WHEN-SHE-SMILES

anonymous asked:

What's your favorite thing about her?

oh goodness, i could literally go on and on about her. i don’t have one favorite thing because she is my thing. everything she does. every time i see her it’s like the first time. the way she laughs at things that aren’t even that funny. the way she smiles when she sees my pup. the way she looks at me. the way she sings in the car and then purposely sings really bad to make me laugh. the way her eyes get when i tell her i love her. the way her eyes get when i tell her i want her. her. her. her.

It was moments like this where Ashi found herself relaxing and enjoying herself. It was a nice afternoon, no clouds were in sight and birds chirped from outside.

Ashi was in her room resting while she listened to the birds. She sighs blissfully and snuggles deep into her bed. Yes, days like this Ashi made sure to savor and cherish the time she had for herself.

Ashi suddenly hears her door open. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who walked in. She feels the bed slightly creek and the mattress push down before Jack pulls her in for an embrace.

Ashi smiles when she felt a loving kiss on her forehead. She snuggles her head on his chest and smiles in content.

Yes, days like this Ashi treasured the most.

Day 29: Favorite F/F Ship [Tsubasa Chronicle Month 2017]

Souma. Lingering in the corridor, watching and listening, Souma had been able to make out the empress’s silhouette against the paper screen all the while. The voice which finally summoned her was a mere whisper, yet it broke the night’s deceptive silence, demanding and affectionate at the same time. Souma’s motions were deliberate as she slid the door open, slipped into the room, then slid the door closed again, but she allowed herself to smile when she stepped towards Amaterasu, whose headdress chimed when she smiled back. Souma knelt, so that the empress towered over her. I am yours… Kendappa-ou.

anonymous asked:

Some people are saying that yousana shippers don't care for Sana's happiness. Like what??? Like, sorry, but unless Yousef is ACTUALLY dating Noora, it's still canon that he's the only one who can make her smile when she's at her lowest. Like??? We do want her happy and unless Yousef is actually proven to be a fuck boy (doubtful), then Yousana talking through things and being together is the best way for Sana to feel truly appreciated and loved.

lmaoooo thats assuming yousef is an asshole who went after sana with no intention of furthering their relationship, which isnt true. we’ve seen from these two latest clip that while no one could, yousef was the first one to bring a smile to sana’s lips. and while no one could push sana through the fence and make her cry, the thought of yousef being with someone else could 

signs you love her

1. you think she is beautiful even when she has acne all over her face and hair tied in a messy bun. you think she looks hot when she tries to be mad at you for being too hard on your self. you think she looks better than most of the human population and you think she looks best when she’s in your arms professing her love for you between sips of that bitter vodka you bought her.

2. you can’t stop thinking about her brown eyes, short black straight hair and freckled pointed nose. you can’t stop thinking of how her lips would feel against yours right this instance. you can’t stop thinking about how perfect her breasts feel in your hands. you can’t stop thinking about the late night conversation you had with her. you just can’t stop thinking about her even when you’re sipping coffee at starbucks, even when you’re watching a horror movie, even when you’re in class studying discrete math.

3. you know when she is angry, or when she is pissed at you for talking about other girls. you know what she likes to eat when she is on her period. you know when she is upset about that paper that she turned in late to her professor. you know she likes to be the centre of your attention always. you know she smiles when you hold her hand firmly in public. you know she bites her nails when she’s stressed out. you know her inside out.

4. you smile like a crazy man when you see her. you smile when someone says her name. you smile when you see a text message from her. you smile when you’re around her. you smile when people say you look good together. you smile when someone tells you she looks beautiful, like its a compliment for you and not her. you smile when she tells you she loves you. you smile when she tells you she loves to be your girl. you smile all day like an idiot and you smile until someone tells you to stop smiling because she’s not even around.

5. you talk about her to everyone, to your mom, to your bestfriend, to your room mate. you tell them everything about her. you tell them about how you read this tumblr post and it made you think of her. you tell them she’s perfect, not because of how she looks, or how smart she is, or how well she writes but because she’s yours. and only yours. you tell them how you don’t date a nine, but always a fucking ten, so yeah you tell everyone how and why she is a perfect ten.

You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect—you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break—her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.
—  Bob Marley
What’s up, it’s Alexei!

When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.

Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!


Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

***

«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is very nice. Everything is very…»

«Let me guess, nice? »

Alexei sighed. «Yes.»

«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried you can’t do this. You will be fine. But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»

«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»

«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too many times?» she asked in mock outrage.

«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»

«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha. I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»

He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I hope so.»

«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»

«Love you, too.»

He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did speak some Russian, but it was hardly enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute all day.

