let me comb it

anonymous asked:

Give us all the headcanons I love hearing them from you!

do crack headcanons count, Anon?? How about Oikawa finding Kuroo’s hair really irritating lol 

Hun, I don’t care if that is super duper hold hair gel you have. Nothing is going to tame that nest that is Kuroo’s bedhead, it’s permanent. 

a concept...

- yuri and otabek have to keep their relationship a secret for a couple years bc idk they just do

- otabek visits yuri in russia for a week and stays with him, yuuri and victor

- when yuuri and victor go out to run errands, yuri and otabek finally get to have the sexy time™

- they take it slow since it has been so long, and every time they hear a creak in the house they freeze up bc they think its yuuri and victor coming home

- “yura, it was nothing” “i swear i heard those fuckers”

- when they finally finish, and otabek is hovering over yuri, yuri cupping otabeks face, the two panting heavily… they hear the front door click

- they start rushing around, throwing on whatever clothes they can find while trying to make as little noise as possible

- yuri grabs a bottle of deodorant and sprays it on himself, then throws it at otabek who does the same

- they think they sly by trying to cover up the smell of sex but they are just making it seem more suss

- yuri trying to comb his hair so he doesn’t look like he was just ravished

- “let me comb my hair too, yura” “beka, your hair is always messy, its fine”

- when victor and yuuri go to check on the two boys, they are awkwardly pretending to watch a movie on yuri’s laptop

- yuri and otabek think they got away with it, but yuuri and victor could tell something was up bc of the strong smell of deodorant, how awkward they were being and the fact that the two were wearing each others clothes

- pretty much yuri and otabek running around like lovestruck teenagers behind everyones backs bc they aRE LOVESTRUCK TEENAGERS

rachelhanke27  asked:

Hey Charlie! First off, I adore your art. It gives me all the feels. Secondly, since you're primarily a self taught artist I'm wondering if you have any resources you strongly recommend for someone hoping to someday have a similar job to yours in concept art? If you've already answered this question just let me know and I'll comb through your blog to find it!


I think, along with resources, I’d always recommend having a good idea of what ‘area’ you want to work in too. My job is kind of a strange one (in that it’s an house job but we’re not producing the games or films or actual products.) We are a step in the production line. I get to be part of sweet projects, but also I get to be part of many… I’m not locked into whatever a studio might be making for 2 or 3 years etc. My fingers are in a lotta pies.

The reason I say that is because a lot of people coming into concept will likely need more skills than I have. I am 95% a 2D artist. I work with 3D but very rarely, and not enough to know the inns and outs. I like 2D… and I consider illustration to be the sweetest spot of all the work I do, so I’m quite happy with that balance (and I’m an old fucking curmudgeon and I don’t wanna learn no 3D.)

If you went for a traditional role in a games studio, it will probably be more expected for you to be fluent in 3D. Not always of course! But it’s likely another good skillset to have. Purely 2D (just art focused) roles are not something that I see as often as mutiltasking roles. Which makes a lot of sense. 2D art is often mostly needed at the beginning of a project, and briefly at the end. In my seven years at Atomhawk I’ve seen a lot of people in other studios laid off, and a lot of studios go under. So, multitasking roles mean people will always have something to do.

APOLOGIES. I’M SOUNDING A LITTLE DOOM AND GLOOM. Great jobs exists! People will always make cool stuff!

I’m very much a jack of all trades and my job demands a lot of different things: characters / turn arounds / outfit designs / expression sheets / illustration / marketing art / pitch art / but it’s all primarly focused around characters. So. If characters are what you want - look into that! I would say that when it comes to apply for / getting work etc, we always love to see range. If someone isn’t showing me all the process behind their work it’s likely the first thing I’m going to ask for when it comes to an interview. I think if you have shiny work (on a freelance basis) a client would have enough confidence in the end result. But for a production role like mine, I wanna see that stuff.

Rough sketches through to shiny polished work. The whole lot. I want it all. I want to see people’s thinking! I’m rambling.

First of all: be able to draw well. Know your characters. Know your figures. Know your anatomy enough to make it convincing and be able to twist it when you need to. We get a lot of people who apply, who, quite simply (don’t hate me) are not good enough yet. We have people who work in tons of different styles and methods but at the heart of it, they can draw well.

DESIGN. Mother of god. Design. Drawing well is the first step, but you also have to have that creative flair to be able to come up with ideas and be able to sell them convincingly. Drawing the thing is only half the battle. No one wants a beautifully rendered character wearing the most impractical / boring outfit you’ve ever seen (just an example). Thinking logically about design is something I’ve seen underestimated many times over the years. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it’s more important than someones drawing abilities. When it comes down to it, drawing is just the tool to represent the design.

Resources wise: the internet is your oyster! Cast a wide net. Create the kind of work you want to do but also push yourself. I think the results are usually better when artists find an area they’re good in and the push the boundaries of that. Better than trying to be a jack of every single trade possible. Don’t have an awesome portfolio full of character work and then think ‘oh, wait, this is just characters, maybe I should stick a fucking car in there too?’ YOU KNOW? Do what you do - and do it well.

