a bundle of blues

             twinkling  demeanour ;   sparkling  blues ;   bundle  of   fairy   lights   where  her  nervous  system  is  supposed  to  be .     AWE     PAINTED     ACROSS     FEATURES ,   mouth  agape .    she  appears  much  younger  than  nineteen ,   puerile  and  unvarnished ,   wearing  a  glistening  look  of  infatuation .    of  course  her  parents  taught  her  to  not  simply    STARE    at  other  people .    be  polite .    although  it  certainly  isn’t  meant  to  be   rude   on  her  end ,   not  by  any  means .    it’s  just  hard  to    LOOK    AWAY ,   pink  bottom  lip  sucked  in  between  teeth  as  hands  are  suddenly  clasped  together  in  front  of  her  chest .         ❝               i  r-really  like  your  outfit  !    i’ve  b-been    STARING    the  whole  t-time  and  i’d  h-have  felt  b-bad ,   if  i  d-didn’t   tell   you  !    ❞

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Cotton Club dancers Florence Hill and Bessie Dudley dance with the accompaniment of the Duke Ellington Orchestra in a musical short titled A Bundle of Blues (1933).

anonymous asked:

Mckirk: Totally need a deaged Bones being the cutest thing this side of the galaxy. Need it. I need it bad. and like DADDY JIM. Serious cuteness.

Jim blinks at the bundle of science blues in Chapel’s arms, confused as hell and not wanting to admit it.

“This is Bones,” he says aloud. “Our Bones.”

"Looks like it.”

“What happened to him?” Jim stares in bewilderment as a small, tousled head pokes out of the top of the shirt, peering around with round hazel eyes that hold a touch more green in them than the Bones he knows. “Do I even want to know?”

"Probably not,” Chapel says evasively. “Here.” She promptly dumps the kid in Jim’s arms, and Jim gives her a look.

“You’re his best friend,” she points out, and Jim looks down at the kid helplessly. The kid looks back, blinking apprehensively, and Jim notices with an odd fuzziness in his stomach that Bones has freckles.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks, shifting his hold to settle the kid more comfortably against his hip.

“Len,” the kid says, sounding terrifyingly close to tears. “I’m four.” He does start crying then, a little bit, tiny hiccups accompanied by intense face-scrunching in an effort to not drop any tears, and Jim bounces him desperately.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” he says, trying to inject a bit of cheer into his tone. “Len, right? Okay, Len,” he continues, valiantly ignoring Chapel’s amused look. “Let’s do this together, huh?”

He decides to keep Len in his quarters until this, whatever this is, wears off. After all, it’s where his Bones stays most nights now, and for some reason, he doesn’t want anyone else seeing Bones like this. Seeing Len.

If Bones was here, he’d sock Jim in the shoulder and call him an idiot, but Jim knows he’ll also kiss him afterwards and flush in that fascinating way, across the top of his ears and the back of his neck and, Jesus, Jim just wants him back.

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