Zoyarose

alyssinmymind:

Things we like to watch at 2am #ineedtosleep #butpls #bb #michaelweatherly #dvd

alyssinmymind:

Things we like to watch at 2am #ineedtosleep #butpls #bb #michaelweatherly #dvd

classydepablo:

iamcotedepablo:

reading the ew article on new love interest

image

also

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(Source: thedinozzos)

alyssinmymind:

Michael’s commentary for PPF on the S11 DVDs

ah ah. ah.

No words exchanged..

NCIS | Truth Or Consequences

(Source: irishtrish, via queencotes)

I AM NOT BITTER AT ALL

— No, we’re not the least bit bitter at all.

(Source: probalicious, via 2broxy)

Anonymous said: Can't you honestly just get over it? There are plenty of other shows and ships out there and most of them are fucking better.

wishfulthinkinganddreaming:

easylion:

Hey, anon

image

image

easylion:

probalicious:

probalicious:

They get falling in love and kissing and what did we get?

The answer is abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

(via 2broxy)

lapitiedangereuse:

"He was too old for me, he’d had three wives, he drank, he was an actor and he was goyim," Bacall wrote in her autobiography of her prime passion.  All that meant nothing to the slinky 19-year-old model who met the 44-year-old star while filming To Have and Have Not.  They wed in 1945 (Bogie coolly muttered "hello, baby" at the end of the ceremony), and the two embarked on several delirious years running late with the Hollywood Rat Pack, saving time for two children.  "Bogie and I were ridiculous, holding hands like teenagers….we mooned and swooned, we really loved," Bacall has said.  The honeymoon ended in January 1957 when Bogart died of cancer.  Wrote Bacall: "No one has written a romance better than we lived it." 

lapitiedangereuse:

"He was too old for me, he’d had three wives, he drank, he was an actor and he was goyim," Bacall wrote in her autobiography of her prime passion.  All that meant nothing to the slinky 19-year-old model who met the 44-year-old star while filming To Have and Have Not.  They wed in 1945 (Bogie coolly muttered "hello, baby" at the end of the ceremony), and the two embarked on several delirious years running late with the Hollywood Rat Pack, saving time for two children.  "Bogie and I were ridiculous, holding hands like teenagers….we mooned and swooned, we really loved," Bacall has said.  The honeymoon ended in January 1957 when Bogart died of cancer.  Wrote Bacall: "No one has written a romance better than we lived it." 

(via 2broxy)

ncis-los-angeles:

I have a feeling that even if they would have given us that scene, it still wouldn’t have changed the writers’ way of handling things for the rest of the season. Three Farts would still exist and so is all the bullshit that came with it. AND THAT MAKES EVERYTHING SO MUCH WORSE.

5x09/5x19:
K: Deeks, what are you doing to me?
D: Falling in love with you.

5x24:
D: It’s much more of a brother-and-sister relationship.

(via s-sdensi)

easylion:

When was the last time you shaved? 

Writer’s Block 
In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.

She’s not sure whether it is the early morning sunrise that wakes her, or her internal alarm clock pulls her from slumber. But when she registers the warmth and undeniable presence beside her, and then a low rumbling of what could only be her partner’s familiar snore, she becomes more sure of not what, exactly, but who has woken her so early on this weekend morning.
Though his sheets are engrained with his scent, it hits her ten-fold as she rolls over blindly and nestles closer to his body. Her cheek finds his bare shoulder, and she can’t help the unconscious smile that tugs at her lips, though she hides it by pressing her mouth against his skin, sighing as she inhales deeply. 
An answering moan of greeting or what she thinks may be recognition resonates against the mattress, muffled by pillows and sheets and cotton that holds the lingering smell of his cologne and something undefinably him. It causes her eyes to flutter open, and the contours of Tony’s bare shoulder and back muscles, tanned and sun-kissed, are the first thing her sight falls upon. 
She frees a hand from the warmth of the sheets wrapped around them, drawing her finger down his spine with a feather-light touch, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh in its wake as another, softer moan follows the action. 
Her hand stills as it reaches his lower back, and she presses her palm to his skin, pulling her mouth away from his flesh. 
"You are home." 
A soft chuckle escapes him as he shuffles under the covers and turns his head to regard her sleepily across his pillow. His eyes are dimmed with the tell-tale signs of little sleep and long distance travelled, but his smile is no less radiant as he flashes her a drowsy grin. 
"I’m home," he agrees, his eyes raking over her. "And there’s a ninja in my bed." 
She laughs deeply as she feels his arm snake around her waist under the covers, allowing him to pull her effortlessly to him and his mouth to crush against hers in a deep, longing kiss. Her hand trails back up his spine to tighten around his neck, her leg slipping between his under the sheets. 
When she pulls away to breathe, he drops soft kisses against her neck, her collarbone, drawing his lips up to her ear. “Did somebody miss me?” 
His warm breath fans across her ear and neck, and she works hard to hide her shiver as she pulls back to give him a secret smile. 
"Perhaps," she responds airily, but her eyes are all teasing as she brushes the pad of her thumb along his jaw. Her touch encounters miles of stubble. "When was the last time you shaved?" 
His eyes darken, a small smile tugging at his lips. 
"Right before you ambushed me in the shower the night I flew out." She grins at the memory, and her longing for him hikes up a notch as she’s reminded just how long he’s been away. She leans forward to capture his mouth briefly. "How was Bahrain?" 
"Too much work." He murmurs into her neck, trailing his hand down her side and tightening around her thigh. "Not enough play." He smiles against her when her answering laugh reverberates against him. "Laugh again," he drags his face from her neck to rest his head against her chest. "It feels good." 
She hums as she presses her fingers into his shoulder-blades, working out the taut muscles a week’s worth of stress, working, and back-to-back flights built up. When he groans as she works out a particularly tense knot, she stills her hand and carefully eases out of his grasp and untangles herself from her side of the bed. 
"Where are you going?" His eyes follow her longingly as she walks around the edge of his mattress. She doesn’t respond, but when the bed dips on his side of the bed moments later, his next question dies in his throat as she climbs over him, swinging a smooth, strong leg over his body and settling herself back on his legs. He stifles a moan into his pillow as her hands glide over his shoulders, warm and tempting, chasing away the weight of everything that has been on his shoulders in the last week. 
"How is your team coming along?" 
Tony hisses as her fingers make contact with a particularly nasty knot. “They’re going to cause me to go prematurely grey.” 
Ziva smoothes her hand down his side, grinning as she makes him jump. “Makes you consider all Gibbs has put up with over the years, yes?” 
He makes a noise of protest, reaching blindly behind his back to tighten his hold over a hand. “Don’t say the G word when you’re half naked or on top of me.” He pleads. 
Ziva laughs softly as she leans forward, her curls falling over him as she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw. “I am glad you are home.” 
His back flexes underneath of her, and she knows what he’s about to do just as he twists, pulling her around and sweeping her under him.  Brushing her curls away from her face, he leans down to capture her lips. 
"Good to be home, sweetcheeks."

