and i want my scalps


When you join my command you take on a debt. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And ya’ll will get me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads, of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin’.

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

To My Naturals,

Here’s a thread where you can post your hair care routine, what products you use, what products you hate/cant use, what hair type you have + (like 3a of whatever ad if you have is thin, coarse, etc), what vitamins you take for your hair, etc.

I, along with a lot of other girls (and possibly guys too), need help!


-I take 10,000 mcg Biotin daily (I started wit like 3000/5000 mcg Biotin September 2014 and I have used 10,000 mcg for almost 2 years tho)

- I wash my hair once a week ( I don’t wear my curls out often because EVERYONE and their mom likes to touch my hair)

- I have like 3a/3b/3c hair (Lord I don’t know)

- My hair is thin, the biotin helped with length and strength

- I have always had long hair, but it was poorly color treated in 2013 so I did a big chop in April 2014

- My hair is currently bra strap length (the longest it ever was, was waist length in 2011/2012; I'm 4′9″/4′10″)

- I used Mane and Tail from September 2014 to November 2015, It was good but it didn't define my hair good, it has sulfates in the shampoo, lots of slip for detangling

- I used the Organix Brazilian Keratin shampoo and condition from April 2014 to September 2014 (I didn’t like how it made my hair hard)

- I currently use: Shea Moisture Jamaican Black Castor Oil “Strengthen, Grow & Restore Shampoo”, Shea Moisture Coconut & Hibiscus “Curl and Shine Conditioner”,  Shea Moisture Jamaican Black Castor Oil “Strengthen, Grow & Restore Leave-in Conditioner”, Coconut Oil for sealing (I used to oversaturate my hair, it works really good for moisture)

- I use a silicone scalp massager (not the vibrating one, I bought mine for less than $2 on eBay)

- I deep condition before i flat iron my hair ( aka twice this year) and like rarely beyond that [ I KNOW I NEED TO DO BETTER, I don’t know….]

- I did a pure ACV deep condition for my dandruff/dry scalp and so far no flakes (did it on 8/10/16), apparently it’s really good for acne, losing weight, dry/itchy scalp, getting shiny hair, pH balancing your scalp, etc)

- I want to do pure Jamaican Black Castor Oil massages on my scalp (you just pour some of it on your hands and massage it in every day using your fingers or the scalp massager thingy for like 2-5 minutes)

- I want to do some deep conditioning (im very cheap so like… I have ACV, Coconut, eggs, and water, what can i do with that? I also have honey…)

- I used the OKAY Shea Ultra Moisturizing Shampoo and Conditioner but it left my scalp drier than it has ever been and my hair very tangled

- I want to wear my natural hair out more often instead of combing it out and stretching it. I would probably have to wash my hair twice a week for that tho)

- I do not use gel or like gel. I do not slick down my hair

- I use t-shirts for drying my hair

- I only use a wide tooth comb, no brushes

- I only flat iron my hair 1-3 times a year ( only special occasions)

- I don’t eat healthy ( I barely drink water and I only eat during school bc homework takes forever. I tried eating vegatables and I realized that I aint about that life)

Any tips for me??? Please leave your routine and what you do for your hair!

w a i t i n g

i’m still here

i’ve never left your side

e v e r

give in

t o  u s

i’ve been waiting

m y l o v e

Voices tread through my head.
It’s hurting- no killing me.
I can’t stop tugging my hair, or scratching my scalp.
I want to get them out.
I want them out.

“get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out- GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT-” I shrieked thrashing around my bed. I kicked the blankets off. Finally I sat still staring at my ceiling, my face was wet from the tears and my voice felt raw from screaming my head off. Suddenly a man that I barely recognized ran in, terrified, I sat up. He look… worried. But why?
This man had dark brown, almost black hair, with a light stubble. He had gentle, very caring eyes. Why was he in my house? He spoke.
“Hey are you alright?? Why was there screaming, love?” Love? Mark never called me that.

Wait a second.



I remembered him. But now there was something off. There was something twisted about this.

“I asked you something love… what’s wrong?” ‘Mark’ sat on the bed putting his hand on my calf. I scooted away from his touch, and he snarled. My eyes widened in fear as he yanked me by his leg towards him. There was some sort of glitch in him. This man who wasn’t Mark looked distorted, my head began to ache as I heard giggles all around.
There was some sort of twitch in the corner of my eye, as I turned to look there was nothing, yet I saw something flicker. I looked back as this… man who still was gripped onto me. He had a suit on now but it looked like there was almost three of him, like I was in some 3-D movie. A part of him screamed in rage, and he leaned in close.
“wake up my love, he’s waiting..” he whispered.

Confused and afraid I shut my eyes. Now giggles and voices echoed and flowed in my head, threatening me, screaming at me. I opened my eyes screaming.
After a moment another man ran in. Except smaller and with green hair but just as much concern as the last man in my dream… no… my nightmare.

“What’s wrong my love?”


Mini twists

So I have had my twists in for one week now. Definitely washing tonight. I have to wash weekly because I sweat in my head. No one wants a sweaty smelling, itchy scalp.

I’m going to wash with the twists in, section them off and redo them. I think protective styling will give my hair a much needed break. It’s been bleached, purple, red, and now back to black.

