#It looks yankable

[bropunzeling]

Leon, what you look so beautiful and intense for, hmm? Could it be, perhaps... an impending opportunity... for yank... perhaps some bite...

he knows what his monday night plans are and they are 👉 undernegotiated 👈

[centuryberry]

So, for the Replant AU, what is Sangshen’s relationship with Macaque would be like? What’s their reunion like in more specific terms? And if Sangshen never died, what’s her bond with Yue like? Oh, just so I have an idea of what Yishan looks like, what’s the difference in appearance between him and Yue, besides the ears?

Sangshen’s relationship with Macaque was a bit overwhelming for Macaque at first. She showers him with so much lover and is eager to get to know the man he grew into. No matter what he does or says, she praises him and looks at him as if he were a miracle. Eventually, once the newness and the awkwardness wears off, they settle into a more relaxed dynamic. Macaque shares his passions and his insecurities while Sangshen shares their family history and her guilt. They share lighter things too like their love for art, performance, and gossip. Macaque coaxes the more witty and sarcastic side of his sister out and encourages her to explore FFM and make more connections.

As for their reunion, someone recognized Sangshen’s appearance and brought her and her mate over to Macaque. There’s some disbelieving staring before Sangshen slowly comes over to Macaque and touches his face. When she confirms that he’s real, she breaks down and cries. She expresses her relief that he’s alive and apologizes for leaving him in that giant lotus blossom. Macaque is just helplessly holding her and trying to calm her down and assuring her that she doesn’t have to apologize.

Sangshen is a doting mother who encourages her daughter’s curiosity (their clan was well known for searching for knowledge). She does scold Yue whenever she gets into trouble and dish out the punishments though since everyone else is a bit too weak. But it’s not that often. She takes Yue with her whenever she works in the library. She also puts her with the other baby monkeys when she’s old enough so she can socialize. Shanzha makes clothing for Yue that matches with Macaque’s color scheme, making him a little choked up.

Yishan has white fur and a blue-grey facial markings. His facial markings are a sharper shape than Yue’s lotus but similar. He has a beauty mark near the left corner of his mouth. He has long fur that he pulls back into a ponytail (yankable to those who are pissed with him lol). It can be a topknot too in other formal occasions. He wears armor when he’s on duty and wears elegant and simple robes in a casual setting (xianxia vibes). He has sharper features while Yue inherited her mother’s softness.

[vampcubus]

Muzan is making me go feral frfr and my mind is wandering with that second picture-

I KNOW RIGHT?? LIKE HE’S BASICALLY BEGGING TO BE BRED. his hair looks so yankable too.

[imp-thing]

thinking about grimoire's hair and how yankable it looks again. idk it just looks like i could pull it.

[tintinntabuli]

Another daffodil foliage rule-breaker – me!

My GardenRant partner Scott wrote about his hundreds of daffodils now “writhing about in their death throes, getting all Shakespearean and shit,” and I bet we can all relate. Though unlike his hilarious imagingings, if we dare to remove the spent foliage before we’re supposed to we may not actually hear from a representative of the Daffodil Society “beating her breasts” and crying “No, no, no!” but we do hear the breast-beating in our heads because we’ve heard and read so many times that they must be allowed to wither in place or – gasp! – they won’t bloom as well the next year.

In Scott’s case, after landing in the “county lockup” over his daffodil transgression, his daff-affirming spirit prevails as he writes a note to self: “Order more daffs.” Hear, hear!

As a fellow transgressor, I must weigh in with a deep dive into the reproach in hopes of defending my own daffodil practices, with the help of a true deep-diver, the podcaster Leslie Harris (no relation). In her latest episode she admits that her mass plantings of daffodils are “not bringing joy to my heart,” yet:

You gotta leave the foliage until it starts to wither. Don’t fold it up, don’t braid it, otherwise you might as well just cut it off because the energy from the sun needs to get to the roots…Anyway tying up those stems will keep the vascular tubes, which are called phloem, from doing their job, which is to get energy from the sun down to the roots of the bulbs, of the plants. I have heard evidence that once the foliage is actually down on the ground, not sticking up but maybe still green, you are good to go on getting rid of it.”

