where are her wonderful green eyes

And I Thought You Might Be Mine

*click through to read on ao3

Written by: Nai | @hiddenpolkadots
Prompt: Tol: is that my shirt?
Smol, wearing a shirt that goes down to their knees: … no
words: 2500

Bellamy is aware that living with Clarke was going to come with some challenges.

(Or, as Octavia put it, rather excitedly, “It’s going to be a total fucking shitshow, and Raven and I have a bet going on who would commit murder first.”)

But despite their friends utmost certainty that things were going to crash and burn within the first week, they’ve been happily living together for the past six months, so he made sure to tell them to suck it after they hit the two week mark, because he’s a responsible adult.

That isn’t to say that it’s a walk in the park either. He and Clarke still argue about every little thing, but that’s just how they communicate. Now they just add arguing about domestic things such as whose turn it is to do the dishes, or why hasn’t he taken out the trash yet into the mix as well. He maybe likes it a bit too much, but no one needs to know about that.

He’s also become privy to a lot more of her quirks which- he likes to think that being friends, or at least acquaintances, with Clarke for over four years meant that he knew her fairly well, but once they move in, it becomes a whole other story.

For example, he learns that despite being left handed, she brushes her hair and teeth with her right, she always has to keep a full cup of water on her bedside table at night, and she needs more pillows than necessary to sleep.

Perhaps the most interesting quirk of hers is that she’s always stealing his clothes, all the fucking time.

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TMNT x Reader (Part One).

Imagine your favorite turtle cuddling with you. It’s late and it’s cold and he’s had a stressful day. All he wants right now is to hold you and kiss you and fall asleep. The best part about being in a relationship is that all of those things can happen.

Leonardo is exhausted.
Today has been an exhausting, difficult day. And it seemed like those days were coming along more often.
Sometimes, the line between brother and leader can be confusing and tiring. There are some days when he just wants to hang out and not do anything…but that can’t happen.
He has a job to do.
A job that his family counts on.
So after training and patrol and meditation and butting heads with his brothers, all he wants to do is to crawl in bed. He slowly walks through the dark hallway, his brother’s voices and laughter slowly vanishing from his ears. He approaches the final circular door.
His door. His bedroom. His sanctuary.
He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, pressing his head to worn out wood, lost in thought. He thinks about everything he had to do today and how he will do it again tomorrow and he wonders if it will ever get any easier. He had been the Leader for five years, since he was fifteen, and as he got older his job only seemed to get harder.
Leo sighs and turns around, acting to get into bed, when he notices a small figure underneath his sheets. He stiffens but relaxes when the figure mumbles something. He would know that voice anywhere.
He strides over, quietly, and pulls his blue comforter away, revealing Y/N’s peaceful face. He notices the book tucked away next to her, a copy of Cinder that has her finger tucked between the pages.
He laughed softly at the sight before him.
“Did you fall asleep waiting for me?” He whispers.
Leonardo carefully takes the book, making sure to mark the page, and places it on the nightstand. For a moment, he simply watches her breathe softly.
She looks so content and he wonders what she might be dreaming about. A little part of Leonardo hopes that she’s dreaming about him…Eventually, he decideds to join her in her dreams.
Moving away, he removes his armor piece by piece, putting it away. He looks in the mirror. He tools older. Tired. He examines his green skin, littered with scars and a few tattoos. His eyes linger in his left forearm, where he had the kanji symbol for “love” tattooed.
He had gotten that for her and she had held his hand the entire time. He hadn’t really needed her to but he certainly had enjoyed it.
He looks up and he can see her reflection in the mirror. Y/N has rolled over and is now facing him, her arm reaching out towards him as though to say
“Come to bed.”
Love. His fingers run over the inked skin before he turns away and goes to join her. Carefully, so very carefully, he slides in bed next to her. Leonardo is always surprised about how small she seems next to him. How delicate, almost doll like.
She suddenly stirs, her eyes just barely opening.
“Leo?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“Hey. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” he whispers.
Y/N smiled sleepily and says
“No trouble.”
She’s drifting off to sleep once more and Leonardo gives her a quick kiss before she resumes her peaceful breathing.
It has been a difficult day for the turtles but being able to hold her like this…made it all worthwhile.
Within moments, Leo had joined her in her slumber, still holding her in his arms.

A Higher Education PT.2

Summary: Shawn and yourself are best friends at University.

Word Count:  6,293

A/U: So happy with all of the support from you all. I’m really enjoying writing this so I think instead of three parts I will be doing four. But nothing more than that. ENJOY!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Yeah well just text me when you want us to come over?” I said as I pulled out my notebook.

We were sitting in the second row out of my choosing and because I had shown up early to get a good seat. I liked the third row because you were close enough for the prof to know your face but not too close for him to ask you questions.

“Excuse me?” I heard a voice coming from next to Shawn. I glanced over and saw the girl in the row up from us leaning over the seats, her long hair falling near Shawn and she pushed it back behind one ear. “I wasn’t here last class, do you think I could get a picture of your notes?”

My eyes narrowed automatically. First, most of the power points were online, you could sufficiently catch up by just reading them alone and supplementing with the textbook, second why didn’t she ask the people next to her and third, why was her smile so fucking big?

“Oh yeah for sure, but my writing is terrible? Maybe you might want to ask someone else?”  Shawn answered

Yeah, maybe you should ask someone fucking else.

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Based on prompt:

Heterochromia: You have one eye of your soulmates eye color and when you meet you get your own eye color instead of having two different eye colors.

Read it here on AO3


On Krypton, nothing like this ever happened. As a humanoid race with rather advanced scientific achievements to their names, the Kryptonians had all but eliminated genetic mutations or unexpected traits in their children. Zor-El and Alura were as baffled as anyone when Kara had developed heterochromia, against the genetic instructions Kara was given. She was to be born with deep blue eyes, but instead, she was born with one of the intended blue color, but one of a green hue with a brilliant mixture of blue within.

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May 8 - 2017 Edition!

Originally posted by asdarknessfell

Happy birthday to the girl on fire! To celebrate, here is the annual update to my story, May 8!

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Summary: The Mockingjay’s birthday has been declared a national holiday.

“What?” I nearly shout, clutching the paper tightly in both hands.

From the table, Peeta looks up from a drawing he’s been working on for the last hour. “Hmm?” he asks absentmindedly. I don’t answer, still too absorbed in the letter to process a response. This, ironically, captures Peeta’s full response as he forgets the drawing on the table. “Katniss, what is it?” he asks more urgently.

I didn’t even know how to begin to respond. “They… they’re turning my birthday into a national holiday. In honor of me.” Finally, I manage to tear my eyes away to look at him.

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anonymous asked:

Is it alright to request a mutual pining fic for Rowaelin or Manorian ?

Of course, Hun!

This took a completely different turn from what I had planned at first, but I hope you guys still enjoy :)

Summary: He thinks she wants nothing to do with him. She thinks he can’t remember her. Aelin and Rowan were friends once upon a time. But high school drove them apart. However, one night - one party - is about to change not only their lives, but the lives of their friend as well.

Chapters: XXX


Rowan couldn’t help but stare from across the school cafeteria. Not when she looked like she did. Her blond hair flowing like waves over her shoulders. Full lips pulled back in a smile over her perfect teeth. Rowan could basically hear her laugh in his ears from where he has sat with his friends. Her gold-ringed eyes - eyes that captivated Rowan to this day - were shining bright as she rolled them at something that was said.

Rowan couldn’t help but stare at sophomore Aelin Galathynius. Everytime she was in the room, she lit it on fire. Brightening the air around her.

“Dude. Watch the drool.”

Rowan managed to pull his gaze around from Aelin, glaring at Fenrys.

“I wasn’t drooling.” He snapped before picking up his soda can, taking a big sip.

“Not yet,” Fenrys glanced over his shoulder at Aelin, before turning back to Rowan with a smirk on his face. “But I give it just a few more moments of you gawking at Fire Queen over there, and you would’ve started.”