My birthday is on April 12. I’m not sure if I want to keep them in or wear a twist out. We shall see!!

Answers About My Face

snowytumble replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

Oh - sorry - I had to read that again before what was bugging me came to the surface. You may have had a blocked saliva gland? I get them occasionally and when they burst, they do feel like little water balloons. And before they burst, there can be soreness and pressure, but it’s usually very much lower jaw oriented. The Science Side of Tumblr could probably tell you if there’s another gland further up that it could have been!

fira211 replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

Possibly a blocked salivary gland (they get stones, go figure). I’ve had one for years that hasn’t really been a bother so I’ve left it (the options to get it sorted are apparently constant massage and that hurts, whereas the blocked gland alone doesn’t so fuck it). So yeah, I’m guessing salivary gland stone (which would mean all your glands like to rebel against you, you poor darling)

I am always struck with abject horror at the idea that there are stones and blockages INSIDE MY MOUTH. I had no idea tonsil stones were a thing until like a couple of months ago and my reaction was one of terror. I DON’T WANT STONES LIVING IN MY MUCUS MEMBRANES. 

Maybe whatever it was prevented a stone from forming. God we can only hope. If I have to dig a stone out of my mouth I will legit yell a LOT about it. 

tienriu replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

Maybe it was cavitation? Basically gasses being released from between joints - much like what happens when cracking your neck or knuckles?

I wonder, but I’ve popped my jaw before and this was a very distinct sensation from that – more liquid, somehow. (Augh, gross)

lnsybird replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

God, I’d be worried just because HE didn’t know what it was!

Well, I mean, I don’t know how much anatomical training they have in that particular office – licensed massage therapists get a TON of that stuff but I don’t know how much training you have to have to do head-and-foot reflexology, legally speaking. Also he was quite young, so I don’t think I got the most experienced guy in the place. (Which is fine, really all I wanted was someone to rub my scalp, you don’t need a degree in anatomy for that.) 

tailkinker-to-ennien replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

Ghost knows you are moving and he REALLY REALLY wants to come with you so he took up residence in your face. (That’s my theory and I’m sticking with it.)

“LEAVE THIS FACE AT ONCE.” *rings bell* 

nausiwindstrider replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

My bestie is a massage therapist with almost a decade of experience. I read her your post. She says it couldn’t have been a salivary gland that low and towards the side of your face. It was either the massater muscle which can sound like a pop or the tmj joint. If you aren’t hurting in that spot now you are fine. But also your face is definitely haunted.

Perhaps the TMJ, in that case – I’ve had issues with that before in relation to my eustacian tubes. 

junker5 replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

I had a flash of that scene from Alien when I read this. Poor Sam. You do some mighty fine writing when in pain, though! Maybe Pain is your Muse?

*strikes dramatic byronesque pose* 

But I think of all the possible solutions, this one is my favorite: 

lololovescheese replied to your post “Holy crap, so I went to the trigger-point reflexology place tonight…”

Brain fart!!!! Sorry, couldn’t help it Sam.

*cracks up laughing*

anonymous asked:

Thoughts on exo's comeback (in terms of teasers) so far?

i was a hardcore exo-l for 4 years btw


Originally posted by papermagazine

baekhyun : i love country music. baeky ray byunrus is my bias

chanyeol: fire boy lookin boyf

sehun: i love harry potter glad they’re doing a new film 

junmyeon: hair as soft as him

minseok: an absolute fucking prince. i mean did you see this look

Sealed With A Kiss--Imagine #4

Anonymous said: Hello! I ❤ your blog! Could you please write an imagine where your crush secretly likes you and you’ve spent a really long time thinking that he doesn’t bec he never talked before, but then he confesses to you on prom night? Thankyou!!

A/N: Thought this was a really cute idea, especially since who hasn’t dreamed about dancing with their crush and having them gawk at you at prom? I know I def have. Also, I hope you don’t mind the gay glitter I splashed in for good measure. I couldn’t resist. Hope I did your idea justice. Keep dreaming!~Logan

I stared at the side of c/n’s head. His side profile was just as striking as his front profile. I was mesmerized by the way that his eyelashes naturally curled just a bit at the end, most boys had completely straight eyelashes. His eyes were cast down at the desk in front of him, scribbling notes we were supposed to be taking from the whiteboard at the front of the class. I had given up trying to keep concentrated long ago. Besides this class was too boring to follow anyway and I’d end up daydreaming even if c/n wasn’t here (most likely about c/n).

The bell ringing pulled me abruptly out of my reverie. I was pleading with my eyes for a whole forty-five minutes c/n to look at me. To just once notice me. We’d never spoken before, but I swear I watched his every move. Oh god, I was sounding like a stalker. 

I made my way to the hallway, huffing at my unsuccessful attempts to get him to notice me. It had been so long since I started liking him and not once did he seem to notice me in the way I wanted. It was so painful seeing him joke around with other girls. I was envious of them, they took his gaze and presence for granted. Took his attention, his glorious face, fuck, they took his whole existence for granted. And that bothered me to no end.

“Oh boy, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” f/n raised her eyebrows.

“No, I just ended up on the wrong side of the social clique,” I sighed.

