#straighten hair without damage

[faunandfloraas]

No but actually coming from someone with fine wavy/curly hair who had some hair loss and lots of issue I really and truly wish I could sit down and talk with Chan because he really needs someone who understands curly hair to get him some products and show him what to do and he also needs to stop using heat. Like no straightening. No hair drying. Or at least very sparsely.

[lemonade-juley]

Apparently my head is fucking massive, "one size fits all" my ass.

[suredealsweb]

How to Use Straightener Without Damaging Hair

Unlock the secrets of how to use straightener without damaging hair and effortlessly straight Hair Are you tired of frizzy, unruly hair? Do you dream of achieving sleek, straight locks without causing damage? Look no further! In this comprehensive guide, we will unveil the key techniques and tips on how to use straightener without damaging hair. Whether you’re a novice or an experienced user,…

[stealanity]

“ MY HEART WILL LOVE YOU. ” ft. lee heeseung

genre & warnings : brother's best friend ! heeseung, angst, cheating, crying, but i swear it ends fluffy asf + one die joke

summary : when your night turns into a nightmare, the one and only person capable of comforting you is him.

word count : 2,637

« can you please come get me? » you asked, in a voice so shaky that your interlocutor on the other side of the phone struggled to understand your words. heeseung straightened up on his bed, rubbing his eyes like a child before taking the phone away from his ear, checking the time displayed on the screen. frowning as he realized it was past two in the morning, he kicked his blanket away from his legs, finding himself on his feet the next second. « where are you? » his husky voice made you feel even more guilty for disturbing him at such a late hour, new tears forming at the edge of your tired eyes, « in front of his house. »

hesseung sighed, you could hear his exasperation through the phone. « i'll be there in fifteen minutes. » he concluded simply, putting an end to the call before getting ready to come and pick you up. gently pulling your phone away from your ear, you stared at it, his contact photo disappearing to make way for a completely black screen. the wind outside was cold, nibbling at your skin — your cheeks were probably even damaged than they already were. without being able to hold back any longer, many painful tears escaped your eyes to roll down your face.

you weren't sure whether contacting heeseung was a good idea : but he was, without a doubt, the only person who can console you. you can't count the number of times he's seen you cry, whether it's because of classes, work, your family or your boyfriends, heeseung dried more tears than your mother ever did. for all that, he was nothing more than your brother's best friend — but there was something about him that made him so comforting, so warm. he was like a shining sun at the end of a dark tunnel, or like an untied rope ready to bind you out of the deepest well. so yes, maybe calling him instead of any of your other friends was a bad idea, but at least you knew he'd take care of you.

when heeseung's car pulled up in front of you, the poor boy didn't expect to find you in such a state. curled up, your hair and face wet, your make-up smeared on your cheeks, your body shivering with cold.. it was perhaps the worst state he had ever seen you in. stepping down from the driver's side, rounding the car and landing in front of you, he didn't have time to offer you a hand before you stood up on your two legs, your watery eyes locked in his. « look at you.. » he began, his hand hesitantly brushing your bare arms, « you tremble like a leaf. » he didn't hesitate a second longer before grabbing the brim of the sweatshirt he was wearing, removing it with ease before deftly slipping it on you, without you being able to say anything.

pulling the hood up over your head, heeseung frowned as he bent down to your height. « why is your hair all wet? » his cold fingers brushed your cheekbone, trapping a lock of your wet hair behind your ear, which made you look up at him, « and don't you dare lie to me. »

again fleeing his gaze, you tucked one of your hands into the pocket of his warm sweatshirt, pushing him lightly to the side to be able to open the car door. « i'll tell you at home. » — your voice was so fragile, it shook his heart, but he said nothing more, nodding his head before stepping around the car to the steering wheel.

the driving home passed in dead silence, despite the many glances he gave you — which you brilliantly ignored. with your face turned completely towards the window, you furiously tried to wipe away the tears that continued to roll down your battered cheeks. heeseung wasn't fooled : he knew you were crying, but he wasn't the type to comment. especially when it came to you. as far back as he could remember, he'd always been the one requisitioned to chase this droplets of salt water from your cheeks. your brother too bored and your parents too absent, unable to do it themselves. but it had never bothered him, not even once. he'd always taken a liking to you — it was inexplicable. he always had a soft spot for you, and that was probably why he could never say no to you. you could call him three times a night, at different hours, and he'd still be ready to drop all his plans for you. everyone knew, except you. what a shame.

arriving in front of his house, he got out of the car after turning off the ignition, reaching into the pocket of his jogging to find the key to his front door. followed closely by you, heeseung suddenly felt your body cling to his, your face camouflaged against his back, and a light smile appeared on his lips. innocently, your hands clung to his shirt, the cold of your fingers passing through the fabric to reach his skin, provoking a shiver down his spine. heeseung hurriedly opened the door, pulling you inside with him, hoping that the warmth of his apartment would warm your chilled body.

remaining motionless in the doorway, his hands settling over yours in a comforting gesture, patiently waiting for you to detach yourself from him. not that you bothered him, on the contrary — but he wanted to find something to take care of you properly. « let's go and remove your make-up, mh? » he softly whispered, leaning his face slightly towards you, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes, even though they were camouflaged in his shirt, « don't you think your face has suffered enough as it is? »

nodding, you decided to let him go, throwing off your shoes as he did so. then, with hushed steps, even though no one else was present, you followed him like a lost puppy to his bathroom, where he practically ordered you to sit still by the sink. without the strength to do anything else, you carried out his orders, playing nervously with your fingers as you gazed sadly into the void. heeseung soaked a cotton pad in make-up remover to wipe away the mascara that had run down your cheeks, his free hand gently raises your face to keep your eyes focused on his face.

as he began to rub your cheek gently so as not to hurt you, his gaze met yours for a brief second. « are you going to tell me what happened now? » he asked, his voice echoing off the walls before you could let out a sigh, « at least tell me why your hair was soaked. »

your eyes juggled from one to the other of his, pursing your lips nervously as you felt tears welling up in your eyes once again. « his girlfriend came home. » you simply said, which caused heeseung to stop all movement, his eyebrows furrowing more than ever. « but.. you're his girlfriend? » he replied, tilting his head to one side in the hope that he'd misunderstood what you'd just said. but no, he had indeed heard the right words : judging by the way new tears appeared on your cheeks the next second. « that's what i thought too. » you struggled to say, your voice cracking in mid-sentence, and heeseung swore he could hear your heart breaking in your chest.

you felt so bad — you felt betrayed and soiled, this evening had been a real fiasco. what had begun as a perfect date had ended in a nightmare : while you and your supposed boyfriend ( well, now ex-boyfriend ) were sitting on the couch watching a movie, the front door had opened to let in a young pretty girl, obviously just as surprised as you to see you clinging to her boyfriend. your first instinct was to distance yourself from him, which wasn't your best decision because, unfortunately, it led this girl to believe that you were her boyfriend's mistress. in anger, she grabbed the glass of water from the coffee table, threw it in your face and chased you out of which, was obviously, her house.

« i feel so dumb heeseung.. » you whispered, burying your face in your hands as you felt more tears fall from your eyes. the boy didn't wait any longer before pulling you against him, wrapping his warm and comforting arms around your body and making you want to burst into tears even more. he was your crying button, because you weren't afraid to show him your emotions. you knew that no judgment would come out of his mouth, that no wrong words would be spoken — because he was like that, an escape. « now, i understand why you didn't want to tell me in front of his house, » he sighed, rubbing your back up and down, « you knew i would have gone to see him. »

reluctantly pulling your body away from his, hooking your hands on his bare arms, just above his elbows, you draw him away from you to give him the opportunity to observe your face attentively, his soft gaze scanning your flushed cheeks. sniffing discreetly, you shook your head negatively and spoke again, « he wasn't worth it anyway. »

heeseung nodded positively, swallowing all the swearings that rambled on his tongue about your ex-boyfriend — he could have given him a free nose job if he'd known what he'd done earlier. but, putting aside his feelings for you, he'd never been able to stand that boy's interest in you. from the start, he had been behaving strangely : he was far too hasty, slightly possessive for someone who'd only just met you, and far too helpful to be reliable. heeseung was angry that he hadn't been able to protect you more from him, despite the bad feeling he'd had towards him. « don't feel guilty, » your sweet, honeyed voice, even in a whisper, drew him out of his thoughts, drawing his attention to the smile mingling with a few tears on your gorgeous face, « i'm glad you came. »

heeseung was sure you saw his face blush softly — a red tinge painting the top of his cheeks. but he didn't care. because he thought, sooner or later, you'll understand that you don't need to find love at every corner, because it's right there in front of you. he's the one who'll know how to take care of you properly — because he's always known how to do it, perfectly, tenderly. and he was sure that deep down, you knew it too.

