it has eyelashes

4

There is a design parallel between the Mario Bros. and the princesses traditionally paired up with them. The number of eyelashes on Princess Peach’s eyes - six - matches the number of curved segments in Mario’s mustache. Likewise, Princess Daisy has two eyelashes on each eye, which matches Luigi’s two-segment mustache. Whether this is a coincidence or a deliberate design choice is unknown.

i can’t decide between quoting lucky i’m in love with my best friend and lucky we’re in love in every way from this song that resonates with this picture, and my feelings, perfectly

seamus and dean you guys

8

Right. We’ll always be together. So, Sho…Find Kan this time.

He’s just like I was back then. Lost. You’re the only one who can stop him. Please find his heart. Kan thinks he’s all alone in the world. He’s crying inside.

anonymous asked:

Everyone??? Has??? Eyelashes??? Why do people think that eyelashes=female??????

as an actual serious answer, it’s because eyelashes have been used to denote femaleness in cartoons since forever. animal characters especially are usually given long eyelashes and bows so that there can be NO DOUBT about whether the character is male or female.

of course, eyelashes and accessories are neither male- nor female-exclusive! in a twist of irony, our frisk has the shortest eyelashes of the bunch here.

Larry Play I Spy
  • Louis: Oh I know, let's play I spy!
  • Liam: I know how this ends.
  • Niall: Don't we all?
  • Louis: Harry gets to go first!
  • Liam: Shocker.
  • Louis: Can you please watch your tone Liam. Go on Haz.
  • Harry: I spy with my little eye something beginning with L.
  • Liam: Louis.
  • Harry: No! Give me some credit.
  • Niall: Louis' bum?
  • Louis: I'm sitting down.
  • Liam: I'm half convinced he has X-Ray vision. Only explanation for that kind of staring. Okay um.....Louis' eyes?
  • Harry: Aren't they pretty? But no, wrong again.
  • Louis: Louis' pretty eyelashes?
  • Harry: Flutter them for me? *sigh* So pretty.
  • Liam: Stop. I'll puke. Did he win?
  • Harry: Nope.
  • Louis: I won your heart babe.
  • Harry: Damn straight.
  • Niall: Someone get me a bucket now.
  • Liam: I'm done. Final guess. Louis' mouth? Not like you've looked at much else.
  • Harry: Wrong again. The answer is...drum roll pleeeease baby?
  • Louis: *drum roll*
  • Harry: LOVE OF MY LIFE
  • Liam: Every. Fucking. Time.
  • Niall: It's a wee bit cute.
  • Louis: MARRY ME
  • Harry: YES BABY
  • Liam: They remember their wedding right?
  • Niall: Only thinking about their wedding NIGHT by the looks of things. Time to evacuate.
  • Louis: I'M UP ALL NIGHT TO GET LUCKY.
  • Liam: Oh fuck. He's getting louder, Harry's about to do the only thing he can to shut him up.
  • Louis: WHEN I THINK ABOUT YOU, I TOUCH MYS-

“Are y'all going to see GotG Vol2 this weekend? I know I am… I want to check it out in the IMAX theater… this is a photo of me getting ready. It’s a behind, behind the scene shot. btw, this could very well be me in preparation for the big scene with Chris Pratt toward the end of the film. As I detail my beard.”

From Rooker’s IG

Tacos and Tequila - Ch.1

Said I wasn’t gonna post this till I’d written it all but hey I’m a big lying liar. This is a College AU inspired by a ridiculous prompt from @bugheadjonesiii which happens to be the title of this fic. So yeah, there’s that.

Betty drives almost four hours in a snowstorm to visit her best friend, Archie Andrews, at college, only to arrive and find out that Archie isn’t home, won’t be returning, and hadn’t even told his roommate she was coming. Snowed in and less than happy about it, Betty might come to learn that 48 hours trapped with Jughead Jones won’t be that bad after all.

Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Read on AO3


Before

Betty is out of breath by the time she makes it to the top of the staircase, dragging her uncooperative suitcase behind her – it had gotten stuck on every obstacle possible, flipping over more than once and nipping at the backs of her heels the rest of the time. She’d stood outside the student apartment building for a good ten minutes before someone had come by to let her in, her persistent pressing of Archie’s buzzer going entirely unanswered.

“Oh, hey, hold the door please!” she’d yelled, hurrying to catch it before it swung shut on her once again. She’d stepped away in the hopes of reaching Archie on his cell phone instead, but had once again had no luck. The disinterested student barely stopped to slide his hand across the glass, pinning it open for a fraction of a second longer, Betty managing to catch the heavy weight with the tips of her frostbitten fingers. “Thanks,” she had huffed under her breath, sarcasm laced heavily in her tone.

To add to her plight the elevator had had a bright white sign slapped across it that read ‘out of order’, forcing her to take the stairs. Betty wasn’t unfit by any means, but right now she was tired, drained even, and wanted nothing more than to get inside her best friend’s room and just collapse on the nearest soft surface.

It wasn’t exactly how she’d wanted to arrive either. Bags beneath her eyes, drenched from standing in the flurry of snow that had started to come down mid-drive. The same snow that had already set her nerves on edge as she felt the road slicken beneath her tires. She pauses, trying to catch her breath and swipe some of the hair stuck to her damp skin away, before continuing down the hallway in search of Archie’s room, hoping the flush in her cheeks would fade by the time she found it.

The numbers 403 flash before her eyes and she knocks, fingers of her free hand fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater while she waits.

The door swings open and the first thing Betty thinks is naked.