Briefly just a few of the things that helped me most: any massive black videos you can find. Mostly for process. Jason Chan’s videos easily had the most impact for me, both in learning how to improve my process and painting the kind of characters I wanted to. Micheal Hampton and Mike Mattesi (force) for anatomy and energy in poses. Your peers! Your favourite artists in the industry at the moment! The places and people you will learn the most from are always so very individual.

Shit that was long. Good luck!

PS. It’s also my humble opinion that you should never take all of your advice from just one person - just take the pieces that click for you :)

anonymous asked:

117 and 120, for the drabbles please?? They could go together, I think? But if not, either/or. I feel like that's kind of a Patton thing! Or Virgil. Maybe Moxiety, then? Thanks!

117. “Can I do your hair?” and 120. “He’s pampering me, let him be.”

warnings: none that i can think of, but if you need absolutely anything tagged please let me know!

It starts when Thomas purchases a new comb. Patton is, as he is with all new things, utterly infatuated with it. While Virgil doesn’t exactly understand why—it’s really just a plastic comb, there’s nothing special there—this has happened before, and he knows it’ll wear off within the week. On one hand, he’s glad, because when Patton becomes obsessed with something, no matter how minor, Virgil will inevitably begin to worry about it.

On the other hand, however, he thinks that he might miss it, because Patton is determined to use the comb at any and all opportunities—even if it’s just to smooth down a stray hair or an excuse to relax—and, more often than not, he decides to use it on the other sides. Virgil can’t find it within himself to complain about that.

Actually, it’s kinda nice.

So, when Morality pops into the living room with comb in hand and asks, “Can I do your hair?” there’s no way Anxiety can fathom saying no.

“Sure,” he says, slipping his headphones off. “Whatever.”

Patton claps his hands and sits next to Virgil on the couch, motioning for him to turn around. Virgil obliges—at least when he’s face away from Patton, there’s no way the other side will be able to see his eyes fluttering shut because people touching his hair feels good, okay?

As Patton runs the comb through his hair, he keeps up a constant stream of chatter—what he did today, what he’s doing tomorrow, what kind of dog they should get if they ever get a dog—and Virgil does his best to focus, but god. There are little, pleasant prickles running across his scalp and the muscles in his neck and shoulders are already relaxing.

“Here,” Patton says, and the comb stops moving through his hair for one unhappy second. “Lean back, sleepy head.”

Virgil could grumble and gripe, but—well, this is Patton. So instead of protesting, he allows himself to be coaxed into leaning against Patton’s chest. The comb resumes its blissful, relaxing strokes and Virgil sighs happily. He feels a gentle kiss pressed to the top of his ear and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. God, sometimes life is good.

And then Roman bursts into the living room and ruins it—of course he does.

“Patton, I require your assistance immediately,” he says, and Virgil cracks an eye open to see Roman brandishing his sword. He doesn’t seem to be injured or scared, however, so Virgil lets his eyes close again. It’s not his problem unless it takes Patton—and thus soothing sensations running through his body—away.

“Can it wait, kiddo? I’m—”

“Absolutely not. I’m hungry and—”

“He’s pampering me,” Virgil grumbles, dropping more of his weight onto Patton’s chest in an attempt to keep him from moving, “let him be.”

“That’s right,” Morality says, and he sounds unreasonably delighted. “I am pampering you. Roman, there’s pizza in the fridge—”

Cold pizza,” Roman whines. “And what about me? I wanna be pampered too.”

Virgil glowers at him. “No. It’s my turn.”

“Buddy, you know how to use a microwave, and it is Verge’s turn.”

After a copious amount of complaining, Roman finally concedes to microwave some pizza and wait for his own goddamn turn. As he turns to leave, Patton—ever affectionate—says, “I love you too, Ro, I promise.”

As Roman turns to respond, Virgil sticks his tongue out at him.

Pat, he’s making fun of me!”

Dad!Shawn. Baby Fever

A/N: A little dad Shawn for you. Enjoy! Plus please send me requests, writers block sucks. 

Ever since Shawn found you that you were pregnant he has been way protective. Well, more than usual. 

When he found out you were having a little girl, it only got worse.

“Now I have my Queen and my Princess to take care of.” He would say when the topic came up. 

Fast Forward a bit and she’s now three. 

She’s got his brown curly hair and his brown eyes, but she’s got your sassy personality. 

You roll over ready to cuddle into your husbands chest but his side of the bed is empty. You sit up confused, checking the clock.

2:17 am

“Shawn?” You whisper out.

You hear nothing in response. 

The light to your bathroom is off, and he always leaves it on so you know he isn’t in there. 

You start to wonder out of your room, praying that he isn’t up late stressing about work again. 

You sneak into his office and notice that the room is dark and that he isn’t in there.

“Shawn?” You ask out again. 


You start moving down the hall, headed for the stairs thinking he got hungry and maybe ventured for a snack. 

But you hear him singing your daughters favorite song so you follow that sound. 

Her door is open slightly and you peak your head in. The light is off but her butterfly night light illuminates the room a soft pink. 

His back is to you and your baby girl is clinging to him as he rocks her softly back and forth, singing ‘Never Be Alone’ to her. You smile at the scene in front of you. 

You lean against the door frame and listen to him sing, secretly it’s your favorite song too. When she expressed for the first time that it was her favorite you weren’t surprised because that’s what you played on repeat when he was away while you were pregnant. 

