does it look like a twist braid

Hi Anon! I know you were feeling super down lately and you wanted a quick Starco thing. I had my friend @elladoodles pick the prompt, which was “Marco braiding and playing with Star’s hair” and “Marco sneaking in to her room in Mewni for wholesome movie time.”


Star peers at him from behind her bedroom door she’s opened only partially to stick her head out of. It’s late and she’s tired between wand practice with her mother and fighting with him. She’s still pretty annoyed – their argument in the back of her head practically all day, thereby making training difficult. She really just wants to sulk in bed for the rest of the night, but he’s standing at her doorway and she really can’t bring herself to tell him to leave.

He smiles down at her, sheepish and nervous, the laptop he’s brought along with him tucked under his arm and a movie in the other. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“I…uh,” Marco brings the movie he holds up as a sort of peace offering, looking around at the castle hall to avoid her gaze. “I was thinking, um, maybe if you weren’t busy that – uh,” Star’s head tilts a bit, confused, because he’s not usually so uneasy around her, even after a fight (Though, my crush on him may have changed that a bit, she thinks sadly). He hesitates, taking a deep breath, finally meeting her eyes. “Would you wanna watch a movie with me? It is Friendship Thursday, so maybe you and I could…” He trails off, hopeful, as Star pulls the door open further.  

She takes the DVD from his outstretched hand. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a dumb guy that screws up and wants to make it up to his best friend.”

Star stares at the cover. “That’s what happens in Captain America?”

Keep reading

“Why would anyone want to look like they’ve got worms coming out of their head?”

For the @characterdesignreferences​ Harry Potter theme!

My girl Angelina Johnson does not get enough fandom love. And I’m still salty that they didn’t give her braids or twists or anything in the movie. I went very flannel and ripped jeans 90′s on this one, which is always fun. 

fic: woven

fandom: danganronpa
characters/pairings: peko, feat. kuzuryuu kids + background kuzupeko (that’s more like foreground kuzupeko, you know how I do)
rating: g
read on AO3

The autumn after her tenth birthday, Miss Natsumi reads on the internet that her hair will curl if she leaves it in braids overnight.

Keep reading

A tip to black girls

So, you wanna get your hair braided (or kinky twists or jumbo braids or literally anything with extensions):

1) Wash your hair before you go. Preferably the night before, you should thoroughly comb, wash, and deep condition your hair so it’ll be strong and tangle free.

2) Comb it through again at the salon. If you need to bring your own hair lotion and comb, then do it. Just make sure that you do a good, clean job of it or else the hair stylist will rip your hair out.

3) Make sure your hair type is actually comparable with the hair you’re buying. Mine is that coarse straight-from-Africa type because I’m first generation, so almost every type of hair I buy “is no good because your hair is so thick”, according to my braider(s). Some are too fine and soft (like this one I have now) for unpermed, unrelaxed hair. This is important because it directly relates to the longevity of your braids or twists.

4)Make sure you buy enough.

4) Pop a painkiller beforehand. It helps with any pain you might feel.

5) Please be sure to eat something. My hair took seven hours+ and I didn’t eat anything till the end, which I regret because I started feeling sick and dizzy in the middle of it. Most African hair braiding places have a restaurant or convenience store nearby that aren’t too too expensive.

6) Speak up about what you don’t like. They do what they want with certain parts if you don’t say anything, like burn the ends instead of hot water treating (I had one woman try to do that to my kinky twists, which looked horrible anyway). They could start the base of the braid as if they were doing cornrows, which they did with mine (which I also now pissed about). But if they’re using a fine-toothed comb or destroying your edges or just pulling to hard, they’ll stop most of the time if you tell them.

Also, holding the base of the braid while she does the rest of it is a good way to alleviate pain without getting in the way.

Love is...

For Keith Week day 5: friendship/love!

Love is…

Keith is 9 and he’s staring at the blank page in front of him. It’s supposed to be a writing exercise, his teacher had said. “Write what comes to mind when you see the word love, don’t think too hard, just write, let the words flow,” she had said.

Keith has no words.

He tries to look around at what his classmates have written.

“Love is when my dog lets me hug her when I’m sad…”

“Love is when my brother lets me have the last cookie…”

“Love is my mom bringing me soup when I’m sick…”

Keith knows about that last one; one time he got so sick he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, and one of the ladies at the orphanage had brought him a bowl of broth and had helped him drink it. Was that love? He wasn’t sure… That lady was nice enough, but he didn’t particularly like her. There must be something more, something he isn’t understanding.

In the end Keith hands in a blank page.

His teacher asks him to stay after class, a concerned look in her eyes, and asks him if he’s doing ok, tells him he can come see her if there’s ever anything he wants to talk about.

