hair whizz

Sometimes, when it is really fucking early in the morning and the marauders are veged out in their dorm room trying to finish the fundamentals of their newest prank, James will literally still be the only one that is hyped. Sirius and Remus will glare at him from one of the beds, just a pile of lanky, teenage limbs and pure Gryffindor determination (Peter will already be comatose the slacker) and watch as this ball of bad hair and annoying energy whizzes around making the most horrendous amount of noise, and Sirius will turn to his pillow/Remus and ask, in the most pained of voices; “why, moony?”. And Remus will reply, with the voice of someone who has accepted their fate a long time ago; “This is what you get for saying snivellous couldn’t possibly look worse as a toad. And yes I do blame you. Because it is literally ALWAYS your fault.” Much half hearted slapping ensues. Sirius falls asleep with Remus’s hand repeatedly smacking him softly in the face and James Potter all but vibrating around the room like a misfired hex.

anonymous asked:

I've had a really bad day so can I get some headcanons of the RFA playing with or trying to do MC's hair?

aw I hope your day got better lil anon 


  • This boy has hair down to his waist; he definitely knows how to braid.
  • If you’re sitting on the couch, he’ll come up behind you and start french braiding it if he’s bored.  He’s not necessarily very good, but you think it’s sweet, so you humor him and wear it for the rest of the night.
  • Also, for whatever reason, he really likes brushing hair.  Maybe it’s his part of his own vanity, but he loves it when you’ve just woken up and your hair is a tangled mess.  He’ll literally offer to brush it for you. 
    • You’ll wake up in the morning, standing languidly in the kitchen waiting for your coffee to brew, when he pops up behind you, brush in hand.  “You’re so weird,” you yawn as he runs it through the current bird’s nest on your head.
  • In a more domesticated situation, he’d probably just love running his fingers through your locks as the two of you lied in bed together.


  • He’d be the kind of guy who doesn’t know how to do hair, but likes to play with it, so whenever he gets the chance, he’ll grab some pony tail holders and put your hair up in ridiculous pig-tails, or if he’s feeling particularly inspired, he’ll give you “alien-hair”
    • He probably tries to recreate some of the avatars’ hairstyles from LOLOL
  • Definitely has a year’s worth of bobby-pins, if not, clips (they’re literally in his hair 24/7).  He’ll definitely incorporate those into his “masterpieces”. (”Ow!  You just stabbed me in the scalp!” “Sorry, sorry!  The clip snapped in my hand!  I didn’t mean it!”)
  • He loves it when your hair has just dried after a shower, and it’s all fluffy and soft from being brushed.  Combing his fingers through it is somewhat therapeutic.
  • If you both are up late watching a movie or something, he’ll lean back against the armrest with you against his chest, just twiddling with the ends of your hair.


  • Even though she’s had short hair for a while, she’d probably be bomb as fuck at styling.
  • When you two are getting ready for a party, or a business dinner, or something that requires effort into appearance, you can bet that she’ll be right behind you to help you with your hair.
    • I feel like she’d really like the Elsa braid idk 
  • You’d show her youtube tutorials, hopeless at following them yourself, and with her magic fingers, you’d look better than the demonstrator. (”Are you sure you’re doing this right?” “Are you doubting me?” “Noo, but it doesn’t feel like it looks like that,” you say, pointing to the video.  She rolls her eyes and holds up a mirror, and you immediately shut your mouth.)
  • Braiding your hair has sort of become an instinctive habit for her when she’s bored, or if the two of you are sitting anywhere together.  It gives her comfort if she’s had a stressful day at work, or if she’s just looking to pass time.


  • He never really has the urge to do your hair, per se, but once he hears that Zen is a hair-whizz, he tries to figure it out.
  • Unfortunately, poor baby is hopeless at it, and usually ends up knotting your hair past recognition.  (”I don’t think this is right,” he says, looking from your hair to the wikihow tutorial.  You just nod, trying to ignore the throbbing pain after that hair abuse.)
  • That being said, even if he doesn’t actively try to do it, he loves to play with it.  He’s amazed at how soft it is after being brushed.  If your head is in his lap, his fingers are definitely threading through it.
    • If it’s up in a pony tail, he probably tries to pull it out of your hair, too, because he thinks it’s beautiful and shouldn’t be tied up.  Obviously, it’s your hair, so if it’s a “I haven’t washed this in two days” kind of day, you’ll fix it right back up, and he’s left to glower by himself.
  • After you’ve just washed it, he likes to hold you close to him with his nose pressed into your head.  It smells great, and, still damp, feels insanely silky.