“Aww, babe, don’t worry about it. He’ll come around someday,” f/n rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. She knew how big my crush on c/n was and thankfully had mercy on my poor, lovesick heart and was gentle with me.

I glared at the stupid prom poster facing me from the other side of the hallway. It was tonight. I had reluctantly decided to go with f/n since she was so desperate to go. Besides, it would be fun. She had a knack for making any boring thing fun. But secretly, I had been hoping c/n would miraculously wake up one day, realize he had feelings for me, and ask me to prom in the most romantic way possible. 

Alas, none of that happened. 

As me and my friend walked down the hallway to our last class of the day I looked up, feeling a pair of eyes on me. C/n’s eyes were staring back at mine. I almost fell over myself. He looked away and I mentally cursed myself for not having the courage to try and talk to him.

As we walked past, I stole a glance back. 

“You know she doesn’t have a date,” I heard his friend say, as his eyes bored into mine as I walked away. He turned away. 

I was going to make him regret not asking me out tonight. 


“This place is gorgeous!” F/n squealed, gripping my bare arm so hard I thought she’d tear my skin right off.

We were walking through the bedazzled gym. It was set up pretty nicely. But it was already getting stuffy as more teenagers started filling up the dance floor. 

“Geez, mind taking it easy on my arm,” I grumbled. 

“Cheer up, Buttercup! The night is young, you look stunning and the possibilities are endless,” She smiled brightly at me. 

“I just wanna dance. Forget all my worries,” I managed a smile at my beautiful friend. 

“Let’s do it.”

So, that’s what we did. Before long, I had forgotten all about c/n and was lost in the thumping music vibrating through the speakers. F/n had been lost in the sea of crazy, hormone driven, dancing teens, but last I saw she was goofily dancing with another guy. I had no qualms about her being away from me. Instead, I let myself drown in the feeling of other’s arms, legs, backs, and chests pressing against me. I closed my eyes, and felt someone start dancing in sync with my hips from behind. I didn’t really care who it was. This was my night to lose myself. I was looking like a queen, but that didn’t mean I had to act like a proper one. 

Grinding my hips into the mysterious person behind me, the person let their hands rest on my hips, pulling me closer. I opened my eyes.

And there he was. Suit and tie, looking like a real gentleman, dancing spiritedly with everyone else. A vision in the changing lights of the gym. My breath hitched in my throat as our eyes locked. Recognition flashed through his eyes, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes swallowed me up whole, traveling from my ankles back up to my eyes. 

This was my chance to make him sorry for not asking me to the dance. I kept my eye contact with him steady and intense. Putting all the passion of my feelings into my gaze, I tried to convey what I felt for him. How much I wanted to dance with him, feel his fingertips on my hips, not the fingertips of the person that was currently dancing with me. But this was his punishment. I don’t know what came over me, most likely my frustration from him not talking with me or seeing how much I liked him built up from all the months of liking him. But before I could come to my senses, I intensified my dance, grinding and swaying my hips–teasing, mocking him.

He licked his lips, and his body had for the most part stopped moving to the music. 

I turned around meeting a smirking feminine face. Oh god, I was grinding on a girl. Oh well, I really didn’t mind that much.

“Damn, y/n, didn’t take you for one to go for the girls,” one of the girls in my class who was lesbian quirked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t realize,” I laughed. “I did enjoy it though, you’re a good dancer.”

“What can I say? Girls do it better,” she winked, but clearly had enough of my straight ass and moved onto dancing with a girl I know she’d had her eye on for awhile.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” I cheered after her. “Maybe I should try girls for a change.”

I felt a calloused hand that felt surprisingly soft also, glide over my bare shoulder from behind. Goosebumps sprang up at his touch, covering the bare skin of my shoulders, arms, and cleavage.

“Boys not interesting enough for you?” a voice whispered huskily into my ear. I shivered involuntarily. I knew that voice, that smell. C/n.

I turned to face him head-on. “No, it’s not that. They just don’t pay attention.”

“Well, I’m paying attention now. Hell, y/n, I’ve always paid attention.”

“Prove it,” I challenged, pressing myself into him. 

His hand smoothly curved over my hip while the other gracefully intertwined out fingers together. They fit perfectly. A slower song floated through the air, and we swayed, but the intensity wasn’t lost between us.

“You love making jokes and hearing people laugh at them, but you always end up laughing at them yourself. You think you were the biggest dork when you were twelve. Your hair constantly annoys you. Your best friend is your rock. You love food and netflix. You waste all your free time on Tumblr. You stare at me way too much for your own good,” He smiled gently. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I was rendered speechless for a moment. 

“Oh, and that dress you’re wearing was made for you,” he leaned in close to my ear, his nose brushing my temple, lips brushing my ear. “You’re absolutely breathtaking. In and out of a prom dress.” 

My eyes widened and I raised my eyebrows, “C/n.” Then his face flushed and he seemed to realize what he’d said. 

“What I meant to say was that whether you’re in a prom dress or just in casual clothes, you’re always breathtaking.” He couldn’t have looked cuter, his blush reaching all the way to the tips of his ears, a sheepish smile gracing his features.

“I’m serious though, y/n. I know I’ve been a coward not telling you how I feel about you, but I’ve noticed a lot about you. But I want to know more, I want to know everything.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” My eyes searched his for lies. I found none.