He makes his swaying into a circle and sees your face. You smile at him but he is still singing softly. He now knows that his audience has gotten a little bigger. 

“Is she asleep?” He asks.

“Yeah, what happened?” You whisper walking to him slowly. He continues to sway her back and forth.

“I woke up to go to the bathroom and heard her crying. I ran in to see what was wrong, she always slept threw the night. She told me that she didn’t feel good, she’s running a fever.” He says in all one breath. 

“Ok.” You nod.

“I didn’t know what to do so I called mom.” He sighs looking at the floor.

“You called mom?” You ask. 

You’ve been calling Karen mom for years, being with Shawn since high school it just became the way you addressed her. The same for Manny, you call him dad.

“Yeah, it’s just my first response.” He shrugged slightly, hoping not to wake the sleeping toddler attached to his shoulder. 

“You could have woken me up.” You laugh lightly.

“Yeah that’s what mom said.” He chuckles. “Anyway, she told me to give her some Tylenol and change her into cooler pajamas.” He says, making you notice the new ‘Moana’ jamies she is now in. 

“Wanna know a secret.” You whisper.


“I would have called mom too.” You laugh.

“See, I knew I was doing the right thing.” He laughs lightly.

“Honey you should put her down and go to sleep too. You have to be in the studio in the morning. I’ll call my boss tomorrow morning and let her know I can’t make it in.” You start off before he cuts you off.

“I already talked to Andrew, I cancelled my studio appointment.” He says as she hides her face into his neck. He smiles slightly.

“Shawn, why did you do that? You’re writing,” You start to protest.

“You have that big meeting tomorrow, all I am gonna be doing is sitting in a room messing with chords on my guitar. I can do that at home while she sleeps.” He says shutting your argument up. 

“Thank you.” You smile at him. He’s so thoughtful.

“Go back to bed babe, I got her.” He nods.

“You can come back to bed too, she’s asleep.” You say putting your hands on your hips.

“Yeah I know, I just want to hold her a bit longer.” He says so soft you almost can’t hear it.

“Ok.” You says rubbing his shoulder before walking out of her room back to yours.


<The Next Morning> 

You wake up and Shawn is still not in bed. You decide to let it go and get ready for your day. You take a shower and do your hair and make up before heading downstairs. 

Walking into the kitchen you see Shawn on the couch, asleep, with your daughter laying on his stomach, also asleep. You smile at them and take a quick picture with your phone, setting it as your new background. 

Your whole world is sleeping on the couch in front of you and you curse the fact that you have to leave for work. 

You walk over quietly and kiss the side of your daughters head softly and then your husbands forehead. 

“I love you both.” You whisper before leaving for work. 


<Once you get home>

“I know mom, I just don’t know what to do anymore. She isn’t getting better.” You hear Shawn. “Yes I’m stressing out, my baby is sick.” He says frustrated. You slip your shoes off and start walking to the kitchen. “Soon,” He says looking at the clock, he catches your gaze and you can see him relax. “Or now, she just walked in.” He says. He starts listening and then hands you the phone.

“Hey Mom.” You smile taking the phone.

“Hey Y/n” She says, calmly. “So miss Y/d/n is sick huh?”

“Honestly I haven’t been home or up long enough to assess her.” You say instantly feeling guilty. 

“I heard, I understand. Same thing happened when Shawn was her age.” She says making you feel better.

“Explain it to me?” You say. 

“Sounds to me that she has an ear infection. Wouldn’t shock me, Shawn had those all the time as a baby.” She says, you can imagine her smile.

“So we should take her in?” You ask.

“Yeah, just to be safe. They’ll give you some antibiotics for it and she should be better in the next few days.” She explains.

“Ok, thanks mom. Means a lot.” You say noticing your stressed out husband watching you intently.

“Ok, tell me how it goes.” She says before bidding her goodbyes and then hanging up. 

“Well?” Shawn asks. 

“Want me to take her in, so you can rest?” You ask grabbing your shoes.

“No I’m coming.” He says right on your trail. You agree and you both get her ready and take her to the ER. You drive so Shawn can sit in the back next to her. 


<After ER Visit>

“I’m gonna go get the antibiotics” Shawn says standing up from the couch. 

You guys had just gotten home from the ER and your baby was asleep next to you on the couch. She has been diagnosed with an ear infection, just like Mom had thought.

“Ok, can you get some orange juice?” You ask as he grabs his keys.

“Of course.” He says before walking out. 

Not even five minutes after he is gone Y/d/n wakes up and starts crying. 

“Wheres daddy?” She asks with tears running down her chubby face. You feel your heart break seeing her brown eyes so tearful.

“He went to get the stuff that’s gonna make you feel better baby.” You coo letting your hand comb through her hair.

“Can you hold me?” She asks blinking heavily.

“Of course baby.” You smile as she crawls into your lap. “You want me to sway you the way daddy does?” You ask and she nods. You pick her up and she clings to you the way she did Shawn. You start swaying and grab your phone and start playing her song and she calms down instantly. 

You continue to sway her and she asks you to sing to her. You turn your phone music off and hear the melody in your head as you softly sing her ‘Never Be Alone’. You will never match the way Shawn can do it but she falls asleep as you sing to her. 

“Ok that’s the cutest thing ever.” Shawn says setting a bag on the counter. You turn and look at him and see him smiling. “When did she wake up?” He asks.