  • This boy knows how to do hair, no questions asked (you think his cross-dressing wigs are in that good condition with him being ignorant to this?)
  • If he’s really bored, he’ll have you sit between his legs as he brushes and does your hair into all of those DIY styles (like the bow or the braided buns.  Those types of things)
  • When you come back from your work place, after a hard and stressful day, looking to spend some time with him, you’ll find that a lot of the time, he’s doing his own work, and incredibly immersed in code.  You’ll go over and take a seat on his lap, kind of straddling him, but not at all in a sexual way, and most of the time, he’ll take a hand away from the keyboard to stroke it through your hair.  It’s still knotted from the day, but he doesn’t mind.
  • By contrast, if he doesn’t have enough work, and is getting bored, you might wake up to some ridiculous hairstyle, or something tied into your hair.  You don’t know how he does it without waking you up, but it sure makes for a less than pleasant awakening.

for all people out there struggling with any kind of hair condition, wether it’s trich/alopecia/because of medical treatment (or all three) - it really can get so much better so quickly // 2013 VS 2015

Armageddon! Ninjago fanfic.

“I’m just saying, if you can’t fly, you shouldn’t go up there in the first place.” Jay was arguing with Cole about mountain’s or something. “Perhaps if you had a flight suit.” Zane was interested in the conversation now. “Would you guys knock it off” I was just getting ready to crash, when I heard it. Laughter. Morro and at least ten soul archers were closing in on our camp. A shower of arrows began to rain down. These aren’t normal arrows, if you get hit, your turned into a ghost. Not such a problem for Cole, but for the rest of us… The first arrow hit Zane, who fell to the ground in a mess of sparks. The next ones are passing too close for comfort, grazing though my hair, whizzing passed my ears. I lose my footing and fall on my face.

Everything’s blurry.“You need to get up!” Nya’s hands dig into my shoulders and pull. “Kai! Get up! Their coming! We’ve got to go right-” She stoped and slowly looked down at a sword protruding from her chest. “NYA!” She falls and I look at down her now lifeless body on the ground next to me. I can hear Morro laughing. He flys back to the edge of camp and he sent his archers forward. I turn to him and his archers and scream. I run at them just as Jay drops to Nya’s side, yelling something I couldn’t make out. I rush the first archer, and run my aero blade though his head. Ending his living death.
The next five minutes passed in a blur. Fire in my vains, sorrow in my heart. I cut one down, then another and another and in no time I look to see I’ve killed them all. All but one…

“Morro! I will kill you for what you’ve done!” I see him smile. It only fuels my hatered. He stands with his sword in hand and a smirk on Lloyd’s stolen face. I charge him head on, which he wasn’t expecting. Catching him off guard I slam into him. We roll, and I land on top. “You killed her! You killed the only family I have left!” Angry tears fall from my eyes and on to the face of the boys stolen body. I pull my blade back and prepare for the kill.
“Wait! If you kill me you kill your little friend too!” His words float past my ears, but I’m not listening. I push the blade into flesh, past bone, and into the heart of Lloyd’s body.

I lost everything that day. My best friend, my sister, my sanity.

By lolofangirl


Today I am wearing a bigger, droopier shalwaar than usual. It is my grandmother’s. It is white, and white is the colour of the shalwaar kameez women wear to court. White, pure, virgin-like.

This morning I went to the Sessions Court with my colleague, Sajjad. He rides a motorbike. He drove, and I sat behind him, enjoying the cool March breeze on my face, through my hair, as we whizzed through the Mall Road. Past Anarkali, Tollington, and my favourite building - the old, beautiful Punjab University Campus. Lahore is grand.

The Mall is shaded with peepal trees. The oldest ones are labelled neatly. The labels tell me that the peepal belongs to the Ficus Relgiosa species. Sacred Fig. The same sacred shade under which Buddha attained enlightenment.
On our way back we stop at a traffic light. It feels strange when Lahori traffic halts all of a sudden. More so when you are on a motorbike. You are exposed and vulnerable, especially when sitting with both legs on the same side, floating unsafely with the city reeling in front of you. But today I was sitting normally. The way men sit behind other men, with my legs apart. I was scared my big, droopy shalwaar would get caught in the bike and I would fall on my face.
So here we are. Waiting. Talking. Another man on a bike stops parallel to us. He is a lawyer too.