He brushed a stray hair back behind my ear. Licking his lips, he looked down at my own lips. I could’ve fainted right there if it hadn’t been for his strong, almost desperate grip on me. The passion, love, hunger, and desire clear in his eyes made my stomach churn.

And when his lips finally met mine, I breathed a sigh of relief. My body pushed into his, almost slumping in relaxation as he engulfed me in this tender moment. He slid both hands over my waist and down to my ass, pulling me as close as possible. I gripped his suit jacket in my hands, intensifying the kiss. Our lips molded so well together and I gripped the short hair on the nape of his neck as his tongue slid into my mouth. He groaned at my fingers massaging his scalp with my nails. I never wanted this dreamy moment to end. 

But eventually, we had to pull away. 

“Because I’ve sealed my promise with a kiss. And I don’t play around when it comes to kissing,” He answered my earlier question, lips slightly swollen and tinged with my lip gloss.

“I noticed.”

Blue Hair

So I guess this is a songfic for a song called Blue Hair by Joe Iconis. If enough people like it then I might write about Evan’s reaction.


            I walk down the narrow aisles at Sally Beauty. I grabbed a bottle of Ion “aqua” hair dye and a bowl and a brush thing.I purchased it and walked out. When I got home I double checked that my mom would not be coming home until later, I did not need her trying to stop me. I took out the bleach powder and poured it into the mixing bowl.Oh God that, that smells like a dirty cat box. I put on the rubber gloves and started to rub the disgusting bleach mixture into my hair. I can just imagine what the response will be from Chris (my step dad), he’ll make a snotty face and I’ll say; “You’re not my dad”. Whatever not like I care what he or mom thinks, they don’t even care about what I really want. “Ow, fucking shit!’ The bleach is making my scalp itch and burn.It will all be worth it, I remind myself. It will be all be worth it to see Evan’s face. No, I’m not one of those boys who does things for guys, screw their compliments I know they’re all lies. I’m dying my hair blue because I want blue hair… But, honestly part of the reason is that people with dyed hair tend to get compliments and if I can up the amount of those maybe I won’t feel so bad about myself. Another part (the biggest part) is that I think that blue hair looks cool and I’m young, now is as good a time as any. And finally, I know that Evan has an affinity for the color blue, he rambles about it half the time and it’s the cutest thing ever. I sit there in extreme pain for twenty minutes while I hit my hands against the counter to keep my mind off the pain. When the alarm on my phone goes off I vigorously wash the mixture from my scalp. “I’m free,” I think. Now time for the actual blue, there’s no going back now. I squeeze the tube and start the process again. The blue dye smells significantly better than the bleach. I put a shower cap on my head and look in the mirror. I start laughing because I look like an ugly fifty-year-old lady (not that I don’t look like that most of the time) I stop laughing. I pull out my phone and see I have a missing text from Evan.

Evan: I’m sorry that I didn’t have the review.

Jared: No problem I cheated off of Alana.


Jared: Calm your tits Hansen it was just a joke.

Jared: Are you going to be at school tomorrow?

Evan: Yeah, why?

Jared: Uh no reason in particular.

If I’m trying to impress him maybe I should be nice to him, just this once.

Jared: Just wanted to make sure that you were okay and nothing was wrong.

Oh my god, I did it. He hasn’t answered and it’s been one minute. Two minutes, three minutes.

Evan: Oh that’s nice. Thank you.

Jared: Well I’ll see you tomorrow.

It’s now been an hour and I think it’s safe to wash the hair dye out. I take a look in the mirror. I gasp. It’s still wet so it’s messy and a bit dark and it kind of feels like hay but it looks kind of cool. I move it around and try to style it. I smile it looks nice. I’m not the coolest but my hair is.

Everything I want

your scalp tight
from the twist of hair
tangled around my fist
you feel me push
deeper inside you
taking root
taking everything i want

- PD Bates

We Meet Again

Requested by @rubyquartzshades I hope you don’t mind that I sort of changed a few things:Either AOU Pietro x childhoodfriend!reader that also volunteered for Stryker’s experiments or XMA Nightcrawler x reader where she was also in the Munich circus with him and their life from then to the Xavier institute

Pietro x ChildhoodBestfriend!reader 

Originally posted by registeredalien

“Pietro! No!” Wanda screams as she sees her brother run towards an older blonde man with a quiver full of arrows on his back and a small child trying to find some sort of way to block the bullets.

However I beat him to it, grabbing both onto Pietro and the man and child, teleporting us to one of the newly abandoned buildings.

“Wha? Who are you?” The blonde man asks, now noticing that he’s some place different.

“Y/n?” Pietro says more to himself than the blonde, looking at me in disbelief.

“The one and only.” I say with a smile and flip my dark natural curly hair.

“But I thought you–” Pietro starts off but is interrupted by the blonde man.

“Sorry to interrupt this reunion but we have a battle to win and I need to get this kid back to his mother. You in?” He says, picking up the young boy but looking at me.

“Of course.” I say and teleport us all to where we were before.  


“So what exactly happened to you? I mean you went missing when we were kids.” Wanda says, as we’re all gathered into the living room of the Avengers tower.

I felt as though I was being interrogated as I was stared down by the rest of the team.

