Maybe try putting Tim in the cone of shame next time he tries to bite you? Or use a spray bottle? Idk, get your pet socialites properly trained, dude, smh.
I don't know why it's suddenly my job to house train Tim but sure
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If you could reblog after voting for a wider result pool, that would be much appreciated! Thanks!
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When Kevin starts growing out his hair, he thinks he looks like Riko.
He knows he and Riko look nothing alike, but it's the length -- a weird in-between stage of growth as he grows out the back of his hair to match the length of his bangs. Not long enough to tie up, but long enough to make his skin crawl. Kevin can't look at himself in the mirror for a long time until Andrew forces him into a chair and shows him ways to style his hair instead of letting it hang. He learns how to braid, though he's not good at it. So many of his teammates (read: Nicky, Dan, Allison, Matt) are more than willing to help.
Half a year later, when Kevin's hair finally touches a little past his shoulders, he can't help but think he looks like his mother. He starts styling his hair like she did -- styles he gathers from news articles, old photos, and memories. He uses a citrusy oil he remembers his mother enjoying. He tries to embody Kayleigh Day as if she's still here, and as long as Kevin lives, then she lives within him.
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hi there, nothing much, just coming on to think about..
coming home late into the afternoon— it’s borderline evening, the setting sun already shining the world in an overlay of a calming orangey-yellow — to kazuha who welcomes your return with a soft smile and arms open wide, just waiting for you to come in between them so they can wrap you in a hug.
you close the door behind you as you lug yourself towards him, slumping into his open arms as soon as you get close enough. kazuha remains silent. usually he’s all chipper with a poem riddled in infatuation and utter admiration already spewing from his mouth, acting like the opening line to your conversation.
neither of you say a word. kazuha’s hands pat you gently, one buried in your hair giving you small rubs to ease away any headaches that lingered from today, and the other on your back, occasionally moving around to massage your stress away. he always does this; it’s relaxing, and it works well to ease away your tension, your stress, and you finally let the tears flow through.
the poet’s clothes get stained with tears, but he doesn’t care.
you stay like that for a little while longer, kazuha holding you tight as you let the stress from the morning leave your body through tears.
once they’ve dried, kazuha wipes your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “want some tea?” he asks, intwining your hands together as he softly leads you to the kitchen, “i’ll steep your favourite. it won’t take long, don’t worry. i’m not leaving your side, dove.”
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I’m always afraid of cutting my hair but it’s literally been down to my waist my whole life I seriously need to switch it up
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Ocean Eyes || by @shealwaysreads
Malfoy was still pale, his skin milk-white. But now, he had the faintest trace of freckles across his cheekbones. His hair was still fair, silver-blonde and bright as a new Sickle. But his eyebrows, and his eyelashes, were dark now; framing his eyes with dramatic sweeps and arches of black. A charcoal sketch on white vellum, bold and delicate. And his eyes. His eyes were different now, too. Shockingly so.
One of Draco’s eyes was blue, now.
I love this little fic and how Draco’s described through Harry’s eyes. He sounds absolutely ethereal, and I wanted to try and capture it.
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