braided bonding


Watch: This awesome dad set up a free hair-school for men so that dads could learn to do their daughters’ hair, too

Also paramount? Remembering what’s important: quality time with his daughter. His tagline, which he often repeats, is, “It’s about the braid; it’s about the bond.” Based on the way he speaks to other fathers, you can tell this isn’t just another low-bar dad.

Gifs: 60 Second Docs


robin-writes  asked:

Hi! So I know you wrote "black hairstyles for the apocalypse", but i have a question. my main character is black in my twd fanfic, I was wondering if her asking Michonne if she could braid her hair would be like a stereotypical thing?And is not letting really anyone touch her hair a stereotype? Because I was hoping that the interaction between her and Michonne would be a bonding type thing? (Btw Thank you so much for this blog, it has helped so much)

Black Characters Bonding Over Braiding

Referenced post:  “Black Hair Styles for the Apocalypse”

So I have already talked about avoiding mistaking culture with stereotype:

  • Having braids isn’t a stereotype.
  • Black people braiding each other’s hair isn’t a stereotype.
  • Not wanting one’s hair touched is not a stereotype (especially by strangers and especially when so many feel entitled to touch Black people’s hair without permission).

Please read “Tradition and Culture vs. Stereotype” 

I’d like to emphasize this part:

Now, recognize these things can still be used as stereotypes, especially if you group all Black people as liking and doing the same things. No, not all Black people like rap or automatically should you assume they do because Black. And if they do, that doesn’t mean they don’t wind down to classical music in the evenings! Don’t compose characters based on only what you assume you “know” about Black people. That’s when you’ll get a flat stereotypical character who lacks depth. People are dynamic, and many many things.

How you treat the circumstance is what can make a situation an issue or not. For example, if your character just assumes Michonne can braid because she’s Black and has dreads, that might be awkward. I’ve had braids at numerous points in my life. I suck at braiding. Hey, that’s what the salon is for.

Not every Black woman, man, or person automatically knows how to braid or braid well , even if it is something many grow up learning. Some people, even if they do know how, don’t enjoy it. And of course, some do. Again, Black people’s interests, culture, and skill sets are not one and the same.

In short, I think the two Black character’s bonding over hair braiding can be special. Culture shouldn’t be mistaken as a stereotype.

~Mod Colette

Happy Birthday Pauline!!!

So here is a little present for you I hope you like it and if not well…it’s the thought that counts…right?

Note: this is set in the future.

We Could Be Friends, Me and You

Six months ago.

Robert didn’t know what he was thinking - Okay, he knew, he was just pretty sure he was nuts. He was standing outside the garage, contemplating going inside to speak to Cain about Aaron’s nightmares. It had been three months since Aaron came home from prison and the bad dreams were still happening, just as regularly as they had when he’d first gotten released.

Robert was more than a little bit pissed at Aaron’s therapist. She seemed fairly useless, with only broad spectrum ideas on how to fix things, but his husband needed someone to talk to and at least she could be that for him.

“Why are you loitering on my property Sugden? Shouldn’t you be home, doing gross newlywed things to my nephew?” Cain said when he spotted Robert standing there.

Robert wasn’t about to back down or give up just because Cain was giving him the stink-eye. “I need to talk to you about Aaron he…”

“No,” Cain said, dismissing him before he could finish. Robert watched as Cain walked back into the garage and out of sight. He wasn’t afraid of Cain, he could totally do this. He was more afraid for Aaron, getting so stressed by the nightmares that he might hurt himself on purpose or from lack of sleep. “It’s important, it’s about his time in prison. He’s still having nightmares. Please, Cain, you must know I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t bad,” Robert said, as he followed Cain into the garage.

“Worried about him messing with your beauty sleep?” Cain mocked, wiping his dirty hands on an even dirtier rag. It was distracting. Why would anybody bother?