“Well I didn’t go missing. I was kidnapped and experimented on by some asshole named Stryker. It happened when I was walking home from the park. Guess he didn’t count on me being a teleporter. Once I gained enough strength, I just left. I’d been living in France in hiding until I heard what was going on back here.” I explain more to the twins than the others.

“I should have walked back home with you. I could have stopped them.” Pietro runs his hands through his hair, beating himself up.

“How Piet? You were only 10. Who knows what they could have done to you too. Plus with my house not being that far away, we didn’t think anything like that could happen. Don’t beat yourself up.” I shrug it off.

Honestly this didn’t bother me at all anymore. I was proud of my abilities.


“You know, I had the biggest crush on you when we were younger.” Pietro says out of the blue.

We were currently in his room, reminiscing over our childhood.

“I know Piet, it was pretty obvious.” I laugh, rolling onto my stomach and looking him in the eye.

“How was it obvious?” He cocks a brow, surprised that I knew.

“Y/n, let me get that- it’s too heavy. Y/n, wanna go get icecream? Y/n I got this dress for you. Plus the fact that you’d always play with my hair.” I mock in his northern Sokovian accent.

“Well I couldn’t help it. And I still love your curly hair.” He began to play with it, much like when we were kids but this time once his fingers touch my scalp, I let out a low moan.

“Did you just–” He smirks, but I hide my face in embarrassment.

“You like having your hair pulled huh?” Pietro asks as he gently tugs on it again, making sure to touch my scalp again.

“Pietro.” I moan/whine, wanting this embarrassment to end.

“God, moan my name out again.” He says tugging a bit harder and pushing my body to his where I could feel his hard on pressed against my pelvis.

“Piet” I moan out but then clear my voice, “We can’t do this.”

I pull away from him and he sighs, looking at me in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m in love with someone else.” I explain and feel awful as I see his face fall.

“No, no don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.” He sits up and runs his hand through his hair.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” He asks after a moment of silence.

“His name is Warren. He’s got abilities like us. He’s got these enormous, beautiful angel wings.” I explain, leaving out the fact that I’ve been in New York for the past few years at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

“Does he at least treat you right?” He inquires and I take a deep breath, looking down at my lap.

“Yes, but he’s broken. He won’t open up to me and doesn’t want a relationship.” I sigh leaning my head back on Pietro’s pillow.

“Then why are you waiting for him? Don’t you want to be happy? I’m not saying that it necessarily has to be me, just that you deserve to be happy to y’know. You can only fix someone but so much.” Pietro replies after another moment of silence.

“Woah, when did you get so wise?” I tease him, nudging him in the side.

“Yeah, yeah. But remember that okay?” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and kiss my forehead.

“I will.” I respond, lying back down beside my childhood best friend.

BTS During Your Pregnancy...

Group(s) & Members(s): BTS

Genre: fluff 

Warnings: none

A/N: the order in which they appear are Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Yoongi and Seokjin. 


Jungkook is the kind of person that has everything prepared and ready to go. The hospital bag is packed, the baby’s room is all good to go. He assembled all the furniture himself and he doted on you the entire pregnancy. However, that second your water breaks he becomes the definition of “Deer in the headlights”. All the books he read about labour, all the information he gathered - all of it goes out the window. As your contractions get closer together he gets more anxious. “They’re 3 minutes apart, Kookie!” “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN OTHER THAN IVE GOT 3 MINUTES TO GET YOU INTO THE ER?” By the time he gets you to the hospital he’s near passing out. He forces himself to stay conscious through sheer willpower the entire time you’re giving birth. He refuses to look anywhere other than your face because he knows he’ll go down if he catches a glimpse of blood or something else. He grips your hand tighter than you’re gripping him and you have to yell at him to calm down multiple times. You almost want to laugh at how freaked out he looks, but you’re kind of preoccupied. “Jungkook, I’m the one pushing a baby out of me, why do you look more distressed?!”

Originally posted by bwipsul

Keep reading

Let me tell you being a teacher is hard work.

Imagine having to shape lives of young kids? That’s pressure on you. You could teach these kids all about math, language, or science, or whatever the hell you teach, but you also teach them about life and how beautiful it can be. You teach them how to live even if they don’t want to.

I like to tell my kids that I love them. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I tell my kids I love them and I can’t wait to see them tomorrow. Sure, sometimes, I just want to rip my hair out of my scalp, but I love those kids. Every single one of them. Some of them might not care, BUT I DO.

Be the teacher that cares, don’t just teach your subject, but make sure you leave a good impact that will inspire your kids to be who they want to be, for them to aspire great things in life.

Love your students, some of them might not have that luxury. Love them as your own, be there for them.

Just care.

Be the teacher that cares.

Fred Weasley Imagine - Purple Suits You

Hey! Could I please get an imagine where the reader is at the Burrow for the summer and is having a really bad day so Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill all take turns cheering her up? Could she be dating Fred, and the rest of the boys see her as their sister? Thank you so much! - request from steverogersisbae (btw - love your username; Captain America is my favorite avenger!)

Hope you like it!

     Today was just one of those days.  I spilled milk all over my shirt this morning when I was eating breakfast, so I had to go change.  Five minutes later, I had to change again after a bird pooped on me.  I cut myself with a knife when I was helping Mrs. Weasley clear the table after lunch.  Later I couldn’t find my wand - turns out it was in my back pocket for the entire hour I spent searching for it.  Then, I got a headache.  So, of course, Fred and George’s prank was the last straw.

