graceful curve

i’ve drowned myself so many times to give
the world what it wants out of me.
i remember when i was 9 years old and i thought this older girl in my Sunday
school class was cute.
i hide it very well.
i couldn’t let the world know i admired the two curves that graced her chest.
i drowned myself.
i remember hearing the other girls in middle school giggle over their boy crushes.
the vibrations “whose yours?” were thrown at me so many times only to be met
with my uncomfortable silence.
i drowned myself.
i’m in high school now and i’ve been asked
“you got a boyfriend?” so many times.
the waves of truth thrash against my throat crying to be set free
i just smile and say no.
i drown myself.
—  some things don’t change with time
Saturday / Masamune x MC

Week 1


He doesn’t know it yet, but in the moment it takes for the glass to pierce the floor, splintering in graceful curves, and nicking at table legs before stopping at her feet, Lord Date Masamune falls in love.

It comes out of nowhere and his mind scrambles to catch it, still not used to the speed at which his thoughts change whenever her apron teases too close to his fingers. He should really be going, judging by the sun’s shadow crawling in through the slit at the entrance where the fabric sways against the breeze.

A dragonfly hums above, its buzzing an alarm, a constant reminder. He stays all the same and drinks her in, wondering why the part of him that makes no sense and has no right fixates at the curve of her neck when he should be on his knees, helping. He steels himself to scrape his chair back, but the moment she looks up, shard in hand and her frown blazing into his face like a gush of wind, his courage deflates so suddenly it leaves him lurching.

Oh no, he thinks, oh no, and there’s a roar in his ears. His brain doesn’t know the proper protocol for pretty girls who look straight into his eye, so he’s caught wrestling between getting up and leaving and never showing his face again, or clenching his jaw so he doesn’t blush hard enough to give himself away.

There’s not enough time to make a decision before she’s there, fingers squeezing, urging him up and away, fussing over him without crowding too close.

“Are you all right, milord? Please be careful.”

Amidst the flurry her hand flutters against his in a movement so small it barely registers on her face, but he’s flying back, almost crashing into the table behind him and dislodging it where it stands. He steadies it on reflex, no longer meeting her gaze.

“Don’t get too close!” he chokes out.

He knows it’s harsh the second she stills. Something unpleasant squeezes around his heart. Oh no, he thinks again, oh no, and forces himself to relax, smoothing his face into something akin to softness, hard as it may be for the One-Eyed Dragon.

He should be going. He can hear Kojuro’s urgency. In that moment he’s grateful neither he nor his cousin are here.

The moment stretches on and it becomes a moment too long, a moment he’s lost forever, until he spies, out of nowhere, the slight lift of her mouth, like the sun peeking out after a storm. Then a short breath before her lips bite together. Her face scrunches up, and he can tell whatever she’s doing it’s clearly a losing battle.

The most surprising thing happens then: she breaks and a burst of laughter escapes. High and clipped, a sound of pure delight. And he’s just standing there for the fool that he is, letting the sound wash over him, feeling it stream inside and pooling at the pit of his stomach.

It warms him to his core.

So he lets go.

And in the moment it takes for Lord Date Masamune to cough into his sleeve, eyes twinkling and cheeks tinged with fire, hiding the little, shy smile that lights up his whole face, a chef’s daughter falls in love.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

Week 1: Masterpost

Critical Role headcanons

Silly physical headcanons no one ever asked for :

I imagine Vex as very slim. She’s short and can slip between branches. But her limbs are strong, as she climbs trees and trains regularly with her bow. Much stronger than her brother.

Vax is, like Vex, small, and even more slim than her. He could be considered weak, but he makes up for it by his speed and his dexterity.

Keyleth is quite tall and has curves. She embodies nature, its health and fertility. She is graceful and her curves are soft.

Pike is very short, of course, and thick. She is very strong and her built is quite imposing, but this does not take away her softness.

Grog is towering and his built his muscular, but soft edged.

Percy is very tall, and quite thin, not very strong, but not quite as frail as Vax, although quite slender.

Scanlan is probably slightly soft edged, and certainly not ashamed of it.