your hand left his arm and rested tenderly on his flushed cheek, caressing his skin with the tip of your thumb. « thank you for always being my source of happiness, » you whispered, trying not to laugh as his face redoubled in color, « you're the only comfort i ever need. »

if you didn't look so sad, heeseung wouldn't have hesitated for a second to kiss you. you didn't realize how fast his heart was beating right now — you always knew how to make him fall madly in love with your words. he struggled so hard not to let his pupils divert to your lips, but the desire to catch a glimpse of your rosy lips stretched into a stomach-crushing smile was too strong. he allowed himself, for a microsecond, to look down the curves of your nose, to observe your heart shaped mouth, who seemed far too lonely for his liking.

but heeseung was an upright man : so he simply cleared his throat, looking away to rummage in his cupboard and pull out a jar of moisturizer, to soothe your skin irritated by cold and tears. dipping his finger in the whitish cream, he delicately applied it to your cheeks, chin, forehead and the tip of your nose, your fingertips shivering from the cold material. and you let him, admiring his concentrated face — so peaceful, so perfect. the contours of his face probably sculpted by the gods. the bridge of his slightly upturned nose, the shape of his beautiful, mischievous brown eyes. but above all : the exquisite shape of his shining mouth, his perfectly rosy heart-shaped lips.

you've lost count of the number of times you've squinted at heeseung's lips : the first time was in your middle school years, when you were just discovering what it was like to kiss someone. he'd walked into your living room, a dreadful cap on his head, and even though he looked like an idiot in his three-times-tall clothes, which were supposed to make him look cool, the jaw-dropping smile on his lips had not failed to make you dream about kissing him every night. but rather die than admit it.

for all these years, what has held you both back from trying something with each other, is the fact that he's your brother's best friend. but as you get older, you realize that maybe it wasn't so bad after all. heeseung wasn't your brother's property after all — and you were old enough to make your own decisions. so, maybe when your heart's a little more mended — still thanks to one and the same person — you'll let it love the one and only person who's always deserved it.

the soft smile on your lips caught heeseung's attention, the sadness seemed to have already disappeared from your face. as he gently tugged at your waist to get you off the sink, he decided to question you, « what's on your mind? »

shrugging your shoulders without answering, you moved closer to him, pressing your body against his. your arms encircle his waist, trying to capture all the warmth emanating from him, tiptoeing up to rest your cheek against his shoulder. without hesitation, heeseung placed his arms around you, the fingertips of his left hand caressing your hip. « you're so warm.. » you murmured, your breath evaporating against his sensitive skin, provoking an umpteenth shiver that didn't escape your attention this time.

moving slightly, you straightened up slightly, simply to hide your face in the hollow of his neck, eager for more of his warmth. only his. the situation with your ex-boyfriend now in a distant corner of your mind, you let yourself melt into his arms a little more, feeling his heart beat under the palm of your hand. it was restful, reassuring and comforting. and suddenly, under the subdued light of the bathroom, in the cocoon he formed around you with his warm arms, you felt ready to confide in him the deepest feeling that had rested inside you for far too long, the most unmentionable thing you were ready to say out loud. « i long for the day when my heart will love you. » you confessed to him, in the hollow of his ear, in an almost unreal whisper, like a secret that only he should know, like the most scandalous of gossips.

heeseung felt his heart racing in his chest, unable to calm it, even knowing that it was accelerating under your fingers delicately placed on his chest. but why did he care, after all? it didn't matter how vulnerable you made him feel after such words — because the truth was, he was looking forward to this day too, just as much as you. and he was willing to wait a long time : because the simple fact that you wanted to love him, filled his heart with happiness.

taglist ( even if i don't think i still have one.. here's the google form ! ) : @quaissants @kimsohn @wccycc @taegicarus @lost-leopard-beanie @kflixnet

[xysidhequeen]

The King and his Red Knight

DPxDC crossover fic

Part 1

Really sorry to everyone who suffered through the fact that I didn't know about the existence of readmore. I can't fix the thread now but the individual posts are better? Sorry I have like a very rough idea of how this site works 😭

Check the: The King and his Red Knight tag to find all the parts

"Go here, Danny. Go then, Danny. Go to a random cemetery in the middle of the night for no reason, Danny." A voice grumbled, accompanied by the sound of sneakers rhythmically tapping stone.

Danny Fenton, currently Phantom, sat on a gravestone, his white hair a beacon in the dark night. There were no stars in the sky for him to gaze upon, their light hidden behind swaths of smog and neon lights playing off the gray clouds.

Clockwork had dumped him here, with no explanation for why. Not that he ever really explained much when he sent Danny off on his tasks. He supposed he should be grateful, at least he was in the same when rather than being transported a thousand years into the past.

"Wait here King Phantom. You will understand in time." Danny mimicked his mentor's voice as he let himself float off the grave he'd been dumped on after Clockwork shoved him out of a portal. His body floated higher until he could flip around, his legs crossing. He sat upside down, his chin in his palm as he glared petulantly at the assembled gravestones surrounding him, his toxic green eyes glowing.

"So far all I've seen is a concerning amount of ecotplasm for a city without a ghost portal and some blob ghosts! How long am I supposed to wait here?" Danny asked the air, and the aforementioned blob ghosts who were hanging off his body, soaking in the ambient ecotoplasm he radiated at all times now.

Neither provided him with an answer to his question and Danny let out a frustrated groan as he lowered his still flipped body to look once more on the gravestone he'd been tasked with waiting on.

Jason Todd, the name read. The dates, too close together, made something in Danny squeeze painfully. He'd been young, barely older than Danny when he stepped into the portal. Only for this teenager there had been no ectoplasm to bind to his dying body and repair the damage of death and force him back into a semblance of life.

"Who were you and why did Clockwork send me to you?" Danny asked the gravestone, one clawed finger tracing the words before he pulled back with a sigh when the gravestone gave him no explanation. The dead didn't always speak, not even to their king.

Turning his body Danny looked over the rest of the cemetery. It was empty, as most usually were this time of night, of the living. There were a few shades wandering around, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence. No full ghosts though, but oddly enough there rarely were in cemeteries. This was where the dead came to rest. To remember, if they wanted to. Cemeteries were sacred spaces to the dead, much as a temple or a church would be for the living who were religious. Ghosts who still clung to life, to their obsessions, did not frequent cemeteries, did not dare trespass and disturb those who had already found their peace.

Danny himself was an oddity. He had never shied from cemeteries, enjoying the peace he found in them, the guarantee of safety offered. And perhaps, he mourned that he himself would never have a gravestone for the living to place their flowers and their tears at. Who would make a grave for someone who was both alive and dead? There would never be a body to bury for him. His human half would continue to live on so long as his ghost core remained and could fuel it.

Maybe that was why he found peace in cemeteries, for all his whining that Clockwork had dumped him here. Cemeteries were for the living and the dead, one of the only places both existed in harmony naturally. For someone who was as much dead as he was alive such a place held a certain degree of belonging for him.

Danny straightened out in the air, letting his body lie above the grave as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the covered sky. He complained and whined about this task, but he was secretly glad that Clockwork had given him something to do. Even if it was just 'hang out in a random cemetary'.

Ever since he'd graduated high-school, revealed himself to his parents and discovered how deep prejudice and hate could run, and he'd run away to the Infinite Realms for sanctuary while his friends moved forward with their lives, he'd felt unmoored. A ghost with no haunt. Bored was too light a word for the gaping emptiness he felt in his chest, for the loneliness clawing at him. Clockwork, Wulf, Pandora they could help chip at the ache inside of him but not banish it. Not now that his family, his friends, were spread so far apart and so distant from him.

Not that he resented their choices, their distance, in fact he'd fought for them to do just that, to get out of Amity Park, to go to college, to become more than overworked teen superheroes. Still he missed them, even if he could visit them whenever he wanted. It was becoming clear as time moved forward that the world they belonged to and the one he did were two different things.

Danny Fenton couldn't go to college when his parents had declared him dead. Danny Fenton didn't exist as far as the government was concerned. Danny Phantom couldn't return to Amity when those same parents were waiting to capture him and tear him apart 'molecule by molecule'. Danny Phantom couldn't go back when the GIW were crawling over the town like ants.

So neither Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom returned to Amity after that day. And he made sure they couldnt follow him when he ensured the portal that took his life to function never opened again. He didn't need the portal any longer to get in and out of the Infinite Realms, and it was safer for the ghosts, his subjects, if the temptation of the Fenton portal was gone.

The world of the living was not yet ready to accept that the dead didn't always stay dead. And Danny would keep his people safe until they were.

Danny jolted from his lazing state of reverie when a pulse of emotion rocked through him, the strength of it stealing his breath if he had any to take.

Fear/Trapped/Dark/Fear/Help/HELP pounded into him and Danny frantically flipped around, head swiveling, poisonous green eyes wide as he triedf to locate the source. The emotions, the plea for help, burned his core, his Obsession screamed at him.

Help/SomeonePlease/Dark/Trapped/CANTBREATHE/HELP another wave of messages, of emotions pushed themselves at Danny and this time underneath the onslaught he could hear a rhythmic thudding. Danny looked down, horror filling him when he realized the thudding was coming from under the ground. From the grave he'd been hovering over for an hour now.

