Or at least, the most accurate word his friends could use without offending him.

Nate was probably the only person who could get away with calling Bellamy’s soulmate ‘weird’ and not get a punch to the face.

As a kid, the golden band cutting through the perfect tan of his skin was his favourite thing about himself.

Because it meant, that despite the mess that was his family, there was someone out there destined to love him, no matter what.

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Thizzee fic

Managed to royally fuck up my AO3 password, so posting this here until it gets sorted out…. also posting via mobile, fuck my life and apologies for any formatting shit in advance (¬_¬)ノ


++PLEASE follow my new Tumblr PhillyPhillyPhilly for updates++

“How long have you known Thor?”

“We met after the blackout.”

“Really?”

“Yes indeed.” Dizzee gives her his hand as she sits on the coffee table before him, legs crossed, a Lama of Cutex and Rimmel.

“That’s crazy.”

“Why?”

“You look at each other like you’ve spent a lifetime together.”

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Blue Lily Tattoo [fic]

a/n: This was written for @grimreapercy for being amazing! She wanted a tattoo and florist AU with florist!Percy and tattooist!Annabeth, so I hope you like it, Shellie, and thanks for being so awesome! And thank you so much to @sexualpercy for beta-ing for me!!! You’re a rock star, Emily.

Come let me know what you guys think! xoxo

–282016–

Percy has a complicated relationship with the owner of the tattoo parlor.

First of all, she (yes, she) buys the building directly across the street from his shop and turns the bakery into a tattoo parlor. Percy had loved the bakery (the blue chocolate cupcakes were his favorite), and then he gets to work one morning and finds out that a tattoo parlor bought out the business. A tattoo parlor. A place where they permanently ink things onto skin. It’s morbid and disgusting, and Percy hates the idea immediately.

But, his mother raised him to have good manners, so he grumbles the whole time while he puts together a welcome bouquet when the tattoo parlor finally opens up. He isn’t sure what kind of flowers go with tattoos, but he throws together a simple vase with yellow daisies before he walks over to the shop, calling out to Hazel that he will be back shortly.

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Color Me Satisfied

Originally posted by blackinjustice

Bucky Barnes x reader

Request:  Hello, I love your writing and I just can’t seem to get enough of it. I would like to request a Bucky x Reader one shot with the hair color Soulmate AU. Please and thank you! Stay well Captain

—-

A/n: So there were a couple of those but since i only did one, I presume that you want the highlights thing. If so, here you go, if not, oh well. I tried lol.

Genre: Humor, Romance

Rated: Everyone

Warning: Swearing (C’mon, It’s Bucky. What do you expect?), Humor

—-

Author: Chris-Evans-Imagines, Captain

—-

Soulmate AU: If one or the other dyes their hair, their soulmates gets highlights of the color in their hair. If they return it to their normal color, their soulmates hair returns to it’s normal color.

The smell of ammonia was heavy in the air as people filed in and out of the place. Shelves were set up seven feet apart, stocked full of merchandise. You were in the cosmetics aisle of the Walgreens in your town, fingers gently touching the boxes of the eccentric colors as you chose the different boxes. You were going to dye your hair and thought that you needed a change. After all, having one hair color for so long can get boring and become so trending, it hurts your eyes. So, you picked out about thirteen different boxes of hair dye, your coupons and check clad in your hand. From two different blues, four different reds, a green, platinum blonde, two different blondes that could be mistaken as yellow, and three different shades of orange. You were ready but didn’t know what you wanted to try first. So, when you got home, you closed your eyes after setting the boxes down and had your friend rearrange the boxes. The first box you touched, you grabbed and opened your eyes. You smiled. You were so ready to make this big change.

Bucky and the other Avengers were sitting in the lounge area. Steve sat next to Bucky, both of them just sipping on their beers while Tony and Pepper sat with each other Banner and Natasha and Clint were on the couch, all playing Trivia while Thor watched, tilting his head every few times. Steve had said to Bucky. 

“You know, I think we should…get you a….hair cut…….”

Bucky frowned and asked him. 

“What’s the matter, punk?”

Everyone turned their gaze and widened their eyes. Bucky glared and asked, hands slightly raised. 

“What?”

Tony snorted and replied. 

“See for yourself.”

Tony handed Bucky the phone and Bucky widened his eyes when he saw his reflection. Strands of his hair were a dark teal, standing out against his dark hair and Natasha teased, making Bucky look at her.

“I guess Bucky here has a soulmate that’s alive after all.”

He didn’t know why, but excitement went through his veins as he processed what the Russian assassin said. He had a soulmate. She was alive. He smiled a bit and Steve said, his blue eyes wide with mischief and excitement. 

“We should see if we can get her attention by dying your hair!”

Bucky felt his smile drop and he glared, saying while his metal shifted. 

“Oh no we are not. You are not touching my hair.”

Steve coaxed, bribing him. 

“Come on, don’t you want to know who she is? What if we could get her attention?”

Bucky sighed and muttered. 

“The things I do for your ass.”

Steve cheered and Natasha called, shooting up. 

“I’ll get the hair dye!”

“Don’t make me look like a freak, Romanoff or I’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”

You felt good with your teal hair. It made you feel free and independent. So, you had went to bad with a head full of love, not even suspecting what was about to happen in the morning.

~~~

When you woke up, you stretched and sighed. The clock red 14:00 hours, which was 2:00pm in Civilian time. You sighed once more and went to the bathroom, freezing when you looked in the mirror. Blonde streaks ran through your hair and your mouth dropped. You had totally forgotten about the soulmate thing! You face-palmed and wondered. 

‘Can I dye my hair with the word ‘Sorry’ in it? That’d be cool…’

You smirked and grabbed the Platinum blonde, light red, and dark blue. Time to show just how patriotic you could be.

With a blonde head of hair in a man bun, Bucky was waiting for the reaction. How would she react? Would she dye her hair back to it’s natural color or what? Steve had burst with laughter when red, white, and blue streaks appeared in his hair. Bucky face-palmed himself with his metal hand and Tony took a picture. 

“If that ends up on social media, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Bucky threatened, his blue eyes glaring hotly at the billionaire. Tony scoffed and Natasha said, holding up silver and red. 

“We can let her know who you are. After all, Who is Captain America without the Winter Soldier?”

You coughed, choking on your batman cereal when you saw silver and dark red streaks go into your hair. Hmm, it kind of reminded you of something. 

“Hey, that looks like Winter Soldier and Captain America colors!”

Your roommate said laughing and you coughed more. Could it be? You ran to your room and grabbed your friends white hair dye and immediately set to work.

~~ 

Everyone was in hysterics when white streaks appeared in Bucky’s hair. However, the ex HYDRA assassin was not amused. At all. He glared hotly at everyone while Steve tried his hardest to keep his laugh in. Bucky yelled. 

“Go ahead, punk.Laugh it up!”

Steve doubled over and Bucky growled. Tony said. 

“This has to go on social media! Has to!”

He took a picture and ran, screaming as Bucky chased after, screaming in his ‘Winter soldier’ voice. 

“I’m gonna rip off your billion dollar dick and shove it down your billion dollar throat!”

~~~

When you had gone on twitter, a new picture made you choke once more, only on your spit this time. 

Looks like Weiner Soldier’s soulmate decided to make his age really show. Kudos, WS’s Soulmate. You gave the avengers an amazing laugh. #priceless

Could it be? Could it really be him? You had ran out, grabbing your keys and ran to the tower. Upon arriving, with your white hair now having navy blue streaks in it, you requested to see Mr. Stark. The body guard was hesitant but when you showed him the picture, he let you up. You heard a voice call when you arrived. 

“Mr. Stark, there is someone here to see you.”