     I knew that something was wrong the instant I stepped out of the shower (I had been hoping that the shower would make me feel better, but evidently not).  I was out of my regular shampoo so I had to borrow Ginny’s, and as soon as my scalp started tingling I wanted to scream.  Looking in the mirror only made me feel worse - my hair was purple!

     I got dressed as quickly as possible and stormed down the hall to the twins’ room.  George was inside, sitting at their desk, working on something - probably for their joke shop.  I stormed right up to him and growled, “What did you do to my hair?”

     George turned around and as soon as he saw me had to stifle his laughter, “y/n!  That was meant for Ginny!  Though I must say the purple suits you.”

     I smacked him and turned away, blinking back tears.  George immediately knew something was wrong; I felt his arm around me.  “y/n, it’s okay.  The purple should wash out in a few days.”

     Days?  I couldn’t take it any more; I started to cry.  George pulled me into an embrace as I tried to regain my composure.  “Shh, y/n.  It’ll be okay.  I’m really sorry.”

     George was sorry?  He never apologized for anything - he must have felt really bad.  I pulled away from him, wiped my eyes, and said, “It’s okay.  As long as it goes away.”

     “It will,” he promised, then added as a second thought, “Come on, I bet mum knows a way to get your hair back to normal faster, she’s full of tricks like that!”

     I followed him downstairs, where the two of us found Mrs. Weasley bustling around the kitchen, working on dinner.  I guess she heard us come in to the room, because without looking at me she said, “y/n, how was your shower?  Are you feeling better now?”

     “About that - “ I started when Mrs. Weasley turned around and gasped.

     “Your hair!”  she exclaimed, “What happened?  GEORGE!”

     George gulped.

     “I need to talk to you.  Now.  Alone.  y/n, why don’t you go wait in the dining room while I speak to George, and then we’ll see what we can do about your hair.”

     She started screaming at him before I had even left the room.

     I prayed that the dining room would be empty, but of course, it wasn’t.  I saw Bill and Charlie, absorbed in a game of wizard’s chess, and I hoped I could make it out without them noticing my hair.

     I almost made it unnoticed to the stairs when a floorboard squeaked and Bill and Charlie looked up at me.  Both men tried to keep a straight face, but both of them failed.

     “y/n, trying out a new look?” said Charlie.

     Before I could respond, Bill jumped in.  “You know y/n; she wouldn’t do something like that!  Let me guess: Fred and George?”

     I nodded glumly.

     “You’d think Fred would treat his girlfriend better.  You can do so much better than him, you know,” said Bill.

     “No, I think they’re cute together - even if our brother is a bit of an idiot sometimes,” replied Charlie, “Besides, if they broke up, we wouldn’t have the honor of spending all of our holidays with her!”  Charlie was being sarcastic, but I knew he liked me.

     I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table next to him.

     “I suppose out of all the colors, purple isn’t so bad,” said Bill, “Actually, it kind of suits you.”

     “George said that too,” I told them, “after he dyed my hair.  I think you guys are just trying to make me feel better.”

     He raised an eyebrow at me and turned back to the game.  I watched Bill and Charlie play for a few minutes (Bill was going to win - he was obviously the better player) when suddenly Fred walked in the room and gaped at me.

     “y/n!  What did you do to your hair?”

     I glared at him.  “I think you mean ‘what did I do to your hair?’  All I did was borrow Ginny’s shampoo.“

     “Oh,” Fred said, “That explains it.  You don’t really seem like the type of girl to dye your hair, which is why the whole purple thing was so weird.”

     “I’m not,” I snapped at him and turned away.  Before long I felt his hand on my shoulder and I turned around to face him.

     Fred brushed a stray strand of my purple hair behind my ear and said, “I’m sorry.  But you look just as beautiful as before.”

     He planted a quick kiss on my lips then pulled back and studied me.  “Actually, purple kind of suits you.”

     For the first time since that morning, I actually laughed.

anonymous asked:



I was so excited when she cut it off and now my hair feels so weightless and soft I absolutely adore it. Plus it’s finally white/silver now! Unlike before at the first salon I went to, it turned out brassy and just not how I wanted it to be. Plus they burned my scalp pretty bad too with the bleaching materials.

And this new place was closer to home and much cheaper!! Service was excellent. I’m really glad I went through with it, you guys really gave me the courage to go through with the change. It’s like I’m a completely different person :’)



Inglourious Basterds (2009) - 9/25

“When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis. Or you will die tryin’.”

So … I think I’ll blur the details here.

There was this person who was expounding on the upcoming election and why he wasn’t going to vote for Hillary Clinton. It was his first time voting, you see, and he wanted someone who understood and represented his generation.

He said to me, “You don’t understand – ”

And that’s where I had to stop him. “Look, I do understand. Really.”

“How can you understand? You’re too old.”

“Do you think I was born old? Y'know, I have pictures. Here’s me at thirteen – ”

“But times were different then – ”

“Yes, they were. You could get polio and measles and smallpox. An appendectomy was a serious operation. People smoked everywhere, there was no getting away from the smoke. In school, they taught us to duck and cover in case of a nuclear attack. Whites and blacks still had separate restrooms and drinking fountains. Women couldn’t get a legal abortion. Gas had lead in it. Vegetables were sprayed with DDT. You could be arrested for being gay. Yes, times were different.”

