curly pigtails

I’m on vacations finally *3*!

And I passed all my exams with good grades ;u; <3 God, I worried all this week for nothing xD, anyway, hope you like it :’D <3

I haven’t noticed until now, but I haven’t stopped drawing Maka with curlys on her pigtails xddd

Dan and Phil PASTEL IN REAL LIFE.

Phil: what is it with the curls this year?
like a tail of a pig.
it is like curly little pigtail…. in your hair.

Phil: Get the straps on.
Dan: you fucking strap me up.

Dan: here we go…
Phil strapping me up on camera.
This is… There’s a certain audience for this on the internet, and they are not getting the video they wanted.

Phil: I’m not gonna say anything about the word thick. But they are pretty large.

Phil: I’m obsessed with your curls, how did that form?

Phil: Ooooohhhhh, it’s not over yet Danny… tattoos!

Dan: AAAHHH YOU’RE RUINING MY JEANS.
Omg Phil you’re wetting the bed.

Phil: Just keep blowing it.

Dan: what do all the film makers think of this?
Phil: this is art Dan, this is a visual piece of art.

Dan: oh look at this meaty bicep.

Phil: what’s like a funny name to a unicorn?
Dan: soft Susan.
Phil: spike!

Dan: it kind of suits you, it compliments your eyes.
* throw up-sound *

Dan: WHY DIDNT WE GET A TOWEL, WE SHOULD’VE GET A TOWEL.
I’ve never felt this wet.

Dan: and look at that drip control…
Ugh I’m so good.

Dan: you could’ve actually murdered me, right then.
Phil: totally worth it.

Suicide Squad: Being cheeky toward Task Force X, teasing them with their freedom and throwing one liners just to get under their skin.

For Anon!

~~–~~–~~–~~

“Get outta the way!” Deadshot demanded, frustrated with you already.

They had a job to carry out. The first one without Flag directly at their throats to babysit. Nobody wanted to mess that up. But you had other ideas, standing in front of them and threatening to kill them if they didn’t let you finish talking, among other things.

“Make me,” you quipped, tilting your head to the side and smirking sweetly.

Digger threw his hands up in the air, turning on his heel and gripping his boomerang in frustration. Harley stomped her foot, her curly white pigtails bouncing.

You only smiled wider, watching Deadshot’s jaw clench. Killer Croc curled his lip, and your eyes flitted to his, lit with a warning. He went silent. “You know,” you said, “I could have you free like that.” You snapped your fingers and suddenly Harley didn’t seem so put-out anymore.

Diablo glanced toward you warily. You nodded. “Oh yeah. My powers are beyond your comprehension, you see.”

Deadshot scoffed. “Uh-huh. Sure. Show me.”

The amused glint in your eyes vanished, and your smile along with it. “Try me,” you shot back almost immediately, taking a step toward him. “I could stand here all day.”

“I’m callin’ bullshit,” Digger growled. “On both counts.”

Deadshot was still for a moment before shaking his head vigorously. “Uh-uh. As much as Flag pisses me off, he helped me get my daughter back. I ain’t playin’ your games.”

You raised your hands in surrender. “What, you don’t appreciate my sense of humor? I was joking, sorry.”

Digger nodded slowly, lips pursed. And Harley was mad again. Maybe it was time to take your leave.

Originally posted by heartofdevastation

3

I drew Kizana! I like idea of silvery purple hair on her rather than just a bland shade of purple but her twin drills, there are already two rivals with their hairs tied up in twin tails (I know the difference but seriously, their hairs are similar at some point) and I thought it would be nice to have a rival who’s her hair is in low pigtails and curly bangs. But since cosmetics isn’t priority just yet, then there’s a possibility her design might change…

The the third photo is Kokona and Saki. I drew them without reference okay! I first though Kokona should have her hair in loose drills but I liked the idea of it in two buns instead, its cute! Besides giving her with looser drills would look like Saki’s hair only shorter.

Hope you guys like, bye!

giannisk-13  asked:

What happened to the curly pigtails you posted before Christmas? I'm living for 'em <3 If you won't post this hair, could I try and make something similiar? Just asking cause I don't wanna make you mad :)

make whatever you want, your an amazing cc creator! i’‘d love to see what you make out of that idea :D <3

Sherlock: John, hold still. You’re making this so much harder than it has to be!

John: I’m not making this – ow! Hey! Be careful!

Sherlock: Why was it so much easier when you did this to me??

John: Because! Yours is longer!

Sherlock: …Sometimes I wish mine was shorter, like yours.

John: *blushes* But…yours feels so good, I can’t even stop touching it.

Sherlock: Yeah, *rolls eyes* I’ve noticed. You even do it in public…and people stare.

John: They’re just jealous that they can’t touch it themselves.

Sherlock: *smuggly* Maybe you’re right.

John: *smiles* Anyway, just get back to putting my hair in pigtails, Sherlock. 

Sherlock: *touches his own hair, which is in multiple curly pigtails*

John: Yes, yes. You look very pretty. Now, get back to mine.

