arch brows

rocket2saturn  asked:

Malora 1 "good morning kiss" for the kiss prompt thing

It’s rare that Aurora wakes up before Maleficent does.  Rare that she sees Maleficent sleeping at all.  She’s dramatic even at peace, all angles and arched brows and severe chin, like she might be glowering at you in her dreams.

Aurora smiles to herself at the thought.  She props herself up on her elbow to get a better look, for she knows she won’t have long before Maleficent is jolted awake by some unknown source, like a bird lighting on a tree a mile away or something.

Maleficent is sleeping flat on her back, coverlet tucked neatly under her arms as though she has barely moved all night.  Aurora cannot resist the temptation–she smoothes Maleficent’s hair away from her face, and cups Maleficent’s cheek with her hand.  All hard, unyielding angles.

Maleficent’s eyes snap open.  Aurora can see her assess the situation within the span of an instant–hand on her face, person looking down at her–and then the corners of her lips turn upward into the tiniest of smiles.

Aurora returns her smile at least ten times over, and leans down to plant a kiss upon the tip of her nose.  ‘I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says.

Maleficent arches one eyebrow.  “Didn’t you?” she counters.

Aurora inclines her head, considering.  “Well,” she says, and leans in to kiss Maleficent’s lips now that she’s awake.  “Maybe a little.” 

anonymous asked:


This is quite possibly the best question I’ve ever received.
Think Misha Collins and David Haydn-Jones (Mr Ketch)

You know what a dom is, right? The dominant partner in a sexual relationship. Now think… dominant eyebrow… either one eyebrow or both eyebrows that just radiate dominance, typically arched brows.

Exhibit A, Misha Collins as Castiel:

Exhibit B, David Haydn-Jones:


Valentine’s Gift for @peanut-milk for the @aftgexchange.

The one where Andrew and Neil have their first official date( On Valentine’s Day no less. Blame Allison.)

“So, what did you get your monster for Valentine’s Day?” Allison asks, as she idly types away at her phone.

Anger bubbles up in Neil, “Allison, he’s not—“ he begins, but gets cut off by her.

“Sorry, I meant to say Andrew, your boyfriend. What did you get him for Valentine’s Day?” she gives a quick glance up at Neil, whose face appears slightly flushed at the remark. A smirk forms on her lips, “Don’t try and deny that. I won’t let you.”

Neil sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Nothing. Why would I?” At those words, Allison stops typing away on her phone and sets it down next to her. She arches a brow at Neil, “What do you mean ‘nothing,’ it’s Valentine’s Day, Josten. That one day of the year specifically designated by capitalism to celebrate your love with your partner. Which is Andrew, in your case.”

Love. He lets the word wash over him. He doesn’t know if that’s the word he’d use. It’s a word too overused all around him but too underused in his own life.  He doesn’t think any word is fit to describe what he and Andrew have and yet it doesn’t feel entirely wrong.

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Monumental Marble Bust of Zeus or Asklepios, Roman Imperial, 2nd Century AD

The head dates to the Roman Imperial period, 2nd century AD. The socle, shoulders and restorations are attributed to Vincenzo Pacetti (1746-1820).

This is modeled after a Greek original in bronze of the 5th Century BC, turned to his right, with thick unruly beard of deeply drilled curls, long moustache, outlined full parted lips, and finely arched brows, his hair radiating from the crown and falling in a mane of loose curls over the ears and nape of the neck. Height of head approx. 16 in. 40.6 cm.; total height 28 ½ in. 72.4 cm.

Day 23: Magnus + Battle

The portal shimmied into existence and Magnus glanced up, face set into a smile, a greeting on his lips that soon died when instead of his tall, lanky and dark haired boyfriend, he was staring at his blond, cocky, more compact brother.

“Where’s Alec,” Magnus asked as his eyes darted behind Jace waiting for Alec to step through the portal. The portal closed, leaving him and Jace alone in his loft. “I didn’t grant you all a private portal so you can drop in any time you please Wayland.”

Jace shrugged. “Sorry.”

Magnus arched a brow. “Well? Where is he?”

Jace winced. And if that wasn’t enough to give him away, the way his eyes darted about, unwilling to meet Magnus’ eyes confirmed it.

Magnus growled. “No.”

Jace took a step back. “Magnus…”

“You didn’t.”

Jace held his hands up. “Hey. I couldn’t very well tie him down you know. Alec can be quite insistent.”

“Insistent,” Magnus hissed. “He hasn’t slept in four days Jace. Four days. And you let him accept another mission?”

Jace shook his head. “I wasn’t in the institute when he got called out. By the time I got back, he was already gone.”