Danny flew down, sending back a wave of I'mHere/HelpIsComing/I'mComing to the boy trapped in his own coffin, feeling the intense wave of relief and hope sent back before he dived into the earth as if it wasn't there. Danny paused for a moment when he passed the thick wooden coffin, seeing a boy in the dark with wide, panicked blue eyes and fingers tipped with shredded nails and fresh blood.

"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" Danny told the boy, keeping his voice gentle, soft. The boy jolted, fixating on the only source of light, Danny's growing green eyes. Danny hoped his smile came off as calming instead of 'freaky AF' as Tucker liked to call it. He grabbed the boy, Jason, as carefully as he could and then let his intangibility wash over the terrified teen as he lifted them both out of the coffin.

When they emerged from the coffin and the ground Danny set the teen down, leaning him against the gravestone, his own gravestone, and pulled back a bit. The boy was gasping in air as if the fetid, polluted air was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Danny tilted his head as he watched the boy ground himself. Now that the emotions were leveling out and his Obsession was purring in contentment rather than growling in a frenzy, Danny could feel something off about the boy.

Disregarding the fact that he'd just come back from the dead, of course. But that wasn't the oddest thing Danny had seen in his afterlife. No the boy felt... not like a normal, living human. Not even like an Amity Park resident, who all felt more than slightly liminal. No this boy, this Jason Todd, felt closer to liminal than even Jazz, Tucker or Sam, who were three of the most liminal humans Danny had ever been around.

Jason felt almost...like a ghost. But not. Danny could feel the tickle in his throat that proceeded his ghost sense but the tell-tale mist never emerged. It was as if Jason was...like him. But Danny couldn't sense a core either. Even halfas had cores.

"Who are you?" Jason spoke, breaking Danny from his thoughts and examination. Jason was looking at him with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Which, fair. Danny had just pulled him from his own coffin and there were so many questions that could stem from all of this, disregarding all the weirdness that was just Danny himself.

"I'm Danny, Danny Phantom. Or just Phantom. I go by either. And you're Jason, right?" Danny asked, smiling at the teen and oops, yeah that was definitely his scary smile based on the slight flinch there. It wasn't his fault his teeth were too sharp now and his lips split a bit too wide.

"How did you know that?" Jason asked, blue eyes narrowing. Danny nodded at the gravestone the boy was leaning against with a raised brow. Jason turned and almost toppled over from the movement. Danny frowned as the boy caught himself on his gravestone. His skin was still pale, too pale, and as Danny watched Jason swayed again.

"Shit. You're fading. You didn't form a core and your body isn't stabilizing." Danny cursed, moving towards the boy who scrambled back, only to be stopped by his grave.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, hands fisting as he tried to rise only to fall back to the ground when his legs refused to hold his weight.

"Saving your life. The dead aren't supposed to come back. There's always a price to pay, a balance that is struck. Currently, as you are, if I don't get enough ectoplasm in you to form your core, you'll fade and turn into a brain-dead husk." Danny told Jason, tone stern and no nonsense as he grabbed him. Jason made an effort to break free, but it was weak, and even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break Danny's hold. Few in this realm could.

If they had the time, Danny would've approached this situation in a far different manner, but this close he could hear Jason's heartbeat, a weak flutter in his chest, skipping beats as it tried to fuel a body that was past saving. Jason didn't have the time for Danny to approach this gently and kindly, to coax trust out of the teen like he would a feral cat.

Jason had minutes left before his ectoplasm starved body consumed itself trying to make a core and failed because while wherever they were had more ambient ectoplasm than most places, it was far from enough to sustain the birth of a halfa. Maybe if Jason had stayed dead for another year, he'd have naturally formed a core and risen as a proper ghost. But that wasn't what happened, somehow he'd gathered enough to fix his body of whatever wounds or illness had put him in that coffin to begin with and come back to 'life' but without a core to sustain his body he'd be dead, again, in minutes. And Danny was not about to watch while a teenager, another teenager, died.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Jason hissed as Danny pushed his arms down and laid his clawed hands on Jason's chest.

"You don't. But you don't have another choice." Danny said with a shrug. "Now are you going to let me save your life or not?" Danny asked, not moving his hands. He'd save Jason either way but this would be easier if Jason worked with him.

"Fine." Jason spat and Danny smirked as his hands began to glow a toxic green that matched his eyes.

Ectoplasm pooled out of his hands and rushed into Jason, filling him until the boy glowed bright enough to rival the neon lights of the city around them. The green light flared around him like an aura, slowly shrinking but getting impossibly brighter as the glow centralized around his chest until a small glowing ball of green, like a trapped star, blazed from his chest.

Jason gasped, back arching as Danny pulled his hands away and the light vanished under Jason's skin. For a moment Jason's blue eyes burned green and his hair flashed snow white before returning to black, with one single lock of unearthly white left above his forehead. Jason collapsed back against his grave, chest heaving. Danny watched, eyes full of a sad understanding.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason panted out.

"Welcome to the world of the half alive, half dead." Danny said with a smile. "Want to get a burger and talk about it?" He asked, standing up and dusting off his hands.