It took all of Rowan’s strength not to crush his soda can in his hand and throw it at Fenrys head.

“Why not just talk to her?” Connall asked from his brothers side. “It’s not like you two don’t know each other.”

Lorcan snorted as he lunged back in his chair. “I’d like to see the day Whitethron grows a pair and talks to the Bitch Queen.”

“Don’t call her that.” Rowan growled, but Lorcan simply rolled his eyes.

The subject was dropped as quick as it came. Everyone around him started talking about the game plan for their next Football game this weekend. But Rowan found himself watching Aelin once more.

Connall was right, they did know each other. They basically grew up together. Ever since they met as kids, at a taekwondo class. They butted heads from the moment they were paired together. They hated each other at first, until a boy in their class - Cairn - was paired with Aelin for a match and he ended up punching her square in the face, on purpose. Which led to Rowan returning the favour before Aelin roundhouse kicked him in the stomach, blood spilling on her shirt as she did so. From that moment on, they were friends.

For years they hung out. Going to each others houses and hanging out in school. Building forts in the forest behind Aelin’s house. Doing Taekwondo together with Aelin’s cousin, Aedion. That was Rowan’s life for years, and he loved it.

Until he got to high school.

Aelin was still in middle school when Rowan entered high school. Which was fine, at first. Then Rowan joined the football team, and had to spend more time studying. He started partying and actually noticing girls. He was changing. Growing up.

Him and Aelin started hanging out less and less, until they stopped all together. Rowan couldn’t even remember the last time they spoke. Everything between them just, stopped.

Then Rowan entered his senior year. And Aelin wasn’t even on his mind. Until she walked passed him in the hall on the first day of school, and Rowan barely recognized her.

Aelin Galathynius was definitely not the little girl he knew. She grew up. And she grew up into the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen.

But despite them being in the same school again, despite walking past each other in the hallways every now and then, they still had yet to say one word to each other.

Rowan couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to her. Which was ridiculous. She was his childhood friend. All he had to do was go up to her and say hi.

And yet, here he was. Just like every other day. Watching her from across the room without her knowing.

What made this all even more sad and ridiculous was the fact that Rowan knew, deep down, he was falling for her. He was falling in love with this breathtaking woman, who had the most beautiful eyes and dazzling smile.

And she didn’t even know it.

“Rowan Whitethron is staring at you again.”

Aelin looked up from her food, her gaze moving across the cafeteria to where Rowan and his cadre were sitting. She watched them for a few moments as they all talked amongst themselves, probably about football or girls.

Her gaze stopped on Rowan for a moment. His white hair cropped short and standing out against his tan skin.The t-shirt he was wearing did wonders for his arms and chest, showing off the muscles he definitely didn’t have when they were kids. Pine-green eyes sparkled as they glared at Fenrys before he leaned back against his chair.

“He is not.” Aelin looked back down at her tray, picking at her chocolate cake.

“He so was.” Lysandra nudged her with her elbow. “He just looked away the moment you looked up.”

“Stop telling lies, Lysandra,” Aelin turned to her friend, a smirk on her lips. “It’s not attractive.”

“Are you calling me attractive, Galathynius?”

Aelin laughed, simply rolling her eyes at Lysandra’s behaviour. She turned back to her tray, taking a big piece of her chocolate cake and eating it.

“She’s right you know.” Nehemia spoke up from across Aelin. “Whitethron always seems to be watching at you.”

“As much as I hate to say this,” Manon stepped in. “Most of the guys and girls in this hell hole watch Bitch Queen here. She’s hot.”

Aelin placed a hand on her heart as she turned to Manon. “Did you actually just compliment me, Blackbeak?”

“Don’t get use to it.”

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Elide asked from her girlfriends side. “You guys did grow up together, didn’t you.”

“I’m not going to talk to him.” Aelin leaned back against her chair. “Yes, we grew up together. But the last time we spoke, I was like 12. He probably doesn’t even recognize or remember me now.”

“Impossible.” Aedion pulled into a seat next to Lysandra as he smiled at Aelin. “No one forgets us Ashryvers.”

“Aedion, guess what.” Lysandra’s eyes held a sparkle in them as she spoke. “Your cousin thinks I’m attractive.”

“Of course she does.” Aedion leaned in, placing a kiss on Lysandra’s lips. “Us Ashryvers also have good taste.”

The chatter around Aelin continued on, but she stopped listening. Instead, her eyes landed on Rowan. She watched as he fooled around with his friends, her words from a moment ago coming back to her.

She really did think Rowan didn’t recognize her. They walked past each other in the hallways sometimes, but he didn’t so much as glance at her. She even was walking up to him on the first day of her freshman year, but he walked away.

Not that she blamed him. He was older than her. He started partying and drinking when she was still basically playing with dolls. So it didn’t really surprise her one bit when they stopped talking all those years ago. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Aelin lost a friend. One of her best friends. And it killed her back then. But what made it hurt even more, was the fact that 12 year old Aelin had a little crush on Rowan at the time.

It was stupid. She didn’t even know why she had a crush on him, but she did. But what made it even more stupid and pathetic was it didn’t go away.

She thought it did. She even had other boyfriends before. But that first day of school, when Aelin saw Rowan for the first time in years, she realized it didn’t go away. The crush was still there.

And the real kicker was, the more Aelin watched Rowan and his pine-green eyes, she realized it was more than a crush.

She was falling in love with Rowan Whitethron.

And he didn’t even know it.

Coming Home

Around him, the air was thick with steam and sadness. Men and women crowded the platform, each trying to hang on to the last few seconds they had together.

‘You take care of yourself, you hear?’ Mrs Hudson kissed his cheek and smiled up at him fondly. ‘And be sure to eat at least once a day. I know how you can get when you’re focused.’

Sherlock smiled briefly and tried to hide his discomfort when she pulled him into a tight hug for the seventh time since they arrived.

With a sniffle, she stepped back and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

Sherlock then turned to the small woman standing back, not wanting to intrude. Her features were pale and she has put on a brave face for him. But he saw right through her.

‘I guess this is goodbye for now,’ she forced a cheery tone and a wobbly smile, but couldn’t bring herself to look any higher than his collar.

Sherlock cleared his throat and stepped closer. ‘For now. I trust you will watch over London in my absence.’

‘I will do my best, Mr Holmes,’ she promised with a watery smile. 

Sherlock resisted the sudden urge to wipe away the tear that has escaped down her cheek. But the way she was looking at him… it nearly crumbled his resolve. Her wide brown eyes were drinking him in as if she would never see him again.

And it was possible she might not. 

Behind him, the train’s whistle pierced the air, calling all remaining servicemen to board.

Sherlock stooped and gathered his duffel bag. He straightened his cap and nodded at the women. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Hudson. Miss Hooper.’

Mrs Hudson waved the handkerchief at him, too overcome to speak.

Molly, however, pulled him back by his uniform’s lapels and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Sherlock froze in surprise as his heart skipped a beat.

‘Come back to us.’

‘I’ll do my best, Miss Hooper,’ he whispered.

It was only when he had boarded and the train had pulled away from the station that Sherlock reached up and touched his cheek. The skin still tingled from where her lips had touched him. 


Eleven Months Later

‘Are you sure it was today?’ Molly queried, leaning out over the platform’s edge hoping to catch a glimpse of the train coming round the bend.

Mrs Hudson looked up from the letter she’d read for the hundredth time. ‘Yes. So unless the fool missed it, he and the train should be arriving any minute. Don’t fret, dear. Your young man will be here soon.’

Molly flushed. ‘He’s not my young man, Mrs Hudson.’

‘Trust a wise old woman, love,’ Mrs Hudson said as she folded the letter and put it in her bag. She smiled at the younger woman. ‘He doesn’t keep anyone around that he doesn’t care for. And then to write to you every week for nearly a year, no matter how brief some letters were? Well, that is as clear declaration as any.’

