toy combs

dohoshu  asked:

Spotting the other walking down the hall, her back to him, Yasuo tries to pick up his pace slightly in order to catch up to her -- his longer legs helped slightly. However, instead of calling out to her ( he'd rather not raise his voice ) he notices her ponytail drooping, and illogically grabs the end of it to tug her to a halt, before pulling it out and redoing it for her. That's not how you try to help a friend out, Yasuo.

        ❛   —— EEP !!   his abrupt , unforeseen tug is met with limbs flailing about and thrashing dramatically in the air , a poorly - constrained , shrill yelp , and she fumbles to regain stability and balance , nearly losing her footing in the process because she’s just so graceful . unfamiliar hands comb and toy with her locks , and she locks herself frozen in place , awaiting her would - be assailant ( ? ) to reveal themselves . maybe a prankster ? she vaguely recalls luke introducing her to a video of a young male yanking on unsuspecting people’s ponytails’ and crying out ‘ YAGGA !  ‘ but upon feeling her hair being released , she finds herself facing yasuo and not some mean - spirited trickster like she presumed . lips part to voice her confusion , eyes drooping in befuddlement as to why he’d do such a thing … that is , until she realizes what exactly he did to her in the reflection of a nearby trophy case .

         ❛   —— yasuo  ? a - ah , i’m immensely grateful that you decided to fix my hair for me , but you almost gave me a heart attack  —— !!   

In case you’ve ever wondered, there is a bjd that’s supposed to be me. It belongs to my mother. 

When I was a little girl, it was almost impossible to find dolls with brown hair and brown eyes and olive skin.  In the 1980’s the US was obsessed with blonde hair and blue eyes.  If they made a dark haired doll, she either had blue or green eyes and very light pink skin.  My mother and grandmother would comb the toy stores in order to find those handful of dolls that weren’t so white.  It meant the world to me that they tried so hard to find dolls that looked like me.  They even scoured the entire St. Louis area to find a dark haired, dark eyed angel for the christmas tree. 

I had white, blonde or red haired, blue-eyed barbies too.  And some very lovely african american dolls(there was this fantastic line of them that had the most gorgeous dresses).  But the ones that meant the most to me were the ones that looked like me.  The ones that looked like my mom.

Now, my grandma has passed away, and Mom lives in the Midwest.  Because of my husband and I’s day jobs in the entertainment industry, we live in California.  I miss my mom so much, we’re very close.  So when I made Lagoon, i made one with olive skin and I found a long dark, brown-black wig and I ordered her dark brown eyes.  I made her a special dress and winter coat and handmade shoes and I gave her to my mom for christmas.  Mom cried.  She admitted to me later that she’d named the doll Sarah, after me, and every morning she would talk to it and she liked to brush her hair and would kiss the doll’s head.  I’m glad she likes her.

6

Amok Time Toys has treated us to a sneak peek at the prototype of their upcoming figure of Dr. Herbert West from Re-Animator. The long-awaited collector’s item will be released as part of their Monstarz line in 2015.

Please note this is the prototype, Arm articulation will be added, paint will have a few changes and eye glass lenses will be clearer then in the pictures. Monstarz is on the way of Re-Animating another forgotten action figure for fright fans!

Red III

(( Part One HERE | Part Two HERE ))

“I have to confess – I did not think it was possible for this place to look any worse.”

“Your observation is somewhat less than helpful.” Fenris didn’t bother to look up at the sound of Sebastian’s voice. He pulled another drawer out of the dresser and dumped its contents onto the ground, then squatted to sort through it.

“It’s not going to be in there,” the archer said gently.

“Your certainty is so very appreciated.”

“Well? Two things,” Sebastian said. “First, you never use this room.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Second,” he said, “We searched those drawers last week.”

Fenris was quiet a moment before sitting back on his heels. He looked tired as he looked up at Sebastian.

“I need to go back to the coast.”

“What – again? Are you going to overturn every grain of sand this time? If it was there to begin with, it’s long gone now.” Sebastian sat down in an armchair, sending up a mountain of dust that quickly had him up and scurrying to open a window. Fenris remained where he was, shielding the lower half of his face in the crook of his arm.

“It has to be somewhere,” Fenris said, glaring, voice muffled.

Sebastian tried three times to speak before the coughing subsided. “Why not find another one? A bit of red cloth can’t be that hard to find.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.” It was too easy to picture Hawke’s face, the night he’d tied the favor ‘round his wrist. How those hard planes had softened, the amber of his eyes so soft, so warm and excited.

“Hawke would understand, I think.”

That didn’t even warrant a response. Hawke had entrusted him with something that night, something Fenris had never proven worthy of. Losing the favor only proved it.

Keep reading

Destructive Habits

The sun is finally starting to sink below the jagged skyline of Vegas, casting the alleyways into shadow and relieving some of the stifling Mojave heat. Usually, it’s Donny’s favorite time of day; Freeside doesn’t feel like quite as much of a hot, dusty slum. Today, though, he’s hardly in any condition to enjoy it.

Ever since he’d royally squandered the chance the King had given him on the Strip, he’s been beating himself up about it. Because now K is mad a him, the King disappointed in him, he never even got a chance to try for an audition at the Aces and chances are good he’ll never make it onto the Strip again. And why? Because he’d been infatuated with a Gomorrah girl. One who’d never even liked him to begin with, who’d stolen his jacket and left.

So, Donny’s been dealing with his feelings in the way he always seems to fall back on. Leaning against the wall in a secluded alley, he empties the pockets of his jeans. A couple comic books, some little plastic toys, a comb, a switchblade. All things that belonged to other people, mostly his fellow Kings. His sticky fingers had been busy today.

Donny knows this isn’t any way to deal with his problems. It doesn’t fix anything, it’s much more likely to cause more trouble for him in the long run. Stealing is wrong. Sure, sometimes people steal to eat and Donny can’t bring himself to condemn that, but he hadn’t even wanted any of these things. He’d just taken them because he could, because for a split second the rush of stealing made him forget about what a failure he is.

Though, the switchblade might come in handy. His had been in the pocket of his jacket when Max took it. That, he slips back in his pocket.

The other things are arranged in a messy pile on the ground. Donny settles onto his heels, flicking at his lighter with his thumb till the tiny flame jumps forth. For a moment he just watches it, before setting it to the corner of one of the comic books. The old paper catches quickly, and the flame spreads. The plastic toys look grotesque as they melt, the acidic smell making him wrinkle his nose. He watches his little fire, utterly fascinated. 

It helps him not to think.