"Make it a chili dog and you've got a deal."

~~~~~

Fixed some typos added some lines

Maybe I'll continue this AU. Maybe not. This scene was in my head for days and I wanted to share

[sheluvv-gambino]

“You know you goregeous with or without it.”

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : Damn, miles really dosen't like it when you straighten your hair.

warnings : Just that I don't know american school time tables :/

Miles sat in first period looking from the door to his phone that was under the desk waiting for you to either walk through that door or shoot him a text.

Another five minutes passed and he pushes aside his pride and decides to text you first.

Grumpy : Wya, ma?

you : I'm omw.

Grumpy : Why you not here yet?

you : My flat iron broke.

Grumpy : fym your flat iron broke, what's that got to do with you being late!?

you : I forgot to do it last night and then it broke today so I had to ask my sister for her one, duh.

Grumpy : Just not straighten it??

you : ew dont be gross, miles.

As soon as you sent that last message the bell decided to ring making it known that first period was now over.

You decided to wait outside the classroom you were supposed to be in and meet Miles so that you could see your boyfriend before seperating ways for second period.

With your quick silk press flowing you greeted miles with a side hug but all you got was a stink face.

"So that's what we doin' now, we late to school just cos' of hair now mami..?" Miles muttered.

"It is not that big of a deal, at least my hair looks good now." You replied whilst walking.

He stops and pulls you to the side, pulling you close by snaking his hand around your waist.

He bends down so that his lips and your eyes are at a balance, with a raspy voice he whispers "You do not need to be damaging your hair and education just to make sure your hair flowy. Your hair is beautiful in it's natural state, don't straighten it again. I mean it."

He grabs hold of your hand and resumes walking with you beside him.

"You know your gorgeous with or without it, mi vida..."

Yeah, your boyfriend loves you.

[ribbonprincess]

hi babyyy could you write something where reader has wavy hair and rafe dosent know because she always has it styled when she’s around him and one day he goes over to her house without telling her and she just came out the shower and he sees her natural hair and he’s like “wtf baby ur hair is so beautiful why haven’t i ever seen it?” pleaseee😭🫶🏼🫶🏼

🥀࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Pushing the door of your room open Rafe steps foot inside, he's immediately welcomed by the smell of caramel and vanilla. "baby? Your mom answered the door downstairs- what the fuck happened to your hair?" he asks confused,walking closer as he looks with furrowed eyebrows at your hair.

"hi rayray!" you beam happily before linking your arms around his neck "nothing happened...this is my natural hair,I just usually straighten it" you answer without thinking much of it "but since I don't have to go out I just dried them like this,didn't know you were coming by"

A rough hand 's on your waist whilst the other is tangled in your hair "yeah yeah,just wanted to see my girl is that bad?" "no it's not.." you chuckle before he continues his rambles "you should leave them like this more often...I like them,makes you look like a Disney princess" he bends down, pressing a kiss to your forehead "don't know why you do that shit- doesn't it damage your hair anyway?" "I use heat protection don't worry! they're fine,my hairstylist says I keep really good care of them"

your boyfriend nods before,running his fingers though your locks "want you to do them like this next time we go out...no more straightening,okay?" "okay rafey,I'll leave them like this if you like them" "that's good,don't need you to do that Anyway you always look pretty"

[imreadydollparts]

Q&A stuff here

(If you have any other questions, let me know.)

How dirty of a doll or pony can I send?

Inside and out, these are both fine to come to the salon.

I may decline a pony or doll if they're dirtied with bodily fluids of any kind. I will be more than happy to talk you through the cleaning process so you can take care of that yourself.

However, if you are distraught and can't handle it, we can talk. I absolutely need a warning.

What happens if you damage a pony/doll someone sent?

I fix it.

For example, I got some 40Vol on a customer's Confetti's yellow hair and it bleached out the yellow color. I told the customer what had happened and did a partial rehair with vintage hair of the same color from my MLP G1 tail stash. That way the owner is informed and the pony is still full vintage.

Another example is that I was resetting the pose on a Flutterbye, and her feet turned white where they'd sat in a little boiling hot water (I didn't take a picture). I blasted them with a heat gun for a while and they're good as new.

And another was a Birthday Pony who's ribbons had been tied in knots and were weak. I snapped one when I went to recurl it, informed the owner, and they were amenable to replacement of all of the ribbons.

Repair is often risky. If I do damage that I can't fix, I will pay the going price for one of the same quality on eBay or order it for you and give it the salon process for free.

What hair do you use?

I use high-grade, silky smooth nylon mostly ordered from Shimmer Locks for full rehairs.

For partial rehairs like replacing a few plugs here and there or a forelock that was cut, I use vintage hair as long as I have it available in my stash of tails or can harvest enough from the pony's own tail without making the tail too thin. I do offer full tail replacements if I happen to have a replacement tail.

Can I request a hair style?

Absolutely! I can't guarantee that I'll be able to do the style you're wanting, but I'll certainly try. I can attempt a few different kinds of curls and have both a standard size and mini crimper.

You can also let me know if you want every pony's mane to be on the same side of their head. I'm not very consistent with that otherwise.

Why do you charge so much more for deflocking?

I hate doing it.

What paints do you use?

Right now I'm using Army Painter acrylic paints. I was using Liquitex before and found it difficult to get just the right consistency, whereas Army Painter has been easier for me to manipulate.

Why is your hair styling/photography/etc. so inconsistent?

I am not a professional anything and have a poor memory.

My photography is also inconsistent because I use my phone and every time I take my phone on or off of the cheap ringlight-phone-tripod the tripod moves.

The way I style a certain pony's hair will change between ponies because I don't remember how I styled it before and if I've had to flat iron it, I may not remember that it had been curly.

One of the great things about this being a hobby as opposed to a business is that I don't have to spend a lot of time on the parts that aren't fun (for me photography isn't fun), and don't have to be consistent. I just have to enjoy what I'm doing. If I can help out other people and get a little money so that I can keep doing what I do enjoy, that's a bonus.

Do you always ---

deflock So Soft Ponies?

No. I only do that when asked because I hate doing it. I will also deflock a pony I bought to clean and sell if the flocking is bad enough, but if the flocking is decent I don't ruin it.

straighten doll/pony hair?

No. I will do my best to preserve factory curl if it's present and the hair is in good enough condition it doesn't need flat ironed, but can't guarantee I will succeed...

How aggressively I treat hair depends entirely on the hair itself.

[riality-check]

riiaaa!! for the 100 ways to say i love you prompts, #1 and steddie please!!

(this is also very late, but here we go!)

"Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"Steve."

"Mhm."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna drive us off the road."

"I'm fine," Steve says, and Eddie watches from the passenger seat as the car moves a full two feet onto the shoulder.

And people have the nerve to criticize his driving.

"Yeah, no," Eddie says. "Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"I got it," Steve says, a mid-sentence yawn ruins his credibility.

Eddie sighs. Steve is more than just a good dude; he's become one of Eddie's closest friends over the past few months, thank you, trauma bonding. But even though Steve Harrington is a good person, he's exceptionally stubborn when he wants to be, and driving his Beemer is the most stubborn he ever gets.

Seriously, though? He needs to sleep. He's gonna get them hurt otherwise.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and where that came from, he's going to blame on the sleep deprivation, "please. I promise I won't scratch your car."

Steve straightens up at that. Sneaks a glance at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. Relaxes his grip on the wheel.

"Okay," he says, and he puts his blinker on, pulls onto the shoulder. "Yeah, you can drive."

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief as they switch seats. He's lucky he and Steve are the same size, nearly; he doesn't have to adjust the seat or the mirrors.

He glances at Steve, just to make sure he's settled, before he shifts the car into gear and gets them back on the road toward Hawkins.

Move in was a success all around. First Nancy, in Boston, then Jonathan in New York, then Robin in Philadelphia. Steve and Eddie had nothing else to do, the gas money to spare, and a want to help out. Taking the Beemer seemed stupid until Eddie was reminded by everyone, less than nicely, that the van would fall apart on a drive to Indy, nevermind to three different cities on the East Coast.

They fit less boxes, but at least they made the journey without breaking down.

And now they're on their way back, at nearly midnight with four hours left to go, because it makes more sense to drive than to find an affordable hotel that's not a shithole in Philadelphia.

"This is weird," Steve mumbles.

"What is?"

"Letting someone else drive my car," he explains. "Last time, I was concussed, and Max almost drove us into a telephone pole."

"Mayfield?"

"Yeah, back in '84. Hargrove beat the shit out of me so bad I could barely think, the kids had to get somewhere, and she was the only one who knew at least a little about how to drive."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "Everything I learn about you is weirder and weirder."

"I didn't even tell you the worst part."

"Which is?"

"I was so out of it, I thought Mike was Nancy."

Eddie cackles, wiping the tears from his eyes as he continues to drive. Thank god no else is on the road.

"They don't even look alike," he wheezes.

"In my defense," Steve says with a smile, "I did have brain damage."

"Past tense?"

Steve punches him in the shoulder. "Asshole."

Eddie rubs over the spot with one hand and keeps driving with the other. It's nice, this time of night. No one on the road, warm enough to have the windows cracked in the pitch black. Music playing loud enough to hear but low enough to have a conversation over.

It helps that Steve's rich-boy car drives smoother than anything else Eddie's been behind the wheel of, and Eddie's been behind a lot of different wheels in his life.

"Thanks," Steve says after a little while.

"For what?"

"Driving."

"Of course," Eddie says, because he means it. Of course he'd drive when Steve can't. It's what you do for the people you-

Eddie looks over at Steve. He's kicked his shoes off and scrunched his knees to his chest on the passenger seat. He's curled up, toward Eddie, with his hair fanned out and his cheek squished against his knee, eyes closed. The streetlights, as they race by them, cast his skin in varying shades of silver and gold, highlighting the contrast of his freckles.

-love.

Eddie's doing this because it's what he does for the people he loves.