“No, I meant that protesting was a fad, not serious like – ”

“Excuse me? Do you want to see the scar on my scalp where I was hit by a thrown bottle at the first gay rights march? We also had civil rights demonstrations, anti-war marches, and rallies for women’s rights as well. That was no fad. People were dying – ”

“No, look, man – it’s the establishment. That’s what’s wrong – ”

“And you want to replace the establishment with what? A different establishment? Listen – when I was your age, when my generation was your age, we were just as frustrated and just as impatient as you are now. Honest. Am I saying we were wrong? Hell, no. We were right. Better than that, we were so right, we were self-righteous. We went around saying, ‘Don’t trust anyone over 30,’ as if somehow when you turned 30, you became one of them. Y'know?

"You know what we missed? We missed the obvious – that there were a lot of good men and women over 30 who understood the issues, and the complexities of the situation better than we did – because they’d been fighting that fight for a lot longer. We had emotion, we had energy, we had spirit – but we didn’t have enough experience, enough history, enough of everything we needed to effect real change.

"So we didn’t turn out for Hubert Humphrey and we handed the country to Richard Nixon. And a generation later, other people didn’t turn out for Al Gore and handed the country to George W. Bush. And what was missed – both times – was the fact our impatience was the single biggest mistake we could make.

"Hubert Humphrey had experience, he had wisdom, and he shared our goals. Al Gore had experience, he had wisdom, and he shared our goals. But somewhere, enough of us decided that he was too old or too much of the establishment or didn’t really represent us enough, or would just give us more of the same when what we really wanted was more, better, and different, even if we couldn’t define it – enough of us felt that way to hand the presidency to a much worse administration.

"So, no – it isn’t that you’re wrong. It’s that there are people who’ve been down this path before. We know where it leads. And it’s not a good place. We know what this mistake looks like. Because we’ve made it ourselves – and we’re asking you not to make the same mistakes we did, because each time we make this mistake, everyone gets hurt.”

And he said, “So that’s a fancy way of saying 'suck it up, buttercup, you can’t have what you want.”

And I said, “No, but if that’s the way you want to hear it, then that’s the way you’re going to hear it. The way government works, nobody gets everything they want. The way government is supposed to work, everybody negotiates – and eventually everybody gets a piece of what they need to keep going. Nobody likes that, but consider what the alternative is – if some people get everything they want, that means a lot of people are going to get nothing at all. We keep trying that, it doesn’t work. Let’s go back to the stuff that does work.”

“But I don’t like her – ”

“I’m not asking you to like her. I’m asking you to respect that she knows how to do the job. He doesn’t. You can have your protest vote, that’s your right, but that’s letting everybody else decide who gets the oval office. And you might want to think long and hard about which of the two will build on what President Obama has accomplished and which of the two will tear it all down with no idea of why it worked in the first place. Your choice.”

And he said, “That’s not much of a choice.”

And I said, “The hell it isn’t. It’s a choice between experience and ignorance. That’s the clearest choice I’ve ever seen in an election.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

And that’s the point –

'I might be old, but I’m not stupid. And I suspect that a lot of other members of my generation feel the same way. We remember when we were impatient. And we remember the mistakes that our impatience created.

“Old people don’t tell young people what to do and what not to do because we want to control your lives – we just want to warn you not to make the same mistakes we did.

"But you will. Or you won’t. Because it’s your choice. Always.”

—  David Gerrold
The thing in the mirror

Note: Sorry if anyone got this early! My usual browser isn’t working well with Tumblr, and for some reason the posting format is different in Chrome so an early and weirdly formatted version got posted.


The thing in the mirror

Received: 10/4/200X, 9:56

Hey, you doing alright? It’s been a while since I’ve heard anything from you.
Things are alright here, I guess.

It’s going slowly, but I’m finally finishing up my next story.
I should probably get to the point. I’m writing you because I need to talk about something.

Please read all of this because it isn’t a joke.

Yesterday, I found something really strange. It was in my mirror.

I was looking in the mirror when I saw something reflected in it. It was about 5 meters behind me, and it was sort of creeping around on the ground. It was definitely alive.

It was about a meter long, and it had a wide build. It also had a tail.

That probably sounds weird as it is, but it gets worse. Its head was the same size as a person’s.

It had a black mane that looked like the same sort of hair you have on your head.

Its skin was dark and moist, and its eyes looked foggy.

At first glance, the first thing that came to mind was that it was some sort of human-faced lizard.

By now, the logical side of you is probably already thinking that I’m trying to pull one over on you,

but this isn’t a lie or some sort of delusion.

I don’t believe in God, but I swear to you that this is the truth.

First off, when I went to the library, other patrons stopped and stared at the entrance.

In other words, other people can see it, too.

I won’t say that I’m possessed by a ghost or anything. It was far too clear in the mirror to call it that.

I wonder if it would show up in a photograph, too?

It’s really creepy, though. It doesn’t look like any sort of ghost I’ve heard of.

My current hypothesis is that it’s something from another dimension.