“Five minutes after you left. Asked for Daddy, guess I’m second best.” You tease and he looks at you telling you that he didn’t like that joke. 

“You are not second best.” He says putting the orange juice into the fridge.

“I know, she’s just a Daddies girl.” You smile at him. He smiles too and starts to read the instructions for her meds. 

“God, she’s gonna hate me when I make her take this nasty pink shit. I know I hated it.” He groans.

“Want me to make her take it?” You ask him. He looks at you with hopeful eyes.

“No I got it.” He says. 

“Come take her.” You say to him. He walks over and you transfer her to his arms. 

“I said I got it.” He says as you walk to the counter.

“Yeah but your eyes said something else.” You grab the liquid and her sippy cup full of orange juice and walk over to them. “Baby.” You rub her shoulder.

“What Momma?” She whispers.

“Daddy got the stuff that will make you feel better. You just gotta drink this stuff and then I have some juice for you.” You say as she opens her big brown eyes. “Then Daddy is gonna sing to you.” You smile knowing that that will get her to take it. She nods and then you hand her the medicine and she takes it like a champ. She doesn’t even complain about the taste. 

“Did she take it?” Shawn asks.

“Yeah like two minutes ago” You say as she hands you her sippy cup. 

“She didn’t even complain.” He says confused.

“Yeah well I didn’t either when I had to take that.” You say walking to the kitchen. 

“Well we know where she got her personality from.” He winks at you. You smile and wash out her sippy cup. 

“Just sing Mendes.” You say as you start to walk up stairs. He follows you and takes her to your room. He lays on his back with his baby laying on his stomach. 

“C’here babe.” He says waving you over. You crawl into bed and he holds you with his free arm. 

“Got my Queen and my Princess, what else could I ask for.” He smiles down at you. 

anonymous asked:

cute fluffy harry blurb :((( - him waking up in the middle of the night after you had a little fight and coming upstairs off the couch to crawl in bed with you and he feels your tears on the pillows and he pulls you closer and you both apologize and he cuddles you all sweet

Fighting was never easy between the two of them. Pent up emotion let out in screaming matches that started in one part of the house and ended with him on the couch and her crying herself to sleep.

This fight, in particular, started out over something small. A glass slipped from her hand while she was putting away the dishes and shattered all over the counter, scaring her and startling him. She rushed to clean it up, embarrassed for causing such a disturbance in the post-dinner peace of their home, when she cut her hand. It wasn’t anything serious, but there was blood and there was still a mess to be cleaned up. 

Somehow, in the midst of cleaning the blur of glass and blood, an argument broke out between the two of them. Funny thing is, now neither of them can recall what exactly it was that made them so angry with each other. It happened every so often, the fighting. Both of them too hard-headed and stubborn to just shut up and let it go. They always had to let it escalate until they couldn’t stand to look at each other. However, they would come together and still love one and other all the same, growing stronger in their relationship.

It hurt his heart to see her cry, and it hurt her to get under his skin the only way she knew how to. It hurt them both to sleep alone, on opposite ends of the house. It called for tired nights of restless sleeping and minds racing, and to be honest, it was uncomfortable. This time, however, he couldn’t contain the want to be near her. He was growing more and more irritated at the fact that all he wanted to do was hold her, and he couldn’t. Or could he?

He approached the bedroom door and gently pushed it open, immediately hearing her soft cries and seeing her body shake with each breath. His whole demeanor shifted instantly. He wanted to take away all the pain he caused her. He crawled into bed behind her, alarming her at first until she took in the familiar scent and melted into his touch.

“I’m s’sorry, angel.” he sighed, kissing her head. “Didn’ mean a word of it, never do. Jus’ let my emotions get the best of me.” He combed his fingers through her hair and soothed away her tears. “Don’ like when yeh cry.”

“You know me,” she whispered, “just a big ole’ baby.”

“But you’re my big ole’ baby. Wouldn' ‘ave yeh any other way.” He kissed her head over and over again. “Love yeh so much. Always.”

“Even when I make you mad?”

“I said always, didn’ I?” He smiled.

She turned around in his grasp to place a sweet kiss on his lips, sighing in contentment. “I love you. Always.” She mocked, but she meant it all the same.

Diana’s Daily Lines - “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone” (Book 9)

#DailyLines #GoTELLTheBEESThatIAmGONE #Book9 #NoItsNotDone #PutThePossibilityOutOfYourMind#AllInGoodTime #migraine

“Lie down,” I said firmly, and pointed to my lap.

“Nay, I’ll be f—“

“I don’t care whether you’re fine or not,” I said. “I said, lie down.”

“I’ve work to—“

“You’ll be flat on your face in another minute,” I said. “Lie. Down.”

He opened his mouth, but a spasm of pain made him shut his eyes, and he couldn’t locate any words with which to argue. He swallowed, opened his eyes, and sat down beside me, very gingerly. He was breathing slowly and shallowly, as though drawing a deep breath might make things worse.

I stood up, took his shoulders and turned him gently so I could reach his plait. I undid his ribbon and unraveled the thick strands of auburn hair. It still was mostly red, though soft white threads caught the light here and there.