It's a quieter realization than he expected. Eddie has loved a lot of people like he loves Wayne and his friends, but he's never been in love before. He thought it would be an all-consuming, heart-racing crash, a collision bringing fire and constriction, needing the jaws of life to pull him out.

This isn't like that. This is liking being a little kid, jumping off the couch, and knowing someone is waiting at the bottom to catch him. There's the feeling of danger, sure, but he knows what's at the bottom.

He wonders how long he's known. Long enough for that love, the love he has for Steve, to be something comfortable and warm in his chest.

Steve's hand rests on the space between them, palm up, outstretched. Eddie takes it and squeezes it.

And, though Steve is surely asleep, he thinks he might squeeze back.

Prompts here.

[luveline]

Omg shy reader being really embarrassed about asking Eddie to go with her to get tattoos. Like, she can hardly get the question outta her mouth cause he's looking at her with his big brown eyes

fire request tysm <3 shy!fem!reader | 1.1k words

You’d made the appointment months ago and figured by now you would’ve told him. You’re getting a tattoo tomorrow and you want — need — Eddie to go with you. You know, for moral support. As in, you don’t think you can do it without his hand to squeeze.

You’re embarrassed about it for lots of reasons. You should’ve told him weeks ago and every hour that passes without telling him furthers the feeling. You’ve never even told him you wanted a tattoo.

You ditch your bike at the stoop of his home and run up the steps on toes, letting yourself in without knocking. Eddie or his uncle are both nowhere to be seen, so you walk through the living area and down to his room, knocking the ajar door tentatively.

You flinch as the door swings open, Eddie’s hand on the handle, his eyes bright, happy to see you. He must’ve just got out of the shower as his torso is still shirtless and damp with runoff from his wet hair.

You want to smooth the hair out of his eyes. You don’t, having found yourself frozen to the ground by his smug smile.

“What?” you ask, confused, because there’s no way you could’ve done something silly already. You’ve been here for five seconds.

“You look really fucking pretty,” he says, voice rough.

You smile, momentarily uninhabited by any self-doubt. His endless and earnest praise does that to you.

“You’re naked,” you say, instead of thanks, instead of you’re prettier.

“I’ve got boxers on.” And he does, checkered and blue. You realise in horror that you’ve just oggled his crotch and swing your gaze up, but the damage is done.

“You creep,” he says fondly.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

He shakes his head like he always does after one of your apologies, his nose scrunched up and his eyes squished by a smile. He takes the towel from around his neck and lets his head fall forward to scrub at his wet hair.

“What’s up?” he asks from upside down.

“Nothing. Did you just get up?” you ask.

“Half hour ago. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Did you eat?”

You sigh in exasperation and take the towel from his hands. Eddie straightens up to glare at you but swiftly stops when you bring the towel to his face and scrub at his hairline gently. “Yeah, I did. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do worry about you. Often.” Your thumb smooths over his cheek. “You’ll tell me if you’re hungry?”

You meet his eyes and he takes your wrist into his hand, waiting.

“Of course I will,” you say. Then, with a hesitant smile, “I actually have something to ask you.”

His fingers massage your arm restlessly and he nods. “Hit me with it.”

He looks his age. The entire time you’ve known Eddie you’ve always thought he looked older than he is because of his style, his hair. Just something about him that gives off an air of coolness, despite his absurd (and dirty) sense of humour and his admittedly dorky hobbies. But here looking at you the way he is, any intimidation you might feel about him melts away. He’s pretty and smiling and waiting patiently for you to talk like there’s nowhere he’d rather be, and suddenly you can’t get the words out.

You drop your eyes to the ink on his chest and part your lips to talk, your inhale ragged.

His own breathing changes in response. He sighs quietly. “Are you worried about asking me?” he asks.

“No,” you work out weakly.

His eyebrows jump up for a split-second.

You drop the towel around his shoulders and take a half step away from him so you’re not breathing on his face. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, only shifts his fingers to hold you as comfortably as possible, which is heart-turning.

“Come on, sweet thing.”

“Will you-“ His eyes are huge.

You cover your forehead with your hand, your pinky finger hiding his face from view.

Unending patience. His thumb sweeps broadly over the underside of your forearm. He gives you a little squeeze, as if to say, go on.

“I have… I made an appointment. Tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

“Like a doctor's appointment? Is everything okay?”

He pries your hand off of your forehead, eyes impossibly wider, softened by concern.

“No, not the doctors.” You pause, your eyes jumping between his, you can’t choose which one’s prettier, and it’s so hot in here you’re melting, and he’s getting frustrated with you — there, a crease between his eyebrows. He shakes your wrist mildly. He’s not frustrated at all, only worried.

“What for?” he asks.

“A tattoo,” you confess.

His concern turns to excitement quicker than you can blink.

“Fuck, really? What are you getting? Why didn’t you tell me? Where is it? I’ll drive you, babe, I don’t think you can bike home after.” His hands work up your arms, appraising even when the man himself is distracted by questions. His fingertips tap your throat, his palms over your collar. He moves one down to your chest. “Your heart is beating so fast. Are you okay?”

“You have really nice eyes,” you tell him quietly.

He gets a familiar look in said eyes, a spark that excites you and worries you simultaneously.

He’s laughing as he presses a kiss to your lips, his hands careful but firm as they wrap around you, holding you steady. Your face flushes with heat and you gasp fast and high like a hiccup.

“I have a huge crush on you,” he says, punctuating his admission with a smattering of quick, sweet nips along your bottom lip that wipe you out completely. How quickly he can turn you from a semi-functioning person to putty in his hands.

“You’re my boyfriend,” you manage to say, blinking.

He smirks. “I know.”

Eddie encourages your head ever so slightly to one side to kiss a line from the corner of your mouth to your ear, his parted lips leaving warm crescents over your skin. He rubs the tip of his nose against the skin before your ear and then stills. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the tattoo,” he murmurs, “We’re gonna talk all about it. But first…”

You waited weeks to tell him. What’s another hour?

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

“All I have left”

Navia with a reader that bottles up their emotions

characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: angst/comfort

a/n: I wanted to write something for Navia again, so I cooked up this small scenario

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

Throughout everything that happened, from her father getting wrongfully accused and dying in a duel, to the death of her closest companions, you stood by Navia’s side, rocksolid and unwavering no matter how bleak the future looked, there to help her get back on her own feet even when she wasn’t sure if she could continue herself, lending her a hand, a smile and a hug before encouraging her with carefully picked words… But while Navia knew she was lucky to have you continuing to remain at her side, she wasn’t naive enough to believe you weren’t affected by those events yourself, no matter how much of a brave face you put on.

So when all those years of downplaying your less desirable emotions finally seemed to catch up with you while dressing yourself in front of the mirror, preparing for the court case later that day, the least she could do was be there for you to lean on to.

“Nervous?” Navia couldn’t help herself from asking, having silently watched you struggle to button up your sleeves for some time now, your shaky hands making what was supposed to be a breeze so much more difficult. 

The moment her words left her mouth however, your head turned towards her as your hands froze in place, a bright smile plastered across your face as you quickly shook your head, letting out a small laugh that sounded too genuine to be real. “Why should I be nervous? I know he’s innocent and I’m sure once we get to tell his side of the story, Monsieur Neuvillette will quickly come to realize so as well.”

Even you, with your unmatched pokerface and numerous masks, hadn’t taken the news of your friend being arrested well, quickly volunteering to serve as his lawyer once the charges were actually put forward, and while you made a great job at hiding your distress at first, the closer the date of the hearings drew, the more cracks your masquerade revealed.

Without saying another word, Navia grabbed your wrist before quickly buttoning up your sleeve, only for her hands to move downwards and envelope yours once she was done, giving you a reassuring squeeze before looking back up at you, worry on her face. 

“Please know you’re not going through this alone. You don’t have to put on a brave face in front of me, lean on me the same way you let me lean on you”, she offered before taking one of her hands off of yours and trying to fix a messy spot of your hair, only for you to melt once her hand touched you, your smile slowly vanishing as exhaustion and fear settled on your face.

“I know there’s nothing to worry about, the charges are ridiculous even for someone as carefree as him… but I don’t know what to do on the off-chance he’s somehow declared guilty”, you hesitantly confessed, each of your words carefully leaving your mouth as you tried your hardest to stop your voice from cracking. 

“You two are all I have left.” No matter how hard you tried to fight them, at this point tears began running down your face, years of bottled up emotions pouring out as you quickly tried to hide your face, only for Navia to embrace you in a hug before you had a chance, slowly rubbing your back as well as the back of your head in an attempt to calm you down, all the while whispering reassurances into your ear.

When you finally felt relieved enough to pull back a bit, the image of your puffy eyes immediately bored itself into her mind. How much she wished she could help you out in court… if only Neuvillette hadn’t warned her from interrupting court cases at this point.

“I pray for life to become less eventful. After this I’m not setting a foot outside of Poisson for a while”, you uttered out half-jokingly before quickly straightening your back and trying your best to fix the damage your small slip-up caused to your hair and face, hoping you’d still look somewhat presentable afterwards, only to stop in your tracks when you felt one of your hands getting snatched up, causing your gaze to wander to the person holding your hand in hers.

“I’ve also had enough of the courtroom for the next few years, let’s take some time for ourselves afterwards.”

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 8

And we're back with this one! I think I will update this every Thursday until it's done. We actually don't have too much farther to go. But we'll get there.

Steve really goes through it this chapter. He's been burying his feelings for so long that they were an explosion waiting to happen. It happens here.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve liked Lauren but he was questioning her taste in friends. Though the first one had been a cousin on Danny’s side.

This was his fourth proposition for sex since he’d arrived. Apparently word had spread around that he was related to the Lexington Kincades and they all wanted a taste of that particular brand of honey.