Anyway, I don’t know what to do about it.

I don’t just want to run away.

I think I’ll pretend it’s not there and observe it for the time being.

You probably don’t believe any of this, but I want your opinion.

I’ll talk to you later.

- -

Received: 10/5/200X, 10:08

Well, you haven’t replied so I assume you just haven’t read your email yet.

I’ve found out some things since yesterday, which is why I’m emailing you again.

I tried taking a picture, but for some reason it didn’t show up, even on my digital camera.

I tried getting closer to it while watching it in the mirror, but no matter how far backwards I moved the distance between us didn’t decrease.

Thinking that it didn’t look like anything from our world, I tried to touch it with something but it didn’t work.

It didn’t seem to move at all, and whatever I was holding seemed to go straight through it.

Despite that, it kept staring at me.

By this time I knew that this thing had some sort of connection to me.

To be honest, I was starting to get scared. At first I thought it was only its face that looked human.

The more time went on, the more sure I was that it had human facial expressions, too.

Sometimes it looks straight at me and gives me a really weird smile.

I’m getting chills thinking about it. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but it seems to be getting closer…

Maybe I’m over-thinking all of this. Who knew I could be such a coward?

If you get this, get a hold of me as soon as you can.


- -

Received: 10/6/200X, 11:33

You still haven’t checked your email?!

It’s not my imagination! That thing is getting closer to me, little by little!

Come over here now. If I’m just hallucinating, we can laugh about it then, alright?

I just want you to tell me that I’ve gone a little crazy… Anything is better than this.

That thing is sly, and it is intelligent.

It’s actually enjoying my reaction to it being here, and I can’t take it anymore!

It’s like it gets off on watching people freak out and fall apart.

I think I might be some sort of prize in its mind.

- -

Received: 10/7/200X, 11:14

It’s been four days already! Stop being such an asshole and check your mail already!

Do you have any idea what’s been going through my head the past few days?!

Or… Maybe you’re scared it’ll set its eyes on you instead now that it’s already reached me?

Or do you not want anything to do with someone who’s going crazy?

Fine. I get it. But I didn’t think you were that kind of person.

I guess I was wrong.


- -

Received: 10/8/200X, 9:23

I’m sorry. I was out of control yesterday.

I want you to know that’s how bad it’s been for me.

But I’m not crazy.

I’m stupid. I should have gone to the police first thing,

or checked with a university research center or something.

But it’s too late now.

You’re the only person that knows about it.

I didn’t tell my family about it because it was too dangerous.

It waits until somebody notices it.

It’s not interested in prey that isn’t scared of it.

A seemingly unmoving human-faced lizard…

Anyone that sees it… probably won’t last much longer.

If I die, don’t come to the funeral. This isn’t me being spiteful about you not replying.

You’re probably just so busy at work you haven’t had the time to read your email.

I’m starting to worry about you.

That thing is unbelievably clever, and it’s much smarter than I first realized.

If it realizes that you’re who I’ve been contacting these past few days, it’ll probably go after you next.

Of course if you’re reading this, you probably won’t be able to help but look for it in the mirror behind you.

It’s already wrapped itself around my neck and arm, and it’s mouth is open wide.

I can see… blood dripping from my neck where its nails are digging in.

I can’t look at the mirror anymore.

I don’t know what to do… If I could touch it, it wouldn’t stand a chance! What a coward!

I know what its intentions are. It wants to bite off my scalp.

It’ll bite into my skull and then start sucking out the gray meat of my brain. Shit. Shit. Shit!

What did I do toijsddsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

* * *

I read the emails as soon as I got home from my business trip. It was the middle of the night on October 8. The same night my friend sent his last message.

I thought it was just a prank. Admittedly, a pretty dark one, but nothing more than that. He wrote stories all the time, and I just assumed that’s what the emails were.

I figured that I could forgive him as long as he didn’t take it any further than that.

But the next day, somebody told me he had died. I called his phone immediately, feeling an uneasiness as I waited for him to pick up.

I went to the vigil. It was at the same place as the funeral.

I was told that he had been involved in some sort of incident. The cops were still investigating his apartment.

When I got home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I was upset about his death, but that wasn’t the main thing on my mind. I’m somewhat of a heartless person, you could say.

The thing that was bothering me most was the emails he sent coincided perfectly with the incident he had gotten caught up in. It was a little too convenient for me.

Whatever happened took place in his apartment. The estimated time of death matches perfectly with the last letter he sent.

The emails all properly displayed the dates and times they were sent. I assume that after he sent the last letter, something…

No, that can’t be right. Would it really have been after he sent it?

If he died while he was in the middle of writing it, which is what it looks like based on the typing…

Then the murderer must have pushed the “send” button… Or maybe…

Shut up! What are you thinking? There’s no way anything like that could exist!

Don’t be so stupid. It’s pretty pathetic that you’re getting so worked up over a made up story.

I looked over the emails again.

No matter how many times I read them, I got chills. None of his other stories were like this, were they?

If it isn’t fiction, and these messages were his last words…

I went to the vigil.

I ignored his warning.

In this room, I should be fine. It’s too small for me to see anything behind me in the mirror.

But if I go into the living room, will I see that thing behind me in that mirror?

I can’t bring myself to go out there.

What should I do?