i love her hair in that way


The shooting stars in your black hair
in bright formation
are flocking where,
so straight, so soon?
— Come, let me wash it in this big tin basin,
battered and shiny like the moon. 

 - The Shampoo, Elizabeth Bishop

There’s a certain look Shaw gets when she’s tending your wounds. She looks over your injuries the way a master player looks at a chessboard: intent, clinical, expert.

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” she says, dabbing the healing flesh of your shoulder with a prep pad. Blots of dull blood blossom onto the pad—a painting in reverse—and the alcohol stings where it seeps into the wound.

“Lucky I have you then.”

She shoots you her stony look. Then her brow twitches, and she leans in close to you, taking a long, deep sniff.

“Root, you stink. And your hair is filthy.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“I’m serious. When’s the last time you washed yourself?”

“A few days ago. Kind of hard when you can’t lift your arms over your head.” You look meaningfully over at the sling hanging from the doorknob.

Shaw rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Come on, then,” she says, tossing the pad into the wastebasket and grabbing you by the hand. “Let’s get you clean.”

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anonymous asked:

number 1 for drabble meme, KC. Thanks!

1:  “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

A number one coming right up! Hope you like Kol lol If not…I’m sooo sorry xD On FF

Also, If you want one!

Half-Time Show Entertainment

“Caroline, you look positively delightful! Still, I am afraid half of your skirt has fallen off somewhere - not that I’m complaining.” Kol joked, lifting his drink to her presence.

“Ha…funny, the skirt is supposed to be this short, and by the way you’re looking at my legs, it does its job fabulously.”

“Dangerous words coming from my brother’s little love. Should I ask who you’re going off to seduce with your lovely legs?” Kol asked.

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anonymous asked:

true tho @unfazed anon maybe it's bc i'm more into cute than hot but when i see elise's abs i'm like ok she buff but whenever natasha accidently flashes us i'm just "nOOT NOOT OMG"!!! i just love elise's laugh 010000000% tho it's so cute

@anon, you don’t need to make it a competition between who’s hotter. They’re both ridiculously gorgeous. I did call Elise’s abs dreamboat after all. The reason I’m unfazed is because we’ve seen them on her IG, AA, LV’s shoot and a lot of the crop top/skirt combos she seems to be a fan wearing. I love them both equally and however they choose to dress/express themselves. It was just me being silly, anyway

Haha it’s ok anons!  It’s ok to have a preference or to be unfazed :3  Y’all should know by now I’m attracted to dark/black haired girls so Natasha is physically my type but there’s no way you could make me choose between Elise and Natasha d:  I love those 2 equally but it’s ok if others dont!! (:  Just don’t make it a competition on who’s better (at least on my blog) D:

Anyways, remember this picture of Natasha?

I have never cut my nails short so quickly I’m jk

anonymous asked:

Which Disney Prince do you think Tom would be and which Disney princess do you think you would be?

I don’t know if I’ve ever been a ‘princess’ person, really. The riding-in-pumpkin-carriages and singing-about-true-love’s-kiss never seemed like something I could get into. I’ve always been more of a Wizard of Oz fan, myself.

But if I had to settle on one, I wouldn’t entirely mind being Merida from Brave for a day. I like the way she thinks, the way she makes her fate her own. I can say from experience that that’s a difficult thing to do, and I’d bet even more so with all of that curly orange hair in her face.

And as for @askthomasvincentkeen​, he talked earlier about maybe being like [Flynn Rider], but between you and me, I’m pretty sure that Flynn was the first of the very few significant male Disney character he knows of and could think of on the spot. Regardless, it was pretty accurate.

anonymous asked:

I love Android 18 so much . And the way you draw her, she always looks so pretty in your drawings. I wish I could draw her, but for me her eyes always stump me though, so hard to get right! . How do you do it T_____________T. Also curious, what is the hardest part for you to draw her?

As for me, I have ALWAYS struggled so much with HER HAIR, of all things….It took me SO frikking LONG to finally get right, it’s ridiculous. Her eyes can be tricky, trust me you’re not the only one. Even the Toei animators can’t draw them consistent all the time LMAO.