The elevator doors opened up and there stood Tony. He widened his eyes and you said, quickly. 

“I-I’m so sorry to bother you but…”

“-You’ve come to the right place, holy shit you are gorgeous.”

You blushed heavily and Tony gestured you to follow him. When you arrived in the lounge area, your eyes found the man you were looking for. He was chuckling a bit but must of felt eyes on him because when he looked over at you, everything stopped. His eyes widened and everyone looked over. Bucky shot up and slowly, he walked over to you. His blue eyes were cautious, curious, but…longing. Tony backed off and you blushed a bit. 

“I…I uh…hi…”

Bucky smiled a bit and replied back, making both of you kind of chuckle. 

“Hi.”

He smiled and said, a metal hand carefully touching your hair. 

“You know, I think this suits you.”

You shook you head, smiling. 

“I think now that I got the message, we should go for a more natural look. No more need to go spangling each others stars.”

Everyone laughed and Bucky smiled widely at you. He took your hand and for a long time, you never let go.

[END]

flower crowns and pastel boots- chapter seventeen

pastel punk au

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five,chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten,chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen,chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteenepilogue


they’re all sitting in a circle, trying to study, when simon’s voice breaks the silence.

“so… i’ve come up with a plan.”

baz sighs. he knows from experience that simon won’t give up until he’s explained everything and found out a way to make it happen.

“yeah?”

“we can date each other!”

“we kind of are, simon,” says baz slowly. simon rolls his eyes.

“no, i mean we can pretend to be dating each other!”

“we’re literally dating each other,” says penny distractedly. he slumps dramatically.

no, you guys, i mean we can date each other.” he enunciates each syllable slowly. “like, me and agatha, and baz and penny.”

“that’s a terrible idea.”

“no it’s not! like, it’s just pretend. they think that we’re dating each other, but really we’re dating each other.”

agatha frowns, considering. “you’re saying it really badly, but it does have some merit.”

baz raises an eyebrow.

“you’ve forgotten that everyone knows i’m gay.”

“actually,” says agatha, “they think simon was calling you gay for years. they don’t know if you actually are.”

penny looks up from her work for the first time, looking sort of impressed. “that’s actually not a horrible idea.”

simon beams.

this was a terrible idea.

they’re all sat together at baz and penny’s regular table, and people keep staring over at them. it is unusual, baz supposes- simon and agatha are ‘the’ couple, and baz and penny are… not.

“baz,” hisses simon, “you don’t look couple-y enough. kiss penny on the cheek.”

no!” they both say at the same time, and simon laughs. he’s having way too much fun with this. it’s annoying.

baz glares, leans over, and plants his lips on penny’s cheek. it’s awkward, but simon’s smile slips off immediately. baz smirks. penny splutters.

“okay, i’m all for baz making simon upset-”

“hey-”

“-but maybe warn me next time.” she wipes off her cheek dramatically, and baz pouts.

“we are technically supposed to be dating.”

“hmm… i think i prefer agatha.”

agatha blushes prettily, and baz snorts. simon prods him gently after a moment.

“now you compliment me.”

“why-”

“because i need to preen too.”

“you are so-” he stifles a giggle. “fine, snow. you’re quite handsome in certain lighting.”

“you’re acting like a couple again,” sing-songs agatha under her breath.

“we are a couple,” mutters simon, but they look away from each other all the same.

“baz?”

“yeah?”

“what do we do if… they find out?”

silence.

“i don’t know, simon.” baz’s voice is heavy and low.

“hey, i didn’t mean- no, come on, we’d find a way to stick it out.”

“when did you become the one comforting me about this?”

simon goes quiet, then shifts over so he’s on his side.

“since i fell in love with you.”

“since you what?”

baz props himself up on one elbow to look at simon, but he’s got his face buried in his arms.

“wait, simon, since you what?”

“since i fell in love with you,” he repeats, voice muffled. baz stares at him, at the messily dyed curls and freckled neck and-

“you’re in love with me?” he whispers. simon hesitates, then nods.

“it’s- i can’t help it,” he says softly. “i can’t, baz, you- i’m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry.” baz’s voice is shaking. “i’m- i think i’m in love with you too.”

and then they’re kissing, softly, sweetly. simon’s thumb brushes over baz’s cheekbone, and slide through his hair, and they’re in love.

“you weren’t even remotely subtle.”

agatha sulks. “i was. a bit.”

“you weren’t!” penny brandishes her spoon at her. “you never need tutoring help. like, ever. and if you did, you’d just go home and study the material extra hard by yourself. i’ve known you since primary school, agatha.”

“no one else caught on,” she mutters, and penny snorts.

“well, yeah, probably because they’re idiots.”

agatha smiles. “probably.”  

they sit there, drinking their drinks. penny chatters, agatha listens. it’s comfortable.

“so, what do you think of simon and baz?”

agatha sighs, bites her lip. “i’m afraid he’s going to break his heart.”

“which one?”

she shrugs. “dunno. either one. they’re…”

“simon was horrible to him,” says penny firmly. “absolutely awful.”

agatha nods.

“do you think baz has forgiven him?”

penny sips her coffee, considering. “i don’t think completely. like, he still wears all black-”

agatha pulls a face. “i preferred his pastels, honestly. they looked much nicer.”

“he still looks fine,” says penny loyally, but then she sighs. “no, you’re right. i think he was happier in them too.”

“fucking simon,” says agatha, and penny agrees wholeheartedly.

“simon, get out of my closet.”

simon pokes his head out and winks at baz. “but i thought that was the point of this- i’m in the closet.”

“you’re an idiot,” says baz, “and i hate you.” but he’s laughing. “get out of my closet.”

“mmh… nope. by the way, this thing is enormous- and don’t make a joke about how it has to be because you’ve been living in there because i just used it and that’s cheating.”

“damn.” baz flops backwards into his pillow. “what are you even doing in there?”

there’s rustling, and the sound of a drawer opening. “oh my god, is this all hair dye?”

“get out of my closet, simon,” baz calls. “wait, no- your red is getting patchy, do you want to redo it?”

“yeah, sure. can i dye yours?”

“what color?”

“you have so many- can you just dye it white?”

“i suppose, if you want to absolutely destroy it.”

“no, then- pink? green? blue? no, i did blue- silver. purple!”

his hand emerges triumphant, clutching a tube of lilac. baz sighs.

“sure, whatever. get the red.” he considers simon, then looks down at his own dark hair. “and the bleach.”

simon emerges with several bottles and a light purple jumper folded over his arm. he looks down.

“you should wear this.”

“i’ll get dye all over it.”

“then wear it after. please? you look… nice. in light colors.” he pats out a wrinkle. “i’m sorry.”

“yeah, okay,” says baz softly, after a long pause. “i’ll wear it.”

simon looks up, gives him a half smile. “thank you.”

they stand there, just looking at each other, until baz clears his throat.

“right, let’s-”

“-go, yeah, sorry,” says simon, flustered, and leads the way out of baz’s room.

(gif not mine but writing is)

Trouble at Work

To read part 2 click here
To read part 3 click here

You had lived in England all of your life but after finishing your degree you decided to go somewhere new. Gotham City screamed at you as being the place to be, it was full or history, culture and businesses ready to hire bright eyed and bushy tailed graduates. On your first day of arrival you noticed an ad in the paper. ‘Love to laugh? Secretary wanted. Well paid. Must not be familiar with Gotham City. For interview go to the private room of the Spades and Diamonds Club today.’ After seeing the advert you walked to the Spades and Diamonds Club. Luckily you were wearing a black blouse and pencil skirt and you thought that your outfit was smart enough for a job interview. Before you had left for America, you had printed off some CVs ready to give to potential employers.