Magnus pushed off from the seat, a snap of his fingers changing his red draping shirt and jeans into a dark purple military jacket, and black cargo pants that he’d specifically had tailored to fit his body like a glove; his spiked combat boots on his feet. He walked around Jace, ignoring him as he went to the drawers and pulled out his jeweled daggers, a twin set Ragnor had gotten him back during the witch trials, so he could defend himself without necessarily resorting to magic. Ragnor had had them spelled so even when they left him, they always returned to him when he called for them.

He still carried them with him any time he entered a fight.

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how we live now

requested by @whatsernamesuburbia

the party in red hook (literally just fluff and happiness and dancing and public kisses)

When they get to the party, Lukas parks his bike against the house, and grabs Philip by the shirt, pulling his helmet off. Philip wipes the hair out of his eyes, making a face.

“I could have done that.” Philip says, arching his brows. Lukas grins.

“But it’s so much fun to mess up your hair.”

“You love my hair.”

“When did I say that?”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Then how do you know?” Lukas counters, setting his own helmet on the bike’s seat.

“Because you always run your fingers through it when we-“ Lukas places a hand over Philip’s mouth, nose crinkling.

“Fine. Whatever.” Lukas says. Philip tilts his head, giving him a wide grin.

“Embarrassed, Waldenbeck?”

Lukas narrows his eyes, grabs Philip by the shirt, and pulls him against him. He tilts Philip’s chin up with a finger, noses touching.

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anonymous asked:

*knocks on door, excitedly* Howdy doody sir! Would ya like to buy some Girl Scout cookies or Boy Scout popcorn? The money goes to help support the soldier that our scout leader has been talking to over seas via interwebz! He says he can come home once he gets it! *cue innocent blinking and smiling*

Dark swung open the heavy wooden doorframe keeping them separated, and had to quite literally bend at the waist in order to get a good look of the figure at the steps. He had to, of course, materialize a door and steps in order to complete the scene, to make it all more comfortable, but around them was the darkness that continued to batter and grind against eternity. Dark’s brow arched in a moment of silence, before presenting a large and dazzling smile of welcome.

“Well, aren’t you just a precious lovely. How sweet of you to be so open and accepting towards others, selfless and motivated by the hope of a better future for someone other than yourself. I think it’s time that you learn, however, that the world is a rather cruel place.”

His smile disappeared.

“That money being sent to that soldier is most likely a scam by some old man in an apartment building. Those cookies all contain an antifreeze that is slowly deteriorating the inside of your body the more you consume them. You’re going to fail at least one class in your lifetime, and your president is now an orange man with hair the reflection of hay. Goodbye.”

He slammed the door behind him.

under ground

pairing: blaise zabini x ron weasley

setting: modern, non-magical, college au

word count: 804

written for: @icanhelpyouthere + @themalfoymanner + @hexmionegranger + @hermionvgranger + whoever else asked idk

It starts with a secret.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Ron Weasley demands, just as Blaise enters the locker room.

Blaise arches a brow, but otherwise doesn’t bother to respond. Ron Weasley is irrelevant. The contents of Draco Malfoy’s gym bag, however, are not.

“Hey, man,” Weasley goes on, undeterred. “I asked you a question.”

Blaise glances at an unmarked orange pharmacy bottle sitting on the middle shelf of Weasley’s locker. Fucking idiot. Fucking amateur. “That doesn’t entitle you to an answer, though, does it?”

Weasley narrows his eyes. “What are you—that’s Malfoy’s bag,” he blurts out, sounding surprised. “What are you doing to Malfoy’s bag?”

Blaise rifles around, tossing aside a few of Malfoy’s extra shirts and a monogrammed grey hand towel before coming up empty. He frowns. “Taking back what’s mine.”

Weasley snorts, and then rakes his fingers through the sweaty red fringe of his hair. “Jesus, dude, do you have to make everything sound like a threat?”

Blaise inspects the peeling blue label on a tub of IcyHot, irritation beginning to lick like fire against the tops of his tonsils. Malfoy wasn’t this clever. He fucking couldn’t be. “Dunno,” he muses, flatly. “Do you have to make everything sound like a deleted scene from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure?

Weasley huffs at that, audibly dismissive, before turning towards his locker and reaching an arm back to lift his practice jersey over his head.

And Blaise.

Blaise is suddenly paying only very minimal attention to the gum wrapper and Dorito crumb and parking ticket detritus at the bottom of Malfoy’s bag. The fucking little black book could wait. Because Weasley

Weasley is tall, obviously, tall and broad shouldered and long limbed; more lanky than he is anything else. But there’s a promising sort of elegance, almost, to how he’s put together. Big hands and strong forearms and an unexpected layer of muscle bunching around his biceps, cording up and down his neck, stretching and flexing and pulling beneath the freckled skin of his upper back as he shifts around, searching for a shirt.

And Blaise.