Kym had just finished Monday night’s show. She and Mr.T answered the questions for all the after-the-show interviewers. She now drove up her driveway and walked inside.
Kym set her gym bag down, she was exhausted. Robert waited up for her and met her kissing and hugging her.
“Baby you did a great job, I love watching you dance every week.”
“Thank you,” Kym answers. She smiles at him still wrapped in his arms, but she felt she was still needing something.

Kym just wanted to take a shower and get everything out of her hair and the makeup off her face. So after a few more kisses she made her way up to the bathroom.
She was standing there staring into the mirror, trying to reach around and pull all the ties and bobby pins out of her hair. She was in a funk. She knew she was tired, but it was something more.
Robert comes in and sees her still working on her hair, so he simply walks in and takes over. Carefully removing the pins and undoing the braids. Kym just watching him in aye. This was what she needed.

She turns to him, “Robert. I’m so disappointed in our scores. I know Mr. T poured his heart into that dance, but we still got 5s.”
He sees the sadness in her eyes, “Baby you both did great, now don’t worry about that dance, it’s over, you’ll never do that dance again. Just look forward to the next dance.” They both smile knowing that’s what she told him after he was disappointed with their scores.
Kym just realized what she needed, she thought she was tired from having 2 years off and her body aching from being 40 and still trying to keep up with the 25 year olds. But it wasn’t physical, it was mental. “Babe, I thought I was exhausted from being older and taking 2 years off, but I just realized it’s a mental thing. Last time I went through this I had you. We did this together, the good and the bad, we could talk about everything. And no matter how bad the judges scores were I knew that these arms were waiting for me.”
“Well I’m here for whatever emotional support you need. No matter how far you go in the competition, or whatever you do in life, you’ll always find these arms waiting for you.”

Kym still didn’t know how she got so lucky. How they were able to find each other. But they did. And she felt like it was the greatest love story ever written.
“Thank you baby, I love you.”
“I love you more,” Robert whispers. They kiss. Kym felt a renewed sense of energy. She takes a quick shower then gets into bed. She snuggles into Robert’s arms. What she was needing, she had. And she fell asleep peacefully knowing she would have it forever.

It’s You That I Hold Onto (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Originally posted by sweetly87

✩ prompt: a lovely anon message a few posts back :) includes a jelly reader and an overprotective thunderbird

✩ word count: a fair amount idk man

✩ warnings: so sweet u could possibly get a toothache :(

It’s You That I Hold Onto

It’s a typical Saturday evening in the Goldstein residence (plus a few), Queenie and Jacob waltzing to sleepy crackling records, dappled golden mid-winter light on the wallpaper, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. 

Everything seems perfect to Y/N as she makes her way to the living room, her brilliant crimson skirt swishing rather gracefully about her waist, her hair (for once!) cooperating falling over her shoulders smoothly.

Queenie smiles at her, elegantly breaking away from Jacob to switch which record is playing, new music erupting from the golden phonograph.

“Would ya’ care to dance?” Jacob asks, giving her a rather sloppy grin and holding out his hand.

Y/N nods gleefully, enjoying the time with one of her best friends as the stout man spins her about the room, Queenie clapping to the music.

Newt’s eyes flick to the duo dancing gleefully through the living room, his gaze caught on the pretty woman in his arms. How that skirt shows off her hips-

He looks away immediately, blushing and mentally kicking himself for being “an absolute bloody creep.”

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I always thought that when people said “everything is not as it seems” it was always a bad thing. Until I met her. She was beautiful from the start, hair soft and eyes bright. She was shy at first, looking at the ground smiling lightly whenever offered a compliment or a dance. She had the attention of many despite finding comfort in the shadows of the bar. There was an aura about her. The way her dress rippled over her every time she laughed. The way her shoes bumped against the side of the chair as she swung her legs back and forth. The way her piercing caught the light every time she wrinkled her nose. I couldn’t look away, but I couldn’t look either. She was enticing but dangerous and I brushed it off as the alcohol.

Until she was in the internet cafe downtown and I felt my palms clench so tightly my nails almost drew blood. She was typing quickly so I told myself she was doing something important. A weak excuse to leave without approaching. But not without noticing the way she bit her lip as she concentrated. Or the way her jeans frayed at the ends and hovered just above the floor. Or the way she drank her coffee with no hesitation.

