Reblog and put in the tags if you had to pick a non-natural color to dye your hair, which would you pick? (Unless yours already is, if so, what color is it currently?)
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
Wei
Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all
warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in
the case of A-Yuan.)
Wei
Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it,
scrubbing him dry.
When
he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.
“Look
at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even
has little leaves!”
A-Yuan
protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around
Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.
Technically,
A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on
his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted
himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it
himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that
Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.
He
had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a
hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to
the door of the apartment.
As
he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned
in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he
could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind
it, keeping it out of view.
When
he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and
well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his
own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He
had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.
“Lan
Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.
“Hn,”
Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan
Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”