You spoke to the barman and showed him the job advert. “Right this way Mam.” he said opening the door of the private room. “Got a pretty little Miss for an interview Mister J.” he called into the room. Well, it certainly was private. The room was very small. In the middle was a little table with a chair either side, facing each other. Sitting on the chair farthest away was a strange looking man. You remember meeting the Joker for the first time. He was wearing a dark jacket and top which was partly unbuttoned. Revealing his collection of tattoos and gold jewellery. His green hair was slicked back and he was red lipstick on his mouth. This was emphasised by his incredibly pale skin. His appearance reminded you of a clown. He smiled, revealing his silver teeth. You nervously sat on the seat opposite him, just about managing a confident smile.

“So you are here for the job, Miss?” he asked. His voice was softer than his physical appearance made you think that it would be. “(Y/n). I have brought my CV with me.” you reply, handing him the stapled pieces of paper. Which he then starts to peruse. “What drew you to this job?” he asked. “Well” you answered. “The ad because I love to laugh, Sir.” The Joker looked up for a second chuckling at your answer. He then  finished reading your CV and set it aside. “So you are a Brit with a good education and this will be your first job. Firstly, even though you calling me Sir makes me feel like I’m in a victorian British detective series, please can you call me Joker or Mister J. When did you arrive here in Gotham? And is you family living here?” he asks. “I arrived this morning. My family are still living in the UK but I plan to contact them regularly and send over some money to them if possible. I am looking forward to them visiting sometime in the future.” you say hoping that your answer was OK. “Perfect” he grinned. “As you would have seen in the ad I am in need of a secretary. Looking at your CV I can see that you are a smart girl so I will tell you everything straight. My business can be busy and you will get to know quite a few people. The conduct might not always be… moral but don’t worry these events will never be caused by you directly. All I need you to do is organise my meetings and keep notes on them. Regrettably your lifestyle will be maintained and quite limited due to the knowledge that you will obtain. So you will be living on site. The main thing that you must remember is the less questions you ask. The better we’ll get along. Of course this is asking a lot of you. Not only to have your first job in a strange city but to change your lifestyle. But I will be rewarding you generously.” He passed you a piece of paper with the salary figure on. Your eyes opened wide as it was incredibly generous. He grinned. You had to think about the whole situation for a moment. You thought about yours and your family’s future. You would be secure. Not just financially but you would feel protected as well. “So what will it be (y/n)?” he asked. When you shook that man’s hand you couldn’t have anticipated just how different your life would be.

Sometimes you did feel that your life was bit more enclosed than it was originally sold to you. You lived in a flat in the building where the Joker did his business. The floor above where you would sit in its reception area. The flat was completely self contained with its own; lounge (which sometimes doubled as a meeting room if the Joker needed to visit to talk about work), kitchen diner, bathroom and bedroom. It was decorated minimally but that is what you asked for, as you didn’t want a lot of expense spent on you. The Joker had a key to your apartment for emergencies and the agreement was that he would always knock before using it. He also had an apartment above yours which he frequently used when he needed to stay close by. You weren’t allowed to watch the news on the television or read the newspaper. Instead a homemade newspaper was delivered to you daily, with what you assume to be a filtered and reduced amount to of global news. You could leave the building if you wished but you would have to be accompanied by one of the Joker’s goons who would chaperone you around. They were under strict orders to never touch you. You felt sorry for them, having to follow you around when you go out to run errands. So you would always try to pick nice subjects to talk about. Like asking how their families were or how their day was going. Despite their appearance and occupation, they were nice guys. If you wanted to go out to specifically meet up with someone. The Joker would have to be notified in advance and personally approve it. If you were ever asked about your job, you say that you work for a people’s services company and most importantly, you do not mention the Joker.

It had now been eight months since you accepted the job. The ad was right, you did laugh a lot. Your relationship with the Joker was something that he didn’t have with any other person. He was more of a protective big brother to you rather than your boss. When he was around you he was always a total gentleman. You were more than his secretary, you were his personal confidant and trusted advisor. You were a positive and non confrontational person. He liked the innocence that you had as it made you the total opposite to himself. Due to this and your sheltered life, the Joker felt like he could talk about anything with you. Kind of like a best friend, but where he pays you a large salary. You probably made a welcomed change from the goons he would see daily. Now he would come round to your apartment after work to watch some TV or talk about how his day had been. There was even one evening where he came round because he wanted you to teach him how to make chocolate chip cookies. You got the feeling that he was kind of lonely because of the lifestyle that he had. It must be difficult for him to trust anyone with who he really was.

Today was just another day. You sit at the reception desk. The day had been quite quiet. You spent most of your time making coffee for the Joker and his goons. You did also organise the odd appointment. You have seen all sorts of people whilst working here. There was quite a few people that left the building a lot more battered than when they had first entered. Suddenly the main doors opened. In walked a woman with blonde hair in piggy tails, one dipped in pink hair dye and the other in blue. She wore a top which was one half red and the other half black along with matching trousers. Her eye makeup was heavy and she wore red lipstick. It was Harley Quinn. She had come in every day this week asking if she could see the Joker but he hadn’t been in. She waltzed up to your desk. “Hey Sweetie. Is Mister J in? I need to have a little chat with him.” she asks with a big smile on her face. “Yes” you reply. “But he is currently waiting for an important client and is refusing to see anyo-” It was too late she had already burst through his office door whilst shouting “Puddin’!” with the door slamming behind her. You immediately hear raised voices. Specifically the Joker shouting “Get out!” “I’ve told you that I am not interested!” and “Leave me alone!” You could also hear Harley’s high pitched voice and she tries to plea with him. They both sounded incredibly angry. You were wondering if you should go in there but you remember the Joker saying that you were only allowed in if you were asked.

After a moment of complete silence, the office door opened again and Harley hurriedly scuttled off through the front. Her eyes were red from crying and she was muttering something like “What’s his problem?” You wanted to ask her if she was alright or if you could help in any way but she ran off before you had the chance. The Joker emerged from his office, walking slowly towards you. The look on his face frightened you as he was the angriest that you had ever seen him. You looked up and his blue eyes burned into yours. You backed away a little as he leaned over the desk. “If that woman ever returns here and asks to see me. Tell her that I am out of the city for a few months. If she persists then get Phil or Dave (his biggest goons) to escort her off of the premises.” he growled. You nodded as you were too scared to speak. He then turned and walked back into his office calling “and get me something stronger than coffee!”

You were relieved when your work had finished and you were back in your apartment. You pitied the clients who had to meet with the Joker after his talk with Harley. Now you could finally relax in your white t-shirt, jeans and favourite pair of pink fluffy slippers. You sunk into your couch and sipped your cup of tea. It was time to forget about the stresses of work and put your feet up. Just as you were about to turn on the TV there was a knock on the door. You open it saying “I haven’t quite finished writing up the notes from yesterday’s meeting yet.” To your surprise it was Harley Quinn. She must have been looking for the Joker’s apartment. “This isn’t Mister J’s place” she said. “His apartment is the next floor up.” you reply and then remembered the Joker’s warning from earlier. “But he has now gone out of the city for a few months on business.” She looks straight at you.