Sherlock: Alright, John <3

One-shot: In the Schoolyard

Children AU - G -  Lexa doesn’t like the new girl, Clarke.

Read @ AO3

When Miss Anya introduced Clarke Griffin to the class, Lexa fumed in her seat and refused to look at her with her stupid blonde, curly pigtails, her girly purple skirt with matching tights and her Frozen backpack Lexa was definitely not jealous of. Her friend Costia had left the school (her parents had decided to move far, far away, in another country), Clarke was replacing her, and so Lexa hated her on principle.

She didn’t chant ‘Hello, Clarke’ with the other students in her kindergarten class, she didn’t raise her hand enthusiastically when Miss Anya asked who’d want to show her around and she didn’t look up when Clarke sat next to her. This was Costia’s desk, not Clarke’s.

During recess, sitting in her spot against the school, brick wall, Lexa watched, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, as all the girls and a few of the boys gathered around Clarke asking her if she wanted to play with them. It wasn’t fair that this new girl had so many new friends when she didn’t have any. For a moment, their eyes met, and Lexa jubilated inwardly as she caught a look of awkwardness on Clarke’s face.

**

“Can I borrow your pencil sharpener?” Clarke asked Lexa during arts and crafts. She had lost her two front teeth that week, and her tongue slipped into the hole, making her talk funny.

Lexa shrugged, pushing her egg-shaped sharpener towards Clarke, never looking up.

“SS’anks,” Clarke slurred, and Lexa smirked at the mispronunciation, biting her lower lip so she wouldn’t laugh out loud. “I like what you’re doing. How’d you make that colour? Iss very pretty.”

Lexa tilted her head, brows furrowed. Her blue glasses slipped down her nose slightly. Clarke was the best in class when it came to arts, she must have been teasing Lexa.

“I don’t understand why you never talk to me,” Clarke sighed as she kept on colouring, the pink tip of her tongue poking out. “Did I do something bad?”

“We’re not friends,” Lexa stated simply.

**

Clarke, Lexa decided, was the most annoying person on Earth! The little blonde had started following her everywhere she went during recess, always sat down next to her during lunch and even though Clarke’s dad picked her up after school, she always insisted on waiting ‘til Lexa made it safely onto the school bus, and waved good-bye when she left. Clarke didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Lexa ignored her most of the time, or that when she talked to her, it was usually to tell her how much she hated her.

“It’s okay, I really hate you too,” Clarke would always reply, her smile never wavering.

**

During gym class that day, they played dodgeball. Clarke and Lexa were on the same team, watching helplessly and in frustration as, one by one, their teammates got eliminated. One thing the two girls definitely had in common was their competitive strike.

Finn threw the ball at Lexa who wasn’t looking, hitting her square in the face, breaking her glasses in half. Lexa stumbled backwards, stunned, and fell on her butt.

“Lexa!” Clarke shrieked, running to her non-friend, kneeling by her side. “Are you okay?”

Lexa scrambled on her knees, fumbling around for the pair glasses she didn’t know had snapped from the blow. Her bottom lip wobbled as her hand finally closed around the plastic frame, and she realized it wasn’t whole.

“They’re broken,” Clarke said lamely, picking up the other half and placing it between Lexa’s fingers, “can you see me?” She moved right in front of Lexa’s face, but all she could see was a blur of yellow, sun-kissed hair and a flash of electric blue.

Lexa shook her head.

“I want to go home,” she squeaked, panicked. Not seeing anything was a scary thing. She sniffed and bit her bottom lip hard, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

“Clarke, take Lexa to the front office,” their teacher, Mr. Gustus, instructed as he helped Lexa up on her feet after making sure she was physically alright. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie, someone will come pick you up, okay?” The little girl nodded bravely and stretched her arms in front of her.

She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, staring at her, but she relaxed when she felt Clarke’s small hand close around hers. Clarke wrapped her other arm around Lexa’s shoulders, guiding her slowly through the halls.

She sat next to Lexa on the orange plastic chairs, never letting go of her hand and rubbing her back as the little girl with the broken glasses who she hated and wasn’t friends with cried until her mom picked her up.

“Thank you, Clarke for staying with Lexa, you’re a very good friend,” Lexa’s mom told her with a warm smile. She had lifted Lexa up in her arms as soon as she had seen her daughter, and Lexa had buried her face in the crook of her neck, shaking with sobs.

“M-momommy!”

“Hey Lexie, it’s okay, baby,” Lexa’s mom reassured her, bouncing her softly.

“She’s afraid you’ll be mad at her because she broke her glasses, but I told her it would be okay,” Clarke said staring at her shoes. “She didn’t break them! Finn did!” she quickly added, intent on defending Lexa.

**

The next day Clarke waited for Lexa by the school gate, but the bell rang and Lexa wasn’t there. She didn’t come to school the following day either. Lexa came back to school three days later after the lunch period. She walked into the classroom with new glittery purple glasses, and Clarke thought it was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen. Lexa was the prettiest girl in the whole world, prettier than any of the princesses, with her long brown hair braided in two French braids.