Never mind he was here for a funeral. But Beth had so far been the most flagrant pursuer.

She was currently leaning on her elbows on the counter, showing off her ample breasts. Not that Steve had ever even been a breast guy. Sure they were great to look at but when it came to sex it was more about the person he was in bed with and less what they looked like. Though apparently dark curls played a bigger part than he would admit out loud.

“Come on,” Beth said. “It’s not as though I’m asking you out. I know you’re going to be gone by the end of the week. All I’m saying is to have a little fun.”

Steve sighed. “Look, I’m not interested in ‘fun’ right now. I’ve had more than enough ‘fun’. I’m looking for something deeper. Someone deeper.”

“You got anyone in mind?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and curling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Yeah, actually I do,” he said straightening up. “They are sweet and kind and makes me laugh. They are always there for me even when I didn’t even know I needed someone to talk to.”

Beth scoffed. “Sounds like your crushing on your best friend or something, Raven, Wren, Mavis or whatever her name was.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Robin.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

“Yeah, her,” Beth said. “I knew it was some bird name. Lauren was telling me all about her. It’s sounds like you’ve got bad for this girl, but she’s not interested in you. So why not take the edge off and get your dick wet.”

“One, it’s not Robin. Two, I’m here for a funeral. And three, I think we’re really close to something and I don’t want to ruin that with some fling.”

She batted her eyelashes. “She’d never know.”

“I would and that’s what matters.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, clenching and unclenching his fists.

*

Eddie was waiting for him on sofa after he had gone to the bathroom to scrub his face.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Is there any chance we could go somewhere? Just me and you.”

Eddie nodded. “Sure, Stevie. Why don’t we head to Lexington and see your grandma’s grave?”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That’s great idea, Eds.”

Eddie hopped to his feet. “Just let me tell Uncle Wayne and Aunt Penny that we’ll be gone all day.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll meet you out at the car.”

“Right-oh!” he replied with a jaunty salute.

Steve shook his head fondly and walked out to the car. He leaned against the hood and watched through the window for Eddie.

He watched with his arms folded as Lauren and Beth seemed to exchange...well it was clear whatever it was, it was very heated.

Beth marched out of the house first without so much as backward glance at the house or Steve. Which was fine by him, if he was being honest.

Eddie came out shortly afterwards. “What’s her damage?” he asked jutting his chin at where Beth had stormed off to.

Steve shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t even fucking know, man. I really, really don’t.”

“You ready to go, then?” he asked.

Steve nodded and they slipped into the car. Steve would drive up and Eddie would drive back.

They were silent on the drive up, but it was a comfortable silence. Eddie could see that Steve had been wound up by something, but wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Steve drove slowly through cemetery looking for the Kincade family plot where Eileen and Montserrat Kincade’ mausoleum would be.

Soon it loomed in the distance and Steve stopped the car.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded.

Eddie got out of the car and walked up with Steve to mausoleum and his eyes wandered over the names on the tombstones. There were a lot of Kincades but there were also a smattering of other names. Husbands of female Kincades allowed to be buried in the family plot.

Eddie saw one and burst out laughing. “Hey, Stevie, look! Another Munson!”

Steve stopped his slow trek to the grave and turned to see where Eddie was pointing. And sure enough there it was.

Nathaniel Munson

1921-1944

Abigail Kincade Munson

1922-1973

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “I think that was Montserrat’s, my grandpa’s, younger sister. Her husband died in the War.”

Eddie nodded. He wondered if his Munsons were related to Steve’s. That would be interesting to say the least.

“She never remarried?” he asked as they started walking again.

Steve shook his head. “And as I understand no one tried to marry her off again either. She never had kids. My mom always called her a vodka aunt. She would whisk them off on vacations to far off lands during their holiday breaks and just lived her life to the fullest.”

“Is that why you wanted an uncle to do the same for you?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Mom doesn’t have any sisters, so I thought why not a vodka uncle, you know? Someone to take me places I’ve never seen. Always there for me when things got to difficult at home. But it never happened. Uncles Percy and Jasper never even called as far as I know.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Uncle Wayne can’t take you places you’ve never been, but I think he’d more than happy to take you into the Munson fold.”

Steve smiled at that. “Thanks, Eds. That means a lot.”

They finally reached the fucking tomb. Eddie wondered briefly if she had been mummified.

They had picked up flowers in town so they wouldn’t wilt. White lilies. No red roses for Steve. Not anymore.

Steve walked up to the sepulcher and laid the flowers down in front of it. He sank to his knees and just started to sob. It just all came out in a rush of emotion building up for the last twelve years. All the people he lost.

The lost of his friends even though they were objectively horrible people, they were his people once upon a time. The lost of his innocence to literal fucking monsters. The lost of his parents through neglect and disinterest. The lost of his relationships with Nancy and every other girl he’d been with since. The lost of his ability to sleep.

Eddie knelt down next to him and put his arms around him, just holding him as he cried.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there sobbing into the grass with Eddie’s arms around him, but suddenly there was the sound of a car slowing to a stop behind them.

Eddie looked at his watch and then at the sepulcher behind him.

Shit.

They had by some coincidence come on the twelfth anniversary of Eileen’s death. Eddie instantly knew who was pulling up and if they didn’t get out of there soon, Steve was going to have a much worse day.

But he couldn’t just pull Steve away, not when he clearly needed this. He stood up and turned to face the man that had gotten out of the very fancy car.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Steve clearly took after his mother’s side. The man had the same hazel eyes and honeyed hair that Steve did. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a tailored suit.

“Hey!” the man called out. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snapped up. He scrambled to his feet, brushing the grass off his knees. When he straightened up the other man gasped.

“Steven?”

“Uncle Percy?” Steve asked, jaw dropping, eyes wide.

“Shit, Steven,” Percy huffed. “Your Uncle Jasper is literally behind me. He’s going to have a bitch fit if he sees you here.” He pulled out a business card and a pen. “Meet me here at four and we’ll talk then.”

Steve nodded taking the business card. He didn’t want to be yelled at by his other uncle either.

Steve and Eddie started walking to their car when another, even fancier car pulled up to the curb. Another man got out. He looked like Max, but was thinner, more ratlike in his appearance. He hurried over to the other side of the car, helping out a very pregnant blonde woman as a ten year old girl hopped out of the back seat.

As they got to the car they could hear the exchange.

“Who was that, Perce?” Uncle Jasper whined.

“Just a couple of college students doing some family history and got turned around,” Percy explained. “I got them sorted and on their way.”

Eddie leaned in close to Steve. “You hear that, we’re a couple of college students.”

Steve snickered. “The only two of the party who aren’t going to go to college.”

They giggled together as they got in the car and drove off.

****

Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

[suredealsweb]

How to Use Straightener Without Damaging Hair

Unlock the secrets of how to use straightener without damaging hair and effortlessly straight Hair Are you tired of frizzy, unruly hair? Do you dream of achieving sleek, straight locks without causing damage? Look no further! In this comprehensive guide, we will unveil the key techniques and tips on how to use straightener without damaging hair. Whether you’re a novice or an experienced user,…

[nunalastor]

One of the many reasons Alastor doesn't sleep is so he doesn't have to redo his hair.

I HC him having C4 level curls, and that takes hours to straighten properly.

So after he sleeps(drug induced or not), he stumbles into the Lobby with an absolute mess of curls.

the fucked up bob is a result of heat damage

(tbh it's unlikely sleeping would cause his hair to get curly tho - that would be showering unless he has a perm in it and if he had a perm, it would still be relatively straight. at worst it would probably get a lil frizzy. plus, since he's biracial his hair probably starts to get oily after a couple days without showering - similarly to white hair, which would weigh down curls a lil. so tl;dr it's probably why he doesn't shower and smells)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for lying about my hair routine?

So, I (25F) don't have a lot of things that I am proud of, appearance wise. But the one thing i AM proud of is my hair. I have these, like, really soft and pillowy brown curls. Like, big fluffy 3A-3B ringlets.

My hair has always been curly, but I was bullied and harassed as a kid for it because I am the only person in my family with curly hair. As such, no one knew how to help me take care of it, so I'd have people both in and outside of my family telling me that I looked like a slob, that I looked lazy, that I looked like I'd just rolled out of bed, etc.

My hair WAS frizzy and messy, but whenever I tried to do something about it, I'd have people tell me I was just trying to be special, and that I knew it looked better straight, so I should just get over it and do the thing that I knew would make it look good. I grew up in Mormon country, so the pressure to look "professional and respectable" (read: conventionally attractive, thin, and white) was very heavy. I either straightened my hair or put it in a tight braid for about a decade before finally going to a curly hairdresser, having her cut it all off and starting fresh some 4 years ago.

Now that the damaged hair is fully gone and I know how to take care of it all, my curls are flourishing. I can't go anywhere without someone complimenting them. It's really lovely.

Now to the part where I might be an asshole. A lot of the people I grew up with (family, my mom's friends, people that go to my parent's church) have also noticed my hair, and are always asking me about my routine.

Now that the natural hair movement has sort of taken off, suddenly the women that got on my case about looking "lazy" and "ratty" and "homeless" all want curls, even if (especially if, in a lot of cases) they don't have a naturally curly hair texture.

Like my mom, for example, has had thick, gorgeous straight hair her entire life--like, it could barely hold a curl even if you used an iron and gelled that shit in place. And she was always complimented for it! But now that the women on her instagram page are showing off their curly girl methods, it's the only thing she can think about, and she talks about how jealous she is of my hair all. The. Time.