(1/ )

mizeliza  asked:

aesthetic: queen's thief

the glint of a smile in the darkness, the mountains’ silhouettes like larger-than-life figures against the sky, wine spilled into the dust, the graceful curve of a neck that’s either perfectly still or carved from stone, golden embroidery gleaming in the red sunset, a man slouched into a throne with one hook in place of a hand thrown lazily over the armrest

bird of the day!!

okay loads of ppl are doing (animal) of the day so im doing BIRD of the day first up is the black-throated magpie jay!! we’re starting off BIG okay are you ready for the best birb of all time

innocent. soft. curious. look at the vibrant blue and the contrasting black and white, and those frills! that mohawk!

look at the length of that tail!!! thats the longest tail possible. maybe. take my word for it (but dont actually)


one final picture.. look at that grace, that slender curves, those legs, that tail, that crest!!!!! this is truly the perfect star for the first bird of the day

Scattered Fett family thoughts and plot bunnies I’ve collected today while reorganizing a bunch of notebooks and papers at work. Kind of in chronological order?

  • Teenage Rex is trying to coerce little Elijah to come inside for bath time. Elijah argues that he’s not dirty. Rex smudges a handprint of mud on his chest. Elijah argues that he can just put his shirt in the wash. Rex smudges another handprint on his face. 
  • Teenage Rex pulls the centerfold out of a magazine and tacks it to the wall of the bedroom he shares with Cody. Cody enters and comments, “Sexy.” The two boys go back and forth for a bit, discussing the graceful beauty, alluring curves, tight body, etc. Camera cuts to the poster. It’s a motorcycle. 
  • Addendum to Echo’s ponytail: Actually it makes more sense if immediately after the accident, Echo has his head shaved. Stitches and scans and electrodes and whatnot. After that he lets it grow out to just long enough to get into a stubby ponytail, but it doesn’t last long before he goes back to his standard haircut.
  • Jesse and Echo both hate fireworks.
  • Jesse is a /fit/izen.
  • Fives is that guy who breaks the ice on tinder with puns.
  • All the boys played a sport of some kind through school, but all I know for sure is that Cody was in football and Tup was/is in soccer.
  • Dogma was actually the first person Tup told about his parents’ plan to move far away.
  • Dogma is talking shit in Mando’a in front of the other high schoolers; Tup passive-aggressively responds to him in English so he can’t get away with it.
  • Echo deadpan offers to teach Tup how to drive. No one is sure how to react.
  • Kix suspects (rightfully) that Rex is actually pretty awkward about giving Tup “The Talk.” He stops by their apartment and leaves a box on Tup’s bed, like a little first aid kit except filled with condoms, lube, dental dams, etc. A note on top reads: “So you don’t have to go snooping at an inopportune time. Love, the brother you’d all be dead of every disease without [Lightning bolt symbol]”
Wait For Me

The oak tree only shifted its bearing, but the willows at the end of the park bowed and swayed in small, graceful steps. A path curved through the wild, untrimmed field of grass between them. I stood there, at the bend of concrete, my toes firm on this side of the edge.

It felt like waiting, but it was something else. Something like the tendency in your lungs at the top of a cliff. Or the anticipation of unlocking of a door. It might have been the motion of a Cessna Caravan just before you jump. Except I was on solid ground and there was no one around to push me onto the sky.

There was no portent. The clouds didn’t suddenly compose themselves into your image. But when I closed my eyes, I could see you. You were looking at me. Only me. And you smiled.

Shoes in one hand, I brought the other to my lips, sent you a kiss on the wind and stepped off. I wondered which of us would arrive first—me or the kiss. Either way, I’ll be there soon.

LKT © 2016

First Kiss

A/N: SOO after seeing the new Victor Frankenstein movie, @sonsofmahal, @maxinia and I agreed that “the fanfiction just writes itself” and that therefore we needed to write some too. We agreed on the simple prompt of “First Kiss” and gave ourselves free reign from there.

Also @holmesianpose I believe you were interested in reading this as well. No promises on quality but at least I actually FINISHED SOMETHING YAY

Igor had little experience with love.

Yes, in the circus he had loved Lorelei. He loved her gentleness, her grace, the soft curve of her smile and the way her capable fingers gripped the bar of the trapeze.