“Hey, Lexa,” Clarke greeted shyly when the girl took her seat next to her.

“Hi, Clarke.”

“So, was your mommy really mad?”

Lexa shook her head in the negative. She dug into her schoolbag and pulled out a little card that she handed to Clarke.

“Do you want to do a sleepover at my house tonight?” Lexa asked, a blush rising to the apple of her cheeks. “We can eat pizza, play monopoly and watch movies and eat popcorn.”

Clarke smiled brightly; delight shining in her blue eyes.

“Does that mean we’re finally friends?”

Lexa nodded, “You’re my best friend.”

Boys will be boys… How many times have I heard that saying? How many times has anybody? A decent amount - I’d suspect. But does anyone know what it actually means?

Let’s take little Johnny, just turned 6, he’s in kindergarten and its his first day, he meets little Jane, who’s 5 and ¼ and proud of it. He pulls on her curly pigtails and steals her barbies, sound familiar? And little Jane goes home crying with Johnny’s painted fingerprints stuck in her hair and her mother tells her not to worry; it’s just paint, it’ll wash out, and your barbies can have their hair brushed and be back to normal. Besides, when a boy pulls your pigtails Jane-y that means he likes you. (I honestly don’t think little Johnny knows the difference between a pencil crayon and a marker, let alone what the hell a crush is but I digress.)

Let’s look at them a few years later. Little Johnny is 12 and little Jane is 11 and ½ and on the soccer team with little Johnny and out on that field he comes out of nowhere and tackles her to the ground. Throughout the game is much of the same, tackles, pebbles thrown at her, the ball aimed at her and kicked with the intent to hurt just enough to get her attention. She goes home with bruised shins and knees and a grass stained jersey tee. Her mother washes the jersey and tells her not to fret, Johnny just doesn’t know how to tell her how he feels just yet and little Jane believes her because hey, boys will be boys right? Stupid. Immature. Boys.

Then little Johnny’s 18 and he’s not so little anymore, and little Jane’s all grown up being 17 and ¾ and so close to that freedom. They’re at a party and their respective friend groups are mingling and Johnny drags Jane away to get some air and latches onto her wrists like cuffs and tries to gain a kiss despite her protests. Now wait a second - hold up you say, that’s wrong! He shouldn’t do that, if she doesn’t want him to kiss her he should respect that. Really? REALLY?! How would he know?

His whole life it’s been - you show a girl you like her by hurting her, not majorly hurting her, but teasing her; tugging on her pigtails and throwing stones. If she says she doesn’t like it? Well then she’s playing hard to get! And how would she know, that what he’s doing isn’t right? When her whole life shes been taught that love is violence and violence is love, because that’s just how boys are.

When you are a boy to be open is to be vulnerable and to be vulnerable is to be womanly and to be womanly is to be weak. So all that pressure to be a man! To man up! Stop being such a pussy! Only girls cry, only girls can show emotion! All of that just builds in layers and layers and layers. 6, 12, 18. it keeps going and going and going until POP! She’s got a black eye and he’s got a bruised fist and he’s sitting in the back of the cruiser while she can’t talk to the fucking officer through her shaking split lips.

But hey, boys will be boys, right? What I wanna know, is when the hell did being a boy mean being a monster? When did being a boy mean being a rapist, being a creep, being someone who doesn’t understand what the word no could possibly mean, being someone who believes in the “Friend-zone” because it’s not enough for you to treat a girl like a human being but in doing so you expect her to suck your dick in gratitude. No. There is no such thing as the “Friend-zone” and to think that you need to be rewarded for treating people like people is going to get you slapped.

So is it really boys will be boys? Or is it boys will be creatures, who've suppressed themselves for so damn long that they become a ticking time bomb and the girls are the collateral damage that no one gives a fuck about  because boys will be boys and to think any different is to lie to yourself. Girls are taught from a young age not to go out at night alone, because men are dangerous. And to aim for the nose, the eyes, the groin, and if you hear footsteps behind you then put your keys between your fingers and feel that cold metal heat up from the white heat of your knuckles. This is how you punch properly. Your elbows are the strongest weapons of your body.

And we know this, we learn this, we live this, because boys are taught to be “boys”, but they are never taught to be decent human beings.

—  k.snow. (and angry rant/spoken word for my drama class)

Calum Hood being a single dad after his girlfriend left, so he had to raise little girl Hood on his own. She looked just like Calum with a few bolder features given to her by her mother. The thing that Calum was proudest of was that on little girl Hood’s first day of kindergarten, she was so happy to tell people that her daddy did her hair. She had her hair in two cute little curly pigtails and a pretty dress. When the other parents would tell her ‘you’re so cute, your mommy did your hair so nicely’ little Hood would look up and reply “Thank you! My daddy always does my hair nice!” Calum couldn’t help but be overjoyed at how proud she was to correct them and tell them that he did it. Not to mention she had wonderful manners.