haircut of the year

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Keep Reading (Ao3)

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Iconic™ Kaz Brekker Moments

-’Kaz was just glad he used the damn door.”

-“You can put him in a coffeepot for all I care.”

-”Even worse, if I fail, I don’t get paid.”

-”You might actually have had to uncurl that lip and treat me with something closer to respect.”

-Ripping Oomen’s eyeball out and shoving his handkerchief in the socket.

-”I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.”

-”Hold the book up so we don’t have to look at your ugly face.” (Kaz, be nice to Jesper)

-Nina: “And I can tell you’ve never given enough thought to your haircut.”

Kaz: *runs a self-conscious hand through his hair*

(only Nina. Only Nina can make Kaz in to a seventeen year old, concerned about his haircut)

-”Jacob fucking Hertzoon”

-Talking tree jokes??????

-Matthias: “We go from aspirant to novice drüskelle in the ceremony at the sacred ash.”

Kaz: “Where the tree talks to you.”

-Kaz: “The Dregs need a better initiation (I’m over here wondering what the Dregs’ initiation is)”

Matthias: This is only one part of Hringkälla.”

Kaz: “Yes, I know, then the tree tells you the secret handshake.”

-”Of course you don’t [like speculation]. You like things you can see. Like piles of snow and benevolent tree gods.”

-Or you were dead wrong about Matthias and you’re going to pay for all those talking tree jokes

-’They blew up the lab. I definitely did not tell them to blow up the lab.’

anonymous asked:

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

Keep reading

Day One Hundred

-I felt my spirits lifted as the woman I was ringing up said, “I really like your haircut, buddy.” I then felt them fall back down as I realized she was talking to an unseen, very short child, and not to me. This is okay, though. I like my haircut enough for both of us.

-As I handed a ten year-old girl her bags full of flower-growing kits, she told me that she could not wait to start her business. I am not sure what her exact plans are, but I am prepared to be her first and most loyal patron and give her all the free publicity she could ever want.

-A woman purchased a large bottle of extra-strength laxatives and told me that she did not want a bag. I applaud her bravery and I hope that everything comes out okay.

-I am happy to report that even after one hundred shifts, I still get a deep sense of serenity and satisfaction from even, repeating, and palindromic totals.

-A man came through the next lane, the epitome of indie punk. He had 1" gauges in his ears, adding to his aesthetic, and a detailed tattoo of a snail behind his ear, perfecting it. 

-“Do you sell sunglasses?” A woman asked, her back to a thirty-foot wall of sunglasses.

-The man formerly known as the dude trying to bring back the Hitler mustache has opted to rebrand himself. He has now shaven everything and can be identified as the skinhead with the nose ring trying to make his political affiliations abundantly clear from a distance.

-I looked on in fascination as a dad locked a child in the family bathroom, cackling to himself as he held the door shut. I am still uncertain whether or not the child was his.

-A five year-old stopped at Starbucks as his mother tried to usher him towards the doors. He threw his fists up in the air and shouted out to the heavens, “I want a Cherry Coke and I don’t want to leave!” He then left. I hope, at the very least, he stands firm on his drink.

there are no haircuts in space bc the tiny hairs will get into the machinery and overall just a Big Mess

so keiths mullet will get longer. shiro’s half buzzcut half teenage rebellion will become frankenstein’s bride. hunk will get so long he wears it in braids all the time. lance gets a mullet too. pidge is 90% hair and 10% rage.

allura? she hasn’t had a haircut in ten thousand years.

no one really knows what coran does but his hair hasnt changed in three months. best not to question it.

anonymous asked:

sooo i don't really have a question but i would like an analysis of the new amazingphil video if you have one,, or just your favorite moments, idk i just want you to talk about it, i love your "reviews"

hahaha of course i’ll talk about it!!!!! it’s interesting bc when i first watched this i was actually like not that into it??? it just felt like 10 very calm and chill mins of dnp hanging out which is obviously great but i think i was sort of distracted so i was like mmmm it wasn’t as entertaining as their usual collabs, esp bc on first watch i was like, dan keeps going for these weird dark jokes about torture n maiming and it’s all v Standard Fare but then i thought about it more and realized ,, if this isn’t the biggest evidence yet about how far they’ve come and evolved since last year then idk what is??? like i just can’t believe it’s gotten to the point where i could watch 10 minutes of dan softly playing around with phil’s hair and both of them being a bit calmer and more muted in front of the camera, freely touching each other and joking around about more Mature Themes (hats off to the dildo joke and the “safety word” bit) and have all of that feel completely STANDARD and unsurprising!!! it’s just crazy to me that they’ve normalized these behaviors so much that a video like this could feel so completely expected and ~chill~ 