Keith shrugs and doesn’t look her in the eye.

Love is…

Keith is 11 and he’s looking back at the orphanage one last time before turning and following the man and woman into their car.

They say “we would love for you to be part of our family, Keith.”

They say “I love this drawing, you did it? Very impressive.”

They say “I would love it if you could help me with dinner tonight.”

They never say “I love you,” not to him.

He isn’t sure, maybe it’s supposed to be implied?

Love is…

Keith is 13 and he’s listening to one of his older foster sisters bawling her eyes out upstairs. He can’t really make out what it’s about, but he does catch a wail of “but I really loved him!”

If love will make him cry like that he’s not sure he ever wants to know what it is.

Love is…

Keith is 15 and he’s staring blankly at the girl in front of him. She fidgets, twists the end of her long braid in her fingers, looks up at him nervously.

She clears her throat and tries again. “I-I said I like you Keith. Do you want to go out with me?”

Keith blinks, nods. He’s noticed people in his grade have started pairing up. Maybe if he tries it too he’ll understand.

The girl is nice, really nice. Sweet and cute too. They have fun together, but he doesn’t feel any differently about her than he does about the rest of his classmates.

They break up a month later.

Love is…

Keith is 17 and he’s soaring above the clouds. Something unravels in his chest when he looks out of the cockpit.

The earth stretched out below him, the endless sky above him, he feels like he can do anything, be anyone. He feels free.

There’s an emotion he can’t name filling him up, shivering through his core.

Love is…

Keith is 18 and he’s just met Shiro. Shiro is patient and kind. He teaches Keith meditation for when his thoughts get too turbulent. He sneaks with Keith into the simulator at night so they can fly together, grinning as Keith executes a perfect barrel roll.

Keith feels at home with Shiro in a way he has never known before, and that feeling he can’t name wells up in his chest again.

Love is…

Keith is 19 and he’s just lost Shiro. He feels like he’s freefalling, tumbling out of the sky like a bird who’s just been shot.

If love will make him feel like this he doesn’t want it.

Love is…

Keith is 20 and he’s finally figured out what he would write in that blank space.

Love is Shiro burying a warm hand in his hair and bumping their foreheads together, whispering “great job out there, you were amazing” after a successful mission.

Love is Allura resting her staff on the ground and looking down at him, disheveled and sweaty and grinning from ear to ear as she offers him a hand to help him up off the training deck floor.

Love is Coran’s admonishing lecture, belied by the tangible undercurrent of concern in his voice and the gentleness of his hands as he patches Keith up.

Love is Hunk sweeping him up in a bone-crushing hug, laughing bright and clear in his ear, and Keith hugging back after only a split-second of surprise, no words needed between them.

Love is Pidge curling up right next to him with a laptop, close enough to share warmth, even though there’s plenty of space elsewhere in the common room.

Love is Lance playing around with him like they’ve known each other for years, throwing around light-hearted banter and grinning when Keith fires back.

Love is Red purring in his mind, her eagerness and excitement mirroring his own as they streak together through the vast nothing of space.

Love is Keith finally putting a name to what he feels.

When People Diss your Natural Hair...

Here are some clever come backs:

Insult: What happened to your ‘good’ hair?

Snap back: It got better.

Insult: You are not going out with me with your hair looking like that?!

Snap back: Does beauty bother you?

Heat (OQ, all audiences, Missing Year)

When summer settles over the Enchanted Forest, scorching and oppressive, Regina finds herself missing Maine for the first time. Not Henry, whom she misses every minute of every day, but Maine, with its central air conditioning and it’s automatic icemakers, and its ocean breeze. She misses long sunny days at the beach with her son, misses waves and salt water, misses thin cotton dresses that are comfortable but still mature and classy. Misses her hair cropped short, off her neck.

This area of the Enchanted Forest has a few rushing rivers, some piddly streams, a fair number of small ponds skimmed over with algae, and three sizable lakes. No sand, no ocean breeze.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Harry comforting your toddler. :)

There were a few things Harry truly hated in this world: parking tickets, the feeling right before illness, missing silverware, and seeing his little girl cry. Harry knew this moment was going to come one day, where his four year old daughter induced pain on herself, a nasty scratch and bruise surrounding the skin of her knee. He had a hunch that it would be caused by an accident, perhaps her first time falling off her bicycle or by running around on the driveway. However, what Harry wasn’t expecting – and didn’t know how to handle – the two big, fat tears that trickled down her face that had a nose like yours and eyes like his. 

“No, sweetie, no,” he cooed softly, crouching down on the balls of his feet to stay eye-to-eye with her. “It’s alright, baby, Daddy’s going to take care of it. D'you want one of those Scooby Doo band-aids, hmm?" 