Her eyes widen comically as she is met with an expanse of skin, wet and glistening slightly under the fluorescent lighting above. She rakes her gaze over the hard planes of the stranger’s chest before she can stop herself, noting the subtle ridges of abs – not nearly as defined as the ones she was used to catching glimpses of out of her bedroom window, but definitely still there – and a smattering of dark hair trailing down below a soft, white towel…

Her head snaps up, all efforts to rid her cheeks of their previous flush now in vein as she swallows nervously. The stranger is staring back at her, face unnervingly guarded. Betty clears her throat, holding her chin a fraction higher in an attempt to seem more put together than she is feeling. The stranger runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing back the long, ebony curls from in front of steady blue eyes. He has really long eyelashes, Betty thinks distractedly, before scrambling to pull her mind back from the diversion it had decided to take.

“Um, hi. I’m looking for Archie Andrews? I’m…”

“Betty Cooper.” Betty’s head bounces back in surprise at the sound of her name on his lips, snapping her mouth closed instantly. The corner of his own mouth tilts upwards minutely into an upper-handed smirk. “The blonde from the pictures,” he says by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely behind him.

Betty can’t stop the warmth that spreads throughout her chest at this statement; the knowledge that Archie had pictures up of her in his college room, had told people her name, settles comfortably in her stomach. The vague recollection of a name in a phone call pokes around the edges of her memory.

“And you’re… Jughead?” she asks warily, the nickname feeling foreign on her tongue.

“The one and only,” Jughead replies. There is a beat of silence as neither make a move to continue the conversation.

“Forgive my asking, but what exactly are you doing here?” Jughead finally questions, tilting his head inquisitively. The warmth in Betty’s chest turns to ice. His eyes feel intrusive as they stare back at her, making her want to curl in on herself until she becomes invisible.

“I… Archie didn’t say anything?” she mumbles, willing the prickle in the corner of her eyes not to turn to tears. Jughead shakes his head slightly. Betty nods, fingernails slipping from the hem of her sweater to the soft skin of her palm, poised just above the flesh. He’s just busy, it’s first semester after all, a reassuring voice tries to tell her. “I’m visiting for the weekend,” she tells Jughead, plastering an overly bright smile on her face. Jughead’s expression falters at her words.

“Archie isn’t here,” he says slowly, eyes taking on a certain wariness as he watches a range of emotions flit across Betty’s features. “He took off with some girl a few days ago and hasn’t come back yet.”

Some girl. There was always some girl, Betty thinks dejectedly, but that girl was never her. Embarrassment strikes white hot down her spine, glazing her eyes over as her nails pierce the skin of her palms. “Oh,” she whispers, unable to make her voice come out any louder.

“Do you want to hit me?” The unusual question snaps Betty out of her sudden spiral. Her brow furrows delicately and it’s her turn to regard him warily.

“Excuse me?”

His eyes lower pointedly to her clenched fists. She follows his gaze, immediately flexing her fingers. “Because, hey, I’d understand.” Betty shuts her eyes briefly, exhaling slowly out of her nose before looking back at the boy in the doorway.

“No, I don’t want to hit you,” she says in a more even tone, hints of amusement creeping in around the edges. He smiles at that, and Betty can’t help but note that the simple action softens his whole demeanour. A lump catches in her throat. “I just… I drove three and a half hours to see my best friend, who I haven’t seen in months, and he isn’t even here. And it’s snowing, and I nearly crashed on the way over here because some drivers are assholes, and students are assholes, and so are professors for that matter; did you know that one of mine sprung a surprise paper on us the other day and I had to complete it early before leaving to come here? Only to find out, as I’ve said before, Archie isn’t here and didn’t tell his roommate I was even coming,” she exhales, feeling her body lighten with every word that passes her lips, sagging against the handle of her suitcase.

Jughead’s eyes have crinkled around the corners as he regards her with mild enjoyment, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. He looks as if he’s about to say something before changing his mind and pulling his lower lip between his teeth.

“What?” Betty asks with a sigh, sensing his hesitation. She doesn’t even care that she’s just unloaded her every frustration on this unsuspecting man, clad only in his towel, in the doorway of his college residence.

“You blink when you say the word ‘asshole’,” he tells her, that devilish smirk slipping back onto his face. Betty looks at him indignantly.

“No, I don’t,” she retorts before even figuring out why she feels she should be offended by his accusation. “I’m perfectly capable of saying ‘asshole’ without blinking.”

“You blinked again.” She purses her lips together because damn it, he’s right. She did blink. She supposes it was many years of Alice Cooper telling her that ladies didn’t use such foul language. She scoffed internally – she’s certainly heard her mother using more than a few choice words during the less than quiet arguments she had with Betty’s father, Hal.

There’s that silence again as both of them continue to stare, neither moving as Betty rocks back on her heels. Eventually, she sighs, ready to admit defeat.

“Well, I better be going; long drive back,” she murmurs as she grips the handle of her suitcase more firmly and turns to head back towards the stairs. Jughead stares at her retreating figure before his manners suddenly kick in.

“Oh, man. Shit–  Betty! Wait, you can’t drive all the way back now,” Jughead calls after her, starting to step out into the hallway, one hand clutching at the knot in his towel. She turns to face him, teeth chewing on the plush skin of her lower lip. He flushes, looking up and down the corridor before stepping out towards her.

“I don’t mean to be an asshole,” he begins, pointedly exaggerating the curse while he looks at her unblinkingly, garnering a laugh. “But you look exhausted, and the weather is hell. You shouldn’t be out driving. Just… come inside for a while, okay?” he asks, ducking his head to meet her eyes better. The stray fly-aways framing her face are dampened with melting snowflakes. Betty looks up at him from beneath her lashes, debating his request. In all actuality there’s no real debate. She is exhausted and the thought of rolling her tires over the absolute death trap once called roads outside sets her teeth on edge. She sighs again, nodding quickly before following him back towards the room.