but then i watched it a second and third time (bc duh) when i was less distracted and there really were so many little moments that stood out to me and so many cute smiles and soft lil jokes that made me wanna melt and it was all just so good. it’s nowhere near their funniest or most captivating video but it’s just vv vv v v soft and chill and natural. when comparing it to something like pastel edits which is probs a close parallel in terms of them playing dress up and touching each other a bit in direct response to a fan request, you can see how this one is far softer and a little bit less performed–they seem less ‘on’ for lack of a better term, and a lot more laid back, dan doesn’t spend as much time demeaning the idea or teasing the fan base for wanting it, and all of it is just so enjoyable to watch. i’ve included (way too many) timestamps below (plus way too many screenshots, as usual, of stupidly cute moments ugh): 

  • 5 seconds in this is already alarmingly cute w dan grumbling behind the pillow that phil wants to give him a creative nickname and phil giggling and looking down at him when he starts complaining
  • :17 dan gives phil permission to just call him dan and phil looks cute n happy about it
  • :27 dan needs to reiterate he was a nerd in school
  • :34 ‘japes’ k dan
  • :48 i live for the way phil looks so earnest and excited when he asks dan why he decided to ‘embrace the curls’ like he genuinely wants to hear dan explain this .. phil is genuinely obsessed w dan’s curls he wasn’t lyin when he said that in the pastel edits vid :(
  • 1:00 i hope phil was the one who chose that photo as an example of dan’s hair looking good in a pic,, phil thinks dan’s best look is his crunchy 2013 leather jacket n his scoop neck t shirt … #confirmed
  • 1:10 ‘you’ve left me alone!’ calm down phil he’s right next to u
  • 1:12 did phil pick that photo too ..  the one of dan in his tank top n hair straightened to within an inch of its life and silvery earrings making a pouty face ,,, lmao i love that he’s picking the cringiest emo-est throwbacks possible
  • 1:54 phil’s like ‘i thought we could eat 400 crusts to see if my hair goes curly’ and it’s altogether a lame joke but dan is staring at him like he’s the most beautiful person on earth. i’d be uncomfortable if i wasn’t so busy melting. then phil stares at dan giggling and it’s all a bit much for me
  • 2:41 ‘what’d happen if i balded you right now?’ dan is so concerned for phil’s well-being that he forgets how to grammar
  • 2:45 the fuckin dildo joke i s2g why are they making sly references to dildos in a g-rated hair curling video why did phil immediately follow dan saying ‘that looks like something else’ by going ‘ooo’ and shoving the curler near dan’s mouth why are they gross
  • 3:21 dan unnecessarily rubbing the curler all over phil’s shoulder and neck … ok
  • 3:41 phil sounds so serious when he asks dan if he thinks the curly hair will suit him, like he really needs dan’s Hot Take on this important issue but dan’s just shuts him down hahaha. i feel like this is reminiscent of the faceapp vid in which dan was completely NOT DOWN with any alteration to phil’s appearance whatsoever bc (vom) he thinks phil is perf jst the way he is (i might actually be sick) 
  • 3:47 idk why but i’m obsessed w phil saying ‘dan, don’t mess about with it’ and dan responding ‘i’m nOT’ in his whiny voice w his eyes all wide. cute
  • 3:56 lmao dan bringing up babuse (i can’t type that without thinking of ‘let me see that babussy’ i hate the fucking internet) and saying it was the last time he was on this bed, i am living for these bants and also phil’s expression of mock horror
  • 4:08 ‘curl me up, bess’
  • 4:11 dan’s going for ‘teen nick jonas but without the face’ his crush is going strong i see,, and then he can’t even follow through and tell phil his face doesn’t compare to nick jonas’s so he turns it into a joke about burning his face instead, nice save bro
  • 4:27 THIS KILLED ME THEYRE JST TALKING N DAN JUST BRUSHES ASIDE A BIT OF PHILS FRINGE FOR NO REASON AT ALL HE JST WANTS TO PLAY W HIS HAIR ITS CUTE N IM DYIN
  • 5:01 something about this bit when dan’s like ‘got a whole clump it’s undignified’ and their proximity, the way their arms are sort of pressed together and it looks like dan could be resting his hand on phil’s leg and dan is also sort of just looking down at phil ,,, Good