It was when we sat next to each other on the bus that I decided I had to take a chance and say hello. Fate was only giving me one last chance I came to think as my heart pounded so hard inside my chest I thought I might collapse. As I stumbled over my words she let her eyes slide to the floor and laughed quietly. As I told her stories of my childhood she pressed her chin into her palm and listened as if I was sharing the best secret she’d ever heard. As I typed my number into her phone she sat on both her hands and smiled. As I got off the stop before her, she pressed her nose against the window and waved goodbye like a little kid. And as I walked home I realised she was far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

I found myself sat across from her a few days later in her favourite burger joint, oil dripping down both of our cheeks. When we laughed in unison it felt timeless. When we linked fingers on the table it felt like magic. When we kissed on her doorstep at the end of the night it felt like home.

I got used to her head on my shoulder as we watched a movie, stealing my popcorn after she finished her own during the trailers. I got used to the way her music was always way too loud when we shared headphones. I got used to the way she smelled after a hot shower before work. I got used to the way it felt to have her trace ‘I love you’ on my back as we fell asleep on the couch. I never got used to her saying it out loud.

She was the first leaf to fall in autumn. She was the smell of grass after it rains. She was the spark against the matchbox that lights the flame. She was not the calm but the storm itself. She was the crunch of footsteps on the first layer of snow. She was the wind that blows through your hair. She was not the warm sand on the beach, rather the cool water that makes you scream then sigh in relief.

She was a firework waiting to explode. You know that when it does it will be spectacular, but you don’t know what it will look like until it happens. I knew she would take my breath away as soon as I saw her, but I didn’t know just how breathless I would feel. She is more than you could expect and nothing you thought you ever needed.

So when someone says to me that everything is not as it seems, I would have to agree. She is far more than a label of a relationship or a partner. She is the warmth that some crave their entire life but never find. Her soul is the missing puzzle piece in my mind. She is danger. She is beauty. And she is home.

—  gentle-falling 

okay but how LONG yall wanna bet alex has been DYING to touch maggie’s hair, brush it away from her face, and lean in and kiss her and have maggie KISS HER BACK this time and like there’s so much yearning in the way alex takes maggie’s face and kisses her and once their lips touch it’s just, everything in the world slows down and it’s just maggie’s lips on hers and it feels like heaven

Yana’s twitter posts about Elizabeth (2017/01/24)

English translation:

It’s hard to make an effort and keep being the ‘lovely person someone wants you to be’. No one really wants to be stripped off of all their equipment and reveal their vulnerable part that remained at the end.

If someone told you to fight zombies - in underwear and with your set hair totally rumpled - in front of the person you love the most, it’d be totally devastating. That’s why back when I drew that scene, I kept in mind to draw her in a way that at least the readers would find cute. Considering the manga takes place in the Victorian era, the way Lizzie is dressed [in the Campania arc] can be compared to [modern women] wearing only their bra and underwear.

It’s such a trivial detail but since Ciel is smaller than Lizzie, she can’t button the jacket she borrowed from him. However, she keeps wearing it until the very end because the boy she’s in love with lent it to her. I think it’s typical of boys at his [Ciel’s] age to try to do something cool but be unable to really pull it off.


♡Proofread by lovely @minacchin♡ (Thank you so much for your great help!)


I remember when I first realised I liked her. Everything she did from then on became ineffable to me, every single thing. The way she would run her fingers through her hair, that made my heart stop for just a second. The way she tapped her pinky finger on her bottom lip when she was trying to focus, that made the smile on my face linger a little longer. The way she’d subconsciously drag her nails across my thigh while in conversation, that made me have to squeeze my thighs together gently. But my favourite thing about her was looking into her eyes — it was like looking up at the night sky and witnessing a thousand shooting stars dance across the sky all at once. That was my favourite. But the worst, God, it was the worst. Was knowing just how weak she made me.
—  k.f

Luke and his kiddo 

‘Remember? When we were kids, Clary and I, you brought us here. We roasted marshmallows. Clary got one stuck in her hair. And Jocelyn had to cut it out. Yeah? Clary cried, like, the whole way home because she thought she looked like a boy. But you told her that she was still beautiful, and that you would always love her.’

her colors are muted and she looks tired.
‘holding up,’ she says,
and i’m just holding up too but god, this contrast;
light and dark,
soft and bold,
melancholy and anger,
beauty and the furthest thing from it.
she is unsettling, yet…
not in a bad way.
not at all.

and she is lovely.
her eyes are gentle,
blue like twilight
(and i understand for the first time why
they’re supposed to be the windows to the soul).
her hair is not spun gold
and she doesn’t shine like the sun;
she is the moon in all its glory.
the kind of light she carries cannot be explained–
it’s in her bones and the way she walks,
and the way she speaks.
like she doesn’t want to be seen or heard.

but she is beautiful.

god built the universe
with a voice like that.