“Down,” I said again, sitting and pulling his shoulders toward me. He moaned a little, but stopped resisting and lowered himself very slowly, ‘til his head rested heavy in my lap. I touched his face, my fingers feather-light on his skin, tracing the bones and hollows, temples and orbits, cheekbones and jaw. Then I slid my fingers into the soft mass of his hair, warm in my hands, and did the same to his scalp. He let out his breath, carefully, and I felt his body loosen, growing heavier as he relaxed.

“Where does it hurt?” I murmured, making very light circles round his temples with my thumbs. “Here?”

“Aye…but…” He put up a hand, blindly, and cupped it over his right eye. “It feels like an arrow—straight through into my brain.”

“Mmm.” I pressed my thumb gently round the bony orbit of the eye, and slid my other hand under his head, probing the base of his skull. I could feel the muscles knotted there, hard as walnuts under the skin. “Well, then.”

I took my hands away and he let his breath out.

“It won’t hurt,” I reassured him, reaching for the jar of blue ointment.

“It does hurt,” he said, and squinched his eyelids as a fresh spasm seized him.

“I know.” I unlidded the jar, but let it stand, the sharp fragrance of peppermint, camphor and green peppercorns scenting the air. “I’ll make it better.”

He didn’t make any reply, but settled himself as I began to massage the ointment gently into his neck, the base of his skull, the skin of his forehead and temples. I couldn’t use the ointment so close to his eye, but put a dab under his nose, and he took a slow, deep breath. I’d make a cool poultice for the eye when I’d finished. For now, though…

“Do you remember,” I said, my voice low and quiet. “Telling me once about visiting Bird Who Sings in the Morning? And how his mother came and combed your hair?”

“Aye,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “She said…she would comb the snakes from my hair.” Another hesitation. “She…did.”

Clearly he did remember—and so did I recall what he’d told me about it. How she’d gently combed his hair, over and over, while he told her—in a language she didn’t speak—the trouble in his heart. Guilt, distress…and the forgotten faces of the men he’d killed.

There is a spot, just where the zygomatic arch joins the maxilla, where the nerves are often inflamed and sensitive….yes, just there. I pressed my thumb gently up into the spot and he gasped and stiffened a little. I put my other hand on his shoulder.

“Shh. Breathe.”

His breath came with a small moan, but he did. I held the spot, pressing harder, moving my thumb just a little, and after a long moment, felt the spot warm and seem to melt under my touch. He felt it too, and his body relaxed again.

“Let me do that for you,” I said softly. The wooden comb he’d made me sat on the little table beside the jar of ointment. With one hand still on his shoulder, I picked it up.

“I…no, I dinna want…” But I was drawing the comb softly through his hair, the wooden teeth gentle against his skin. Over and over, very slowly.

I didn’t say anything for quite some time. He breathed. The light came in low now, the color of wildflower honey, and he was warm in my hands, the weight of him heavy in my lap.

“Tell me,” I said to him at last, in a whisper no louder than the breeze through the open window. “I don’t need to know, but you need to tell me. Say it in Gaelic, or Italian or German—some language I don’t understand, if that’s better. But say it.”

His breath came a little faster and he tightened, but I went on combing, in long, even strokes that swept over his head and laid his hair untangled in a soft, gleaming mass over my thigh. After a moment, he opened his eyes, dark and half-focused.

“Sassenach?” he said softly.


“I dinna ken any language that I think ye wouldna understand.”

He breathed once more, closed his eyes, and began haltingly to speak, his voice soft as the beating of my heart.

reasons why my rat is problematic

-too soft. constantly distracts me bc i have to pet him
-always climbs in my jacket to snuggle w/ me. even more distracting
-grooms me all the time. let me be dirty!!
-combs my hair with his tiny goblin hands. obviously thinks my hairstyle isnt good enough
-eats my books. hes becoming too powerful from all that knowledge
-licks my fingers. prevents me from leaving until hes satisfied

Be my lover between two wars waged in the mirror, she said.

Perfume me with basil water.
Arrange me on silver dishes, comb me,
imprison me in your name,
let love kill me.
—  Mahmoud Darwish, Unfortunately, It Was Paradise : Selected Poems
Nervous (Steve Harrington x reader)

A/N: This is from a request that I got after I’d written a different Steve piece. This was originally split into two parts, but I didn’t feel like linking two parts together so enjoy :)

(masterlist + requests)

Originally posted by hologramarcadeblaze

Keep reading

STORY TIME: I wanted to paint Rihanna’s nails (don’t remember why though) so I put her on the outdoor couch and started painting, but Beyonce (on the left) wanted to know what I was doing so she jumped up onto the couch and let me paint her nails too


so stylish their nails perfectly match their combs. name a more iconic duo

  • Lil: Let's play "Sock or Silver."
  • Lil: Hey, so Jon, what do you two do at the park?
  • Jonathan: Oh, we just walk around.
  • Jonathan: He gets antsy if he doesn't get outside enough.
  • Jonathan: And then it's just yap, yap, yap all day long.
  • Jojo: Hey, what's his favorite food?
  • Jonathan: Peanut butter. He'll eat it right out of the jar.
  • Zack: How old is he, again?
  • Jonathan: Oh, he's getting up there, but he's pretty spry for his age. Especially since he got hit by that car a year ago.
  • Lil: Oh, that's so awful. Was he chasing it into the street or...
  • Jonathan: No. Just getting me the newspaper.
  • Lil: Alright, this is useless.
  • Lil: Jon, is this Sock or Silver?
  • Jonathan: How can you ask me that?
  • Jonathan: *Storms away*
  • Lil: I still don't know which it is.
Dirty Bathwater--Imagine #23