So, it usually goes like this. Someone I know compliments my hair and asks me about my routine. I try to laugh it off, then they ask for products, and I tell them that I just use normal head and shoulders shampoo from walmart. They ask me what method I use, I say that I just wash it, sleep on it, then brush it out in the morning--the same routine they always told me to use as a kid. And they seethe, because that's what they've BEEN doing, and it clearly isn't getting the same results. And I just go "well, I guess it has more to do with your natural texture :)" and move on.

I told my sister about this, and she told me I was being an asshole--that these ladies have moved on from their weird prejudice, so I should let it go and explain what I do and why it probably wouldn't work for them. I know it's petty. I know the nice thing to do would be to explain how my hair texture works and so on. But I take a lot of satisfaction in watching these women be jealous of something that they used to shame me for, so I'm okay with being petty. I guess I know I'm an asshole, but am I justified in it?

What are these acronyms?

[filthyjoetini]

Stumblin' In

a/n: Here we are guys. The last part. Thanks for sticking around <3 feedback, reblogs and likes are as always very appreciated. beta-reader, editor, partner in crime: @barfightzanddiscolightz

warnings: rpf, fem!reader, could raise your blood sugar...

wordcount: 4k

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Part 4

“It looks so stu-hu-hupiiid.”, you groaned, stomping your feet and throwing your head back in frustration. You stood in front of your full-length mirror. One of your legs was only halfway inside your tights which had a run from you pulling too hard on them. Your lace corset-top, which was halfway tucked into your faux-leather skirt, hung loosely around your torso because you couldn’t find the laces. You were sure that one of your cats had stolen them and hidden them under your bed, where you couldn’t reach them without crawling under it. But the worst thing of all was the fact that your flat iron decided to die on you mid-way through styling your hair. Luckily, you had already finished your make-up, which turned out to be perfect.

After unplugging the broken styling tool, you took it to your bathroom and placed it in the sink to cool off. Looking down at it with a sneer, you quickly grabbed your hairdryer and curling brush. Returning to your bedroom, you plopped down on your bed and took a few of deep breaths to ground yourself. You needed to calm down. Why were you so nervous? You knew when and where you needed to be. It was a cute little café that also served a variety of sandwiches and other finger foods. You had already checked the menu online and knew exactly what you were going to get.

And you’d read the book twice. For your book club, of course, and not at all to impress him. No need to, right?

With one last big breath through your nose, you stood up and took off your damaged tights. You threw them on your bed, telling yourself you would throw them away later. Later meaning ‘three weeks from now’ later. Pushing yourself up from your bed, you walked over to your commode and picked your second-best pair of tights out of your drawer.

“Yeah...you’ll do.”, you sighed and pulled them on gently. They didn’t really go with the rest of the outfit, but you didn’t have time to go out and get a new pair that would suit your style better. The next step was to find the laces for your top. You got down on all fours and crawled halfway under your bed, where most of the cat toys had found their final resting place. After rummaging through the pile of toy mice, hair and zip ties, you finally found a huge ball of laces. You pulled it out from under the bed and immediately spotted the silk fabric of the strings.

“Fucking cats.”, you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. Carefully, you began to untangle the ball of laces and gently pulled out the one you needed before skilfully threading it through the corset’s grommets, tightening them and finally tying them on your back.

Two tasks down, one more to go.

You plugged your hairdryer into the outlet, turned it on, grabbed your curling brush with your other hand and started straightening the second half of your hair. The brush left a little curve at the ends, making one half of your head look like a 70s actress, whilst the other half screamed late-00’s emo kid. Groaning, you got to work on the emo side again to even it out a bit. You weren’t fully satisfied with the result, but at least it looked somewhat presentable now.

After staring at yourself in the mirror for far too long and almost spacing out, you decided to pick up your mobile phone from where it was lying on the bed. You gasped when you saw the time. You were running royally late.

Panicking, you grabbed your purse and your trusty leather jacket and sprinted for the door. There you slipped into your Dr. Martens and tied them up properly. Another trip to the hospital wasn’t in your books.

As you opened the door, you yelled back at your cats to behave before hastily locking the door and speed walking down the corridor and stairs.

---

Heaving and panting, you entered the café. You prayed that Joe wasn’t there yet, but unfortunately, you spotted him already sitting down in a cosy armchair, dressed in his overly expensive trench coat, phone in hand.

You collected yourself and stepped into the room, slowly making your way over to him.

“Hey,”, you greeted him, clearing your throat.

Joe turned around quickly when he heard you, beaming grin on his face. He immediately stood up and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

When he pulled back, he was holding you at an arm’s length, eyes narrowed, lips between his teeth. He studied your face. Then his eyes darted down your body, a smirk forming on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, snorting at his expression.

“Yeah, I know. For once I don’t look like a hag. All put together, like a normal human being.”

“You never look like a hag,”, he scoffed at your self-degrading remark, “and you always look put together. With or without make-up. I like it though. Suits you very well.”

He said the last part with a wink that made you blush instantly.

Quickly, you took the remaining couple of steps to the second armchair and sat down. Joe though, didn’t move an inch, instead opening his mouth again.

“Do you know what you want? There’s a menu on the table.”

“Oh. Can you get me a cappuccino with the Toblerone sprinkles and one of those egg and cress sandwiches? They look delicious.”, you blurted out without looking at him or the menu at all, shrugging off your leather jacket.

When Joe still didn’t move, you looked up at him and saw him grinning down at you.

“What?”, you asked, innocently.

“Nothing.”, he smirked and then walked off to place your orders at the counter.

---

Joe placed your sandwich and hot beverages neatly in front of you on the very tiny table and his in the same orderly fashion on his side before sitting down.

“How was your wor-”

“How’s your nec-”

Joe and you both started to speak at the same time and stopped abruptly again when you noticed. It made you both giggle.

“Sorry, you first,”, you urged, gesturing for him to start talking again.

“How is your neck?”, he asked, the giggle still evident in his voice.

“I had a check-up two days ago and the doctor said I’ll be just fine, although there is no cure for my clumsiness.”, you giggled and shrugged your shoulders.

“Good. Because otherwise I’ll have to find a new nickname for you, and I’ve grown quite fond of Bambi.”, he explained, a gentle smile now sporting his lips.

“Shut up…”, you muttered bashfully before composing yourself and taking a huge gulp of your cappuccino and a bite of your sandwich. “How was your foreign mission? Any more planned?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. And yes, always.”, he replied nonchalantly, as he leaned towards you. He had his elbow propped on his knee and slowly rested his chin on the heel of his palm, smirking smugly at you.

Two can play this game, you told yourself, mirroring him.

“And what is it you do? Mr. Over-Secretive?”, you inquired further, returning his smug expression.

“I’m an actor.”, he responded quickly, leaning back casually into the backrest of his armchair, hands placed flat on his knees.

“Oh.”, you replied, somewhat taken aback. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything before.”

“Ouch.”

“No…I didn’t mean it like that.”, you apologised immediately, leaning further forward and grabbing his hand without thinking. All Joe could do was smile down at your hand.

“It’s alright. I’ve been in a lot of period productions, and I know they are not for everyone.”, he replied, adjusting his hand in yours by lacing your fingers together.

“Yeah, they are not my cup of tea.”, you nodded, staring at your intertwined fingers before moving your eyes up to his face. “Have you been in anything else?”

“Yep.”, he replied, popping the p. “I was in the latest season of Stranger Things.”

“Wha-?”, you started, mouth agape now and eyes wide. “That’s one of my favourite TV shows. Who did you play?”

“Eddie Mun-“

“GET OUT OF HERE!”, you almost shrieked, pulling your hand away from his and clapping it over your mouth. An elderly couple two tables over glared daggers at your outburst. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to shout.”, you spoke through your fingers, muffled.

All Joe could do was laugh at your reaction. You were so bloody adorable. Especially when you started blushing as soon as you did something out of character.

“Eddie is my favourite character this season.”, you confessed, almost whispering.

“Yeah?”, he asked, giggling.

“Yeah.”, you confirmed sheepishly.

“Anyway.”, Joe continued, trying to divert the attention to something else. Something else was obviously you. “What do you do for a living?”

“It’s really not that interesting.”, you explained with a shrug. “It’s your usual boring desk job.”

“I bet it’s not as boring as you make it out to be.”, Joe spoke, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“It really is.”, you concluded with tight lips, leaving no more room for an argument. “In contrast to my job, yours is very multifaceted.”

Nodding, Joe didn’t inquire further, sensing your discomfort with the subject. You let out a shaky breath and then put on a smile again. You didn’t want to dampen the mood. Joe returned your smile and leaned forward to take your hand in his again. It was very warm whilst yours had become clammy.

"So…what do you do for fun then?”

“Well, I really, really enjoy going to the cinema to see obscure films and I love to read a book every now and then.”, you stated with a chuckled. “Oh, and I love music. I love, looove love going to concerts.”

Joe couldn’t take his eyes off you as you rambled on about your passions and favourite past times. You animatedly recounted the story of the last concert you went to, and Joe basically hung on your every word.

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Hmm...”, Joe pretended to think, putting his free hand under his chin, which made you giggle again. “I love going to the cinema, especially to study the work of other actors as well as the directors. I also like to write scripts. They’re usually silly little stories. And I love to read. Speaking of reading. I just finished the book this morning.”

“Did you? How did you like it?”

“Considering I literally devoured it between shoots, I’d say pretty good.”, he said with a chuckle, letting go of your hand to reposition himself in his armchair.

“Well, I was hoping so.”, you giggled, pulling your hand back and you crossing your legs. “Otherwise, I’d have to disband our book club.”

“Bambi, book clubs are for discussing different opinions about a book.” Joe retorted. “Disbanding it prematurely would defeat its purpose.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yuh uh!”

“Ugh. You’re even more annoying than my cats.”, you groaned, knowing he could go on like this forever.

“You have cats?”, he asked, his eyes widening with interest. His whole body moved forward again.