Molly waved off her words and tried to ignore the little flame of hope that had never quite been extinguished but had managed to remain alive with every letter Sherlock had written her. 

No, she would be happy to have him back just as her friend, the man who saw her, not as an inferior gender, but as a scientific-minded equal. As long as he came back to them safe and alive, she would be happy to continue on as they had before he left for the war. And bury her feelings as she did before.

From the distance, the rumble of a train sounded followed by a high-pitched whistle. 

‘They’re here!’ Molly exclaimed, her excited cry drowned out by the others around her. Mothers and wives and children clamored to watch as the train came around the far bend and finally, achingly slowly, came to a stop at the platform.

Men leaned out of the windows, waving their hats and unable to wipe their smiles from their faces. Tears of joy and happiness were aplenty as the doors were opened and the men rushed out, weaving amongst the crowd to find their loved ones. 

Molly tried to see over the crowd, searching for a tall, dark-haired soldier. It seemed that the train was nearly emptied and her heart was aching at no sign of him.

But then a man appeared in the doorway. His curls a little longer under his cap than she’d remembered and his face was thinner as he leaned his head back and breathed in deep. 

‘Sherlock,’ she breathed his name in relief. A smile creased her face even as tears filled her eyes. He was home!

Then his eyes opened and he looked directly at her. A smile broke across his face. And then he was gone! Molly frowned and lifted herself up on her toes, trying to find where he’d gone.


She gasped and spun around to find him right behind her. The people and sounds around her faded away as they stared at each other. Up close, she could make out the flecks of green and blue in his eyes. The lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced than she remembered and her heart broke as she wondered what horrors he had seen that had caused them. 

He dropped his duffel bag and caught her hand, tracing her cheek with his other hand. She watched him with wide eyes as he seemed to drink her in, his eyes roaming over her face, as she had done to him nearly a year before on this very platform. 

‘Sherlock,’ she breathed. His eyes darted up to hers and she caught her breath at the intensity of his gaze. 

Slowly, he lowered his head, pausing just as his lips brushed hers, giving her time to pull away. And when she didn’t, he closed the distance. 

Molly’s eyes fluttered shut and she gave in to the kiss without a moment’s hesitation. She wrapped her arms around him as he deepened the kiss into something normally not suitable for polite company. But no one paid them any mind, too caught up in their own reunions to give a care for the amorous young couple.

Flushed and dazed, they finally parted for air. 

‘I wanted to write it a thousand times, ever since that first day on the train,’ Sherlock began, his voice thick with emotion. ‘But I could never bring myself to. Not when I didn’t know if I could make it home to you. But now…’

‘Yes?’ Molly prompted hopefully when he paused.

He smiled down at her. ‘I love you, Molly Hooper.’

She beamed. ‘I love you, too. I love you so much-!’

Her last words were muffled when he pulled her close and kissed her once more.


Mrs Hudson watched the young couple with a fond smile. 

Finally. She breathed a sigh of relief. The war was over and her boy was home, safe in the arms of the woman he loved.

eorlsdotter  asked:

Question! I noticed - maybe I'm wrong - that in all the adaptations, the casting for the main characters is similar: Darcy is dark haired, and so is Lizzie; Jane is blonde and (for some fascinating reason) Bingley is ginger-y. Is there a reason? something in the books that I missed? Some extra source? It seemed too much a coincidence (although I do love Ginger Bingley) thanks!!!

First off, I’m going to refer back to Mullan’s What Matters in Jane Austen? again, because he’s done a whole chapter on what her characters look like (and starts off with a basic examination of casting choices in adaptations and the admiration or outrage which always follows.) “How people look is often suggested rather than specified in Austen’s novels.” He then goes on to quote Sterne’s Tristram Shandy, “…paint her to your own mind–as like your mistress as you can–as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you.”

All we know of Jane is that she is considered very beautiful–as much is said by Bingley, her mother (who has no difficulty criticizing her children when they displease her,) and even Darcy must admit it as a fact. Looks are important in novels where often penniless girls must rely on other attractions in their manners and person–”…words used so frequently about characters when we first meet them: handsome, pretty, gentlemanlike, elegant…”. And yet she avoids specifics–perhaps as a reaction to other novels of her era, where a heroine’s precise points of beauty are totted up among her other virtues to make her a peerless wonder. Austen’s heroines are often described by other characters, rather than the narration, as it’s important to consider who is looking, and how, when looking at their judgements. Some people use a mention in Jane Austen’s letters about Jane wearing the colour green and Elizabeth preferring yellow to be some kind of marker of what their haircolours must have been in Austen’s mind’s eye, but that’s a tenuous argument at best, and if Austen had wanted the world in general to know imagined particulars about Jane and Elizabeth, she would have set them down in the text.

We know Elizabeth’s eyes are fine, and dark, but beyond that, we are given no details. On a genetic level, dark eyes are far more likely to occur in people with darker hair, but Austen wasn’t working with genetics–and dark eyes paired with lighter hair can sometimes be a rare sign of remarkable beauty, as in the descriptions of Irene in Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga books. (A description which was entirely ignored in the casting of my future wife Gina McKee, but then Irene’s beauty and her allure is such a pivotal force in the novels that to pin it down as necessarily belonging to certain shades of colouring is to make it more trite than it truly is. Irene’s beauty is something beyond what one sees at first glance–it is transcendent charm.)

Dark could mean brown, or also a very dark blue or grey–it’s impossible to tell, exactly. Anne Elliott’s eyes are mild and dark, Fanny Price’s are soft and light, Harriet Smith’s are blue, Jane Fairfax’s a deep grey, (and her lashes and eyebrows called dark, giving us some notion of the likely shade of her hair,) Mary Crawford’s are sparkling and dark…eyes are often the only thing near to a solid description we are given of physical attributes, and even then half of the description is more to do with the expression of the personality or feeling of the character through their glances and gazes, rather than specifically the colour of their irises. (Only Emma Woodhouse’s exact eye-colour is known–they are “hazle” and no adaptation so far has given enough of a shit to make certain of casting.) Marianne Dashwood has very dark eyes, and there is a general comparative description of the figures of the two sisters–but casting directors rarely, if ever, I think, take specifics of figures into account beyond an ‘acceptable’ level of Hollywood slimness.

Now, for the casting trends (exceptions to the pattern you laid out being the 1940 P&P’s Greer Garson being a dirty-blonde/light brown Elizabeth, while Maureen O’Sullivan’s Jane had very dark hair; and the 1980 miniseries with Elizabeth Garvie’s Eliza also having light brown hair while Sabina Franklyn’s Jane was several shades darker–but indeed, the two more recent and well-known adaptations of 1995 and 2005 have the colourings you mentioned,) it’s probably just down to Hollywood mechanics where you’re going to have to combine the tropes of a comparative Ugly Duckling sister as well as a Best Friend/Beta Couple plotline. Coding a blonde woman (or man) as ‘good’ and a darker-haired person as ‘less good’ has been a Thing since long before cinema showed up on the scene. There’s a reason Laura Ingalls spends so much time inwardly (and outwardly) bitching about her sister Mary’s luck in being blonde (and also better-behaved, though this is never explicitly tied to the fact that Mary is blonde, but just ties INTO the overall notion that Mary is The Better Daughter.) Dark-haired heroines throughout older literature have bemoaned their lack of golden locks (notably also in LM Montgomery’s works, with Anne Shirley’s famous sensitivity about her hair being red, but also briefly in Emily Starr’s contemplation of her own black hair and atypical looks, which gets a bit of verse thrown at it which I can’t find sourced anywhere else so must have been made up by Montgomery herself: “If the bards of old the truth have told the sirens had raven hair. But over the earth since art had birth, they paint the angels fair.“

So culturally, in the west, there’s a pervasive notion (especially when it comes to women,) that dark-haired women are the ‘darker’ side of their humanity…the temptresses, the more-likely-to-be-bad. (Though any reasonable reader would be like “…well, they’re human, you see, not out-and-out evil.”) But of course anyone compared to the fair-haired saintly paragon of womanhood would look bad–and so equally is the angelic blonde woman a trope in literature, often but not always used in comparisons against her brunette foil.