Anonymous said: you should totally write an imagine where your crush wakes you up by neck kisses and then you have a warm bath together. idk you should make it heated. *coughs* its not your babe i swear *coughs*

A/N: I see through your disguise, babe. ;) I see through it! I’m so sorry that you asked for this months ago and I didn’t get around to it ‘til now. Hope you enjoy, dear “not my babe”. ;) <3 

Her eyes were closed, soft puffs of warm air escaping her slightly parted mouth and I felt my chest constrict with the pain that I could never show her how beautiful and precious she was to me. Of course, I told her as often as I could but words felt so weak and actions were still so inadequate in showing her how big my love for her was. 

Her hair was a gorgeous mess, and I smiled to myself as I remembered our passionate coupling last night. Every time with her was just as mind-blowing as the last. 

I shifted myself closer to her sleeping form, in awe of how the first rays of light streaming in through the thin curtains brought out different hues in her hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, I pressed my lips to the part of her neck where her shoulder met her neck. Inhaling her sweet scent, I savored the salty taste of her skin as I lightly flicked my tongue along her tender, soft skin. 

She shifted as I continued my trail of kisses up her neck, each slow enough for me to breathe her in and savor the feel of her skin underneath my lips. 

As I made it to under her jaw, I felt her hand lazily comb through my unruly hair, making me let out a soft moan. She let out a contented sigh in answer and pressed me closer to her in encouragement of my ministrations to her jaw. Lazily, but passionately, I sucked on the line of her jaw, not being able to stop the smile that graced my lips as she let out soft noises of satisfaction. 

Reluctantly, I pulled my lips from her skin, to look into her glazed over gaze, a sleepy, soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“G’morning, love,” I murmured, grinning down at her.

“It sure is,” she replied, running her delicate hands up and down my bare back.

I laid there, half on top of her, staring down into her mesmerizing eyes. Something seemed to dawn on her face after a few moments.

“Last night, I never got to take my bath,” she said, pouting slightly, lightly dragging her fingernails down over my shoulder-blades. 

I shuddered. “Mm, I’m sorry I distracted you,” I gave her a cheeky grin. “On second thought, actually, I’m not sorry at all,” I added. 

She rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. I licked my lips and saw her eyes shift back to mine, a glint of mischief in them. 

“I think I’ll go take it now,” she whispered, slipping out from under my upper body and the sheets. 

I watched her in all her glorious nudity walk away from the bed to the bathroom. I gulped, my eyes dropping to her ass. When she reached the doorway, she turned giving me those fucking bedroom eyes.

“Join me?” she tugged her lip between her teeth. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” I hissed, jumping out of the rumpled bed.

Minutes later we were wet and immersed in sudsy bathwater. My legs bracketed hers, and I gently massaged her back. With a moan, she sunk against me even further, her body slipping down my body gloriously. 

I closed my eyes trying to lock in the sensation of her wet, naked body against mine. Opening them again, I picked up a loofa, soaping it up before raising her left arm in my left as I ran the loofa down it with my right hand. I watched the drops of water drip off her arm, and splash into the water, making it ripple around our bodies. 

She turned her head and leaned it back onto my shoulder to look into my eyes. 

“Something wrong, babe?”

I held back a groan at the way she was looking at me. Eyes hooded, mouth parted just the slightest, eyebrows crinkling with concern. No one had ever made me feel as wanted or cared for as she did. 

“Yeah, actually,” I put on a worried face, my voice rough with need. 

“What is it, c/n?” She asked, turning her body more, her hip now digging into my groin, making me hiss as pleasure shot through me from the friction of her body against mine. 

“You’re not on top of me,” I managed, my tongue heavy in my mouth. 

She looked at my lips once, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. A shy smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she looked back up at me through her long lashes. There was that hint of irresistible sexuality that burned in her eyes right before she took action. 

Using the sides of the tub as help, she twisted her body around. The hot water sloshed around us as she settled her open thighs over mine, resting on my lap. I was completely hard at this point and she knew it. Her heavy-lidded eyes lifted to mine, and she held my gaze as she swiveled her hips over me.

“Mm, sorry, just needed to find the right spot,” she smiled wickedly.

My head fell back as her movements made me involuntarily jerk up to rub up on her. 

“Find the right spot, my ass. We may be in the bath but you’re still playing dirty as fuck,” I hissed out through my lust, forcing my eyes to open so as to take in her beautiful face. 

She simply gave me one of those angelic smiles that would normally make me laugh from how it contrasted with her piercing gaze if I wasn’t under her influence. She was a drug to me, and I craved every part of her. 

She nipped at my bottom lip and I gripped onto her hips, rubbing circles into the soft skin there, pressing her harder over me. She gave into me and started swiveling her hips in a circle over my erection the way she knows drives me insane. The bath water sloshed noisily now, as I hungrily took her lips between mine, our tongues sliding against one another, tasting, savoring, moaning. 