“Yep. Two little bastards.”, you replied with a chuckle. You took your phone from beside you and showed him a picture of your two fur babies. “Do you want to meet them?”

“Yes. Duh!”, he responded, immediately getting up from his armchair and pulling on his coat.

“Uhm, Joe. You still have some coffee and food left.”, you pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Joe looked down at the table and quickly downed his now cold coffee and stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth.

“Okay. Let’s go.”, he spoke again after he had swallowed everything. You were still sipping the last of your drink and wrapping your sandwich in a serviette when Joe was already halfway out of the café.

“Hey. Wait up.”

“Hurry up! I’ve got cats to meet.”

“Idiot.”, you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, grinning and following him out.

---

“Joe, you really don’t have to do this.”

You slowly climbed the stairs up to your flat, Joe beside you, hovering like a mother hen. An arm was draped around your waist. A safety precaution.

“I won’t fall down again.”

“Says you!”, he objected, jabbing a finger into your side almost causing you to lose your balance nearly missing the next step. You cursed under your breath. Why do you have to be so ticklish?

“See? You almost fell again!”, Joe pointed out the obvious, grinning like a madman. That dick knew exactly what he was doing. You responded by giving him a light shove.

“Of course I’m gonna fall if you poke me in the side, Joseph. I’m ticklish.”, you huffed, feigning annoyance.

“Good to know.”, he countered with a wink.

Rolling your eyes, you wiggled out of his grasp and took the last few steps up the stairs to the door of your flat. Joe was hot on your heels, not wanting to be left behind.

“Uhm. Just so you know. My cats are very skittish and don’t really like strangers. Please don’t be offended if they don’t come to you straight away. They’re drama queens.”, you explained before inserting the key in the lock and slowly unlocking the door.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be.”, Joe smiled at you. He leaned his arm against the wall for support as he unzipped his boots to take them off. His tongue was sticking out in concentration. It made you snort a little, because you found it very endearing.

Gently, you pushed open the door and your cats immediately greeted you. As soon as they noticed someone else was standing there, they took off. Probably hiding under your bed.

“Told you.”, you said matter-of-factly before stepping aside to let Joe in. “The living room is this way.”, you pointed in its direction, “make yourself comfortable…uhm…do you want something to drink? What do you want?”

“What do you have to offer?”, Joe asked sweetly, not yet moving.

“I have water, both still and sparkling, tea…I should have beer…”, you listed, making your way over to the kitchen to check, leaving Joe standing in your narrow hallway.

“If you’ve got beer, I’ll have one.”, Joe called, following you.

“Shit. I’m out!”, you winced lowly after rummaging through your fridge. “I do have a liquor shelf though – holy FUCK. You scared me!”

Joe was standing right behind you as you turned away from the fridge. You hand’t expected him to follow you.

“I thought you’d gone into the living room.”, you explained frowning, hand covering your chest. Your heart was racing at a thousand miles a minute.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Bambi.”, he apologised, mirroring your frown. He gently took your free hand in his and rubbed it softly to emphasise how bad he felt for scaring you.

“Alright...it’s alright.”, you murmured, slowly smiling at him and giving his hand a quick squeeze before taking yours from his grasp. “Would you like a drink instead of a beer?”

“Sure…uhm…a gin and tonic, maybe?”

“Gin and tonic coming right up.”, you announced, turning to your liquor shelf. “Go sit in the living room. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Alright.”, Joe chuckled and wandered off.

---

As you entered the living room, two gin and tonics in hand, you saw Joe coaxing Kiro over from the other side of the sofa. Your black panther of a cat was the braver of the two but totally unimpressed by Joe. The man in question clicked his tongue and stuck his pointer finger out at him.

With a low chuckle, you set the two drinks down on your coffee table and sat down in between them. Your addition to the scene awakened Kiro’s interest and he now ambled over to you and plopped himself down on your thighs.

Joe, who was now sporting a huge grin, slowly scooted closer to you and held his still outstretched forefinger directly under Kiro’s nose. The cat sniffed it and eventually gave it a lick. Joe had been approved.

Giggling, Joe moved his hand to the top of Kiro’s head and scratched it softly before pulling his hand away and grabbing his drink from the table instead. You had watched the whole interaction with a soft smile gracing your lips.

“Would you like to watch something on Netflix?”, you inquired, leaning forward carefully so as to not crush your cat, and grabbing both your drink and the remote.

“Sure. Anything obscure on there you haven’t seen?”, he asked, taking the first sip of his long drink and nodding in approval.

“Not really. I’m kind of in a mood for some nostalgic rom coms.”, you giggled as you launched the app. “I’m talking early 2000’s, baby.”

“Oookay. Whatever floats your boat.”, Joe chuckled and put his drink down again.

You chose the corniest one the streaming service had to offer, but before you hit play, you asked Joe to hand you the blankets that were draped over the settee’s armrest. Before you could drape one over yourself, Kiro jumped off your legs and sat down beside you.

“Do you want the other one?”, you asked Joe, holding it out to him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

You nodded at him as he gently pulled his blanket over his own legs.

Just as you were about to press play, Freya decided to show herself by sauntering lazily into the living room. When Joe saw her, he let out a small audible gasp. She decided to jump on the sofa, right between you and Joe. He immediately held out his hand to her as well. She sniffed it and then turned her behind to him. She opted for your legs instead.

Joe’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and you smiled at him apologetically. He just grinned and waved you off.

“She’ll get around to you…eventually.”, you promised and finally pressed play.

Less than twenty minutes into the film, Freya had had enough of your legs and moved over to Joe. There she scratched gently at the blanket. Joe looked at you with questioning eyes.

“She wants to go into the blanket cave.”, you explained. “Is that OK for you? If not, I can make one with my blanket.”

“Is that OK? Of course it’s OK!.”, Joe confirmed, face beaming and you leaned over to help him make it. Snug as a bug in a rug she now lay against Joe’s thigh, fully covered by his blanket. One of Joe’s hands was underneath the blanket as well, gently stroking her fur.

Surrounded by the warmth of two cats and a man, you grew more tired by the minute. It wasn’t even that late, only a quarter to five but your brain still hadn’t fully recovered yet and the circumstances you found yourself in didn’t really benefit your condition. You tried very hard to stay awake, but your eyes grew heavy, and your head was inching closer and closer to Joe’s shoulder, eventually landing on it.

Joe looked down at your sleeping form, moving as little as possible to make you more comfortable and not to disturb the cats. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you a little closer, so that your head rested just below his collarbone. Unconsciously, you snuggled closer to him and let out a soft sigh. Joe grinned and continued to watch the film which he hadn’t followed at all.

He let you sleep like that even after the film had ended. You were snoring softly, and he found it to be very soothing whilst he tried to solve his sudoku on his phone. 45 minutes after the credits had finished rolling, he received a text message from his manager saying he had to get up early the next day due to a spontaneous work commitment all the way up in Scotland.

Groaning at the text, he pushed himself up a little, much to Freya’s dismay who now crawled out of her cave and glared at Joe.

“I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to.”, he apologised, scratching her ear. Then he gently placed the palm of his hand on your cheek.

“Bambi…wake up.”

“No…five more minutes.”, you whined and tried to swat his hand away, making Joe snort out a laugh.

“Unfortunately, I have to go. I just got a text saying that I have to get up early. I’m needed in Scotland.”, he explained, rubbing his thumb along your jaw.

You slowly opened your eyes and mumbled something about another secret mission.

“That’s right…now come on.”

He moved his hands to your arms and slowly helped you up which irritated the two fur balls even more. Kiro toddled over the sofa cushion next to Freya and lay down again with a grunt.

“You just lost at least four brownie points in their book for that rude awakening.”, you muttered with a yawn and stretching your arms over your head.

“In yours or theirs?”

“Hmm.”, was all you replied, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ll make it up to them.”, he grinned, gently petting them to say his goodbye. A little more awake than before, you smiled at him and made your way to the hallway to see him out.

After Joe had put on his coat and boots, he slowly turned to you.

“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, Bambi.”

“Likewise.”, you retorted having grown rather fond of his silly nickname for you. Slowly, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Gently, he returned the embrace, and swayed you in his arms for a couple of moments.

Pulling back a little, you stared into his deep caramel eyes, a soft smile tickling at the corners of your lips. Smiling himself, he stared back down at you, lowering his face until you were nose to nose. Joe then gently tilted his head, brushed his nose against yours, causing you turn up your nose a slightly. Your reaction made Joe grin even wider, and you took the opportunity to close the distance, pressing your lips tenderly against his.

He immediately reciprocated the kiss and sweetly pecked your lips a few of times which made you open your mouth just a little. Taking this as an invitation to go further, Joe gently nibbled at your lips and finally captured them passionately with his.

Breathing heavily, you both reluctantly pulled away, resting your foreheads against each other. You took one hand from around his shoulders and ran your fingers delicately along your bottom lip. Both his and your cheeks were slightly rose-tinted, and Joe’s ears were glowing red. He quickly placed another soft peck to your fingertips and gingerly let go of you.

“I’ve got a train to catch.”, he whispered, and you nodded, reaching behind him to unlock the door. He took a step back into the stairwell and turned back around to where you were standing in the doorway, the blush still evident on your face. Joe took a step back towards you and gave you one final peck to your lips.

“Let’s do this again, Bambi.”, he winked, making you giggle again.

“Get home safe.”

“I will.”

“Text me?”, you inquired, crossing your arms around your middle.

“Of course.”, he promised as he descended the stairs. You watched him disappear before you opened your mouth again.

“Bye!”, you called after him.

“Bye, Bambi!”, he called back, and you eventually heard the front door slam shut far too loudly. This was in no way Joe’s fault but the doors itself. The mechanism was broken.

Turning around, you quickly closed the door and ran into your living room to look out the window. You caught him just in time to see him disappear around the corner. Smiling to yourself, you touched your lips again. Your smile turned into a snort and finally into a full laugh.

Oh, you so were gonna do this again.

The End

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