easylion:

When was the last time you shaved?

Writer’s Block

In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.

She’s not sure whether it is the early morning sunrise that wakes her, or her internal alarm clock pulls her from slumber. But when she registers the warmth and undeniable presence beside her, and then a low rumbling of what could only be her partner’s familiar snore, she becomes more sure of not what, exactly, but who has woken her so early on this weekend morning.

Though his sheets are engrained with his scent, it hits her ten-fold as she rolls over blindly and nestles closer to his body. Her cheek finds his bare shoulder, and she can’t help the unconscious smile that tugs at her lips, though she hides it by pressing her mouth against his skin, sighing as she inhales deeply.

An answering moan of greeting or what she thinks may be recognition resonates against the mattress, muffled by pillows and sheets and cotton that holds the lingering smell of his cologne and something undefinably him. It causes her eyes to flutter open, and the contours of Tony’s bare shoulder and back muscles, tanned and sun-kissed, are the first thing her sight falls upon.

She frees a hand from the warmth of the sheets wrapped around them, drawing her finger down his spine with a feather-light touch, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh in its wake as another, softer moan follows the action.

Her hand stills as it reaches his lower back, and she presses her palm to his skin, pulling her mouth away from his flesh.

"You are home."

A soft chuckle escapes him as he shuffles under the covers and turns his head to regard her sleepily across his pillow. His eyes are dimmed with the tell-tale signs of little sleep and long distance travelled, but his smile is no less radiant as he flashes her a drowsy grin.

"I’m home," he agrees, his eyes raking over her. "And there’s a ninja in my bed."

She laughs deeply as she feels his arm snake around her waist under the covers, allowing him to pull her effortlessly to him and his mouth to crush against hers in a deep, longing kiss. Her hand trails back up his spine to tighten around his neck, her leg slipping between his under the sheets.

When she pulls away to breathe, he drops soft kisses against her neck, her collarbone, drawing his lips up to her ear. “Did somebody miss me?”

His warm breath fans across her ear and neck, and she works hard to hide her shiver as she pulls back to give him a secret smile.

"Perhaps," she responds airily, but her eyes are all teasing as she brushes the pad of her thumb along his jaw. Her touch encounters miles of stubble. "When was the last time you shaved?"

His eyes darken, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Right before you ambushed me in the shower the night I flew out." She grins at the memory, and her longing for him hikes up a notch as she’s reminded just how long he’s been away. She leans forward to capture his mouth briefly. "How was Bahrain?"

"Too much work." He murmurs into her neck, trailing his hand down her side and tightening around her thigh. "Not enough play." He smiles against her when her answering laugh reverberates against him. "Laugh again," he drags his face from her neck to rest his head against her chest. "It feels good."

She hums as she presses her fingers into his shoulder-blades, working out the taut muscles a week’s worth of stress, working, and back-to-back flights built up. When he groans as she works out a particularly tense knot, she stills her hand and carefully eases out of his grasp and untangles herself from her side of the bed.

"Where are you going?" His eyes follow her longingly as she walks around the edge of his mattress. She doesn’t respond, but when the bed dips on his side of the bed moments later, his next question dies in his throat as she climbs over him, swinging a smooth, strong leg over his body and settling herself back on his legs. He stifles a moan into his pillow as her hands glide over his shoulders, warm and tempting, chasing away the weight of everything that has been on his shoulders in the last week.

"How is your team coming along?"

Tony hisses as her fingers make contact with a particularly nasty knot. “They’re going to cause me to go prematurely grey.”

Ziva smoothes her hand down his side, grinning as she makes him jump. “Makes you consider all Gibbs has put up with over the years, yes?”

He makes a noise of protest, reaching blindly behind his back to tighten his hold over a hand. “Don’t say the G word when you’re half naked or on top of me.” He pleads.

Ziva laughs softly as she leans forward, her curls falling over him as she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw. “I am glad you are home.”

His back flexes underneath of her, and she knows what he’s about to do just as he twists, pulling her around and sweeping her under him.  Brushing her curls away from her face, he leans down to capture her lips.

"Good to be home, sweetcheeks."

(via jennonthewire)