“LIAR!” she screams as she starts to charge towards you. Her eyes were crazy. She gripped onto your arms just below your shoulders. Her grasp was very tight and she dug her nails into your skin. Despite trying with all your might to break free, she was just too strong. She pushed you across your lounge and pinned you up against the wall. Removing her grasp from your arms, she now clamped her hands around your neck. Smiling the entire time. You clawed at her hands in an attempt to loosen her grip but it was no use. She leaned her face towards you so her mouth was right next to your ear. “Answer me this Sweetheart and don’t you even dare lie to me.” she whispered. Her voice was haunting. “Why won’t Mister J see me? Suddenly I’m not good enough for him? Doesn’t he like his little Harley anymore? Talk! I know he tells you all of his dirty little secrets.” She gripped even harder on your neck. You choke at your reduced supply of oxygen. Tears stream down your face. “I don’t know.” you reply, your voice is faint. “I am only his secretary. He doesn’t discuss his relationships with me… Please… You have to believe me… Please… I don’t know.” She looked at your face, her smile fading as she could see that you were being honest. “hmph” she says as she releases your neck. You fall to the floor, gasping for air. She pulls you back up on your feet by grabbing your hair, so you now see eye to eye again. “Tell your boss to come visit his little Harley. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” she says pushing you back onto the floor. She walks out of your apartment, slamming the door behind her.

You stagger onto the couch, bury your head in your hands and begin to sob. The whole situation was just too much. Suddenly there was another knock on your door. You were too scared to move. What if it was Harley coming back to finish you off? After a moment’s silence the door opened and a familiar face walked in. It was the Joker. You tried to act natural but you were shaking so much in terror that you were spilling your tea all over your coffee table. “So Phil tells me that he and his wife are expecting a baby. He asks me to be its godfather. Me? Could you imagine? I laughed right in his face. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that I am not exactly godfather material.” He stopped talking when he looked at you. His smile faded. He rushed over, throwing his jacket onto the floor and sat next to you on the couch. Studying you silently, he could see the dark bruises on your arms and neck. His breathing quickened as he was getting angry. “Who the hell did this to you?” he asked as he stroked your arm. He didn’t sound angry just serious and concerned. You winced at his touch as your arm was sore. You turned your head away from him. You didn’t want things to get worse. He lifted his arm and rested his hand under your chin. Gently guiding it so you faced him once again. “I can’t help you unless you tell me.” he said whilst his blue eyes stared into yours. You took a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “Harley Quinn knocked on my door asking why you didn’t want to see her. She said that you should visit as she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” your voice was cracking. You could see that his fists were clenching in frustration. “Oh did she?” he growled. He pulled his cell out of his pocket. “Hey, yeah it’s me. I need you to do something for me. Quinn is getting out of hand.” and with that he hung up.

You started to shake and cry again as you relived the evening’s events. The Joker put his arm around you. You nuzzled your face into his chest, partly for comfort but also to hide your face. You didn’t want him to see you like this. How unprofessional you thought to yourself as you felt embarrassed. He started to stroke your hair. You sat like that for a while. You could hear the Joker’s heartbeat through his chest, the steady rhythm calmed your nerves. Your breathing started to slow until it was in time with his. “Thank you” you whispered to him. “I’m sorry for being a pain.” you could feel his chest move up and down as he chuckled. “You are no trouble at all.” he laughed. “I think I’ll stay here and sleep on the couch tonight, to make sure that nothing else happens to you.” You sat up frowning and stared into his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I know that you probably have a busy night planned. I’ll see you again tomorrow at work.” you say. The Joker shook his head and then leaned in towards you and kissed your forehead. As you rest your head back on his chest, you feel protected and start to drift off to sleep. “Oh (y/n).” the Joker said with a massive smile on his face. “You mean more to me than you think.”

Citrus Drama CD chapter 1 Rough Translations

Omfg I’m screaming because of the glory and perfection that is Citrus. Their voices sound a little weird at some parts but WHO CARES, THEY’RE SEXY AF.

taletoki already made a post about what happens, but I decided to do this (mostly) line by line. 

This is what I can understand from the CD: 

Mei is watering the plants in the garden. 

Mei: It’s already this time (this late)? Once I water those, I’ll be done. I have to hurry back to the student council. Himeko and the others are waiting. 

Yuzu: Hey, stop pulling! You don’t have to be so mad, Momokino-san! 

Himeko: Aihara Yuzu! Today I will catch you and make you dye your hair black! 

M: Yuzu! Himeko! You guys are high schoolers, so cut it out! 

Y: Mei! 

H: President! Help me catch her! 

Y: Don’t point that over here! (referring to the hose) 

M: I’m sorry. 

H: Who would have thought that you were holding a hose… 

Y: It’s fine, it’s fine. (I think she says something like not getting water on her face and going home to clean up. Also that everything will dry up) 

H: (along the lines of disagreeing with Yuzu) 

Y: I won’t catch a cold after all. Well then, good day to you two student council members! 

H: (says how she got distracted) I let her get away again! If only I were born with President’s–no, MeiMei’s– black hair, Aihara Yuzu wouldn’t have fooled around with me! (I’m not sure on this, but I’m fairly certain this is what she’s kinda saying) 

At home: 

Y: (sneeze) Ah, Mei. Good morning. Today’s Saturday but you’re up so early. Is it because of student council work? Where’s Mom? 

 M: (something about their mom going to work) She should have told you yesterday. 

Y: Oh, that’s right. Sorry, Mei. I was sleeping, so I still gotta make breakfast. 

M: Rather than breakfast… It’s already noon. Besides, I already ate. 

Y: Eh? You made it? *Mei can cook?* 

M: Yes. 

Y: What’d you eat? 

M: Bread, eggs, and milk. 

Y: I see. *It’s true that there’s fewer bread and the dishes are washed. But there’s no sign of the frying pan being used. Could it be that she ate the eggs raw? (I can’t make out what she says after)* Then, about lunch… (sneeze) 

M: Yuzu… Could it be that you caught a cold? 

Y: Now that you mention it, my head is getting hot. 

M: It’s because you came home wet yesterday. 

Y: I made sure to properly dry off. 

M: Are you okay? 

Y: But if I have a fever, it means that I’m not an idiot, right? (referring to the phrase that says idiots don’t catch colds)

M: Don’t say stupid things and get some rest. 

.

M: How is it? Did your fever go down? 

Y: (I dunno what she’s saying, but basically no to the question.) 

M: I see. In the meantime, just lie down(?) 

Y: I’ll do that~ What? 

M: Nothing. 

Y: Mei, it’s okay to go back to the living room. If you keep standing there, you’ll catch my cold. 

M: You’re right. 

Y: *Eh? Why are you getting in the bed? That’s not what it means! The distance is getting smaller! What’s happening?!* M-Mei…? 

M: Yuzu… 

Y: *Mei, you’re too close! Too close! What are you thinking this time?!* 

Mei touches Yuzu’s forehead. 

M: You really have a fever. I’ll come back with a thermometer(?). Your face is red. 

Y: *Why my face is red, this cold… It’s all your fault!*  

M: Sorry. Did I wake you up? 

Y: It’s alright. I slept for quite a bit. 

M: How are you feeling? 

Y: Thanks to you, I feel better than I did this morning. 

M: You woke up at noon, didn’t you? (dunno what she says after. I think she says something like “It’s serious, isn’t it?” to say that Yuzu is that dumb.) 

Y: Are you worried about me or making fun of me, which is it? 

M: Do you want to eat anything? 

Y: If it’s a little.

M: I see. Then… here. 

Y: Ah, rice porridge! Did you make this? 

M: Yes. 

Y: *Mei cooked for my sake. She must have been worried quite a bit. Wait, but because this is Mei, she was probably feeling responsible about the water (that she soaked Yuzu with). If that’s the case, that makes me a little sad…* Hm? Ketchup? Jam? (Why are these here?) 

(I think Mei says something about being unsure of the flavor so she prepared those anyways) 

Yuzu laughs like the cute lesbian she is. 

M: If you don’t need it, then it’s fine. 

Y: Sorry, sorry. It’s just that it’s a little weird. (Something about Mei and the taste) 

M: I can’t let a sick person like you eat weird things, can I? 