In cinema, quite often it’s just to better differentiate between characters, and to use these assumptions which are deeply entrenched in our cultures to play upon our immediate and almost instinctive reactions to visual cues. Jane is super-good, so she’s blonde. Bingley is likewise a bright and easy-going character, with more elements of comedy about him, so he’s got lighter hair, too, either as a strawberry blonde or redhead–but he is definitely the sidekick. I, personally, would be all for a ginger Darcy. Or a ginger-everybody P&P. (But that’s not going to happen, because redheaded men are culturally de-sexed/made less masculine or attractive, whereas redheaded women are more inclined to be overly-sexualized. Humanity is weird.) Darcy is a brooding brunette, because darker hair in the case of a male character gives them gravitas and mystery. It’s that damn Byronic thing coming into play. Dark hair, dark secrets. It’s a visual construct we’ve trapped ourselves into, at this point. Also, when you’ve got two love-stories running more or less concurrently, an audience needs visual markers to help them quickly identify and individualize (and therefore emotionally-invest in) the characters. More morally-dubious and fascinating hero and heroine Elizabeth and Darcy are brunettes because we see them making mistakes and drawing our attention by being fuck-ups. Lizzie can’t be the Prettier Sister, so she’s more automatically made the Brunette Underdog. Darcy is brooding and mysterious–so it’s very easy to make him dark-haired. Their contrasts are in their secondary characters–Jane and Bingley. Jane is prettier, and good-hearted (moreso than Eliza, anyway,) so she ascends to Blonde. Bingley is the Good Friend, and seemingly with fewer social defects compared to Darcy, so as the Nice Man, he gets lighter hair to also differentiate him from Darcy and make him more matchy-matchy with Jane. Our brains are making these connections based on visuals even before we’ve gotten half a dozen words of dialogue from any of these people.

This happens often in films and TV shows–in Coppola’s Dracula, Sadie Frost (a natural brunette) was made a vibrant redhead as Lucy to contrast to Winona Ryder’s more sedate and mysterious Mina. (Though this also had the fun effect of tying in a possible reference to the historical link between redhaired people and vampires, and the whole mythos of redhaired women in particular and sexual allure/witchcraft/spiritual evil–particularly as THIS version of Lucy is much more heavily sexualized compared to her book counterpart. I don’t know how much of the hair-colour-change was on purpose from Coppola’s perspective, and largely it’s just handwaved as being so people could really tell apart the ONLY TWO MAJOR FEMALE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM, but personally I think it’s an interesting choice–particularly compared to Katie McGrath’s blonde Lucy.) Again, we see the contrasting of virtue coded in hair-colouring, as Lucy is a character known for her sweetness and purity…as well as being a secondary female character to the heroine, and hence her more-virtuous foil…with lighter hair. Mina’s place as an educated, working, and married woman, with a more active part in the narrative, particularly as her brushes with dark forces mark her as ‘unholy’, makes it easier to code her as ‘complicated’, i.e. a brunette. Interestingly, this is set on its head in Penny Dreadful, where Mina becomes the blonde, doomed damsel, and her friend/lover Vanessa is the raven-haired woman at the center of a maelstrom of fucked up shit full of vampires, witches, and devils. Essentially if you want your heroine to go ‘bad’ a little (or a lot), give her a better-by-comparison blonde friend and have at it.

Of course, since these tropes are so pervasive, we do see stories where this is purposefully mirrored or mocked, where the icy blonde is the femme fatale or turncoat who uses her appeal to deceive others–but this relies just as heavily on the initial assumption that a fair-haired character is intrinsically ‘better’ on a moral level.

To conclude, this is why I think we see that general trend with colouring when it comes to casting/styling these characters in cinematic adaptations, as we have really very little in the text to go on, but from the characters themselves there are long traditions to draw from for visual cues to quickly and adeptly condition audiences to draw certain assumptions about these characters which enable us to rapidly bond with and understand them to some degree. I want to specify “Western” audiences because the blonde/brunette thing is at its roots kind of a colourism thing which is grossly pervasive in a white supremacist society going back for centuries, and Caucasian beauty standards do not and should not apply globally; but as the media most of us are familiar with is dominated by this white heteronormative patriarchal history, these tropes and codings exist for ultimately gross reasons. Frankly we could all do without them from this day forward, but change can be slow and so these stereotypes continue to exist and blonde people on-screen for now often continue to be the tacit code for ‘these people are the purest bestest people’ while the darker-haired people are almost always more morally-grey, complicated–even troubling–and made more ‘fascinating’ by their more flawed natures. It’s a shitty way of doing things, but we’ve been culturally conditioned to respond to things like that, and so it works.

Anyway, thanks for asking this one–my answer went to places I wasn’t fully expecting me to go, but I enjoyed blowing the dust off my film studies qualifications and I always love yelling about culture.

anonymous asked:

Prince Geno finds a witch who can turn Sidney into a human for a week (she can do longer but it's just a test run) and Geno wants to show Sid around the kingdom first and Sidney's like nope bedroom right now we've been courting for months and I no longer have a tail let's bone

“I find witch!” Geno says excitedly. “She give me potion, give you legs–”

“Geno!” Sidney scolds, propping himself up on his favorite rock. “What did I say about witches?”



“It’s okay. Knew you say that, so I make sure I get discount. Besides, she really like my pocketwatch, so I trade with her.” Geno hums. “It was old watch. Had dent in it. Not sure why she like so much.”

“Oh.” Sidney blinks. “I guess that’s okay. What was that about legs?”

“Potion give you legs for one hour! I show you around kingdom, take you to favorite sweetshop for cheesecake!”

Sidney rolls his eyes in sudden realization. “No wonder she charged you so cheaply! Geno, I have legs.”

What?” Geno stares at Sidney’s tail, still gleaming a beautiful blue-green under the sunlight. “Where?”

Keep reading

Marichat May: Sleepover




This, Chat decided, was magical. Pupils huge from excitement and wonder, Chat wiggled about, snuggling up in the blankets, pillows, and sheets Marinette brought up. He nestled into them till he he was covered and hidden. And over him was the homemade fort he and Marinette made together. And this, this was magical and amazing and he really wondered why he never thought to do this before.

He was never leaving.

He lived here now.

“Ok!” Marinette called out, “I got cookies!”

She wiggled her way in, pausing when she saw green eyes peering at her from under blankets she had piled up on the floor. Eyes of a very excited cat.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette humored, “Oh my, I wonder where Chat went?”

Chat in turn wiggled, delighted and amused.


She couldn’t see him.

He was a master at hiding.

Now, he can live here in secret and never be found!

TAEHYUNG [ONESHOT] - Undying love

Originally posted by jiminnout

Once upon a time, there was a possessive man who wanted nothing more in the world than to have his lover’s everything. He was not only possessive; he was obsessed. He spent every minute of every day thinking about her - how soft she felt under his fingertips as he drew mindless patterns on her skin, how beautiful her mind was when she spoke, jumping from one thought to another so fast that he almost always got whiplash. His love would never die, or burn out, or dim. And he would do absolutely anything to prove it to her, and anyone else who thought otherwise.

I took a deep breath, with my nose buried in her hair. Her scent was intoxicating, making me soar higher than any drink ever could. Her luscious hair, curling around my fingers, screamed red, and so did her name.


My hands roamed the landscapes of her back as she shifted. Her fragile hands rested on my chest, making my heart race even faster than before. The feeling of her in my arms, safe and warm and grounding, was one that I would never get tired of.

