#kay bell

[lisamarie-vee]

[artfulfashion]

Marilyn Ambrose in a cabana dress by Tina Leser, photographed by Kay Bell at the Camelback Inn Arizona for Vogue March 1945

[travsd]

Ringing Out the The Bell Sisters

The Bell Sisters, like the Clooney Sisters, were originally from Kentucky. The duo consisted of Cynthia (b. 1935) and Kay (b. 1940. Their given name was Strother; Bell was their mother’s maiden name. The girls were very young when they found fame with their first single “Bermuda” in 1951, written by 16 year old Cynthia (making Kay only 11 at the time). It went all the way to #7 on the pop charts…

[midiosaamor]

❪ ✧ ❫ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃... 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: malakai azer x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: after battle, kai has a knack for getting injured and not letting anyone help him. well, that is, except for you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: wounds, blood, flirting, tension, female reader, bandages, stitches, slight gore (?), fluff i guess?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 869

𝐀/𝐍: heres to all my girls who want a kai azer fic but theres absolutely 0, aka this poor, innocent soul. kinda happy that im the first person to make this (i think? oh my god if im actually not it’ll just make me look like an egomaniac even though i kind of am but im not i just have a huge pride DTOPIT) also sorry this took so long lmao😭

𝐌𝐀��𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐈 “𝐊𝐀𝐈“ 𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐑.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle

this was the third time. the third time he had hurt himself in battle.

yes, you get that he’s fighting and he’ll get hurt no matter what. but for god's sake, you feel like he almost purposely hurts himself in battle.

so, here you are, dragging the king’s second son to the healing room, scolding him as he follows you like a puppy.

“i can’t believe it, kai. the third time. i swear, one of these days, i won’t be here to heal you,” you rant, not even looking behind you to see if the man is still following you.

you could almost feel him chuckling at your antics, thinking that you’re being over dramatic. which, in your opinion, you definitely aren’t.

you walk into the healing room and push the nineteen-year-old onto the bed. his chin is still dripping with blood, and bleeding scars are scattered around his muscular form.

“i’ll be fine, sweetheart. it’s only a few wounds; i’m not dying,” he taunts, rolling his eyes. you shoot the enforcer a harsh glare as you dig for some bandages and stitches.

your eyes glance to his rib, a long, deep, red wound traveling through his skin. you know that it pains him to sit and walk with that wound, but you also know that his father, the king, made him able to handle pain like that.

“sure,” you say sarcastically, get out the bandages once you find them. you put them on the stray, along with the stitches.

“why don’t you let the healers handle this, it’ll be much easier.” kai looks at you with a deadpan expression before shrugging. “i don’t want them to,” he says simply. you blink before glaring at him again, slamming the forceps you found on top of the tray along with the bandages.

“moron,” you mutter, making him grin bloodily at you. you roll your eyes, get a cloth, and start to gently tap his lip with the cloth, drying the blood.

you accidentally look up just to see him staring at you, making eye contact. his gray eyes glance between your own, his lips separating slightly.

gulping, you look away and dig in the counter for some alcohol for his wounds. you hear him sigh from behind you as you take the alcohol out.

“take off your shirt.” kai looks at you in amusement before taking off his shirt.

you’ve done this before; making him take off a piece of clothing so you could bandage his wounds without trouble, but it never fails to make blush come to your cheeks and your stomach flutter with butterflies.

kai looks up at you with a knowing look in his eyes, a small smirk forming on his lips. you clench your jaw before turning to the tray beside you and getting the alcohol.

you pour the liquid on the cloth in your hand before putting it on the large cut—probably made by a sword or someone with powers—on his defined —muscular but lean—chest.

you hear him hiss in pain, though you still feel his eyes on you. “that’ll need stitches. now, if you’d ask a proper healer, i would’ve just healed it with powers, but since i’m not…” you trail off, giving him a deadpan look.

“no, i’m—fine,” he grunts, his hands clenching the sheets underneath him. rolling your eyes, you grab the forceps and carefully grab the needle with it.

“you ready?”

“this isn’t the first time i needed stitches, sweetheart, i’ll be fine.”

“whatever.”

you hear a sharp hiss whenever you stick the needle into his skin. carefully, you start to stitch his wound back up—along with his hisses and held-in grunts of pain.

once you're finished, you cut the string and put the needle back on the tray. (idk man idk to do stitches) for the rest of the wounds, you get the alcohol and put it on the cotton again before cleaning the other small cuts and wounds.

“you’re a natural at this—thanks to me, of course,” kai murmurs, hissing halfway through. you glare at the man as you get the bandages, starting to bandage the wounds on his chest.

“that’s not something to brag about, kai. if anything you should be embarrassed,” you hiss, continuing to bandage up his wounds.

he hums and you feel his eyes on you again, watching you. he continues to stare at you until eventually you can’t handle his heated gaze on you and lift your head, meeting his eyes.

your breath catches in your throat as you lift your head a bit too close to his, feeling your cheeks get warm.

kai’s gaze travels to your other eye, to eventually your lips, then back to your other eye. instinctively, you lick your lips to wet them, making kai’s attention travel back to your lips.

you see him lean in ever so slowly, as if silently asking if he could kiss you. “can i—”

the door swings open and you quickly jump back, separating you and kai. looking towards the door, you see the blond hair of his big brother, kitt.

he looks between the two of you suspiciously, lifting an eyebrow. “was i, uh, interrupting something?” he asks.

“no.”

“kind of.”

“kai—”

[bo-katan]

@giftober 2024 | Day #3: GOLD

↳ Jedi Temple Robes/Temple Attire/Ceremonial Garbs

The Jedi Temple robes were often white with gold ornaments. The ornaments often showed the High Republic crest or a variation of it. Most Temple robes were made of white tunics, ornamented tabards and a white cloak. Some Jedi, like Elzar Mann used a cape instead of a cloak.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Everyone is talking about how cute this whole card was, but this moment had me thinking about how hard it must have been for Xavier and the other backtrackers to adjust to Earth and well... everything.

Like I wonder how hard it was for them to adjust to new foods, new (old? Ancient?) Tech, customs, clothing, everything.

Like it's clear from the main story that some of the Backtrackers are really struggling even after all this time, but I wonder how many faltered right at the beginning, and how hard, when they saw just how different it really all was. I mean, some people can't even manage to live in another country for an extended period of time, imagine living on an entirely different planet, in an entirely different time, with people who weren't even entirely your same species.

And, at the end of it, to develop a resistance to change, rather than to foster a healthy relationship with it, because of it? It's a coping mechanism, for sure, one we've seen from Xavier a couple of times actually.

All this was to say that in the midst of this tooth-achingly sweet moment, there was still a little bit of that "raw realness" that is always there with Xavier. He always seems to say the most accidentally sad things at the most random times.

[lisamarie-vee]

[artfulfashion]

Marilyn Ambrose wearing a wool dress by Ken Classics, photographed by Kay Bell for Harper's Bazaar, October 1948

[lisamarie-vee]

[artfulfashion]

Barbara Mullen wearing a town suit by Sheila Lynn, and a hat by Florence Reichman, photographed by Kay Bell for Harper's Bazaar, April 1949

[midiosaamor]

i have two mindests

“my lover should just let me lay back and not do anything” and “i could do whatever i want without my lover help”

both involve fictional men worshiping me but

[lisamarie-vee]

[artfulfashion]

Model wearing David Crystal, photographed by Kay Bell before a painting by Max Weber, Vogue April 1945