Y: Mei… Then I’ll put a little salt. Here, a spoon for you. 

M: (something about taste testing?) 

Y: No, no. Feed me. 

M: I’ll leave it right here. 

Y: Ah! My head hurts! I can’t seem to remember why I caught this cold! It hurts! 

M: (sighs for the millionth time) Here. 

Y: It’d be great if you can blow on it~ 

M: (blows on the food cause she can’t say no to Yuzu) Here. 

Y: Mm, it’s delicious! 

M: I see. Eat the rest of it yourself. 

Y: Eh? You could have fed me for a bit longer! 

M: Keep your spoiled attitude to a minimum. You’re the one who said that I’ll catch your cold if I stay here too long, right? 

Y: Fine. I’ll eat it myself. But you know, with a cold… You get better when someone catches it from you. Mei, did you kno-

SEXY TIME HAPPENS

Y: What are you doing, Mei!? 

M: You wanted me to catch it from you, right? 

Y: E-Even so…! You didn’t have to… k-kiss me…

M: I didn’t kiss you. I was just tasting the porridge. 

Y: H-Hurry up and get out! 


I did my best… Hopefully this helps some people. NOW TO WAIT FOR CHAPTER 17 RAWS AND TRANSLATIONS. 

Untrue Colors

@sweet-sweet-escape said: Can I give you a prompt? I just saw the link in your series and the list of prompts!! I didn’t know you were taking prompts, super, happy, double excited!! This is the one I pick: au where you have a stripe of your soulmates haircolor on your wrist and if they dye their hair your stripe changes colors au. I’m prompting this one because I love soul mate au’s but also cause it sounds really awful and I think if anyone at all in the world can make it great it would only be you! Hehehe

Me: I don’t know about great, but I think it’s not too bad! Enjoy it below or on ff.net here or AO3 here.

First it a pale golden blonde. That lasted until Molly was six months old, according to her mother and of course the photo she’d taken when Molly was first born. It gradually faded to a dark auburn, and then a glossy dark brown that lasted until she was about twelve. She came home from school crying because right in the middle of maths it turned bright, unnatural red, and she was convinced her soulmate had been in a fire or something equally horrible. It had taken Maggie Hooper a good hour to calm her daughter down and explain to her that the soulstrip changed with artificial coloring as well as any natural changes. Such as going from blond to auburn to brown, as her soulmate had done during her childhood. “Remember, luv, your hair was quite red when you were born and now it’s this lovely shade of cinnamon. But if you ever decide to color it your soulmate will know. At least you know he’s not afraid of making a statement with his hair!”

By the time she was eighteen, Molly was quite used to the radical color changes, and entertained herself by making up stories to match each new color as it appeared. Her favorite was when her soulstrip had gone rainbow colored; blues, greens, even faint flecks of amber and brown. She fancied her soulmate had his hair done up in a Mohawk or some equally outlandish hairstyle.

When she was twenty and had yet to meet anyone whose photolog matched the one she and her mother had put together over the years, she grew annoyed; how difficult could it be to find the one person in the world who’d dyed his hair so frequently and in such a range of colors? Surely the blue-green-with-flecks-of-amber wasn’t one often seen! Why didn’t her soulmate put his photolog on the web like most people did, in hopes of having it recognized?

Between the ages of twenty and twenty-eight she noticed a pattern forming: a year or so with all sorts of outrageous color changes, followed by a gradual return to the original glossy brown for about six months or so, then back to the flamboyant dye jobs.

After that and until she turned thirty she saw the soulstrip change colors only once before reverting to the dark brown.

It was dark brown hair she saw when she walked into the morgue on the morning of her thirtieth birthday, hair on the head of man bent over and apparently examining a corpse still lying in its body bag. Probably her 11:30 autopsy, but she was unable to focus on work right at the moment. Especially when her soulstrip began itching like mad. She reached over to scratch it just as the stranger straightened up and reached for his own left wrist.

Without turning around, he said, “I suppose your hair is a sort of cinnamon-brown shade?”

His voice was a deep baritone that sent shivers up her spine, and when he turned to face her as she approached him, she thought she’d never seen a more beautiful man in her entire life.

He studied her as intently as she was studying him. “You’re the new pathologist,” he said, then corrected himself after a quick look at her ID badge. “Sorry, specialist registrar.”

“Yes, I’m Molly, Molly Hooper,” she said, her voice a bit shaky as she extended her left hand, hauling up her sleeve so he could see her soulstrip. “I quite like the brown, but my favorite was the…” She fell silent as she got a good look at his eyes. “Oh,” she said as she stared up at him. “That’s why you picked those colors. To match your eyes.”

His lips – a perfect Cupid’s bow, plump and very kissable – quirked up in a smile. “You liked that one, did you? It was the one time I decided I wanted to give my potential soulmate a clue as to my identity without resorting to the idiotic Lonely Hearts’ websites that have sprung up in recent years.”

“They’re not Lonely Hearts’ websites,” Molly objected. “They’re meant to help soulmates connect. What’s wrong with that?”

He shrugged. “Takes all the challenge out of it and frankly cheapens the concept of having a soulmate in the first place. The idea is that you’re destined to find this perfect match, isn’t it? That you don’t need government registries and electronic data manipulation to find the one you’re meant to be with for the rest of your life.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, and although she wasn’t entirely sure she agreed with him, she couldn’t say she disagreed either. “What’s your name, or is that something I’m supposed to be destined to know as well?” she asked with a small grin.

He snorted. “If that were the case then we’d have each other’s names mystically tattooed onto our skins rather than hair color. The name’s Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street.”

He turned to leave, his coat flaring out dramatically while Molly stared after him, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “What address?” she called after him.

“The flat I’m thinking of taking,” he replied as he reached the doors, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “Meet me there when you shift is over and we can discuss our first date.”

“Coffee?” she suggested.

He nodded. “Perfect, we’ll make it our first date instead. Black, two sugars.”

Then he was gone, and Molly had only a few hours to daydream about her first date with her soulmate.

Whoever he turned out to be, she had a feeling he was about as far from ordinary as the many colors of his hair had been.

Scully and Me

by Gillian Anderson, British Vogue Jan 2016 

Back to investigate the paranormal after a hiatus of 13 years, X-Files star Gillian Anderson talks to Vogue about finding Scully again, and why this time she’s better dressed.

In the beginnning, Dana Scully’s hair was my natural colour, which is as dull as anything.  It was 1993 and I was 24.  After we shot the pilot and The X-Files was picked up for series, our executive producer Chris Carter said: “She’s going red.”  And that’s how Scully became a redhead.  For the next nine years I dyed it on a semi-regular basis, but then the show ended in 2002 I defiantly became a blonde and have been one ever since.

For the 2015 reboot of six episodes, the question naturally came up: to dye or not to dye?  My hair was already falling out from playing so many platinums (Stella in The Fall, Bedelia in Hannibal, Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire), so “wig” was the answer.

Cut to day two of filming in the heart of downtown Vancouver (taking the role of Washington, DC), smack in the middle of lunch hour.  We were drawing crowds, and these days “crowds” means phones, photographs and instant internet activity.  A close-up of my hair was immediately posted online: “It’s not the right red!” (outrage); “The parting is wrong!” (disgust).  Fans ,who know more about the show than any of us making it, were spot on - they had been watching Scully right from the show’s beginning - and a new wig was made.

The X-Files was almost the first thing I had done as an actor.  I had been in theatre in New York and a couple of commercials.  In my early twenties I didn’t understand the TV industry: about the investment of a network, about what it meant when people talking about whether we would get “picked up”.  It all flew by me.  I told the producers I was 27, and went in to the auditions not expecting anything, not knowing what it would mean to be cast in series, or what series actually were.  I didn’t even watch television in those days.  