“I don’t care about what anyone says, Taehyung,” she whispered, burrowing her face into the crook of her neck. “ I don’t care that they call you crazy. I just want to be with you.” Her whisper was carried by the slight breeze, floating through the quiet night, as we sat by the lake. The pale moon shivered on the glass of the water, and the pinprick stars competed to see who could shine brighter. Yet, in my eyes, Scarlet was the brightest celestial being here. Her words made me smile, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She loved me, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Her hair looked like dark fire in the night, a muted red, and she leaned into my touch as my hand slipped away from her hair and cupped her cheek. She was so innocent, so beautiful. It was true what they said, when they shouted crazy! in the marketplace, and she tugged my hand to pull me away from those who didn’t understand. But she didn’t know they spoke the truth, and she never would, if I had anything to say about it. I only ever wanted the best for her, after all.

Because I loved her.

I loved her green eyes that were slightly too far apart, and I loved her lips that curved into a sly smile every time she was thinking about something she shouldn’t have. And, in fact, there were a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to think about. She was a girl of a high status and a good family. She wasn’t supposed to talk, much less think. But she did, and I loved that. Her mind was an intricate map to stranger lands, and I wanted nothing more than to know where it would take me in time.

“Tae?” She called, pulling me back to her. “What are you thinking about?” My brown eyes pierced into her green eyes, and I loved the way they were smiling at me, moonlight glimmering on the surface. I wondered whether my eyes were smiling too, but I doubted it.

She’d pointed out, not long after we met, how I rarely made face expressions, saying she thought I was scary at first, and that it wasn’t because of what people said about me. It was the aura that cloaked me, cold, lacking love and true happiness and joy. I’d told her it was because I was lonely, that everything was better now that she was in my life, but that wasn’t quite true. I didn’t show any emotion because I rarely felt them.

It was that simple. I hadn’t never felt love before, but now that I did, it seemed almost as if I was addicted to it, to her. She was always in my mind,;no matter where I was or what I did, I craved her.

I’d told her that I’d love her even after death. I’d given her my world, the stars in the universe, promised her my forever. My love for her was undying.

“You,” I replied, smiling down at her. “Always you.”

Do you know what if feels like to want to be so close to someone that simply being close and touching them isn’t enough? Do you know that agonizing feeling, that feels so utterly and completely overwhelming that you don’t know what to do with it? That was the exact feeling he got every time he was close to her, and it was torture for him, every single time. He wanted more than she could give. He wanted everything she had. Was there some way for him to have it all? Maybe, but he had yet to figure it out.

The seasons turned and the time flowed, and I found more ways to tie her to me - only metaphorically, of course. Even though her parents were against it (I wasn’t from a good family like her and the rumors about me had trickled to the rich part of society), I had bonded us by marriage, and with that, the law. She couldn’t leave me even if she wanted to. She was now all mine to keep. I owned her.

And for a while, that felt enough for me. I felt that I had her in every possible way, and I was satisfied. I could hold her without being afraid she’d run away when I snapped, because that did happen every now and then.

In other people’s eyes, she’d been ruined now that she’d married me. She’d been touched by a man, and no other could touch her without feeling dirty. Her family turned their back on her, and the people who had claimed to be her friends didn’t have the nerve to even look at her. That part was partly my fault. I’d told them not to look at her - she was for my eyes, and my eyes only.

However, I still saw the way she looked at her old friends, the people she knew as her family, and the pain was evident in her eyes. It was hidden under her sleeves, written across her forehead, and I could see that better than anyone. I didn’t have the heart to watch her suffer like that, and so I had to take her far, far away. At first when I’d told her about my plan, she told me how she didn’t want to leave with me because she wanted to make things right with her loved ones. She wanted to get them back. That meant I was forced to tell her that the reason people didn’t look at her wasn’t because she was ugly or dirty. It was because of what I’d said and done to the people who dared to lay their eyes on something that was mine.

Her sly smiles from then on turned into frowns, and she somehow seemed to become careful around me. I didn’t know why that was, but it didn’t matter: We left, and she only had eyes for me again, and I knew.

Or did she truly only look at me? A month, maybe two months  after I hid her away from the world, I became unsatisfied again. She was a drug and I was addicted. I had to have more, and more to live. So I had to find another way to have even more.

It didn’t take me long to find that way.

But I felt her grow more and more distant each time.  Her bright eyes had become dull and her complexion seemed to turn into a color that lacked life, an ugly purple paired with a sickening green. I thought she looked as beautiful as ever, but she seemed to disagree. She told me it wasn’t a color a human being was supposed to be. Her words made anger crash over me like a tidal wave, and my vision grew blurry. Didn’t she see that I only did this because I loved her? Didn’t she understand that it only made her more beautiful?

And so I balled up my fists in rage, and her eyes flashed in fear. Her begs for mercy, please, made me grin. I held her in one more way. I had power over her, power that I loved to yeild, and she knew it too. I didn’t give her a choice but to know.

At first, she fought back, tried to rise against me, but how could she make me stop? She had no one to turn to. We lived in a small cottage in the middle of the woods, and that was exactly how I planned to keep it. The isolation meant she had to be a good girl. She had no choice but to bend to his will.

Not even a year ago, she’d been a beautiful young woman, unafraid to speak up against what was wrong. Now our conversations were nothing more than a stone cold silence, and I couldn’t take it.

Where was my Scarlet, with her fascinating mind, her flammable anger? Now she was empty, a shell.

This was unacceptable. Was I not enough? Wasn’t I worthy of seeing her happiness? So I showed her my love harder than ever before, and as they say, my love was sickly sweet.

One time when I was showing her just how much I loved her, she’d gathered the courage to speak up for the first time in exactly three weeks.

“Stop”, she’d whispered weakly and her body twitched as she laid on the floor at my feet. Her blood stained my knuckles, and they stung. “Please make it stop…. I can’t take it anymore. Please make it stop, it hurts, please.”

What the hell?

How ungrateful, after everything I’d done for her sake! I’d given up my life in the town for her, and she didn’t appreciate that; she didn’t even care.

And all I saw was red, red, red, and it wasn’t because of her hair or the stains on my hands. It was because anger was burning my body and soul into little black pieces and I couldn’t stop. My feet then made contact with her already bruised side, making her cry out. A disgusting crack echoed in the room and bounced off the walls, and it was like music to my ears. Yes, this was what love was all about. She squirmed under my foot for a moment or two before she stopped. Her chest was heaving up and down, and her eyes were closed.

“Look at me.” My smile was grim and my voice was even more so. I nudged her with my foot when she didn’t listen. “I said look at me.”

My voice was only a low growl, a warning simmering underneath. My patience for her was fraying.

How dare she talk back at me, ask me to stop? Didn’t she want my love anymore? Didn’t she care for me anymore?

She opened her eyes, and they were unfocused, but after a few seconds I knew she was completely with me.

But she didn’t say a word. She just kept looking at me like she’d seen a ghost. She’d always had pale skin, but her cheeks were usually stained with a healthy red. Now, she was as white as the ghost I thought she’d seen, and I swore I could feel her tremble through my shoes.

I couldn’t help but get a little excited, and think about how beautiful she looked once again. She never failed to take my breath away.

I crouched down to her level, and she flinched as my hand gently stroked her neck. it was a perfect milky white, still untouched. I’d decided I’d save that for a very special occasion.

“I love you,” I said with a hint of smile laced with my voice, and I frowned as she didn’t instantly reply. She said nothing, choosing to stare at me like she’d never seen me before. I decided to let it go because it didn’t matter anyway. Her opinions and thoughts didn’t matter. I loved her, and she loved me too, no matter what she said or thought.

Why would it ever be otherwise?

The summer withered away and the life escaped from the nature as the fall arrived, but to him, it rather seemed like it was here to stay. Her twenty-second birthday was drawing closer and closer, and he’d planned something worth it for her special day. The day itself went by, as they all did in this isolated world. The only difference was that she seemed to be more tired and slower than before. He didn’t pay it any mind as he continued with her big day, happily humming to fill the quiet space. She hadn’t spoken in a record sixty seven days. He didn’t mind; he talked enough for them both.