Blaise appreciates pretty things. His apartment is monochromatic, a perfectly contemporary celebration of sleek lines with shiny finishes, and he’s no stranger to sacrificing basic functionality for aesthetic appeal. And while Weasley might not be particularly refined, he is, Blaise thinks with some confusion—with some interest, really, lazy and muted and soft—he is most certainly a pretty thing.

“What?” Weasley snaps, glaring at Blaise with thinly veiled suspicion.

Blaise toys with the zipper on the inside pocket of Malfoy’s bag. “What do you mean, what?

Weasley hunches forward slightly, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest. A decidedly rosy flush is starting to creep across his face. “You’re—fucking staring at me, man.”

Blaise smirks. “Am I?”

“See—that, that definitely sounded like a fucking threat. What’s your problem? You look like you’re—like you’re plotting something.”

Blaise shrugs, and then chuckles, unable to stop himself from letting his gaze linger—impulsively, pointedly, heatedly—on Weasley’s exposed skin. Shoulders. Abdomen. No. Lower. Blaise is plotting something, of course. Weasley’s locker is two down from Malfoy’s, and that might just be better than a surveillance camera.

“You think Malfoy’s a douche, right?” Blaise asks, as conversationally as he can manage.

Weasley rocks back on his heels, basketball shorts slung low across his hips. “Doesn’t everyone?” he sneers.

Blaise licks his lips. Weasley watches him. “Want to help me out with something, Weasley?”

Unbidden, Weasley’s eyes drop to Blaise’s crotch. He looks stunned, and not a little dazed. “Um. What?”

“Not that,” Blaise lies, and then pauses. “Well. Not unless you really want to.”

Weasley clears his throat, expression hovering somewhere on the knife-edge between uncomfortable and intrigued. He appears helpless. Focused. Sharper than he usually is. Blaise can’t believe it took him so long to notice this. To notice him.

“What?” Weasley says again, more quietly.

“You know what I do, right?” Blaise drawls, taking a step forward. Leaning into the solid cold metal of the locker directly in front of Weasley’s.

There’s a beat of silence. It’s tense, like a wire trap coiled tight. Expectant. “Yeah.”

“Then you can imagine how…valuable…a list of my customers would be. Past and present.”

Weasley’s tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. Blaise’s gut clenches. No. Simmers. “That’s what Malfoy’s got? A list?

The list,” Blaise corrects.

“Right. That.”

Blaise chooses not to speak for a minute—just lets his mouth fall open and his posture relax as he makes a show of inspecting Weasley. Of studying him. “You’ll let me know if you see anything,” Blaise murmurs, flashing a smile he’s surprised to realize he almost means. “Won’t you?”

Weasley blinks.

Blaise doesn’t.

It starts with a secret.

Blaise has always liked secrets.      


For anon…enjoy! Bless this gif

“Hey team,” you called out with a smile as you walked through the firehouse.

Your friend was a firefighter and you had decided to bring him lunch. Considering this was the usual for you, it didn’t seem out of place.

Some of the firefighters waved. A few ruffled your hair, causing you to scrunch your nose. You slowed down when you reached your friend’s best friend on the squad.

“Hey Wilson,” you greeted with a smirk.
“Hey kid,” he replied with a wide grin.
“I don’t suppose you know where Steve-o’s at, do you?”
He arched a challenging brow. “I don’t suppose you got some extra grub?”

You smirked, hand already reaching into the fast food bag.

“Pssh, you know it.”

Wilson chuckled before catching the food you tossed. He made grunts of approval as he unwrapped the burger. You smirked.

“You’ll get the curly fries when you give me my info,” you teased.
“Rogers and Romanoff were called in by the Chief. Should be out in a minute.”
“Thanks Sammy,” you drawled before handing him the fries.

You left Wilson to himself as you headed further into the station. You made your way upstairs and toward the break room. Shaking your head, you placed the bag for Steve on the counter. Despite it being a firehouse, they had a nice kitchen.

You snagged a fry and chomped. However, you stopped mid-smirk when you caught sight of a new firefighter…topless. He looked as though he had just finished working out. His brunet hair waved a little in front of his face. You couldn’t help but stare. He quickly caught sight of you.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” he told you in confusion.
“Trust me,” you mumbled, “I do not care if it’s wrong.”

The man chuckled. He licked his lips before raising his curious gaze back to you. You bit your lip slightly. Sighing, you decided to answer him.

“I’m friends with Rogers. Brought him lunch,” you paused, “I thought I knew everyone in this unit.”
The man grinned. “Transfer from Brooklyn, actually.”
You arched a playful brow. “Am I supposed to call you that?”
He chuckled again. “You’re real funny, you know that?”
“I try,” you shrugged.
“James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”
“Bucky, huh?” you asked, “Well, it’s real nice to meet you.”
“Y/N? Did I see Wilson with a burger and fries?”

You turned with a smile. Steve was heading your way. You snatched the bag and held it up for him.