Robert pulled himself out of his internal quest for logic and said “What? No, but he does keep trying to move into the spare room because he doesn’t want to keep waking me. I could not give two shits about losing sleep, I just want to sleep with my husband beside me and I am worried if this continues he might revert to self-harming. I’m already checking him every night for new marks. He knows what I’m doing and he’s humouring me for now, but Cain, we can’t keep this up. He’s hurting and I don’t know what to do.”

Cain just stood there for a minute, looking at Robert as if he was silently judging his entire existence. Cain pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a deep sigh, the harsh gust of air illustrating his irritation.

“There’s this thing, that I did after getting out, that helped but it will only work if Aaron agrees to it. He must be committed to finding a solution out of it, otherwise, it is a waste of time,” Cain said, his words clipped and low as if to stave off the chance of anyone overhearing their conversation.

Robert knew better than to interrupt, he waited for Cain to continue.

“It’s call IRT, basically Aaron will need to write down all the details from his nightmares and then change the theme. Give the dream a new ending, write a joke, make him taller than his opponent, something to change the flow of the dream. The other thing he can try is to think about what he’d like to dream about instead. He needs to do this for about twenty minutes before falling asleep each night, to help break the negative thought processes surrounding those memories,” Cain explained. He turned back to his work clearly finished with Robert, it was an obvious banishment.

Five and a bit months ago.

Cain looked up from the engine he was pulling apart and let out a grunt, “Why are you here?”.

Keep reading

/Winter had cherished those nights with Weiss. They were her only freedoms, the only decision she was allowed to make on her own. It was a weak rebellion but a rebellion all the same./


Winter remembered when they were younger, before she left for the military, that she and Weiss used to stay up late at nights braiding each other’s hair. Her braids were always perfect, straight, not a hair out of place. Weiss’ were loose, messy, uneven in places.

Those sleepless, happy nights seemed a lifetime ago. They only occurred when their Father was out of the home and the servants were too exhausted to chide them for raiding the kitchen for all the foods they were typically restricted from.

Winter had cherished those nights with Weiss. They were her only freedoms, the only decision she was allowed to make on her own. It was a weak rebellion but a rebellion all the same.

So Winter packed her satchel full of various hair accessories and supplies. Her own lodgings were within walking distance of the school, so she walked directly up to her sister’s room.

It was Ruby that opened the door, in her pajamas. She squeaked in alarm upon seeing the older Schnee daughter, and bowed deeply and clumsily.

“Is Weiss here?” Winter asked, suddenly feeling quite childish with her bag of hair supplies.

“Yes! Please do come in, uh, welcome to our.…humble abode.” Ruby stammered, flinging the door open and making a show of sweeping her arms to their shared room.

Weiss was in one of those precariously unstable beds that Winter still did not approve of.

She sat up immediately upon seeing her sister, her eager happiness clear on her face. Winter always envied how open Weiss’ expressions were. Her emotions were always so obvious.

“Hello.” Winter greeted.

“What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until the morning.” Weiss asked.

“I, well, I remembered how we used to do each other’s hair when we were younger and I thought it would be a nice way to catch up. And become familiar with your team.” She looked up to see her dark haired teammate and Qrow’s neices.

The blonde, Yang she thought it was, looked immediately suspicious and exchanged a wary glance at the dark haired girl. Blake, she recalled from the description her sister wrote, had an open book on her lap, and tucked her finger as she closed it to save her page.

“Really?” Weiss asked, standing up and striding eagerly to her sister.

Winter nodded and Weiss turned hopefully to her teammates. Ruby was the first to settle on the floor beside her, and immediately began digging through the wide expanse of ribbons, bows and pins Winter had stuffed into her bag.

Yang and Blake joined them, Yang already calling dibs on a vibrantly purple ribbon.

Winter had gone around and braided each of their hair, listening intently to them talking. They were a tight knit group. Winter was content that her sister had aquired such good friends.

With Ruby’s hair in her hands, she listened intently to her babble. She was in uninhibited, which Winter noted, and spoke freely. She was still a child, unburdened by the hardships of the outside world.