“Eeny, meeny, miney, moe, catch your lady by her toes - If she screams, don’t let her go,” I sang quietly as I watched her sleep, seeing her chest rise and fall steadily. Beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I smoothed back her hair, now dull like her eyes.

“Wake up, beautiful,” I whispered to her ear, low enough to be considered seductive, “it’s time for your present.” I was excited for this because I knew she would love it.

More importantly, I would love it.

Because there was only one thing that I desired now, one simple thing that I hadn’t taken yet, and it would make her so incredibly happy that every gift she’d gotten before would be meaningless. And I would have her utterly and completely.

I would have all her love and and all fear, and all her worship.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she backed away from me in terror when she saw me, like she always did nowadays after I’d once woken her when I’d been angry at nothing in particular.

I hushed her and kept stroking her hair, my eyes gentler than ever before.

“Come outside, my love. The sun is setting, and the sky is beautiful,” I murmured to her. She slowly stood up from the bed, her shaking legs resembling a skeleton’s. I took a hold of her hand as we walked out together, and felt her try to pull away. I didn’t let her.

Once we were outside, she sat on a bench as I stood behind her, my hand on her shoulder. Nothing could be heard besides the birds singing somewhere far away, and there was no other human to be seen. It was like it’d been planned by the gods, like it was meant to be - and maybe it was.

“You know, darling, I’ve been thinking,” I started my voice low, stroking her hair. My fingers caught in the tangles. “Do you really love me? Lately, it’s been hard for me to believe that, and it must be hard for you to imagine why.”

There was no response. She was just sitting still. Well, almost. You see, she was starting to shake visibly, trembling underneath my hands. Maybe it was the cold air; maybe it was something else. I just grinned and moved her hair off of her shoulder, revealing the milky white skin of her neck. Beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. And I couldn’t help myself as I wrapped my arms around her neck from behind.

“But I think I’ll feel your love again after I have your worship…. And finally our love can be utterly and completely forever.” I let out a laugh that made me sound like a maniac, and she started to struggle under my touch, strange noises echoing from her throat as she tried to breathe again.

I didn’t let her.

“What’s wrong, Scarlet? Can’t you feel my love? Can’t you feel how much I love you, giving you this birthday present? Can’t you feel how much I’ll love you when I completely have you?”

She grabbed onto my hands and kicked the air with her feet, her eyes wide from the fear of dying. After everything she’d been through, she still didn’t want to die, not before she’d seen her family for the last time, I knew.

And it was my pleasure taking that one thing from her before the death that finally took her into its tight embrace where from no one had been able to escape. I watched as her eyes turned into her head and she went limp in my hands, for once not trying to pull away from me. But farther than ever before.


I laughed again, throwing my head back, and my voice echoed in the woods, singing through the trees. Telling them of life and death and love that broke all boundaries.

Now she was mine, mine, mine, it sang.

Finally she was all mine.

[One year later]

I sat down onto the bench with her.

It was a beautiful night, warm and speckled with stars. It reminded me of the ones when we used to sit in front of the lake while we still lived in the town, while she still was in good terms with her parents. She rested her head on my shoulder, smiling, and I took a deep breathe as I buried my nose in her hair.

It was even more intoxicating than the other times I’d dug her up. And I just sat there for God knows how long, hours slipping by,  until the night turned into a beautiful, scarlet dawn.

I was finally happy. I didn’t love her any less than on the day that we met, or the day that we’d been married, and I was completely sure she felt exactly the same.

After all, our love was undying.

So their love never came to its end, and for all I know, there they might sit to this very day.

The end.

Inspired by

Robert Browning’s poem Porphyria’s lover:

The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

and did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me—she

Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me forever.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

A special thanks to @wrxiter for editing this for me!

(also @vcute here you go glen coco)

The boy with the brown eyes
loved the girl with the grey eyes
but she didn’t always have grey eyes

Sometimes she had green eyes
that reminded him of the picnic they
went on for their second date
where the grass was so soft but
nothing compared to the softness
of her lips when they kissed

Sometimes she had brown eyes
that reminded him of getting lost in the forest
where they planned their
whole lives together between the
trunks of two trees

Sometimes she had blue eyes
that reminded him of swimming at the beach
watching her transform into
the most beautiful sea creature and
wondering how he was lucky enough
to catch her

The boy with the brown eyes
loved the girl with the grey eyes
or green or brown or blue
the girl made of water and earth
who took the air from his lungs
and lit a fire in his heart

He loved a world that lived only
inside of her
The Dance

I knew I was lost.

It was a stupid challenge, I had to spend a whole weekend off in the forest with nothing but what I could pack in a backpack. No one could go with me. And my cellphone had to remain off the whole time. So no GPS.

Now I was planning on just going ‘screw it’ and turning on my phone to get the guys to take me home. Alexa was really worried about me being on my own out here, that anything can happen once I’m alone. I told her to relax. As a kid I did a ton of camping. I knew I wouldn’t do anything stupid like leaving food in my camp or getting distracted and walking off a cliff or something.

Didn’t matter now though… since I was lost.

Keep reading

So, I found this prompt from this blog and I couldn’t resist<3 

Summary: Another high school au where Natsu and Lucy only talk through the use of conversation hearts

A/N: A little gift for eclipse since it’s Valentine’s Day today and I know how much you love NaLu fluff. Plus, for once I’ve managed to write it with ZERO angst attached! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

I hope you guys like it, and Happy Valentines Day! I hope you’re all indulging yourselves with chocolates and sweets and cheesy rom-coms like I will be later tonight<3 

Lucy yawned behind her hand, careful not to let the teacher see. Though, in all honesty, how was she really expected to pay attention to yet another lecture on a plant cell

Yes, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, she gets it. 

Her eyes drift to the analog clock that was hung above the door, and if anything, it looked as if the hands had fallen backwards since the last time she had checked it- a whole forty-five seconds ago. 

She groaned quietly, pushing her binder aside so that she could lay her head on the desk. 

That’s when she felt it, a little something that hit the back of her neck. 

Feeling slightly annoyed, the blonde wondered if Natsu was throwing paper wads at her again. It was a never a good thing for anyone when the boy grew bored, but no one knew it better than Lucy. 

She kept her head down until she felt another one. 

“What is it?” She finally gave in and asked quietly, huffing to blow the loose hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. 

Natsu didn’t answer, but kept his eyes straight ahead as he slid something towards her on the table. When he retracted his hand, Lucy curiously picked up the little piece of candy that he had given her. 

A conversation heart? She wondered, turning it over in her hand to read the tiny print that said, Wink Wink.

What is this?She whispered, finding herself grinning for the first time since class had started. Again, Natsu offered no explanation, only retrieved a small box of the candy from his hoody and slid them across the desk. 

A small grin pulled at his lips as he held up his own, opened box of the hearts and shook the contents, though not so loud that the teacher would call them down. 

Catching on to what he was implying, the girl quietly opened the carton and picked up the first one on top of the pile. 

Text Me, it read, and keeping her head down to stare at her notes, she discreetly passed the tiny heart and it’s message to her lab partner. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pick it up and read it. 

A few moments later her phone buzzed in her lap, and her screen showed one new text from Natsu. 


Does he want me to reply? She wondered, finding that she was kind of disappointed that their little game was over so quickly. But, before she could think of replying, he slid her another heart. 

This one read Tweet Me. 

Oh, now she was catching on to the rules. 

Making sure that the teacher had her back turned as she wrote something on the board, Lucy quickly unlocked her phone and opened up the correct app. 

Her thumb danced across the screen. “@thatdragneelkid Hey,” and she added a smiling emoji for good measure before pressing Tweet.

Only a few seconds later, Natsu’s phone vibrated on the desk top. 

Dumping a heart out into her hand, the girl snorted as she read the message this one held, but slid it across the table anyway. 

Too Hot, it read, and she saw the way Natsu grinned before sliding one her way that he’d already had waiting. 