—  when a girl loves a girl the stars fall to the earth.

She brightens up my world in a way I never thought was possible. Genuine, unconditional love is what I have for this tiny being. She has added so much joy to my happiness and I don’t know how I was living before her life intertwined with mine…and it doesn’t matter because now I live for us. This is a true forever thing, I’m forever grateful.

I’ve been falling in love with girls since before I even knew falling in love with girls was something I was allowed to do. Sometimes, these girls’ lives would intertwine with mine for just a fractional part of our lives - the girl I met in the park once when I was eight, with her long blonde hair, for example, or the girl with the stunning blue eyes at the week long gymnastics camp I’d gone to that summer. Other times, they’d be in my life for the long haul, like the girl who was in my class the whole way through primary school who made my heart beat faster every time I asked for one of her felt pens. Or the girl in Mrs C’s class with the smile I couldn’t help but stare at every time I looked at yearbook photos. Now and again, they’d be sort of inbetween - my violin teacher, who I saw once a week who sort of smelled like jasmine, or the girl in the year above me who always wore Converse to school even though we weren’t allowed. When she graduated a year before me, I missed seeing her brown curls bounce as she walked into assembly every Wednesday morning.

But yet, this love never seemed like love. “What was love?” I asked myself when I was ten or eleven. Love was what I felt for the boy in the pantomime I’d gone to see who was decently attractive and around my age. Love was what I felt for the boy in my form class in first year. “I could love him,” I told myself as the sunlight hit his face one Tuesday morning in Home Ec. Love was what I felt for boys, what I’d have felt for my boyfriend had I been pretty enough to get one, what I’d feel for my husband when I got older. But I never really did feel it.

What if love to me was what I felt for the girl who sat across from me in Biology who was so beautiful I became “jealous” of her? What if love was why I couldn’t help staring at that third year girl every Thursday afternoon as we passed in the corridor before Maths? What if love to me meant girls?

I mean, I had pondered why girls had to love smelly old boys in the canteen line aged six. Eventually, I acknowledged that my brief infatuation with other girls was, in fact, infatuation.

From my violin teacher, the girl in the park, the girl in my class when I was seven, eight, nine, to the waitress at that restaurant in town who said my shirt was cute last week. To the girl who’d said my eyes were pretty on Instagram on Wednesday. To the girl in the changing rooms before netball practice yesterday who said my long hair was beautiful.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving girls. And yeah, sometimes it shocks me how the strength of my love didn’t break through the secrets and the lies and gravitate me towards that realisation sooner, but I guess the only thing that can bury love that strong is hate even stronger.

—  random thoughts I had at 3am some night last week

“You never loved me anyways.” She whispered. I looked at the woman in front of me. Her long dark hair, she cut it all off. She looked more mature, confident, but yet so fragile when she saw me. I wanted to protect her from all the harm, danger and pain. I wanted to wipe away the tears she wasted on me.

“Don’t look for me anymore.” Lie. When she noticed me, I felt my world stopped spinning. The way her brown eyes always sparkled. I remembered how she hated them because she was jealous of mine. Though she will never see it the way I do. Her eyes hid a story, the only story I want to read for the rest of my life. Only one look at her and all my pain vanished away.

“You need to find someone else.” Lie. I want you to fight for me, fight for my demons, to get me out of here. Fight for me like you always used to do. I want you to win me. I know loving me was the hardest yet easiest thing she has ever done. She looked at me, she was trying to read my eyes. That was her magic, she never believed my words and looked for the truth in my eyes. Her eyes brought such warmth with her, every time I looked at her, I knew I was home.

“There is no hope left for us.“

“Lie.” She whispered.

—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #1193 // @writtenbyjana on Instagram