“Probably, Steve-o. But, no worries, he only has the decoy.”

Steve chuckled before taking the bag. He went to sit down when he caught sight of the transfer. He beamed.

“You two have met,” he commented, “That’s great!”
You arched a brow. “Why’s that? No offense, Buck.”
“Non taken.”

It was Steve’s turn to shoot Bucky a questioning glance. The transfer just shrugged. motioning to you slightly.

“Bucky and I go way back,” Steve explained, “He usually only lets people he’s known a while to call him Bucky.”
“Is that so?” you asked with a smirk.
“Hey, you were checking me out,” he countered.

You chuckled. You gave Steve a peck on the cheek. Bucky averted his gaze.

“Enjoy lunch,” you told him, turning to leave, “Oh, and give Buck-o my number for me?”

You smirked as you watched his surprised reaction. It swiftly turned into a sly grin. He whipped his shirt off his neck as he turned. Steve just chuckled before biting into his sandwich. Just before you were out of range, you decided to call back.

“And tell him I’m free most Fridays!”
“I got it,” Steve called back, “You owe me, Buck.”
“Yeah I do.”

Perma-tags: @dontbeamenacetotheforce ; @ttelesilla ; @jumperswellies
Marvel tags: @ladysigyn221

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Let’s talk about something for a second: Kate’s eyebrows. Just like her, they’re so unique. They’re not the classically shaped “brow on fleek” and there’s no real arch. Somehow, she pulls it off and they’re just so beautifully matched to the structure of her face. As you can see, she hasn’t really changed them since she was younger and I kind of love that? Because she wouldn’t be Kate with that typical arched brow. They’re so straight (the irony hahaha) and you don’t notice until you really look at them, especially since her hair is so light. I just love how they wouldn’t work on a majority of other people and yet just look so perfect on her. This is a weird post, I know. But this is a Kate McKinnon blog, and I will forever feel blessed by Kate McKinnon. Just look at this angel.


Imagine being Oliver’s sibling and dating Ray Palmer.

“So what’s one of the Queen kids doing working at an electronics store?”

You arched a brow at Ray, eyes dancing with amusement, “You know my boss hates it when you visit me at work,” you teased, leaning over the counter to press a quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. “He’s really against flirting with the customers.”

“What if the customer is flirting back?”

You pretended to consider the question, “I’ll have to check with management, sir.”

Ray smirked, “I thought the customer was always right.”

“You could always lodge a formal complaint.”

“Or I could just wait for you to get off,” Ray teased, “Which is when?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the smile off of your face, “I get off work in an hour. Now get lost before my boss sees you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Gif Credit: Ray

“Tina!” she squawked upon laying eyes on him, pointing a walking stick straight at Tina and himself. “Who is this! I’ve told you, no men! Not in my house.”

Percival and Tina exchanged a quick, alarmed glance before turning back to the woman, Mrs Esposito, the landlady.

Tina gasped loudly before quickly stepping forward.

“Oh, Mrs Esposito I was just on my way to talk to you,” she said earnestly. “I’ve got such a problem.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that as the older woman cast him a rather dangerous look, before ushering Tina a couple more steps away from where he was standing.

“I’ll call the police, come to my room,” she uttered under her breath.

“Oh, no Ma’am, it’s not him,” Tina said, shaking her head. “You see this is… my… brother. Percival,” she said.

Both Percival and Mrs Esposito fixed her with equally confused looks after that announcement.

“Your brother?” the old lady uttered. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“It’s a family secret,” Percival drawled.

Decided to draw a little thing from one of the more lighthearted scenes of my fic: Secrets

Or in other words, the time Percival gets caught being snuck into the Goldstein’s flat and is promptly passed off as their long-lost brother to get out of trouble.

I couldn’t help but notice some idle gossip surrounding Bernie’s curly hair.  This… was gonna be a drabble.  Anyway there’s hair and massages.  Sadlly, they did not get to drink their tea.

Honestly I dunno what I’m doing anymore.  Send help.

Characters: Bernie Wolfe, Serena Campbell
Rated: T/soft M
WC: 2475

“Is that how you get those curls?”

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28. Restrained Sex

Word Count: 692
Summary: Recreation of a part from one of my favorite books. The reader wants to tease Bucky, so he isn’t allowed to touch the reader until he begs for it.
A/N: This is my first time writing a complete drabble, so it’s probably really rough. But it’s for a good cause so oh well.
Written by: @lokid-by-winters-child

Originally posted by pleasingpics

“Hey, you wanna know a secret?”

Bucky looked down at you and arched his brows in response to your question. You had been dating for months, and tonight you were cuddling, kissing, and just enjoying each other’s company in his room. But you wanted to do more than just enjoy his presence. You figured now was as good a time as any to let him in on something new you wanted to try with him.

“I’ve always wanted to make you beg for sex.”

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