Me, I like to protect my groundcovers and emerging perennials from being flopped onto by the daffodil foliage – and admittedly, because I agree with Leslie that the dying foliage makes parts of the garden look like “a dog’s breakfast” – so I give myself permission to sacrifice just a few blooms for this good cause. So I was happy to find support for my rule-breaking in her thorough exploration of the topic:

The conduit, phloem, would be bent in such a way that the food from the sun probably wouldn’t flow very well to the roots through that vascular system…Finger combing it all in one direction so that it not at least completely crazy could help you, but don’t go too hard on it because of what I talked about, about breaking down that system. Once it’s down and once it’s brown, there’s certainly no reason to have it around, and I tend to get rid of it even before it’s brown. I know that’s cheating, but I do.

Wait! So as long as I don’t “go too hard on it” and stop the flow, I’m not reducing next year’s bloom count? Take a look at the top photo here of my careful, respectful tying-up of daff leaves so that they stand tall – with uninterrupted phloem!!! It’ll stay in that position until it finally flops down and is yankable, having gotten presumably plenty of sun energy down into the bulb.

Or how about this other treatment I’ll admit to you guys, though not to the Daff Society breast-beater – simply laying the foliage on the ground. Sure, not as many leaves are getting full sun but look, the bending is gentle enough for the phloem to be flowable, right? Honestly, the rules have always seemed a bit anal to me, as my daffodils bloom plenty the next year and if the bloom count is a bit lower because of my gardening practices, I can live with it.

I take heart in knowing that even Leslie, a former professional gardener whose garden I’ve seen and lusted over, transgresses a bit in her impatience with the dog-breakfast look. I say “Permission given!”

Another daffodil foliage rule-breaker – me! originally appeared on GardenRant on May 26, 2023.

The post Another daffodil foliage rule-breaker – me! appeared first on GardenRant.

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[bitchfitch]

fancy man bun/ yankable ponytail/ pronoun haver undercut

which hair style looks best in yalls opinion?

[alirhi]

just because lol

The evolution of my interest in Sebastian Stan...

2006:

"Well... hello there, cute boy! Wish you were the main hunk, holy shit... Why so many funny faces, tho? XDD"

2013-ish (I binged a couple seasons of Gossip Girl for Taylor Momsen when I discovered her fucking awesome band. don't remember exactly when)

"Huh. Well, hello there, cute boy! Okay, where's Taylor?"

2017

"Who dis? Murder Jesus? *few minutes later* HAHAHAHA MURDER JESUS SWINGING ROCKET AROUND THAT'S GREAT! Still dunno who he is, tho."

2021 "Fiiiiiine I'll watch Civil War. I'm bored and I love RDJ, so-"

""-SWEET JESUS WHO IS THIS BEAUTIFUL BASTARD?! THOSE EYES! THOSE LIPS! THAT JAW LINE! VALHRGARGABLGBS Okay, fine. I get it. I get the Bucky love, okay? God damn... Anyone got a fan? Some ice? Maybe some defibrillators? jfc..."

*one quick imdb search later* "NO SHIT! IT'S CHASE COLLINS! HIIIIIIII CHASE! NICE GLOW-UP, BOO!"

"Hmm... still bored, so I guess I'll suffer through the other two Cap movies..." (words cannot express how much I hate all iterations of Cap not played by Anthony Mackie)

"HOLY SHIT. WHAT IS... WHAT... I DON'T EVEN... I CAN'T... HOW DOES HE LOOK BETTER CLEAN-CUT? I DON'T DO CLEAN-CUT! WTF Sebastian Stan is not human. Holy shit."

*no words. only swooning*

"OHSHIT THEY GAVE BUCKY HIS OWN SHOW?! FUCK YEAH!"

"Okay, seriously, he looks so much better with short hair! How?! Why?! Short hair, square jaw, and stubble is SO NOT MY TYPE so whyyyyyy am I so obsessed with this beautiful bastard man?!"

"SWEET JESUS LAWD HALLELUJAH! HELLO, MY TYPE SINCE I WAS LIKE TWELVE! Not Tommy Lee. He's a sleazebag who I literally only know for being a sleazebag. and an idiot. But HOLY HELL pierced, tattooed, mostly-naked Sebby with that delicious, yankable mop of hair and the eyeliner and THAT TONGUE HOLY GOD THAT TONGUE... Yes, pls. I want one."

[deluxewhump]

Look, he wears his collar this time!

As he should. And isn't it just so yankable?