Man: Can I say something to you?
[ Sajjad and I stare at his face ]
Man: You shouldn’t be sitting like this.
Me: Why?
Man: Because only children sit like this (referring to girls). You are a lawyer (meaning I am a woman)
Me: I am sitting like this for my safety. It is dangerous to sit with both your legs dangling from one side (side saddle)
Man: But you don’t understand what I’m saying. Only children sit like this.
Me: I think don’t understand what I am saying. I can sit however I like. You can look away
Man: But It looks very bad.
Sajjad [interrupting]: …no actually I think she is scared of sitting the “right” way
Me: [feeling even more furious]: THIS is the normal way to sit. It is more safe. All women should sit like this.
Man: Aren’t you scared of god?
Me: What does god have to do with anything? Why are you bringing god into this?
Man: [Rides away].

And suddenly, I notice how dirty the road is. The shade of the peepal is not enough. I am sweating and it is hot.

- Noor N Zafar

queenofthyfangirl  asked:

I just read ur moriel and its official I'm dying. I'll just drown here in my feelings. And on that note, can u write a moriel late in life with their own baby bat kids?? Pleaaase???

Oh my gosh, I have been sitting on this for a few days now dreading answering because I didn’t think I had anything good for you and also because I’m starting to work up a headcanon that maybe Mor and Az don’t have kids, but literally right as I was about to apologize profusely for coming up short, I got struck with the inspiration for this. It’s not much, but I hope you like it anyhow. :)


Azriel’s second favorite word in the world was uncle.

A dark patch of hair whizzed past Az shooting for the open door at his town house that led onto the balcony and nothing but the clear skies of Velaris beyond. “Hold up!” Azriel shouted, grabbing his nephew around the waist before he could jump free and take flight. Morrigan giggled behind him on the couch holding the ash-blonde delight that was their niece on her lap.

“You know you can’t just run off flying alone,” Azriel said. “Either myself, one of your parents, or not at all.”

His nephew was every bit Rhysand’s son. Mischief and adventure lived inside those violet eyes that sought the open sky at every turn. He was such a free spirit, reckless and almost dangerous at times that they all worried he’d run off too far one day, Azriel perhaps most of all.

But then the boy would smile, his features would calm, and Azriel would breathe.

Morrigan smiled. Their niece slept soundly in her arms, curled up in a little ball of delicate hands and freckles that looked so much like her mother. But with that blonde hair curling around her face and sitting so close to Morrigan, she almost looked as though she could be…

Pain sliced through Azriel’s stomach. Morrigan was radiant as ever, but holding their little niece is her arms, she looked like Heaven made manifest. Visions of a future he had always dreamed of sat there on that couch taunting him and although he would forever love his Morrigan, would never release her for the world, it pained him to think those dreams of a child of their own would never come to pass. They had tried for years - near on a century since the war ended, but wounds healed too slow, the nail had run too deep, and they could only come up…


A knock sounded at the door. Azriel opened his arms and his nephew flew to the sound.

Rhys and Feyre were quick, grabbing the children and bounding out the door with hurried thank you’s as Rhys was forced to chase his son into the skies. Azriel’s heart ached with renewed joy watching them fly off. If he couldn’t be a father himself, being an uncle was the next best thing.

Morrigan’s arms snaked around Azriel, one over his shoulder and the other around his waist. She placed a soft kiss at the base of his neck, nestling into him tenderly.

“You do well, you know,” she said quietly, “with the kids.”

Azriel shifted until he was facing her and scooped her up in his arms. “I do better with you,” he said, stealing her lips in his as he walked her to their bedroom and laid her down on the sheets. Morrigan giggled again, infectious, as he slowly removed her leggings, trailing kisses along her thighs and shins as he went until each leg had been marked numerous times.

She wore a plain white v-neck with a beige bra underneath that Azriel decided he liked, so he left it alone, choosing instead to dive his head underneath the shirt and kiss within the valley between her breasts.

“Azriel!” Mor laughed, her hands flying to her face.

“Morrigan?” Azriel teased back in between kisses, beginning to trail them lower.

“Do you like having the kids over?” Morrigan asked suddenly. The question caught Az off guard and he stilled, wondering if she had sensed his earlier disappointment.

“I love them to pieces, Morrigan,” Azriel said before resuming his kissing. “You know that.”

“Mmm,” Mor hummed as Az’s lips reached the lining of her underwear and his teeth started playing with the fabric, taunting her. “And what if we had them around more often? Children - that is.”

Azriel sighed and rested his chin just above Mor’s hips. “Morrigan, much as I love discussing our beloved High Niece and Nephew, children is not a topic I like discussing in this particular setting.” He leaned his head back down, ready to tear her underwear to shreds and kiss her to the death when Mor spoke again in a quiet, almost pained voice.