Winter felt herself envying her sister and her team. She had never been given the chance to bond with girls her age. Military Academy had been terribly strict and she was primarily surrounded by starched, frigid older men.

She looked up from Ruby’s braids when Weiss scooted closer to her, legs tucked beneath her.

Weiss gave her a small, tentative smile and Winter returned it.

Ruby’s hair ended up in twin braided pigtails, red ribbons on each end. She was absolutely enthralled by the short twin tails that poked from either side of her head.

Yang was wary of hands on her hair, but with much cajoling from both Weiss and Ruby, she gave in and allowed Winter to take a brush to it.

“You have beautiful hair.” Winter said, running her fingers through it to test the length.

“She knows.” The girls chorused.

Winter twisted a clump of blonde through her fingers and braided it neatly down Yang’s back, incorporating the purple ribbon into the braid as she went.

“You have a semblance similar to your Uncle’s, yes?” Winter asked. It was strange, attempting to build a conversation. She had never found it necessary to instigate conversation. Whenever she spoke to a person it was direct, to the point, no time for mindless chit chat.

“Yeah, I do. He taught me how to use it too.” Yang responded.

“I see. That must make you a very formidable opponent.” Winter said, patting Yang’s braid as a sign she had completed it.

Yang reached to touch the braid and she pulled it over her shoulder, grinning.

Winter looked expectantly to Blake, who was clearly skittish. She refused to part with her bow and Winter did not push the matter. She instead plaited a simple over the shoulder braid. Blake was a quiet girl, but she listened intently to her team members, smiling and adding in commentary at the right moments.

Weiss finally settled in front of her sister, practically vibrating in excitement. Winter rested a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

It was nice to talk without any worries of backlash or reprimands. She suddenly felt a surge of giddiness. She could say whatever she pleased and there would be no consequences.

“Can you put it up, Winter?” Weiss requested, holding up a hair tie for her sister to see.

“Of course.” Winter allowed, gathering up the pale loose curls and twisting them into a neat bun at the top of her head.

She pulled back Weiss’ bangs and braided them primly. A blue bow settled in front of the bun.

“This was fun.” Yang admitted, holding her knees to her chest.

Blake was toying with the end of her braid, golden eyes crossed just slightly as she picked at dead ends.

“Let’s do yours!” Ruby suggested, picking up a pale blue ribbon and waving it enthusiastically in front of Winter.

They convinced Winter to take down her hair and let them try their hand at braiding. She undid the ornate bun she styled her hair in each day, and the loose white curls fell down her back.

She had often thought of cutting her hair. The length was bothersome, it stifled her and got in the way in battle. Wearing it up was the next best option beside cutting it short.

“I haven’t seen your hair down in a long time.” Weiss said. “Not since you lived with Dad.”

“It’s not practical to wear it down. The military only allows specific styles, anyway.” She explained, brushing a lock over her shoulder.

“How do you want it then?” Yang asked, already sectioning off a layer to begin braiding.

“Surprise me.”

It turned out Yang was a skilled braider. She claimed that her and Ruby’s Mother taught her how. Blake was unexperienced, but a quick learner. Ruby was absolutely unskilled and Weiss had not improved by any means.

The girls were arguing over what to do with her hair and Winter sat with her hair spilling over her shoulders, loose and falling in soft curls.

It was…enjoyable to feel this childish again. The feel of hair tickling her elbows reminded her of her youth, when she would race around their home, chasing Weiss with toy swords, laughing.

That had been years ago. She doubted Weiss even remembered the silly game of Huntresses that they used to play. Weiss with a single spongy toy sword and Winter with two.

Winter shook away the guilt curling in her stomach. She mourned for the childhood she had lost, but especially for the one Weiss had lost as well.

She was torn from her reverie when the heavy rapping of a fist on the door echoed through the room. Yang stood up to answer, braid swishing behind her back. She let out a joyful shout and called that her Uncle Qrow was there. He followed her in and Winter sat up straighter.