Her wet fingers traced a wet trail of water droplets up my bare back and into the damp hair at the nape of my neck. As our kisses turned even more urgent, and her thrusts over me frantic, her grip on the ends of my hair tightened almost to the point of pain. 

“Shit, goddamnit, y/n,” I growled, moving my lips to her neck, nipping and grazing my teeth down until I bent her backwards so her neck rested on the opposite edge of the tub. 

“C/n,” she whimpered, her legs tightening around me, fingers grasping at me. 

I simply groaned back at her as I watched her hair fall erotically into the water, swirling in the blue-ish water. Her back arched as I cupped my hand to gather water in my palm, letting it poor between the valley of her breasts. 

“I’ve never believed in any god, but when it comes to you it’s all I can do to stop myself from worshiping your body any time I’m around you,” I breathed out, watching how her chest rose and fell frantically. 

“So do it,” she pleaded. 

Her eyes were glazed as I gazed down at her. I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, chuckling when she tried to pull me in for more. Instead, I pulled away, lathering my hands in soap, making it turn into a sudsy thick covering over my palms. 

Slowly, my eyes trying to memorize every detail of her, I trailed a soap covered finger down her collarbone to the middle of her chest. Bringing my other hand up, I smoothed both my palms over her tits and she gasped at the contact. I gave her a grin, as her eyes slid closed. My hands continued their journey down over her waist, swirling the soap over her wet skin. 

“Please–ah–c/n,” she whined. 

“I can’t just leave the soap on you, gotta wash it off you,” I smiled softly, adoration swelling in my chest. 

“Fuck that,” she smirked. 

Before I knew what was happening, she had tugged turned the shower on, letting the spray rain down on us and her body. I watched it wash the soap from her body, mesmerized by how it slid off her body into the water in the tub.

“Now, shut up and fuck me already,” She laughed, pulling me down over her in a searing kiss. 

maniacani  asked:

Can Pidge get any more adorable? Yes, she prolly can. Ok, but what about her hair? Does she go through a "i want my hair to be long so i can slap mean people with it" or does has she always kept her short-ish? Does she simply not care all that much? What about her family (bet keith wants to be the hairstylist lol)? <33

[The Voltron Family] The time Keith was away for a week, Shiro was not aware he was going to be on hair duty along with everything else. He was currently preparing the kids’ snacks and lunch when Pidge came down to the kitchen looking forlorn. 

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” Shiro asked, dropping everything he was doing to attend to his daughter. 

“Daddy, when will you do my hair?” Little Pidge asked. 

“What?” Shiro’s eyes widened. 

“My hair,” Pidge pointed at her head. “Daddy Keith ponytails it and sometimes braids it. I can’t go to school without my hair in braids.”

Shiro just stared at his daughter, completely at lost. He was no hairstylist like Keith, nor was he an expert. However, he was good at tying Keith’s hair. Braids, ponytails…  Surely, they were not that different.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yeah, okay. We can… we can do that now.” He looked around the breakfast table and then back at Pidge. “Here. We’re doing your hair here.” He picked up Pidge and placed her on one of the stools. “Let me just get a comb and—”

“Got em!” Pidge cut him off showing a little comb and some star hairbands.

“These hairbands,” Shiro softly said as he took them. “I bought these for you.”

Pidge nodded, beaming at him. “You did. It’s my fave now. I love green stars.”

“Sweetheart,” Shiro sniffled. He looked at Pidge and he just adored her to bits. With newfound determination, he nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this. Let me just call your Daddy Keith.”

Keith was currently on the screen of the iPad that was on the table, giving specific instructions on how to make a simple braid. “Yes, good. Now go under the first one and there we go. Be careful.”

“Ouch,” Pidge winced.

“Oh god. I’m sorry!” Shiro panicked, releasing his grip on Pidge’s hair. “Did I hurt you badly?”

Pidge shook her hair slowly. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay, Daddy Shiro.”

“Keith, I’m not cut out for this!” Shiro turned to the iPad, looking devastated. 

“Yes, you are,” Keith assured. “It just takes practice. You’ll get a hang of it.”

“Are you… watching Youtube tutorials on hair styling?” Allura asked Shiro as they ate lunch together at work.

“Indeed I am,” Shiro nodded. “Keith’s out for a week and I ain’t letting my daughter leave the house without looking like a warrior princess from space.”

“Shiro, that’s…. that is such a Daddy thing to say,” Allura cooed. “I’ll offer my hair for you to practice on.”

The following day, Shiro was prepared. He didn’t need to call Keith anymore to ask for guidance. So he entered Pidge’s room. She was already dressed in her uniform and they both shared a look… a look of determination.

“Today we’re doing a French braid.” Shiro announced and Pidge smiled with so much glee. 

The hair styling session ended with so much kisses. 

“I did it,” Shiro cried as he called Keith right after. “I’m sending you a photo and you’re going to love it whether you like it or not.”

Keith laughed. “I’m sure I will.”

“Also Pidge said, and I quote ‘Daddy Shiro’s my new hairstylist now!’” Shiro chuckled. “That’s right, Keith. You’ve been fired. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no. What will I do for a living now?” Keith faked gasp and then laughed. “Doing a French braid is no easy feat. I’m proud of you, Takashi.”

“Thank you,” Shiro smiled. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Now don’t get ahead of yourself,” Keith chuckled. 