“Well you’re going to have to get used to it,” she whispered. “Because we’ll be discussing it rather a lot in nine months…”

Azriel’s fingers froze where they’d been sitting on her hips, poised to dip lower. He didn’t think he could feel his heart beating anymore. The world went suddenly very quiet as his mind panicked, certain he had misheard her.

“What did you just say, Morrigan?” he asked, not even lifting his head to look up. He could hear the smile shining with sunlight in her voice as she replied.

“You heard me. In nine months, we’re going to have-”

“But I thought…” he interrupted. His hands gripped her hips tighter. He could barely think, he was so overwhelmed. Mor’s fingers threaded through his hair in response causing his brow to fall and rest against her stomach. The second he made contact there, he realized what he was resting against and it filled his heart with such warmth unlike any he’d ever known. “I didn’t think it was possible. I thought you couldn’t-”

“Neither did I,” Mor said, her voice a little tighter. “The nail… ugh.” She sighed. “It went deep. It was close. Too close, I was told once, but sometimes life surprises you. Oh Az,” and there was that delighted giggle again as she ran her hands down his head to glide over what she could touch of his buried face. “Be happy! You’re going to be a father.”

Azriel kissed his Morrigan’s stomach in reply. He looked up at her and a broad smile wider than the skies through which his nephew loved to fly spread across his face. He was beaming.

Uncle was his second favorite word, but father was now his first.

And this will be me at the end of the day today.  Starting, beginning.  I’ll finish up my day job and head next door to the gym.   I’ll begin my routine, and I’ll do it for as long as it takes.  During my workout, I will zone out.  During my workout, I will zone out.  I will let the thoughts of my muscles occupy my mind.  That and the beat of the music I’m listening to.  I will listen to my breath, sawing in and out of my body.  In this way, it is like prayer.  The gym is my new church.  I will go to the gym to work on my body.  Paying attention to other thoughts would be inappropriate.  There are no other thoughts in the gym, just muscle and body and breath and beat.  In fact, all day at my day job, it might be hard to keep my mind off of muscle and body.  My legs are a little sore from yesterday’s bike ride around the city.   That will probably be a reminder, all day, as I work at my day job.  You know how sometimes you can’t get a song out of your head, no matter what you do?  You go around all day humming little pieces of it, or whistling it.  Tapping out the beat to it with your hands.  I think it’ll be like that.  Can’t get it out of my head.  And if I fuck up a little at work, so what, right?  Huhuhuh.  

People usually ask me how my weekend went.  What I did.  I have a feeling I’ll be talking much more about … well, let’s just say it, jock stuff.  Not that I’m a jock, not yet.  I’m just a beginner.  I ride my bike and I eat good and I watch sports and I go to the gym and I like muscles and Nike and Under Armour.  These are all true things about me.  There’s not a single lie in any of what I just said.  Maybe I am a jock.  Still got all that smart stuff I feel compelled to talk about.  You know how it is.  The constant battle.  You’re smart-talking with your friends, and suddenly you realize you’re smart-talking with your friends, and then you try to stop yourself.  I’ve done it.  It’s not easy to change, and it shouldn’t be.  The reward is going to be exponentially greater relative to the degree of difficulty.  Huhuhuh.  Read that sentence again.  I don’t even know how I came up with that.  I hope it makes sense.

And instead of laying around all morning after I eat breakfast, I’m gonna hop on my bike and ride around for a few hours before I come home, shower, and go to my day job, then go to the gym.  I might even do it sleeveless, my hair slicked back, confidently whizzing around in the hot sunlight.  I might tan a little, I hope I do.  Tan is the best color on muscle.   Muscle is something I will have soon.

It’s happening, it’s all happening now, in slow motion.  Patience is necessary.  Patience and confidence and observation.  Let yourself watch yourself doing things.   Take a step back from the driver’s seat in your head, and allow yourself to do some things.  Wear gear you normally wouldn’t, and when someone asks you about them, it’s very simple.  You say, “I like it/them.”  Allow yourself to be who you want to be.  The fight is over. Now, for the slow transition to a new paradigm.  There will be some unrest, some relapsing, but the fight is over.  The you you knew lost, but the you you are won.  

Oh, and that urge?  That crazy, wild, urge bubbling up from the very core of your body?  The one that makes your muscles tense and your brain shrink back from your forehead and your toes curl?  That urge to yell “FUCK YEAH” at the top of your lungs and growl like a madman … ever tried giving in to it?  