  • 5:08 when phil kinda squeaks and pulls away all of a sudden i feel like dan is legit actually concerned he could burn phil as evidenced by his voice going all high pitched when he’s like ‘you can’t do that!!!!’
  • 5:13 more completely unnecessary dan playing around w phil’s fringe n brushing it away. it goes on for like 8 seconds plus there’s a jump cut in the middle of it lmao,,, ugh the way he touches phil’s hair is so soft it makes me feel things
  • 5:32 ‘gonna pork you up phil’ does dan know the meaning of ‘pork’ as a verb ??  ? ? ??? ??????  for reference:
  • 5:36 ‘my life is flashing before my eyes’ ‘ooo is it really boring’ dan is showing yet again that he flirts like a five year old who pulls their crush’s pigtails in the playground grOW UP MATE. phil loves it tho
  • 6:03 omg idk why but i LOVED phil saying ‘i’m finding you so disturbing right now’ it feels so authentic??? something about the way he phrased it is so funny??????? like he genuinely needs dan to take it down a notch w the grim humor lmao
  • 6:47 ‘we need a safety word’ oh my god these boring vanilla fucks call a safe word a ‘safety word’ could they be LAMER hahaha (in all seriousness i can’t even believe that’s a joke dan went for at all let alone on this channel and that phil just chuckled n went along with it what the fuck what a time we live in honestly,, the flirting and touching and the whole premise of a dan-curls-phil’s-hair video is already so much but, like, let’s just add a fucking allusion to bdsm into the mix while we’re at it!!!!!!! wtf!!!)
  • the whole sped up montage of dan doing the curling is just rife w gratuitous hair touching so like obvi i immediately turned the speed down to .5 and just sat back to enjoy it (also @kay-okays uploaded a slowed down version here if ya wanna look at that or like bookmark it for ur own uses ,,  whatever ur into m8)
  • 7:18 those two gentle pats that dan gives to the back of phil’s head before phil looks at his finished hair … so fucking adorable bc it’s the way dan pats down his own hair when he’s fixing it pls save me
  • 7:29 dan obvi needs to make it a point to emphasize they have the same hair again as has been his constant refrain about their haircuts for the last like 3 years (tbh i’m convinced that he literally misses having the same hair as phil which is gross and just as sappy as i’d expect from him) and in order to demonstrate how ALIKE they are again he proceeds to mirror phil playing w his fringe bc why not .. 
  • ‘this was the only thing that was separating us’ PLS
  • 7:38 dan’s Hot Take 2.0: ‘you look like a cool australian surfer … like a weird goth one that has never been to the beach’
  • 8:14 dan asserts on phil’s behalf that phil ‘needs’ the edge of his emo fringe and phil immediately agrees. rip to anyone who was hoping quiff!phil might be on the horizon
  • 8:39 dan goes defensive about how he could’ve done a better job and phil immediately jumps in to say that he thinks dan did well in the most sincere voice of all time, accompanied w cute/soft smile
  • and then he cuts dan off entirely to remind him that he didn’t burn phil’s face off and to v fervently thank him (he litro NODS while he thanks him it’s so SERIOUS) and then dan does some weird touchy thing to phil’s chest or arm or both and phil decides to boop dan’s cheek and you should really SLOW IT DOWN bc when you do, you notice it’s more of like a lil squeeze as opposed to just a v light tap and it’s gROSS:
  • 8:59 then, since this video has far too much dan gratuitously touching phil and phil was surely feeling deprived, phil reaches over to give dan a ‘zayn curl’ and play w dan’s fringe a bit n at this point i’ve had Enough of this cute ass shit
  • 9:20 dan couldn’t just leave it there, he needs to take a moment to re-assert the ~dnp don’t go outside or go to parties or talk to people Ever~ branding just in case ANYONE forgot (but also seems like a low key way for dan to gently remind the audience not to get attached to this in any way bc it will probs never happen again)
  • 9:40 phil dubs dan the “original curly man” n idk how to feel about this but i suppose that is a fitting conclusion to this absolute roller coaster of emotions 

ugh. just a really great video. i’m sorry this post is massive,, there’s jst so much here and i needed to have pics of ALL OF IT

(dan curls my hair!