[bropunzeling]

Leon with his yankable hair and no-one to tug it, Matthew with his tongue looking up at the replay (presumably) like a ratty angel, such beautiful inspiration in recent days...

(Hope your day has got better!)

sometimes i dream that a beautiful 50-80k fic will appear for us all, one in which the two of them have been engaging in some undernegotiated kinky shit where matthew pushes leon around and leon lets him, only then the trade happens and it really hurts leon's feelings makes things awkward for a while because what do you do when the guy you let take control (because it was so fucking nice to finally have someone else make all the goddamn decisions, to know he wasn't going to let you put a foot wrong, even when it felt like that was all you were ever doing on the ice or off it), who knows this secret side of you, is across a continent and probably gonna find a whole new person to have normal sex with and then date and then marry and all that bullshit, and now you're in the lurch and you don't have anyone to have normal (or, you know, any) sex with, so what are you gonna do? maybe have some definitely too intense sex about it after you beat his team twice in november? yeah. confront the fact that you might have a single feeling about someone who left you behind? well.

and OBVIOUSLY this would involve SO much yånk if i were doing this. which i make no commitments about, but GOD do i think about it.

(❤️❤️❤️ ty, i am at least off work and someone is coming to fix my car tomorrow)

[ask-ethari-anything]

Can you tell me fluffy moonfam stories, starring lain tiadrin and baby rayla

Ahh, so soft! Here’s a fun memory:

When Rayla was still a wee babe in arms, she loved to hold onto her dad’s braid while he told her stories. Tiadrin warned him that one day he’d regret letting her make such a habit of that, but he was too happy to care. 

Then one day, he smooched Tiadrin and told her to go have a nap, and he took Rayla out to the garden with me and started telling her adventure stories again. Rayla grabbed his braid with her tiny hand, and when he got to the most exciting part of the story, she flexed hard and pulled him close, stared at him with her wide purple eyes, pursed her little baby lips, and burped so loudly that he yelped and startled and tried to pull away.

Rayla didn’t let him. Her fist on his braid was immovable. Have you ever tried to take anything from an actual baby? She could’ve arm wrestled me and won!

So Lain ended up yanking his own braid, and his yelp woke Tiadrin from her much needed nap.

She staggered out to the garden with a sword in her hand, saw what Lain had gotten himself into, stabbed the nearest tree and left the sword in it, and sighed in her loudest I Told You So. And then she turned around and got some more sleep.

Lain and I looked at each other sheepishly, and I offered to take Rayla for a while, since I didn’t have any yankable braids. And Lain looked at me plaintively as he handed her over and said, “It’s too late not to tell Tiadrin that that just happened, but... is there any chance you could forget to mention this story to Runaan? He’ll tease me about not knowing how to handle long hair in combat forever.”

Well, Runaan has a way of getting secrets out of me, but I promised I’d do my best.

I lasted about three days. Lain understood, though. And by then, his scalp was feeling much better, so he forgave me for not withstanding an assassin’s soft interrogation techniques.

[welllpthisishappening]

the way killian's nose squooshes against's emma's cheek when they kiss and the way she just melts into him, y/y

This was…a suggestion to write words, right? 

She’s not one to brag, but…well, she’s been kissed before.

Good kisses and bad kisses and kisses that made Emma feel like her head was spinning just a bit. Her brain is quick to point out that most of those last ones have only occurred after her life has been flipped upside down and sideways and Neverland is probably the last place she expects gravity to shift, but there’s also probably a pixie dust reason involved.

It doesn’t matter. She’s not going to argue kisses like that.

And Emma realizes the irony involved.

Because the very first time Emma Swan kisses anyone else, she does it on a dare.

She’s nine and the new kid, again, and it’s annoying and frustrating, but she just wants the other kids to like her and–

“Bet you won’t kiss Tommy Rivera right on the lips.”

Emma’s head snaps up, eyes far too narrow for a kid her age, but a kid her age has also seen some shit and it won’t be anything like it will be once she sets foot in Neverland, but–

“Fine,” Emma snaps. She hops off the swing she was barely getting to move, gravel crunching under her feet and Tommy Rivera has dark hair and even darker eyes and she doesn’t slow her stride before she presses her lips against his.

It stuns him a little, which, honestly, is kind of fair. She kisses the way she feels - bruising and frustrated in a way a nine-year-old should never be and, nearly twenty years later, it’s a little bit the same.