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mamma bakkoush and even though.

  • every time she sees him, she can’t help commenting on how tall he’s getting. you’ve grown again, even, you’re head’s going to touch the ceiling soon!
  • she doesn’t have favourites - really, she doesn’t; she loves all her son’s friends - but she always gives even an extra spoonful of food, winking at him as she does it, and even just smiles fondly at her and tucks in
  • sometimes, even will detach himself from elias and the boys and go to the kitchen, to help mamma bakkoush with the cooking. they would talk and talk and talk, about nothing and everything, and she teaches him all these little tricks, like how adding a splash of sour cream makes your eggs taste better
  • occasionally, she’ll find even awake at ridiculous times at night. 3am, 4am. she’ll be downstairs getting a drink, and she finds him, sat at the table or in the living room, restless, wide awake. “can’t sleep?” she’ll ask quietly, and even will look at her and shake his head. and so she makes them both a hot chocolate, and settles on the sofa with him. she’ll watch a film with him and listen as even tells her about the camera angles and directional choices and, ok, she’s really, really tired, but she takes comfort in knowing even isn’t awake alone
  • another evening, she finds him downstairs reading one of their qur’ans. when he sees her, he shuts it quickly and apologises, standing up awkwardly, and she just sits next to him and asks what he was doing, voice kind and quiet and gentle. “i was just interested, that’s all, i’m sorry,” he says. but mamma bakkoush tells him there’s nothing to apologise for, nothing at all. and she proceeds to tell him to read it if he wants to, and to let her know if he has any questions, or wants to talk about it with someone. and the little sparkle he gets in his eyes when she says it, and the smile that won’t really go away, makes her so so happy. 
  • but soon, everyone can’t help noticing that even isn’t…isn’t well. mamma bakkoush notices this. even’s mother notices this; has phoned about it in tears. he won’t get help. can’t see anything different about his behaviour. and mamma bakkoush tries to talk to elias about it, but he doesn’t want to believe it. says it’s just even, mamma, this is what he’s like
  • there’s a night though, where even shows up at their house unexpectedly and asks for elias. but elias is out, so he ends up talking to mamma bakkoush. and he tells her he just needed to get away. he doesn’t say it, but she knows his parents have been pushing him to see doctors recently. she knows he’s been refusing, that he’s found being at home….it’s a lot for him. she knows it’s tiring and terrifying and she can just see the exhaustion radiating off him. 
    • she rings even’s parents to let them know he’s safe and with her, and then she makes some hot chocolate and settles in the living room with him. even is quiet and subdued and just…not there, really. at all. but then even asks her if she can read something - anything - from the qur’an to him. his voice is quiet and husky and so, so soft, but almost desperate, too. desperate and somewhere between hopeless and hopeful
    • mamma bakkoush smiles and nods, reading a passage that she hopes will calm him. and sure enough, she’s barely been reading for five minutes before even stops fighting sleep and lets it wash over him, snoring softly, and she smiles and takes the hot chocolate away, popping a blanket over him to keep him warm
    • she’s about to go upstairs when she hears his voice again. he’s barely conscious - still asleep, really, but he says, “mrs. bakkoush?”
    • and she turns to him and yes, his eyes are closed, he really is just sleep talking, but she says, “yes, even?’ anyway
    • and then he opens his eyes. tired, heavy, teary. and he says, voice barely above a whisper and so, so vulnerable;  “can you pray for me?”
    • mamma bakkoush simply smiles, walking over to him and crouching so their eyes meet. she places a hand over his, pushing his hair away for his eyes and smiling quietly at him before saying, “my darling, i pray for you every day”
    • even falls asleep again after that, and it’s the first time in a while, mamma bakkoush thinks, that he’s actually slept through the night
  • then, one day, even stops coming over. the boys no longer talk to him. and she knows he isn’t her son, and that teenagers are teenagers and friendships can come and go, but she can’t help this ache in her chest. she just misses him. and she tries to encourage elias to patch things up between them, but it doesn’t work. eventually, they don’t talk about him much anymore, but it doesn’t stop her thinking about him, praying for him, hoping he’s ok
  • and oh, when even comes back. he looks terrified, like he’s anticipating the worst, all wide eyed and chewed lips, and she knows even, knows he will have worried about not being wanted here, worried that she’d hate him for what happened between him and elias. she knows all this, which is why, when she sees him, she smiles wide, arms open, and says, “come here.” and she pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tightly, then she pulls away and cups his cheeks, making their eyes meet as she says, “i’m so happy to have you back, even.” and she says it with such force, such sincerity, such meaning, that even really can’t do anything but believe her.