It took him weeks to realize that his second love was Victor Frankenstein—perhaps because it was a different sort of love. If Lorelei was water, soft and soothing, Victor was fire. He was brash and brilliant and had a tendency to explode at inopportune times. With Victor, Igor feared being burned in a way he had never considered drowning.

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anonymous asked:

’ i can do amazing things with these hands. ’ -needsnohero :)

NSFW Sentence Starters

He knew perfectly well that the halfbreed was referring to her dexterous sleight of hand; that didn’t stop a delighted shiver from running the length of his spine. He cast a sidelong glance toward the rogue, a wry smile budding on his lips. Down, then up again– his gaze traveled the length of her figure, admiring every graceful curve. She was a HALFBREED, yes– but she seemed to have inherited all the most desirable traits of both races. She was taller, more curvaceous than the average drow female, with round, supple hips and breasts. And her face and ears, though not quite so delicate as those of the fae, still bore the graceful set of her elven heritage.

 Oh, he knew she was trouble. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be FUN.

“You know, Eira– an enterprising individual like yourself has the capacity to go very far in this world.” He slipped a little closer, his hand coming to rest experimentally on her back. She would probably rebuke him– Lolth help him, so many women did, off-put as they were by his strong personality– but there was certainly no shame in trying. 

And anyway, as a drow, it was his solemn responsibility to EXPLOIT the lesser races however he could.

“Very far indeed.” He leaned close, lowering his voice as he spoke into her ear. “But there’s only so far that a solitary rogue can go, all on her lonesome. If she were to have the aid of a powerful SPONSOR like myself– to provide guidance, mentorship, and the occasional helping hand–” as if to emphasize his point, his palm drifted down, closer to the small of her back– “Why, there’s no saying what you could accomplish.”

moonrcse  asked:

Lunafreya held up a small box to the man, "Happy Valentine's Day." Inside was a panther's head charm, its eyes inlaid with two Shell materia to keep him safe. It was meant to attach to a chain, but could be latched to the straps of his outfit if he desired.

     Sephiroth is quiet, a long silence drawn out by the gesture as much as the gift, and when he opened it a subtle curve graces his lips. Without so much as a word, he fetches the small pendant from its nest, latching it on to the clasp of his chest straps and ensuring it is secure before he leans forward and places a feather light kiss to the rise of her cheekbone.

     “Thank you my lady. I’ll treasure it always.”

+Everyone else who wanted this continuation. I didn’t want to screenshot every request for it basically. 

OK, so this monstrosity is 9000+ words long and I still haven’t written everything I wanted to include. Accordingly, there will be a part 3 for this!

Part 1 

The pale glow of the early morning dances around his face. The last strands of the red rays frame his soft features with a lazy haze. It takes her breath away, plunging her once more into the blue pools of his eyes. Today, they strangely match the sky. Their clarity and softness inspiring a tranquility unlike any she’s ever seen painted across his face before. There is a languid smile, almost too laid back to belong to him gracing the full curve of his lips. His defined cheekbones uplifted in a manner too content to be tangible. And those same blue orbs that would leave her to drown are smiling most effortlessly, too. His expression unchanged, he reaches into his pocket, takes out his cell phone and briefly types into it. Hers whines next to her, as if as disturbed by awakening from the moment as she is. It is a message from him.

Yes. It says.


He is confused. Then he is angry. Then frustrated. Then resigned.

Caroline, through the thrilling and dramatic saga of watching her muse who happens to be her boss’s brother no less, sits slack-jawed in the comfortable leather chair next to Elijah’s desk. Her mind has completely stopped working around the time her arti- Niklaus walked into the room and never quite managed to collect its wits yet. She is stuck between utter awe at seeing him out of the usual circumstance and complete shock at how close they have been without her even realizing it.

The silently heated argument between the two brothers is incomprehensible to Caroline. Sign language has never been something she thought of learning, although she suspects that even if they are talking a language she understands, the entire conversation would go completely unnoticed by her. Instead, she is captured by the movement of his hands and his elegant fingers. Even in this moment, as his gestures appear to be frustrated, there is something so utterly mesmerizing about them. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she attempts to focus on anything else, and this time she is caught in his frown wearing face. She has seen him somber, thoughtful, content, peaceful and even sad but she’s never seen him angry or frustrated before. It is not as unpleasant as she has thought it might be. There is something rather…. Intriguing about this uncontained state he is in.