She kisses Killian Jones like it’s the last time it will ever happen.

And, at that point, Emma believes it will be.

So she yanks on his ridiculous jacket and tries to file away that one, particular sound he makes, not quite a growl or a groan, but like he’s fallen over the edge of something and Emma refuses to believe that she might be free-falling as well.

They pull apart to fall back together and she can’t get enough, feels like she may crack in half if she stops. 

Neverland is always loud - bugs and birds and Emma wishes she could time travel so she could punch goddamn J.M. Barrie right in the mouth because she’s fairly certain he’s somehow, inextricably, responsible for all of this, but right then it feels as everything pauses for a moment, gives her a chance to breathe and be and it’s a heady feeling. Emma’s never been much for self-reflection, it’s far too depressing, but in that moment with Captain Hook’s tongue twisting around her own, she’s almost confident she could fly.

Maybe without the pixie dust, actually.

She wants the feeling to last forever. She never wants to experience again. It’s a weird line to walk, so she doesn’t walk, she runs and pushes and prods and refuses to acknowledge and Emma Swan is never going to think about Neverland again.

Until.

It all seems to happen in a blur, honestly. She’s angry and disappointed and she can’t believe she was so stupid, to think he’d leave or want anything except her and them and this, some collective unit that was, once upon a time, absolutely impossible.

But once upon a time is kind of Emma’s thing now and–

“Here,” her mother tells her, pressing magic into Emma’s palm and Snow White’s fingers are always warm. Emma assumes it’s a rule of the universe. “Go find him.”

Who is she to argue with Snow White?

The whole thing is kind of absurd. There’s a door and Emma can feel her magic roaring in her ears as soon as she swings the stupid thing open. The handle is far too ostentatious.

And he’s tied to a goddamn post.

“Emma,” Killian breathes, hair disheveled and at some point, maybe when he isn’t almost dying and when she’s finished kissing the living daylights out of him, she’ll ask him where he got that coat.

The lapels look particularly yankable.

There’s more fighting and Lost Boys and of course Tiger Lily is real. There are curses to break and a kid to be impossibly proud of and a ring to get back on her finger.

She keeps toying with it.

“You’re doing it again, love,” Killian mutters, blankets pooling around his waist. There’s moonlight streaming through the windows and Emma can feel the pull of sleep, something she hadn’t gotten much of in the last few days.

That’s totally her fault.

“Doing what?”

She knows the answer to the question already. She asks it to make sure Killian smiles, the ends of his mouth quirking up.

He has to shift to get his hand free, blankets moving in the process and there’s just so much skin everywhere. Emma wants to kiss every single inch of it. Maybe after they sleep for, like, forty-two minutes. That seems reasonable.

“Your ring,” Killian says, tapping on the stone for emphasis. “You keep twisting it.”

Emma hums, a noncommittal sound that might be flirting. It’s nice to flirt again. Particularly when it gets Killian to smile wide and his eyebrows to twist slightly and his fingers are warm too when they brush over the curve of Emma’s jaw.

And she’s got some kind of a joke, some quip that’ll make him laugh and pull her close to his chest, can feel the words sitting on tip of her tongue, but–

“I’m sorry,” she says instead, feeling her eyes widen. It’s stupid. She means it.

“Swan, you don’t–”

“No, no, that’s stupid.”

“Stupid?”

Emma hums again, but it’s more determined that time and she brushes her thumb over Killian’s lower lip on instinct and want and a slew of other words that are even more sentimental and decidedly magical. “It’s so stupid,” she mumbles. “I just…no, I don’t even have an excuse. There’s not one. There’s just me and, shit, I can’t come up with another word except stupid. That’s kind of disappointing, isn’t it?”

“I can’t say that I’ve been disappointed by many of the things that have happened in the last few hours.”

“God, what a line.”

“The truth.”

She bites her lips, emotion bubbling in the pit of her stomach and the back of her throat. “I’m trying very hard to apologize. I’d…well, I’d like to apologize. You deserve an apology and, oh…oh, shit can you…what will happen to your shadow?”

“I have no idea.”

“What?”

“I have no idea,” Killian repeats. His fingers haven’t stopped moving, although they’ve migrated to the curve of her shoulder and there are goosebumps on her skin now. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the repercussions of it at the time.”