I liked Scully though, right from the off.  She is very serious: a forensic pathologist and a famous sceptic, she is very authoritative.  And a genius.  Well, both she and her partner Mulder, played by David Duchovny, are, in that they know the answers to any scientific, historical, geographic or anthropological query that arises.

We made 202 episodes in the end, over nine seasons, and worked long 16-, 17-hour days.  David and I were in almost every scene for years - often at night, in the rain, on location.  So much of it was shot in the dark, with us lighting ourselves by flashlight, in all kinds of weather, and in the forest.  Oh, the forests.  When the show finally moved to Los Angeles I can’t say we missed them, or the weather, but Vancouver really did set the mood for the show in a fundamental way.  

And then there’s that undeniable chemistry between the two of them, the two of us, David and me.  That was present from our first exchange.  That thing that drove fans crazy, regardless of whether David and I were even speaking to each other at any given time.  You can’t fake that.  It’s bigger than the two of us, and is there for the service of the series and its fans.

Keep reading

Colors - Part One // You Were Red

Introducing, my new short story “Colors” inspired by the song by Halsey. For the summary and more, click down below for table of contents. I’m so excited to finally publish this first part, and its come to my realization that this may be able to be put into pages! I’ve worked very hard on this first part, so I hope you enjoy.

Table of Contents
Word Count: 13k+

Be sure to click on the Bolded X’s to get a better idea about the scene you’re reading throughout the part! :)
__


I swore under my breath as I dropped a container of blue hair dye all over my floor, kneeling down quickly with a roll of toilet paper in my hand and began scrubbing at the blue stain across the tile, noticing how much it was spreading, and hoping it would come out if I tried to clean it hard enough. A few quick knocks sounded behind me, my mother’s voice coming through the crack that formed between my door and the door frame.

“Lou, are you alright?” She spoke, not sounding at all concerned and I could smell home cooked spaghetti coming through the vents. I quickly thought of an explanation but was too slow before she started trying to unlock my door. I ran over, holding onto the knob and pressed my face against the crack. The wood was split apart and became jagged from me slamming my door closed behind me one too many times over the years, shaking the walls of the house.

Keep reading

Secrets - Chapter 5

Chapter One: The Safe House
Chapter Two: Bedtime Stories
Chapter Three: Of Frogs and Flirts
Chapter Four: Unmasked

I lied again.  xD  I promise, I’ll eventually write about Angela and her little horseback ride (totally thinking Chapter 6).  For now, enjoy some dad/son feels.



CHAPTER 5: Chopping Block

The shower was nice. Nice and cold, just the way he liked it after sweating up a storm in the dim-lit workshop. As he pulled back the curtain, Jack was quite surprised to see a pile of neatly folded clothes-fresh and clean-waiting for him. Brow quirked, he wondered where his old set went.

Mom?

But she didn’t know.

Dad.

He shook his head. Some habits die hard, he supposed. Mom was always the cook. Dad was always the cleaner. It seemed like an odd dynamic, but it worked. Jack always figured he got more of his traits from his father-the tinkerer, the cleaner, the joker, the too stubborn to quit. That last one was what got the two of them into more trouble than either would ever admit.

After drying off with the lovely forest green towel with golden designs on one end, he moved to the sink. He would have to think about dying his hair again. The golden roots were starting to show, which caused him to grimace. Why didn’t dye last longer? They said in 2030, things would be better. They weren’t. There was no hair revolution.

Wait, was he really talking about hair?

Running a hand over his head, he combed his hair into place. It couldn’t be anything fancy as he didn’t want people to realize he did indeed care about his hair. That was a Jack Morrison thing, not a Soldier 76 quirk. 76 was lazy, uninterested in looks. Jack Morrison? He was all about looking great because if you look great, you feel great. That and he couldn’t stand dirty and disgusting. Three showers a day was a-okay in his book!

The briefs and pants came first. This time, he wore a pair of navy cargo pants instead of the coal colored jeans. For a top, his father left him with a white muscle shirt.

Jerk.

There was no way he could wear this. But… he slipped it on. Just to humor himself. Flexing his arm, Jack’s grin grew until it seized his entire face.

There was no way Angela wouldn’t be impressed. She loved his arms; always begged him to show them off more. He was still as fit as ever. Perhaps a bit slimmer, but it helped with dexterity.

Lathering on the deodorant and then stealing his father’s cologne, he went for the door. Engaging it, it came to a jarring halt.

My mask!

Stepping backwards, his hands found their way to the black mask with the red visor. Once snug and secure, he tried again. Take two, as he called it. Only this time, he actually left.

“Pa says you need to go chop wood with him.” Jr was impatiently waiting outside the door. “I want to help but grandma said I have to set the table… boo.”

Jack ruffled his son’s hair. “Thanks, bud.” The words brought a large, cheeky smile to Jr’s face. With a firm nod, the kid ran off down the hall to aid those stationed in the kitchen.

Knowing exactly where the woodpile was, Jack moseyed out of the house and eventually stepped up around the backside of the barn. There was a nice lip that would keep the wood dry, should it rain. And, from the scent in the air, it smelled like it was going to be one hell of a storm.

“Well don’t just stand there,” a flash of silver flew toward Jack. With a dull thud, it landed in the grass just inches before his boots. “Get chopping.”

Bending, he un-wedged the ax and stepped over to the chopping block.

“You listen. I’ll talk.”

It was a good thing dad couldn’t see his face. That would have started an even longer-winded lecture.

“Got it, soldier?” The man’s steel-blue gaze narrowed.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

It was their thing. Whenever Jack got in trouble, his father would become a drill sergeant. Kind of. He would more or less berate his son for doing things he deemed stupid. If Jack talked, he would make him stop whatever mind-numbing task he was assigned and demand the blonde give him 20. It’s one of the reasons Jack was so capable. As a teen, Jack had to give a lot of 20s. At least 100 a day.

“What kind of son makes his own parents bury him?” Dad began. “You know how much that killed us. All of us. Your mom, me. Ang. We had no idea that she was even pregnant with your child until after the funeral. It was one of those accidental things. Mom saw her sitting their, clinging to your grave. She kept muttering, ‘You can’t do this to me. You can’t make me to do this alone.’ Ma was confused. What couldn’t Ang do alone? She was always one hell of a woman-we kept telling you to pop the question-but apparently you were too busy plowing the fertile soil.”

CRACK!

The chunk of wood split apart and clattered to the ground. Blade caught in the chopping block, Jack’s red visor locked with Mr Morrison’s blue gaze. His body tensed, peeved at the snark little comment.

“Make another comment like that,” Jack growled.

“I said I talk. You listen. Drop. Now.” His finger pointed at the grass as his gaze hardened. “Now!” He grunted again.

Complying, Jack fell to all four. It took him not even a minute to pound out 20 push-ups. When done, he popped right back up and pried that ax from the wood. Finding another piece, he set it down and whaled at it.

CRACK!

It split with ease and he tossed the split ends into the wheelbarrow.

“Your mom asked her what she was rambling on about. She told her she was 4-months pregnant. That she was looking to tell you that day that she was carrying your child. But she never had a chance.”

Jack turned his head to the side. He had no idea she was that far along. It definitely explained Jr’s existence though.

“We couldn’t just leave her there. We took her in. Took her home. She stayed with us until the baby was born. Stayed with us long after that too. Until she grew restless. Seeing Jr killed her. She kept it together though, but we could all see how much it killed her. I told her it was time to get back to doing her thing. Your mom didn’t agree but Ang needed to get out of the house. She needed to find peace. And her kind of peace is found in saving people. She couldn’t save you. But she could save others.”