Adore Me. She rolled her eyes, tossing the tiny piece of candy at his head as he ducked. 

Briefly, as she searched for her next piece, she wondered why Natsu had these boxes of candy to begin with. They certainly didn’t taste good, so was there another purpose that they served? 

The next one she handed him read Smile, and she laughed at the over-the-top cheesy grin that he gave her, showing all of his teeth. 

"I wish there was one that said Smart Ass,” she whispered, but he only smirked as he pressed a finger against his lips, nodding his heads towards her box of hearts. 

Their little game continued, and there was one point where Lucy had to reactivate her Facebook account because he had handed her one that said Poke Me.

Keep reading

Do or Die - Part One

For the anon who requested sex in a car with Jared. Sorry, I couldn’t make it a one shot.  I had way too much fun with it!  I hope you like it!!!!

Alessandro rushes through the front door throwing a garment bag on the couch. “J, here’s your suit.  Where is she?”

Jared shrugs. “She’s been hiding upstairs all fuckin’ day man.” Jared waives his hand towards the garment bag over his shoulder.  “Is that her dress? Let me see.”

Jared reaches for the bag but Alessandro, slaps at his hand and quickly turns away. “Make yourself presentable. I’ve got a masterpiece to complete,” he orders J as he disappears up the stairs.


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A Medic And Her Captain

For @anonymouslydevious65 who wanted kakasaku SWAT team AU with hate to love. I don’t know much about SWAT so I played it off like it was a shinobi team. I hope you like it!

Also on ao3 and Fanfiction

               “This is all your fault!” Haruno glared at the man across from her, whispering angrily in the dark.

               “My fault? This is your fault!” Kakashi spat back at her.

               She rolled her eyes at him and muttered curses under her breath. “Whatever. Who knows how long we’re going to have to stay down here?”

               At her question, he glanced up at the bared hatch they had slipped through. The moonlight barely slipped through giving them just enough light to see each other’s faces. He figured they were in a basement of sorts. There were boxes all around them and the dust that covered even the floor told him that no one had been down there in probably years. He knew they would be safe here, well hidden from the enemy.

Keep reading


Toes has had a wonderful surprise this week!
She has found not one but two homes where her real life brothers and sisters now live! Their warm trees have sent lovely pictures to say hi! 🐸🐸
First Toes met her brother Sparky, who lives with another sister and brother at @sebi_nolan (Instagram). Sparky only has one eye but he is doing great and he has some new Southern Brown Tree Frogs friends just like Wayne and Basil!
Toes sends Sparky and the rest of her family at @sebi_nolan a big hug! 🐸😊🐸

shadowkkeeper  asked:

Soulmate AUs are typically things where two people know they're soul mates by some fantastical sign when they meet, like being color blind and suddenly seeing in color or they're born with their soulmate's name on their wrist to help them find their lover, just so you know. :) Could be anything sorta like that.

Ohh… I like the ‘eyes’ idea.

How about this! If you meet your soulmate…

Your black eyes…

Gain color?

So in other-words, Amy and Sonic’s eyes are different shades of green, right?

But in Classic era, all eyes were black!

But in Adventure, they were given the design of their green eye color!

So, if you meet your soulmate, both your eyes turn the same color, but one is a darker shade and the other lighter.

This could be fun xD (it kinda works too… cause like, Tails and Zooey both have blue eyes, and Zooey’s are lighter than his, too. So… it could work! lol)


Sonic continued to run through great plains and over chains and zones until finally making it through most of little planet.

However, what he didn’t prepare himself for was when he heard a faint sound from behind him….

Turning around, the second his eyes saw a faint pink, they shifted without his knowing…


Amy stared at the man she knew was to be her destiny. Her heart fluttered with uncontrollable joy!

When she saw his eyes shift, that beating suddenly stilled as the surreal moment became more real.

Her hero… was her soulmate too?

Sonic saw the glint of color in her eyes, and figured that she must have already been in contact with her soulmate beforehand.


He kinda thought to himself, after she had run up to introduce herself, and state how much she loved hearing about his adventures; wanting to meet him in person and thank him for helping so many unfortunate flickies.

She was apparently friends with a lot of them.

He wasn’t used to seeing color in someone’s eyes.

What a beautiful shade of green…

She was cute, but her clingy nature made him a little glad she was already spoken for, and quickly shook the feeling off as nothing more than surprise at a pretty face.

Amy was taken away from her love! Swept up in a blurry of dust and grass as windmill flowers twirled in horror at the gust of ominous wind that came from Metal Sonic’s capture of her.

She saw him running after her, and noticed that those once awe-inspiring pale green eyes shone with so much intensity at running after her.

This passion… could he have fallen for her the second she did as well?

She was always told that her soulmate’s eyes would match hers that would come, and that in that instant, no other living thing would be as beautiful as her mate’s eyes…

Seeing how much focus he gave her eyes… she wondered if he knew they were meant for each other as well~

Saving her was a bit of a pain.

If she wasn’t already taken, he might have actually flirted a bit, but instead just tried to ‘politely as he could’ push her away and not answer her repeated requests for a marriage.

What was wrong with her?

Didn’t she know about her eye change?

He headed home after meeting with the strange girl, and went to bed to rest.

His dreams were full of her, a strange longing to look within her eyes again… he’d never seen a girl before, and he almost pitied himself that the first girl he ever saw had already found a soulmate.

He would have been perfectly fine with her eyes being black.

Then they could have been friends.

He could have kept her… in an odd sense of the word.

His fist clenched a little in his sleep…

His muzzle nuzzled the pillow slightly as his eyes squinted before relaxing more.

In his dream, her vision and face was there. Standing apart from him where they first laid eyes on each other.

Her strange allure brought his vision directly to her emerald green eyes, and suddenly pulled him into a galaxy full of stars within the still remaining blackness of them.

He wondered why he was thinking about her so much.. he just hoped she was okay. Her real ‘hero’ fella taking better care of her.

He couldn’t picture the dude who would hold her, or who would even match her in a complimenting way.

For some reason, his dream was highly against forming an image… he just wanted to study her. The whole dream was basically her. Just floating around her, her image, her eyes… especially her eyes.

But her smile also moved him.. something wanted to be closer but felt awkward to do so.

That morning, Sonic washed his face in a lake, being solitude as he usually was, before seeing something odd in the sky.


He looked up, but saw nothing.

His eyes raised a bit, before looking back down.

He gasped!

Jumping away in a bit of terror, he realized that the green glow…

Was his eyes!

He quickly rushed back to the water’s edge, widening his eyes by pulling them far out and staring as close as he could to the water…

They were….

Bright Green…

Who did he see with darker green eyes…?

He was always told that when you find your soulmate, you keep a careful ‘eye’ on her.

This was because you could see your soulmate at the corner of your eye, have your eyes shift, and never ever find her again.

It had happened to a farmer friend of his, who sighed longingly, but also mentioned he had married another girl who didn’t know her soulmate either. Their eyes were different colors, but they were perfectly happy together. Still, they kinda wished they knew who it was… but wouldn’t change a thing.

Sonic never gave any mind to ‘soulmates’. It made him feel like it was being imposed on him, and he resented anything like that.


He let his eyes go and slowly leaned away from the lake; realizing, as he loomed over the water’s edge, that there was only one girl he had ever saw in his whole life… Besides obviously family.

That girl…


Amy Rose?

Amy hadn’t been able to track down her soulmate after that faithful encounter for years.

But finding a stray birdy, and dropping her groceries at almost being kidnapped, she finally found him again!

Her betrothed! Her beloved!

The second her eyes caught blue, her heart soared as if reunited with an old friend, and she instantly felt like she had never left his side since the first day she saw him!

She felt such a strong power to stay by his side this time, that she was willing to do anything and everything to keep it that way!

Sonic’s heart stopped a beat.

His eyes widened at the girl he had only randomly dreamed about a couple of times, and made him uncomfortable when he woke up in the mornings.

She was here?