“No friggin’ way.” Qrow snorted when he saw her. His eyes were red around the edges and she heavily suspected he had been drinking that evening.

“Hello, Qrow.” She greeted, dryly.

“Felt like a girls night, Ice Queen?” He asked, nudging a stray ribbon with the toe of his shoe.

“Winter was visiting Weiss and stayed to braid our hair!” Ruby explained, pointing proudly to her little pigtails.

Qrow tilted his head slightly and grinned.

“Who knew you had a soft side.” He goaded.

Winter rolled her eyes and stood. She suddenly felt ridiculous, with her hair undone and unkempt, dressed in casual clothing. Her hand reached for her weapon and she remembered she had left it behind. Her only protection were the small twin blades tucked into her boots.

She brushed her hair aside, over her shoulder, not quite catching the softening in Qrow’s eyes, how his expression shifted just slightly.

“I believe that is my cue to leave.” She announced. She turned to Weiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Weiss nodded, smiling.

“Winter! It was…fun having you here. We should do this again.” Weiss said, shyly, smiling.

Winter’s chest clenched just slightly and she smiled, a true smile, and nodded. “I agree.”

She turned again, smile still on her lips, and swept past Qrow.

He looked odd, confused almost. He didn’t meet her eyes when she passed, but he watched her go, hair sweeping down her back.

He cleared his throat, coughing loudly into his fist.



Just imagine Helena and Cass as sisters. Like just imagine that they had met instead of Hel and Dami. This woman would be the b o m b  older sister. Her b0dy is ready. This is what she was made to do– Like look at her with Damian. Like it was rough at first but that Helly was a pretty great sister. This bat is ready to having siblings and bond and braid hair and help with science homework and help them with Batdad related issues. Like she even mourned Dami’s death because in a short amount of time she bonded with him, she is overly ready to have siblings. But like imagine her and Cass!!

Imagine her knowing what it was like to be Batman’s daughter. Imagine her getting Cassandra to talk more and laugh or sneaking into galas to dance with her baby sister from another world. Imagine her teaching her a few tricks to fight like Cat or having slumber parties. Imagine Helena understanding this child who obviously needs someone and like teaching this kid how to get away with anything by using puppy dog eyes. Or teaching Cass the Batglare.

Imagine them drinking slurpees on patrol and Helena slyly telling Cassie about her own blond haired girlfriend because these sisters obviously have a type that involves some cool af blondes. (*cough* Karen and Stephanie *cough*) Or Helena showing Cass how to shoot a crossbow and practising on Joker.

Imagine the emotional support they can give each other. Imagine the l0ve these babies would have for each other like Cass is wandering around the manor in her older sister’s purple sweater and Helena steals her ballet shoes in return. And like God forbid anybody fuck with this kid. Like she WANTS David Cain to mess with her sister cause she needs a rease to beat the shit outta this man.

And the pranks these two could pull. Like Helena is legit trying to freak out the Batman by sneaking in while he’s tired and Cassie just goes with it. Like he just gets home from patrol with no sleep in 2 days and BAM. There is two dark haired girls sitting in the Batcave eating chips.

“…cassandra… I am like 200.9% I did not adopt that one.”

“You did.” Cass confirmed.


And like he can’t really argue against Cass. Because she’s the good one??? So he guesses he did adopt the tall one in purple?? Like Alfred??? What???

And Alfred loves these two girls and he just rolls with it. Like “You don’t remember Miss Helena, Master Bruce? Perhaps you might need some rest?”

And Damian is there too b/c hey thats his sister too. So like they both annoy the heck outta this tiny batnugget. And he just absolutely done with them. He can’t even.


When Helena finds a way home, she leaves Cassandra a box and a note.

The next night, there is a new Huntress with a sister’s legacy to uphold.


I couldn’t get lokefanart’s gorgeous drawing of Chuck with long hair out of my head, there were rumblings of a distinct lack of rule 63 Hansens, and I really needed some fluff. 

Kidfic, hair braiding, and father+daughter bonding.