“That’s stupid too.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Emma scowls, a totally inappropriate response all things considered. But she’s as stubborn as she was when she was nine and, maybe, even more determined to prove something now and–

“I love you,” she says. It’s not the apology it should be, but it might be something else and possibly better and Emma’s magic soars as soon as her lips land on his.

He must mumble something against her, she can feel his mouth moving, although it’s difficult to pay attention to that when his hand is shifting again and the blankets are definitely getting in the way and they may get, exactly, forty-two minutes of sleep that night.

She steals his robe the next morning, brushing her hair away from her eyes and trying not to smile wide enough that she’ll threaten the veneer on the cabinets.

Strictly speaking, she’s not sure it works.

And she knows he’s there before he says anything, arms around her waist and nose pressed behind her ear. Emma’s smile gets bigger.

“Something smells delicious.”

She doesn’t laugh. The muscles in her cheeks are starting to ache, though, and that almost feels more ridiculous. “It’s just from a box.”

Killian noses at her hair again, fingers doing something practically sinful in the middle of their kitchen. He’s toying with the tie of her robe, his robe, and the specifics aren’t important.

Emma may actually shiver.

He definitely notices, and her magic notices that he notices and it’s ridiculous and fantastic and she wants–

“I wasn’t talking about the pancakes.”

Emma twists, those same words from the middle of the goddamn night bouncing around her brain and slamming on the side of her skull and he’s ready for her. Like he was waiting for attack kisses in the middle of the kitchen.

She slings her arms over his shoulder, pressing up on her toes to reach him better. His nose drags across her cheek, a move that probably shouldn’t make Emma’s heart sputter, but that’s her life now and the pancakes are going to burn.

She genuinely cannot get over his nose, scrunched against her like he’s trying to occupy the same space. It’s the most ridiculous thing to be overwhelmed by. It may be the nicest thing that’s every happened.

And nice is a stupid word too.

So Emma doesn’t consider the definition of stupid, just lets herself fall into the moment, giving into the drop and it’s even more pleasant than she expected.

It’s not bruising. It’s not hard. It’s soft and needy and some other word that rhymes with that. It’s overwhelming and affirming and everything seems to rock, but that may just be Emma’s hips when she moves, working a sound out of Killian that will very likely replay in between her ears for the rest of her life.

There’s tongue and teeth, a mess of mouths and her fingers in her hair. There’s more feeling and a hint of magic, eyes that aren’t dark when they pull away, but bright and eager and staring straight at Emma like she’s the center of the goddamn universe.

She wants him to feel that.

She wants to kiss him until he believes it.

So she tells him she’s happy and lets her fingers drag through the hair at the nape of his neck, a move she’s quickly come to learn makes his eyelashes flutter, and she kisses him again.

His nose presses against her cheek and the tie of her robe is almost a lost cause and–

“To hell with the pancakes.

[hisrighthand-blog1]

@wrathcrowned​ from x

  Anything for his approval. Anything for his affection. She was starved, desperate. Yearning. Practically begging for praise, for his attention, for his smile, for his laughter and his happiness, above all.

   He was a beautiful man. Gorgeous, really. Had a wonderful profile. Old, and older than her former leader, but she’d be damned if he wasn’t a thousand times more charming as well.  Her favorite part of him? Probably his long, luxurious locks. ....They looked so... Yankable.  Even the way that he’d look at her sometimes could make her melt. 

  It’s why she’s made her way right to his desk, gently sitting on the end of the flat surface, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder.

   “Whose bones would you... Like me to break? Whose body... would you like me to feed to my dragon?”

[bropunzeling]

I revise my earlier ask, you are absolutely correct. Yank first. Tenderness later. (His hair is looking VERY yankable of late.) There is plenty of room for being manhandled and also gentle kisses. (And lolll I am here for this idea of Brady who is big romantic and wants to love and cherish Quinn, Huggy Bear, his sweet beloved, and then has to contend with Quinn wanting it a little rough.)

another convert to the yank agenda 😌 the thing is, if EYE had a very large boyfriend who could easily push me around in a fun and sexy way, EYE would want to explore that - but also brady is SUCH a sap that i think he'd be a little conflicted about pushing quinn around even if quinn said as much (which, maybe he doesn't at first! maybe quinn kinda hopes that it would happen without saying so but then it isn't so he's gotta take matters into his own hands). and i think that conflict would be Fun and Sexy to explore