Sniffling, your daughter continued to pout, green eyes wide and innocent and scared of the world and pavement from now on, all because of a little scratch. (A little scratch that Harry would kiss better and smooth a bandage over, no matter how small, just to ensure that she was alright and wasn’t bleeding and was taken care of every step of the way.) 

"C'mere,” Harry grunted before he lifted her up from the counter, slightly swaying side-by-side with her secured in the cradle of his elbow. “We all fall down sometimes, pretty girl.” His thumb swipes at the moisture underneath her eyes and kisses her hairline. “Maybe we’ll play in the grass from now on, yeah?" 

She curls her tiny hands into the fabric of his henley and hides her face into his warm neck, snuffling, but the tears now gone. Harry rubs a comforting hand up and down her back while humming in her ear. And he can’t stand to see her sad, can’t stand the pang in his heart while she clutches at his shirt and holds on for dear life. 

"How about this,” he proposes softly in a murmur, twisting a gentle finger in the braid that you did for her this morning, “Daddy’s going to play dress up with you and we’ll have a nice picnic. How does that sound?”

The smile he receives is blinding and beautiful and she looks just like you.

nrd4lyfe  asked:

Omygosh, I would love to see the explosion when Astrid offers to braid Eret's hair. Could you please make it a drabble, if you have the time?

(My laptop is with the laptop doctor and I have to do stuff on mobile wahhhhhhh)

Hiccup has only hit Astrid once in his life— a lucky shot landed against her neck during a sparring match that immediately filled him with such a dark, gut-shredding guilt that he wouldn’t practice with her for weeks. Even thinking about that one clumsy blow makes his insides feel cold and slick. He could never imagine being violent with her. He’s never been a fighter, never been one with a temper. That’s her— his complement, his other half.

But the sudden blaze in his chest at the sight of her fingers reaching for damp black hair makes his hand shoot out. And he finds it gripped tight around her wrist.

“Hiccup?” Astrid says, her tone colored with shock. Her eyes, blue as the sky and innocent as a child’s, have gone wide.

His are almost inclined to do the same—grabbing her was instinctive, a sharp bark from some animal-like place that he’s not familiar with. But there’s still a simmer of agitation that keeps his expression twisted with irritation. And the entire table has gone silent at the look on his face.

“Eret son of Eret can braid his own hair,” he mutters low. Illogically, his gaze is pinned on the man in question.

Eret’s jaw drops a little at the steely way Berk’s chief says his full name. His eyes flick from the blonde to her fiancé and back. It does nothing to staunch Hiccup’s annoyance.

She returns the look, giving the baffled ex dragon trapper a clueless shrug. Then her eyes slide back to Hiccup. “Of course, babe.” Her tone is easy, even though he knows she’s perplexed by a reaction even he doesn’t understand.

He clenches his jaw. Peels his hand away from her wrist. A faint panic in the back of his brain is yelping, asking if his grip was too strong, if he’s hurt her or bruised her skin. But the ire still boils in his blood.

“Weeeird,” Ruffnut comments from Eret’s side.

It’s the thought of her fingers tangled in his hair— curled and twisting in a way too similar to how she pulls during love making. He doesn’t want to see the pale flash of her hands creating raven-colored plaits. It’s the thought of the tiny, easy braids she leaves while sitting closer than propriety cares for. How close she’d have to be sitting for her to tie them in another man’s hair. Those thoughts fuel a strange possessiveness.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her. Or Eret. But he shares so much now. He shares his mother with the dragons, his time with the villagers. He even shares Astrid with a dozen other distractions— still a few months away from ending the day with her all to himself. So it’s not distrust that drives his jealousy. It’s a need to have one thing she saves just for him. One thing.

Whether she understands that or not, Hiccup’s not sure. But she doesn’t begrudge him his moment of envy. The conversation stumbles back into something comfortable. And after a few minutes, while she’s in the middle of explaining the current expansion project for the dragon stables, Astrid absently reaches over and ties a little braid, just below Hiccup’s ear.

Is natural hair really being accepted?

