I saw @snarkylinda’s post about a CM Cowboy AU (I reblogged it a few posts ago, go check it out it’s amazing), and I just had to draw it. Anyways,,, Reid and Prentiss, my beloveds.
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thinking about how Spider was neteyam's big brother. losing my mind. ripping out my hair.
was 'teyam scared of storms or the dark? did he confide these "childish" fears to his big brother? did he get shy with all the attention he got in the village? did he hold Spi's hand when he got nervous?
did Spi have habits with 'teyam like 'teyam had with lo'ak? did Spi mess with his hair or reach for his shoulder or cuff his neck?
did Spi ever worry for 'teyam after he "stepped up" and became the Big Brother when the humans returned? did he worry something would happen to him? did he want to protect him despite being a human? was he proud? did his pride outweigh his fear?
did he think about 'teyam after he was taken? did he wonder where he was and if he was safe?
what was Spi thinking when he saw the bullet hole in his baby brother's back? did he freeze when he saw the blood, when he realized he failed to protect him?
what was 'teyam thinking? when he looked to Spi, did he want him to be the big brother again, did he want to stop being brave and let Spi do it? did he want to say something?
I have so many questions. I don't think my heart could take the answers.
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neighbor!eddie helping you move in. his hair tied up and messy, a well worn muscle tee showing off his tattoos, riding up his hips so you can see the coarse hair on his navel and the freckles typically hidden by his shirts. sweaty and tired, but grinning and cracking jokes whenever he takes water breaks.
you offer to pay him with pizza and he happily agrees, flirting with you while you wait and unpack some boxes in the kitchen. you two watch a movie while shoveling food into your mouths and he leaves later with a promise to come back tomorrow to help you unpack some more.
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Anyway I had a horrible realization about my Wildstar OTPs of the past and my current hyperfixation.
Granted, Wildstar had ONE fantastic hairstyle for Exile men (and the one coat model every basic white boy used...) BUT-
Man, I love that hairstyle on men a lot.
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what if sirens were kinda like cats in that when having their face touched (by something Safe) they bump and nuzzle against it so sometimes when Luca is sleeping Alberto will just gently touch his face and Luca makes this adorably sleepy chirp and cuddles into his hand. one time he ended up trapping Alberto's hand under his cheek and his arm was trapped in a really awkward position as he was slept on for an hour but that doesn't stop him
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North: Sixty, truth or dare?
Sixty: Dare.
North: I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.
Sixty: *turns and kisses Connor*
Connor: You think I'm the prettiest person?
Sixty: No, I am, but I can't kiss myself and you're the next best substitute.
North: You both look identical.
Connor and Sixty: *shocked gasps*
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YOUR MUSE AS A TEENAGER VS NOW
batshit motherfucker perfecting the art of the kirkby kiss VS nightmare incarnate who's about to steal your life's savings, ft. the city of demons fit.
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hey so. was anyone gonna tell me that last year I wrote *the* most tender lonan & harrison moment in feeding habits ORRRRR (harrison cuts lonan’s hair):
On the floor, Harrison eases Lonan’s skull over his knee and mimics what Suzanna does for him every other month: a modest section between his index and middle finger, then a tentative snip. A section. A snip. As he cuts, chips of Lonan’s hair falling to the tile, he notes the geography of Lonan’s skull, rough with uneven hair. He’s so focused on taming it all to one length that at first, he doesn’t notice when Lonan flushes crimson all the way to his throat. How he blinks rapidly to dislodge the tears netting his eyelashes, and eventually covers his face with his hands. Harrison snips again, and Lonan makes a strangled noise, like an animal’s cry. Tentative at first, like a short clearing of the throat, and then ugly, like a caribou dying. Harrison clenches his jaw, knowing it’ll only be harder to cut Lonan’s hair if he too starts to cry, but that doesn’t matter. Within seconds, his eyes swell, and as he snips, hair scattering like both of their old lives dissipating, he smooths his free thumb over Lonan’s forehead. He doesn’t know what else to do. How to imbue comfort. He’s not like Suzanna who understands that sometimes a person just needs another person to appear with a plate of papas, or a rented chick flick, and just be there. Within minutes, Lonan’s hair is at a new normal: shorter than it’s been in years, but in shape to regrow. Harrison sets the scissors onto the tile. He cups Lonan’s cheek with his palm, brings his forehead so close to his that they nearly touch. And he’s there. A bamboo stake waiting for a strand of ivy to give it new purpose.
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