Gentle Touch

Bucky x OFC (Jules) /  Bucky’s POV

Summary: Where Bucky is so used to harsh, rough touches he never expected one to be so kind and loving. Realizing he’s been craving this kind of touch for years.

Word Count: 1,325

Warnings: Mention of abuse, touch deprived, language

A/N: I’m back!!!! I took a longer break than I originally planned, but school took up a bunch of my time and me taking on more projects I could handle. I also hit several walls the past few months, that left me lost, broken and down in the dumps. It’s been a struggle to get back on my feet and get my head in the game, but I’m here, I’m back and I’m doing so much better than I previously was! 

I’m gonna try to get back in the groove of posting fics regularly, so I hope you’re ready! Help Me and Motionless Series are STILL going! And tags are ALWAYS open! :D Thank you for being patient with me these past few months, hopefully, I won’t go that long without posting something again. So enjoy this one and let me know what you think!! :) 

Touch, it’s amazing how much can be said and shown through the power of touch. But it can be hard to forget how much pain, anger, and torment can be expressed by the power of touch. No touch for me was ever gentle. There was no love, compassion or care in the physical touches I experienced throughout my lifetime. Not once has anyone touched me unless pain followed, which it always did.

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A Rose is a Rose

Hello lovely people. Its 1 a.m. and I am at my prime. Here’s a not so short, not so long fic for someone who made my day. Sorry I’ve been a little absent lately. Things have been so hectic with packing up my entire life to start college. I leave in two days and i’m so anxious.

But here’s something to hold you over for a few days; until i’m settled in.

Pairing: Michael x Reader (I truly need more Michael requests)

Warnings: Mentions of Sibling death, fighting, fluff

It was nearly 3 in the morning when there was a pounding on my front door.

I got out of the bed and wrapped a robe around my body, walking down the stairs.

When I swung the door open, the cold air and rain hit me like a ton of bricks as I stood there staring at the man I secretly loved.

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kinda-eddie-kaspbrak  asked:

🌺 Hi! I was wondering if I could have a blog rate and a reddie haunted house headcannon! (Ps I love your blog sooo much)

ahhhh thank you so MUCH

- The memories of It are still too fresh for the losers and Halloween of 1989, so it passes without much celebration

- The next year, Richie is ready to have Fun™ again (or at least try to get past the elephant in the room so the losers can move on and enjoy themselves) and he and the losers bundle up and head to Derry’s local fall festival

- Eddie’s been steering clear of the haunted house at the edge of the fairgrounds but he’s drawn to Richie’s laugh like a magnet and it keeps bringing him closer

- “Trashmouth please don’t tell me you want to actually go in there”

- “What are you, chicken?”

- “Fuck off Richie this isn’t Back to the Future”

- “I don’t need a flux capacitor to know that you are my future” Richie winks and Eddie is too flustered to protest anymore and they get in line

- Richie is joking constantly to both cover up his own anxiety but also to try to keep Eddie’s mind of anything that will freak him out

- It doesn’t help - Eddie immediately starts sucking in huge gulps of air just before they can push through the black curtains to enter the haunted house and Richie needs to get to him before he starts heaving

- Eddie reaches for the inhaler that isn’t there anymore as Richie huddles him into a corner with his face between his clammy hands, so Eddie finds his hands gripping into the wool collar of Richie’s jacket instead

- “Eds, Eddie listen to me, listen” Richie is panting not 2 inches away from Eddie’s face, but Eddie can’t focus on anything but the feeling of a table breaking under him and a phantom cast and- “Look at me Eds, please” Richie begs, softer

- Once Eddie locks eyes with Richie, he feels the world slow around him and becomes hyperaware of his racing pulse and lungfuls of hair. “That’s it Eds, I’m right here” Eddie closes his eyes and lets Richie comb his hands through his hair

- “Let me tell you my secret Eds,” Richie whispers over the screams and laughter coming from the house in front of them, “Just…make a joke out of it. These are all a bunch of kids that didn’t make it past Mrs. Hastings‘s auditions for the fall musical and you’ve seen what they look like in the locker room. I’m with you Eddie we’re safe.”

- Eddie nods and their noses almost brush. He relaxes into Richie’s hold for a moment, basking in the warmth and scent of his best friend, then steels himself to push through the curtains

- Eddie hesitates only for a moment before grabbing Richie’s hand firmly in his own and using the grip to pull Richie in behind him

- After the first few rooms, Eddie visibly brightens when he starts noticing the awful makeup jobs on the teens and he starts to crack jokes with Richie - the whole time keeping his grip firm

- There are a couple jumpscares that catch the two of them by surprise, but they burst into laughter immediately after untangling themselves from each other and press on until they’re finally out

- They’re hopping down the stairs of the haunted house with repressed snickers when Richie sighs, “nothing like that little kick of adrenaline to get you feeling like your normal-ballsy-self, huh?” and smirks at Eddie, glasses falling down his nose

- Eddie laughs back, bright and loud, and thinks, “Yeah” before pulling Richie closer by their joined hands and pressing their smiling lips together

- Richie can’t tell whether the adrenaline or the kiss is making his heart beat viciously against Eddie’s chest, but decides he doesn’t care either way and uses his other hand to pull Eddie in even closer