I  stan for the natural hair movement so MUCH! A lot of people believe that the black natural hair movement isn’t that big of a deal because it’s just HAIR. At the end of the day It may just be HAIR, but when a large volume of people believe their own hair is low grade, unattractive, and or bad, it becomes more than just hair. The reason I ask the question “Is natural hair really being excepted” is because I notice that many people believe that natural hair only looks good if it’s stretched, diffused, or  altered by a braid out or a twist out. some naturalistas even believe this. I even believed this. Although it does look good that way, I wonder how people would like my hair if It was truly in it’s natural state. Ya know, shrunken and spongey? It’s so much easier to maintain this way too. When I wear a twist out or my hair stretched in any kind of way I have to worry about the humidity in the  air shrinking my hair and how many hours it will take for my hair to be dry fully. If I’m tired I have no choice BUT to do my hair because if I don’t, I will reap the consequences in the morning. Anyway, I REALLY wanna wear my hair shrunken. I put hair conditioner, olive oil and water in a spray bottle and sprayed the recipe all over my dry hair. Once my hair was shrunken, I though it looked really cute. It looked like a mini afro and i loved the texture of my shrunken hair.The problem? I’m scared to wear my hair likes this. I love it, but what if no one else does? I BADLY want people to see my natural hair in It’s natural form so I’m gonna take the risk and wear it, and rock it. Does anyone wear their hair shrunken? What is your opinion on shrunken natural hair?


This is something I just noticed 2 years after graduating high school:
I went to a pwhs and I wore my hair natural. I wore twists and occasionally let my hair out. I wore short hairstyles and occasionally got extensions. With the short hairstyles, people asked me if I cut my hair, which is weird because I have 4C hair. But these were white kids so they didn’t know.
Fast forward to senior year, after a bad hair dresser that straightened my hair without permission, I decided I was gonna get a sew-in for prom (with a different hair dresser). I got this nice wavy type of hair and I looked so good afterwards (shout out to my hair dresser for that). And suddenly, all those white kids that barely spoke to me complimented my hair, saying I looked good… like is my “braids” (I guess white people can’t fxcking see the difference between twists and braids) not good enough for ya’ll?
I go to an HBCU and I get more compliments on my twists and people even asking me who did it too. I get a sew-in (a bad one too), and nobody acknowledges it. Now they may be two different hubs of culture, but it does show how white people perceive our hairstyles vs. us wearing something close to their hair.
All I know is, I’m sticking to my natural styles because I honestly look better with them than with straight hair.


I don’t make full frontal posts about this but..

I have Alopecia Universalis. This means that I have lost all of my hair (and I mean ALL). I will have to live with this for the rest of my life and whenever it supposedly grows back (doc says it does but you cant know when. Could be years. Its been 8 months), it can fall all out again at any time.

Pretty sure emotional trauma triggered mine but it wouldn’t be the first time I have had my heart stomped on by people of various contexts.


My sister is having her wedding on June 28th. I have bought a dress and shoes but no matter how nice my clothes are, I will always feel exposed and self conscious. I wear headscarves to try and help me. I usually wrap them around my head and the twist the rest to look like a braid. Its a casual way to wear it and not very fancy.

I’ve worked hard to make myself feel better by combining coloured headscarves and clothes. I don’t regularly take photos. So far I only have any of my interview clothes and bridesmaid dress.

But no matter what I do, I cant feel ok in the dress in a manner of wedding style. My sis put makeup on me but there’s not much she can do. And she tried to wrap my headscarf up in a more “classy” way but honestly I felt like I was wearing a turban how she did it and it didn’t feel natural to who I am.

So….I am seeking people out. Im tagging this in hopes of finding people who understand fashion or alopecia or both. Maybe someone has suggestions of what I can do to improve things. Does anyone know how I can wear the headscarf better? I find stuff from Google but the person is wearing it over hair. It doesn’t work the same way..

Im hoping that tumbles big community might help.

anonymous asked:

i like to spin cords around and stuff and ive ruined a pair of earbuds and my phone charger. it stresses me out when i dont have anything to spin to keep my hands busy. does momma have any suggestions on something similar i could do to keep my hands busy or something i could buy?

Hmm. Well, you could just keep the ruined cords on hand? They don’t work to actually use, but at least you get the exact same feeling you’re used to?

Otherwise, just looking at Stimtastic:

  • A tangle jr (not very flexible but some people have reported it’s a good stand in to cord spinning)
  • Fabric fidget cord (If this is too thick, you could try braiding your own)
  • A wrist coil (or a few, they’re cheap. These probably feel a lot like cords.)
  • Snake twist necklace (tightly interlocking metal that is super flexible)

Hope you can find a suitable alternative!

-Solar the Sea Turtle


This might be the worst idea that she’s ever gone along with.

Leia – which is so weird because for month’s she just referred to the woman as Ben’s mom – told her earlier that day that this was the dress for her. But it was all wrong. Rey belonged in a simple tunic and pants, something functional and that actually had a point. What was the point with all of it? She looks at herself in the mirror again, tugging at the body of her dress. There aren’t any straps and it’s going to fall off. But as stubborn as she’s being, a quiet part of her whispers that it does look quite pretty. 

Keep reading