heart-shoe

Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.
—  F. Scott Fitzgerald, A New Leaf
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              ⭐ 💜 ⭐ 💜 ⭐  🅒🅞🅢🅜🅘🅒 🅓🅡🅔🅢🅢  ⭐ 💜 ⭐ 💜 ⭐

Back in the fall I got super inspired by this outfit from @cosmashanti​ (the outfit link goes to a reblog on my main blog because the original post has been deleted) and decided I needed to recreate it for my mayor! And then when I was done I realized it was October and my mayor would freeze in the short sleeves… so I made a long-sleeved version to match!

Mairin likes to wear this dress with the star hairpin, black tights, yellow buckled shoes, and heart i. balloon - but it goes well with a pretty wide variety of items~

If there’s a wide enough demand for it, I might try to make a matching umbrella pattern… (or I might just make one either way because I want it) And if anyone wants a darker skintone edit just let me know & I’ll hook you up!

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Who’s That Vans Girl?: @sydlars10

When it comes to adventure, Sydney Larsen’s got it on lock. We first fell in love with Sydney’s killer style and lust-worthy travel photos when she popped up in our Twitter feed months ago— and we’ll admit, we’ve been stalking her ever since. Get to know the free-spirited Vans Girl and learn her tips for transitioning your Winter wardrobe into Spring.

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okay so i had the most horrible idea for a kagehina scene so now you all have to suffer with me - 2.4k, rated t, :( but then :)

Hinata found him behind their gym. His uniform jacket was stuck to the prickly cinderblocks half-way up his back like he’d leaned and slid down into the grass instead of sitting on the ground in the first place, like he couldn’t bother with normal human actions and just melted down the side of the wall out of spite or something. His messenger bag lay upturned and half-way gutted over the green ground in front of him, with his shoe dangerously close to the crime scene. It looked like he’d kicked it himself in anger.

Hinata bit his lip, wringing his hands as he stepped around the corner and approached Kageyama. 

He’d planned it all out, researched the best ways to go about it and the best poems–even read some in Japanese and English to see which language would sound cooler in the moment–and the best day in the week to do it. He’d talked to Yachi about it, and then Noya, who were both more in touch with this kind of stuff (especially compared to him). He’d thought about how tired they would be just after lunch versus at the end of the day (he couldn’t do it in the morning, because what if it went terribly wrong and Hinata would have to go to school with him all day instead of being able to escape at any point–best to avoid unnecessary embarrassment if he was rejected). He hadn’t anticipated this, though.

Just before last period, he’d pulled the piece of paper out of his trouser pocket–the one that he’d nearly scribbled and erased and scribbled down to pulpy nothing, the one he’d read and reread so much that the blue lines across it were fading at the edges from his restless thumbs (the one that he’d nearly thrown in the wash the other night)–and held it in his hands as he walked up to Kageyama in front of the sciences building. As usual, the volleyball team tended to gravitate toward each other during any sort of between-class downtime, so Tanaka, Ennoshita, Yamaguchi, Yachi and a couple of the first-years were all sprawled or leaning or loitering on the lawn with Kageyama, who sipped at his box of milk through a straw and slouched in the shade of a scraggly tree, listening to another one of Tanaka’s stories. 

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Look at Me

@woah-broah said: “i was wondering if you could do an imagine of the reader and jughead always sharing glances at each other and being too shy to talk to each other at school. Ronnie and Archie end up getting tired of watching them not do anything and end up talking to them and set them up for a date at pops??”

A/N: I LIVE FOR IMAGINES LIKE THESE 

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Trying To Tell Jimin "No"
  • <p> <b>Taehyung:</b> Just tell him, be straightforward. "Jimin, no."<p/><b>Jungkook:</b> Yeah, that's right. That's easy.<p/><b>Jimin:</b> [asks JK for something]<p/><b>Jungkook:</b> Yes, of course, is there anything else you want? My shirt? My shoes? My heart??<p/><b>Taehyung:</b> Wow<p/><b>Jungkook:</b> If you can say no to that face you're not human<p/></p>
We’re the ones who live

As requested by @cocoamoonstone​, here’s a one-shot based on a remix of the Andrea tower scene.

“Michonne!” Rick howled.

He had been firing at one of Negan’s men who was trying to make a quick getaway in one of Negan’s cars, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a body plunge from the fifth floor window of the building that he knew Michonne had been sniping from. His blood ran cold.

She had been practicing her shooting skills, and with Sasha’s guidance her accuracy had grown. She had volunteered to be one of the snipers who would be holding off Negan’s men from afar, and protecting Alexandria’s troops from above. Rick had been relieved when she volunteered to do it. It meant she was helping from the safest place possible. But he was wrong. Something had gone horribly wrong. And now, a body lay on the concrete in front of the building.

He was a block away and couldn’t make out who it was, but he promptly turned and sprinted towards the building, forgetting the Savior he was firing at, and forgetting the battle around him. Bullets whizzed past his head as he ran, yells and screams sounded miles away. He couldn’t feel his legs moving, it felt like he was floating as he got closer and closer to the crumpled heap of a person laying on the concrete.

“M…Michonne…” he uttered in a virtual whisper as he approached the body crushed on the sidewalk, blood running from its head into the gutter. The clothing was wrong, the hair was wrong. As he got closer relief flooded his soul.

It’s not her.

“Michonne!” Rick screamed at the 5th story window. “Michonne! Come to the window!”

There was no response. No movement from the window, and her sniper rifle lay on the ground next to the dead body. Rick sprinted towards the door to the building which had been kicked in. He flew up the flights of stairs screaming Michonne’s name, not caring who he was alerting to his presence. He couldn’t get over the fact that there was no noise in the building. Everything was deathly silent.

She’s not dead. She’s ok. Maybe she’s hiding. Maybe she… she has to be ok.

As Rick reached the top floor he raised his weapon. He entered the hallway that led from the staircase cautiously.

“Michonne?” he called again. Silence.

He moved down the hallway, nudging a half open door with his foot. The door swung open and bounced back when it hit something. Rick cautiously peeked around the door and saw one of Michonne’s shoes. His heart dropped. He swung around and spotted her lying motionless, propped up against the wall behind the door. There were bloody drag marks on the floor, showing she had crawled there from the open window. She was bleeding heavily, Rick spotted an obvious stab wound in her arm, but there had to be others from the amount of blood she was losing. And even amidst her injuries, she had managed to hold on to her katana. It was gripped in her right hand.

“Oh my God. Michonne! Michonne!” Rick screamed, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Baby, can you hear me? Wake up!”. When she didn’t respond, Rick gently placed both hands on her face, cradling it.

“Come on sweetheart, open your eyes for me. Please baby.”

When she didn’t respond, Rick inched closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest, her head cradled against his neck.

“Please, please, please” Rick begged, crying hysterically. He leaned over until his lips were close to her ear. “This isn’t it for us” he whispered, “we’re the ones who live.”

He slid his arms under Michonne and lifted her gently from the floor, her head slumped against his chest. He was sure to hold on to her katana as well, as he carried her down the steps.

When he got to the bottom of the steps, he felt her head moving slowly against his chest as she regained consciousness.

“Michonne?” he whispered, relieved to see any movement from her.

“We’re… the ones… who live” she repeated.