Oh if only Kathrine can get into my head right now. I would never hear the end of it.

She doesn’t know how long it takes the brothers to resolve their conflict. Between her shock and the trance Niklaus has lured her into, she has completely lost sense of time. Whatever the case may be, the argument ended with clearly a lost battle for Niklaus. He looks upset still, but more so in a despondent way. Elijah’s voice is the one that finally alerts her to her surroundings once more.

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He sat slouched in the chair, something heartwarmingly indolent in the posture – the soft set of his shoulders, the way one thin wrist rested casually against the armrest, propping open the book in his lap. His other arm was slung across the back of the chair, elbow bent, his bright, intelligent eyes fixed on the page before him, mouth soft as he silently mouthed the words he read.

Hawke smiled to himself as he watched him, losing himself in the graceful curve of the elf’s neck, the fall of hair across his brow, the utter stillness as he, enraptured with the story he read, lost track of time and space and everything but the words on the page before him.

His expression became intense, the small slight movement of his chest stilling as his breath caught, eyes darting across the page. Hawke watched Fenris read the same paragraph over twice, then flip three pages forward, gaze darting back and forth before settling, near the end, on one paragraph. He released his breath, and settled back in the chair, some invisible line of tension leaving his frame. A smile played on his lips.

He didn’t notice when Hawke closed his own book, or even when he rose to cross the library to him. Assured of the outcome of whatever scene he was reading, Fenris flipped back to the original page.

He blinked and jerked his eyes away, staring as Hawke bent over him to brush a kiss - first against the trio of marks on his forehead, and then on his soft, parted lips.

“Hawke - ?” Fenris asked.

Hawke shook his head, and didn’t try to explain. Fenris made room for him in the chair, and curled at his side, automatically, his eyes returning to his book as if they had never strayed.

*throws mer-selkieformers at you*

BLUH. Self indulgence.

Snow brought an odd luminescence to the twilit beach. It lay thinly towards the threshold where sand met land, almost glowing of its own accord. Fat, lazy flakes fell through the air and the thick clouds above muted the stars. Combined with the haar rising over the sea, the world felt eerily still, its silence only broken by the soft lapping of the waves.

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At Grace’s signing I asked her to draw me a moon, she did it & now it’s tatooed on me forever I guess. (we’re gonna get deep) I’m so grateful to her, I’ve been clean for 5 months now (since I met her) & and i got this tattoo to remind me, as cliche as it sounds, that she is my moon when it’s too dark to see, every time I feel like doing anything I look down and see that, the reminder that she helped me get to where I am & it tells me not to, to find a distraction, so thank you grace, for taking your time to draw this do thing for me it means more than you could ever imagine, than you for everything

Because Tony and Ziva were my first loves, and the reason I started writing and I needed to bid them farewell. It’s been one hell of a roller coaster. 

“Perhaps they were right in putting love into books… Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.” ―William Faulkner

Taking care of Tali is the hardest thing he has ever done.

(After turning away from Ziva in Israel).

He sees her everywhere.

In the soft curve of Tali’s face, her olive skin, the graceful miel curves surrounding her wee face, the laughter that breaks her features, that same laughter which makes his heart stop.

Being with his child is both the worst torment he has ever endured and the deepest happiness he was ever graced by.

Days are easy.

Days are picking up little Tali who has fallen on the floor, pressing a kiss to her forehead and muffling her cries with love.

Days are strawberry ice cream at 4pm and her tiny body asleep on his chest while he watches a movie.

Nights, however, hold the secret of their demise and the shadows of broken dreams.

Nights are Tali’s scream at 2am, her frail voice begging for ima ima ima, and mind you, he can tell her as much as he wants shhh Tali, abba is here, she’ll just cry harder.

Those nights, he just cradles her head and holds her body against his, throat tight, tears slaughtering his eyes, and he presses his lips on her temples, oh Tali, I miss her too.

But nights are not only Tali’s nightmares, nights are his too.

He dreams of Ziva’s face crisped in pain, her body devoured by the flames, he dreams of her bidding farewell in this damn airport, he dreams of her loneliness when Tali was young and wouldn’t sleep.

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