Get a bike, start riding real fast, and let that fucker rip.  Let me know how you feel when you do, because motherfucker is that a good fucking feeling.  No kidding, bro.  Try it.

You’ll see.

Contingency - Midorima Shintaro

“If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”

the first of many soulmate AU drabbles! enjoy and feedback is always welcome!


contingency: a chance, accident, or possibility conditional on something uncertain;


You had fallen in love with his photo, as silly as that sounded.

You were about 10 years old when you first saw a picture of Midorima Shintaro poking out of your cousin’s middle school yearbook. Even as you told her with inflamed cheeks that you were gonna grow up, find the beautiful green-haired man with long eyelashes and marry him, she could only laugh.

After all, there was a 4 year age difference between you two and soulmates were usually much closer in age than that.

“Besides, you don’t know what he’s like, that guy…ugh…” Your cousin laughed it off, and it only infuriated younger you because you wanted to know. You wanted to know everything about him.

All you had was a name and a face. And the glowing numbers on your wrist that counted down to a fateful day. By the time you reached high school, these romantic dreams started to fade. Maybe your cousin was right; you were likely meant for someone else.

When your counter reached 1 day left, you had dressed nicely, getting ready for whomever was going to take your heart. Your family was visiting some relatives in a new town and you couldn’t help but imagine which stranger’s eyes you would meet and fall for.

This was all pretty darn romantic!

“The counter’s down to 5 minutes…” You told your mother, who held your hand as both of you waited for your dad to finish his business at the convenience store. You were squeezing so tightly, being careful to look around and not miss anyone’s face. He was probably close.

You were so focused on your surroundings that you suddenly heard a bicycle speeding in your direction. Only 10 seconds left… did you dare to look at the intruders?

“Shin-chan, your counter’s down to a few seconds and you’re not nervous?!” You heard a bubbly voice call out a familiar name and you instinctively turned to face that direction.

A black-haired boy whizzed by and then– like a movie cliché, time seemed to slow down when you saw the person sitting in the cart behind him. Heavy green eyes met yours and you could hear both timers beeping like mad– could hear your mom shouting, but all that really mattered was that boy was looking at you. The one your 10 year old self knew was the one.

“Midorima Shintaro.” You couldn’t recognize your own voice when you spoke his name.

His friend’s eyes widened as he glanced at Midorima and the man actually had a smile for you. “I’d been anticipating the day I could meet my fated one.” He bows towards you formally.

“All the stars are aligned in our future.”


So in honor of our Maksyl reunion, I had to fic it, didn’t I? Enjoy!

Maks bounced nervously on the balls of his feet as he stared at the doorway for so long the deep brown wood blurred before his eyes. He didn’t know why he was so anxious- it couldn’t be that he was worried about her flight, he knew she’d be safe in his arms soon enough- but nonetheless, he couldn’t seem to quiet the butterflies that were darting around his stomach.

Glancing at the clock on the far wall, Maks noticed a streak of blonde hair whizzing past the corner of his eye. Turning around, he caught sight of a girl flinging her arms around a tall, lanky guy, lips passionately locking as he lifted her onto her tiptoes.

Looking at their obvious comfort, their shamelessness even in a public place, Maks realized why he was so nervous. How could he stand to see Meryl, so beautiful as always, perfect curves, perfect face, all of it- and not kiss her, run his hands all over her body, laugh and cry and shout out that she was here at last?

Maks raked his fingers through his hair, tousling the dark strands he had carefully arranged as to look his best for Meryl’s arrival. Just as he turned back around, he saw her appear in the doorway, a huge smile breaking his face the second he caught sight of her.

Meryl began to walk towards him, a journey that felt more and more endless with every step she took. Her smile stretched slowly across her face until it almost touched her ears, and then, just when Maks thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, he saw her break into a run, dark hair flying behind her as she fell into his arms, laughing.

Maks immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her tiny waist, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around, relishing her halfhearted protests ordering him to put her down. He snuck a soft peck on her lips before settling her back on her feet, earning him a smile as she stepped back to look at him. The second she stepped back, Maks felt an emptiness filling the spot on his chest where her body had pressed against, and had to pull her back into his arms. “I missed you,” he whispered into her hair.

Meryl brushed her lips lightly against the shadow of stubble covering Maks’ cheek. “I missed you more.”

With that, Meryl linked her fingers through Maks’ as they walked back to baggage claim, their bodies rocking back and forth to softly bump each other every few steps, no longer caring who saw them.