After meeting Tails, and having him ask him about it, he had lied and stated he hadn’t known what triggered the coloration.

Tails later had blue eyes, but he never asked so Tails never said anything.

Sooner or later, all his friends were popping up with colored eyes, and it wasn’t a big deal anymore.


Seeing her again, his eyes almost fixated on hers again.

It was like a strange draw like how waves pull you deeper into the ocean with each gentle tug.

But the current was unsettling.

And Sonic’s feet couldn’t help but skirt back, unused to the sensation of the feeling from a ‘soulmate’s stare’.

Apparently, a soulmate’s stare could trigger great emotion into their partner. But this made Sonic uncomfortable, not liking the strange, meant to be soothing and alluring, pull and looked away, shaking his head.

His nerves grew as he fully turned around, flinching a bit back as to not be too close.

He was torn. On one hand, he was glad he hadn’t lost ever seeing her again, and that she was safe and unharmed.

On the other hand, he was terrified of what this could mean!

Did this mean he had to love? Or was being forced to love?

He didn’t understand fully what a ‘soulmate’ really implied, but definitely didn’t want to be hewn down in life from finding his early on!

He dismissed himself, making excuses how she was ‘too weird’ or ‘too cutsy-wutsy’ for his taste.

But every time she spoke.

Every light touch she made.

Anytime his eyes locked with hers…


He would shy away and shiver out the strange sensations.

So this is what a soulmate was like?

Amy’s heart was always wanting to be around him! Always thinking of him, always so drawn to his charms and features.

All she wanted was to continue to get closer!

Everytime she looked in a mirror, she would be reminded by her beautiful jade eyes of how she was meant to be his… and him, hers.

She lightly touched the mirror at where she could see her eyes, and let her fingers trail down lovingly as she wished she could reach for Sonic in the same like manner.

Oh well.

She would say, shrugging and heading off to find him.

She knew that as long as she stayed close, Sonic would be pulled towards her. To protect, comfort, and provide. He couldn’t help it. Soulmates drew out the best of their lovers, and it was almost impossible to fight the instinct of wanting to be close to them.

She was thankful her long time hero was her soulmate! She would have felt torn and even a little betraying if her soulmate was someone besides Sonic.

She even thought about it once,… running away from her soulmate to be with her true love.

She wondered if Sonic fought the power of ‘soulmate’s stare’ and if he was afraid of it’s influences.

But as she wondered that, she would always be reminded of how he loved her smile, how he would pick flowers for her when she was down, or even his gentle remarks when they were alone about a trait he found lovely about her.

He would never fail to turn away from her eyes, but that only made her long to hear what was really in his heart.

How did she make him feel?

Sonic turned away and scratched his nose, remaining distracted.

She had caught up to him and cuddled up by his side, finding him under a pleasant tree just before a full sunrise.

She giggled, a noise that triggered a strange irritation in his eyes, as he wiped them.

They would always want to stare at her!

It was too weird!

They would even water when he fought it, but he concealed it well, folding his arms and just letting her dangle off to the side of him, trying to be intimate, but not so much so as to alert him to her behaviors.

He was used to her constant flirtation, and mostly put up with it because- well, let’s face it.

She was his soulmate.

His being couldn’t deny that. His eyes were living proof of it.

He closed his eyes, having them burn slightly at his protest to even look at her.

The more he looked, the stronger the feelings got, and the less he could rebel and resist them.

He often wondered if it would be so bad…

Well, rarely he ever continued that line of thought.

One glance…

One single gesture…

A touch so light he couldn’t even feel it, and it wouldn’t disturb her either.

He would always shake himself from such imaginings.

And he did so.

Sonic wagged his head out, making a ‘blgrr’ noise with his lips, having his arms up a moment to try and snap him out of it.


Her worried voice sent a jolt up his spine, and he couldn’t help but look down at her.


Her eyes shined more than any grassy field he had ever seen, more beautiful than a green ocean, and more powerfully alluring than any Chaos Emerald he had ever held and gazed into.

His body relaxed.

His arms came over her frame.

His eyelids drooped and he was too exhausted to fight the pull anymore.

“You look a little spooked. Is everything… okay?” she lightly leaned up, looking down at him as she gently loomed over him, still turned on her side.

His eyes just feasted on her green coloring. His heart almost satisfied enough so that he could resist it again soon.

But what if?

Would it really be that bad..?

Amy had always declared her his… could he chance it?

His hand slowly came up, his eyes scanning nothing but her dazzling stare…

“I’m fine.” he looked away.

His hand came down.

Amy tilted her head, innocently.

He placed both hands on his chest, linking them together to give some comfort to his longing wish for touch.

But he wouldn’t do it.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t risk losing his freedom…

To such a beautiful trap of natural affection.

(I tried to keep it canon lol xD That means no resolves! Sorry! >///x///< I’m sure he’ll give in sometime in the future, lol xD you can only fight for so long…)


@neoomlet : “I was wondering if i could get an imagine where the reader is about 5 and shes the daughter of Joker and Harley and shes kind of half insane so like shes a normal innocent child and every so often she would kind of switch (like if someone got hurt)”

Pairing: Joker X Child!Reader X Harley Quinn

A/n: I hope you don’t mind but I changed the age to eight instead of five because at that age, I’m pretty sure the child still wouldn’t have a good sense of their surroundings yet.

“Daddy?” you mumble with a big frown on your face. It was another day without your beloved mother, and you missed her to pieces. She’s been gone for four months now, and everything around you seem to have become dull and glum, even your own daddy couldn’t put a smile on his face. He sits in this room, surrounded by knives and weapons he could find in his arsenal, even your old baby clothes were placed in the corner.

You waddle over to him, small arms wrapped around the worn down jester stuffed toy and you sniffle. Immediately when he hears you, he points his gun toward you. You don’t flinch, knowing how normal this was. The split second he knew that it was you, he puts his gun away. The fake drawn smile on his tear-streaked face made you even frown deeper, knowing that smile could never compare to his real silver grin.

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Can Hell be Heaven?

Note: So remember when I asked about if I should split something or not? Well I didn’t split it, but this just Chapter 1. It has some tecnical bits I’m 90% sure are accurate but if the 10% happens, please do bare with me. Hope you enjoy it.

Synopsis: Against Oliver’s express request Felicity uses her hacker skills to help him and gets caught. As Prometheus plan for Felicity and Oliver unfoils it becomes clear how twisted and evil they really are.

Part 2

The cling echoed inside her head, a spark that spikes the wave of panic to surmount her self-control. Standing with the sheets, a pillow and an ragged blanked she took a deep breath before facing her roommate. The dark haired woman sent her a single glance and kept on ignoring her, laying still on the top bunk.


An answering cold look, a mocking glance, no other acknowledgement.  Felicity knew this was going to be hard, still nothing had prepared her for this. The undressing, the washing, being nothing more than a number; being stripped from anything that made her a person.

Laying on her bed Felicity reminisces on how she got here. Could she had avoid it?

She knew the answer was yes, but then Oliver would be the one in an orange jumpsuit; Oliver would be the one with his life wrecked. He had worked hard to get a life for himself, she would never allow it to be destroyed, not when it was in her power to prevent it.  

Oliver’s demand for her not to ruin her life sounded has hollow now as it did when she heard it the first time. To have a life being ruined she had to have a life and she didn’t, not anymore. Still it was painful to recall Oliver’s harsh words, he didn’t want her to do it, he didn’t want her taking the risk, she could be caught; he was right, still their last talk was a fight and she wished it wasn’t. She wished she would recall Oliver, if not smiling, at least, not antagonizing her.

“Prisoner 3851”

It takes a moment to register that it’s her new “name”. She stands while the door lock chimes every twist and turn of the key ominously.

Felicity takes a step out the door and waits still for the guard to close the door again. The sight isn’t much better out here, in front of her a row of gray metal doors that she knows mirror the ones behind her.

“Let’s go. You have a visitor.”

Keep reading