Jack tossed more chopped wood into the wheelbarrow. It started to look full so his next set would go to the wood pile for later use.

“You know she hasn’t bed another man since you.”

His attention swiveled back to his father.

“Jack, she loved you. Loves you. She said she’ll never find a better man. Would rather be a single mom than try to find a replacement.

“It kills your mother too. Ang is so young. So beautiful. And here she is, being a widow. She doesn’t complain. She never will. She’s tough like that. And we love her but we also want her to find someone. Someone to care for her and Jr. We won’t live forever.”

“Don’t say that,” Jack interrupted. His voice meek, hating the idea of one day having to bury his parents.

Dad didn’t seem to care that he spoke. Instead, he just chuckled. “Trust me, it’s harder to bury a son than it is your old man. I’ve lived a long, full life. Done many things that have made me proud. Seen a lot. You? You were still a kid.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“That wood ain’t going to chop itself,” he finally broke the silence and Jack went back to chopping.

“Your mom…I’m worried about her. You need to tell her you’re alive. She might finally flush those pills down the drain.”

His head snapped back up.

“You didn’t snoop?” His dad shook his head. “Ma’s on heart pills. Also blood medication. She has to go in once a month. They’re worried she’s going to have a heart attack or something far fancier sounding than that.”

Jack’s hands tightened around the handle of his ax. When his knuckles finally turned white, he hoisted the large blade above his head before slamming it down. It cleaved perfectly into the thicker piece of wood, splintering and then eventually falling apart into three distinct pieces.

“You’re also a lousy father. Remember Jimmy? You know how you said you hated how his dad was never around. Well guess what, you’re just like that. You promised yourself that you would never be the kind of man to abandon family. Well,” his dad’s dry, harsh tone cut into Jack, “congrats son. You did what you hate the most. Abandoned family. All of them. Mom and I. Ang and your son. Even Overwatch. Don’t you think they deserve the truth. Answers. Closure.”

His hands were now pinned against his chest as his voice rose. “You really think your mom wants to lay on her death bed knowing she’ll be joining her son in heaven only to find out he’s not there. You really want your little magic trick to go with you to your grave? Don’t want to let anyone in? Good ol’ Jack, always keeping up his wall so he can never get hurt. What do you have? Some agenda? Need to expose the truth? Because trust me, no truth is worth this.”

Jack’s shoulders rolled forward. This lecture was going just as he predicted and each lashing from his father’s mouth just hurt him more. He was a lousy son. A lousy father. And an even lousy lover.

“You have to tell Ang. If you don’t tell mom, fine. But you have to tell Ang. You owe it to her. You knocked her up and then left her high and dry. And because she’s such a noble woman, she always sends a portion of her check our way. We tell her we don’t need the money, but she does it anyway. What kind of woman devotes everything to helping others, saving the world, and providing more than enough resources for her son and son’s grandparents? She doesn’t owe us anything. She was never yours. Just a little side fling gone too far.”

“She was not a side fling.” Jack peeled the gloves from his hands. “I told you to drop it.” He was going for his mask next.

“You fucked a naive woman with big dreams. Got her pregnant. Died. Only to not be dead. Instead, you’re running around as a goddamn vigilante. Probably boasting your skills. Probably fucking whoever yo-”

The air was kicked from him as the old man’s back was forced against the barn’s sturdy wall. Before him, stood a maskless Jack with probably the darkest scowl he’d ever seen his son wear. He was still hunched forward from the solid shove he gave his dad. And from the way he stood, he looked like he was ready to do it again.

“Leave Angel out of this.” His voice was laced with malice. Clearly Angela, Mercy, was still a sore subject. “I had no idea she was pregnant. You honestly think I would be running around with that mask on if I knew I had a little boy.” Jack’s gestures were exaggerated and rippled with anger. “You really think I would go through all this just to--as you said-fuck another woman.” His brows furrowed, causing a large wrinkle to form between his brows. “You have no idea. She’s safe because of me. I’ve been assigning all her deployments. She always lands in places I’ve recently cleared out. I would never hurt her.”

Lips pulling back into a snarl, Jack turned his back to his father to retrieve his gloves and mask. “If you knew a damn thing about me, you’d know I had every intention of marrying her.” The mask clicked against his face. “I wasn’t going to Switzerland for another evening of ‘playing between the sheets,’ like you’d like to believe.” He grit his teeth. “I was going to ask her to come with me. I wanted to fly her to the States. To here. I had been working on a ring. I wanted to make her something special. Something small. Something that wouldn’t interfere with her work.”

His father finally pulled from the wall and limped forward a bit. “That tented area in the workshop…” His face wore a ghost. Shame lapped over him, as did guilt. He was just berating his son for banging a woman as if it were the 1920s and Jack had every intention of actually marrying the blonde doctor. “Jack…I had no idea.”

CRACK!

Another piece fell victim to Jack’s chopping block.

“Tell her,” his father’s hands were gingerly falling against Jack’s fist-wielding pair. “You have to. She’ll forgive you. I’ve forgiven you. Jr’s forgiven you. You know she will.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he averted his gaze. “I can’t forgive me. And I’m not sure I can stop what I’ve begun. I’m just… I’m a letdown. I don’t deserve this. Her.”

“You don’t have to do this alone.” The worry on his lip a surefire sign that Mr Morrison cared deeply for his son. “Son,” he finally got Jack’s eyes back on him, “you’re many things but you’ve never been a letdown. I know… I know we fight a lot but…” He had to collect his breath. “I’m proud of you. Of the man you became. You make me so proud. You weren’t a farmer’s son. You were a hero. My hero. I loved going into town and telling everyone, 'Yup, that’s my boy.’” The tears in his eyes were as real as the ax in Jack’s hand. “You were a chip off the old block. Everything I could have dreamed of. No, more than that.”

Beneath the visor, tears were starting to drip down Jack’s face. His father was never the kind of man to dish out compliments. This was rare. And it moved him.

Releasing the ax, he stepped forward to hug his father. Silently, they stood there.

They had their differences but they had their similarities too. Both stood 6-1” (though dad was shrinking due to age) and had sun-kissed blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They had broad shoulders and a tough build. They were meant to endure. Both were stubborn asses, always in competition with one another. They both loved deeply but hated to show it. Their jokes were probably the worst, but they found them absolutely brilliant. And, most importantly, they loved each other. Never said it. But both knew it true.

“I told you so.” The old man finally said with a raspy voice.

Jack quirked a brow.

“Reyes. I said he was no good. Told you he’d come between you and Ang.”

Jack punched him lightly. “You get to push the wheelbarrow.”

“Why?”

“For ruining the moment.” Jack chuckled just loud enough to his father to catch.

“I suppose I did. But I did tell you he was bad news. I said he was a rotten tomato and, as a tomato farmer, I think I know a bad one when I see one.” He snickered when he saw Jack roll his arms in the air. “Just trying to steal your girl, I know. I had a friend like that once too. But the good guy always wins.” He winked.

Grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow, he and Jack made their way back to the house.


The sky was now a dark, navy blue and the echoing call of thunder rattled the barn. Picking up their pace, they raced toward the house. The sound of rain on a tin roof soon filled the air.

Just a few steps more!

“Made it,” the old man panted just as the rain started to really come down in waves. It was pouring cats and dogs. No, more like hippos and cows.

“Speak for yourself,” Jack chided. Sure enough, every inch of him was soaked. From head to toe, the rain continued to pelt against him as he stood just inches from the protective roof.

Chuckling, Mr Morrison grabbed some of the wood and brought it into the house. “Get some more and get in the kitchen. I’m sure everyone’s waiting for us. If you’re lucky, that kid of yours saved you a spot next to that pretty lady you better consider marrying.”