“That spray’s for little kids.” Chuck sat on the couch, flipping through a copy of the latest Jaeger gossip rag, and Herc could feel the eye roll from across the room. He gritted his teeth, wisely refrained from pointing out that’s exactly what she was, and just continued silently unpacking the bag of supplies he’d spent the better part of his day off collecting. She wasn’t frilly, his daughter, preferring to run around in joggers and cutoffs instead of dresses, but she was terribly proud of her hair. He was rather fond of it too, long and wavy just like her mum’s, but God, was it a right bitch to keep in order. It fell in her eyes, hiding the permanent scowl she seemed to have etched on her face since Angela died, and Herc was afraid Chuck was going to get it caught in some spinning piece of the machinery she was forever tinkering with.

Before today, Herc had put her hair in messy ponytails as a toddler, had brushed it out after her baths when she was a baby, but he hadn’t known combs came with different size teeth, that he should avoid buying the elastics with metal strips, and that despite her advanced age, she definitely needed the detangling spray.

One more thing Herc was woefully unprepared for as a single father, especially to a teenaged girl. “Could you come over here, Chuck?”

“Why? You gonna braid my hair for me, Dad?” He remembered Angela sitting with Chuck at the table, plaiting her hair for her in the morning before school.

“You want me to give it a go?”

“Like to see you try, more like it.” But despite her grumbles, Chuck laid down the magazine and pushed herself off the sofa, moved to the kitchen doorway. He could feel the prod of her frown between his shoulderblades as he stowed the bags away and turned, bottle in hand.

“Don’t think your old man can hack it?” Chuck scoffed and plopped into the chair nearest him. With a sigh, she tilted her head back and looked up at her father.

“It hurts when you tug, Mum always - you need to comb it from the bottom.”

Herc pretended to ignore the little hitch in Chuck’s voice, swallowed the lump in his own throat, and sprayed her hair before taking the comb and carefully working the knots out. When it laid flat over her shoulders, he split it into sections. Working quickly, he pulled and wove the pieces until he reached the bottom and a thick braid hung down her back.

“Give me one of the elastic things.”

“Hair ties, Dad.” Chuck’s narrow shoulders shook a little, and he knew she was laughing at him as he wrapped the end of her hair and flipped the rope of it over her arm.

“Whatever you call it, you’re done.” From where he was sitting, Herc could see the way her fingers played with the loose tail for a moment or two. She turned, freckles sprinkled across her nose and a shy smile lurking at the very edges of her mouth. Her hand ran down the back of her head and she nodded.

“Basic, but not bad for a rookie.”

“Pack chutes and untangle rope all day, kiddo, it’s not that different.” Herc patted her on the shoulder before pushing her off the chair. “Now, all this stuff goes in your room.”

“Typical.” With a huff, Chuck gathered everything in her arms. In the doorway she looked back at Herc. “Dad?”


“Learn how to french braid, there are tutorials on youtube.” She stalked down the hall and kicked her bedroom door open. Herc hollered after her to be careful and pulled out his phone, thumbed in hair braiding.

His jaw dropped a little when he read 64,400 results found.

It was going to be a long night.

fenrvs  asked:

Hi :) I was rereading acomaf and came across the post-cabin moment when cassian and rhys fight. I don't have the book here but it says that cassian binds his hair together... so cassian has shoulder length hair... and you know what that means... NESTA MAKING MINIATURE BRAIDS ON CASSIAN WHILE HE SLEEPS AND CASSIAN BRAIDING NESTAS HAIR WHILE SHE IS EATING BREAKFAST AND IS SLEEPY, BASICALLY MATE BONDING BY BRAIDING


AND AWWWWWWW WTF. I KNOW THAT CASSIAN PLAYS WITH HER HAIR WHEN HE’S NERVOUS, I JUST KNOW IT and yes she makes tiny little braids with his hair when they’re out and he rests his head on her lap and he falls asleep and he wakes up with all little tiny braids and he’s pretty cool with it