“Stop,” Jack huffed. He was joking but still didn’t like the idea of his dad having the upper hand here.


Once all the wood was put in its proper place, Jack-or rather 76 now-walked into the kitchen. He paused in the door frame when he noticed a certain someone was missing.

“Mercy not back yet?”

Tracer’s sad eyes found his. “We even called the ranger. They said it’s not safe to go looking for her.”

“Don’t worry,” his mom’s voice was laced with concern, “Ang is a smart girl. She’ll wait it out and be back in the morning.”

“But her horse…” 76 took a step back. It had returned. It was out in the pasture.

“What about it?” Jr asked. Confused as to why 76 would mention the horse.

“It’s in the pasture.”

Just then, Tracer vanished. Seconds later, she was back. “He’s right. Her horse is here.” She sped away again. “But she’s not here,” she said reappearing behind 76.

“That’s because you’re too fast. Jamie,” DVa turned to Junkrat, “wanna race the barn? We’ll see if she’s in there. Maybe she just got back?” The Aussie nodded and ran off after the spunky brunette.

“Want to look with me in the house?” Lucio asked Mei and Zarya. The three of them vanished.

Pharah was putting on her wings. “I won’t go far,” she promised. “Just going to see if I can spot her from the barn roof.” McCree said he would check the shed and garage.

Mrs Morrison shook her head. She eventually left the kitchen to check the cellar to see if she was downstairs putting her wet clothes in the dryer.

“Okay, coast is clear.” Jr hopped from his chair and ran up to 76 and his grandpa. “What’s the plan?”

“Get your gear,” his father instructed. “I’ll go pack you a bag.”

“What do I do?” Jr’s nose wiggled much like that of a bunny.

“When everyone get back, you have to distract them long enough for your dad to get a horse and ride out of here.”

“Where will you be?”

Mr Morrison cracked a smile. “I’m going to be 'watching’ tv.”

The three men nodded.

“Meow.” Skippy’s fluffy form jumped up on the table beside the plotting Morrison men.

“Operation Alpha Charlie Skippy is a go.” 76 joked before running with his father to fetch proper gear.


“Be careful,” his father warned. “The old pass is getting worn. Might be best not to ride the horse through that part.”

“What about the red vines pass?”

“Good call.” He punched his son lightly. “Look at you remembering things.”

“I’m not the one that’s going to be turning 80 soon.”

“Can it, kid. I can still ground you.”

Hugs were exchanged.

“Dad,” Jr walked up to him with Skippy in tow. “Bring back mama.” He paused. Brows furrowing, he chewed his lip. “I heard it on tv: If you don’t find her, don’t bother coming back at all.”

Jack swooped down to pat his blonde kid on the head. “Don’t worry, bud.” His fingers slipped between Jr’s soft hair. “I’ll find her.” Pulling away, he rushed the door frame. He would have one shot. He was ready. It was almost time.

“Dad,” Jr broke his focus. “Heroes never die.” Jr smiled up at him before retreating into the kitchen, ready for his role.

“Don’t mess this up,” his father stated while hunkering down into his chair. Tv on, he nodded. “And please tell her. If you don’t, I will.”

He nodded before falling silent in the shadows.


“No dice,” Lucio said running into the kitchen.

“I didn’t see her either,” exclaimed Pharah.

“Nothing in the barn either,” Junkrat added.

“Same with the shed and garage,” McCree frowned.

“And I didn’t see her in the cellar either…” Mrs Morrison’s hand fell against her chest. “Oh heavens,” tears swelled in her eyes. “I pray the storm has mercy on her.”

Tracer’s hand comforted her for a moment before she realized someone was missing. “Wait. Where’s 76?”

All heads swiveled to the empty door frame.

Just then, a “Yeah ha!” drifted from the barn.

All bodies moved toward the sliding door or windows to catch the number 76 ride off toward the vast wilderness where Mercy was last seen. The further out he rode, the harder his bright red number was to see.

“No no no,” Mrs Morrison moved to the door and flung it open. She couldn’t contain her tears. Pharah was quick to catch the faltering woman and aided her back inside. “I can’t lose her,” she repeated. “I just can’t.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, McCree spoke. “If anyone can find your should-be daughter-in-law, it’s him.”

Mrs Morrison’s brows furrowed. Her husband soon joined her; wrapping arms around the woman.

“He was on his own long before he joined us. Surviving on his own in conditions far worse than this.” His tanned face turned toward the Morrisons. “If anyone can find Angela, it’s that soldier.”


Chapter 6:  Chasing Butterflies:  http://xavirne.tumblr.com/post/146958800187/the-rise-and-fall-lulled-her-into-memories-of

Found this and I had to write it. http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/107568561384/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-is-pregnant-and

Title : Three’s a crowd

Fandom : Steven Universe

Pairing : Jasper/Peridot

Summary : Human!AU. After a successful round of IVF, Jasper and Peridot eagerly look forward to the arrival of their firstborn. But a doctor’s appointment delivers some rather suprising news.

Also quick note my headcannon for Human!Jasper is that she’s black with vitiligo, and tends to dye her hair bleach blond, Human!Peridot is Indian with black hair, Human!Lapis is biracial, white and black, Human!Garnet is black.

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The Baka and the Megane

Maki pushed her glasses further up her nose, scanning each face in her class. There were some serious-looking girls, some foolish and sleepy boys, and others who were of no importance. Second years that were used to their campus yet had no idea of the world ahead. It was pitiful. 

Especially the girl in the back with her earphones in. The mere sight of her pissed her off. 

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anonymous asked:

39) things you said when we first met. please <3

Ficlet:  “Things You Said When We First Met”

Author: @somekindofseizure

Rated: PG-13/Mature

Notes:  Turns out I’ve been creating a little universe for these Things You Said things (not on purpose till now).  So this ficlet references these other three.

Things You Said That Made Me Feel Real (Rated Gen)
Things You Said With Clenched Fists (Rated Explicit)
Things You Said Sitting Still (Rated Gen)

******

She has a towel around her head when she comes out of the bathroom.   The stubborn summer sunset lingers in the room like a kid who keeps finding excuses to stay awake.  Now it picks up the cornflower blue of her eyes, the deep blood red of her old robe, and those are good enough excuses for him.

The robe is one of the things she’s brought back to the house.  At first it was a shock to him, that she wouldn’t be doing it all at once, getting a truck one day, handing the keys over to her landlord, moving back home. Of course that’s his way, and not hers. Scully doesn’t jump in.  

He’s delighted each time he notices the additions:  her lower-watt hair dryer in the drawer, her less expensive moisturizer in the medicine cabinet, the ancient red bathrobe on the back of the door. Delighted, but terrified.  These are the expendable versions of her things, the backups, the ones she can live without.  He only has one thing he can’t live without.  There is no backup Scully.

“What’s with the towel? I thought I heard a hair dryer in there,” he says, folding his hands over his chest and crossing his feet at the ankles, a trick he’s learned to avoid tackling her to the bed.  It’s not just the bedroom that does this to him lately – the kitchen, the living room, the porch – he’s become a medium through which the house tells her it misses her.

“You did,” she says. “I just didn’t want it to be a shock.”

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Zenyuki Week Day 2 - Red

Summary: Three times Zen Wistalia blushes, and one time Shirayuki does.

i.

When Shirayuki first meets Zen, she sort of thinks he’s a bit obnoxious.

After all, what kind of idiot just vaults over a garden wall, with no regard for his own safety and well-being? And then there’s the way he looks at her, with a curious sort of detachment, like she’s both interesting and foreign, something novel and rare that he’s never seen before. He gives off an air of otherness, of haughtiness, and Shiryauki doesn’t like it.

Her opinion of him softens quickly, though.

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