she is as free as her hair

daisygonzalezmexican  asked:

Headcanon (crossover with percy jackson) in which a demigod daughter of aphrodite who is redheaded with curly hair and dark brown eyes falls in love with severus and he knows it. It's the first time I ask anything here, I love your blog ☺😊❤

Her name is Eri, and everyone loves her. Her hair falls in scarlet ringlets around her shoulders like a blood-red mane. Her eyes are bright and shine like polished topaz. She tans to a lovely olive, her skintone even and always free of blemishes.  Her steps are small and light. She never stutters.  They call her a goddess, but that’s not quite true.

Her mother is a goddess.  Her father is merely an accountant.

Eri knows that the allure that rolls over her body like an invisible perfume is simply a gift passed down by her absent mother, but she can’t help but feel a bit cheated. 

It’s not that people love her that bothers her. It’s that they can’t help but love her.

Until now.

Her father isn’t a wizard, but her aunt is, and this is why she has been given a choice- go to the United States to the ghastly-sounding “Camp Half-blood” or attend Hogwarts, which, though it has a ghastly name, has a reputation that precedes it. She loves her wand. It fills her full of a sense of potential that her goddess-given gifts do not.

“Some of us would like to get to classes on time instead of sitting behind a vain girl obsessed with her reflection,” comes the acerbic growl from behind her.  She turns her head away from the large silver mirror hanging in the Slytherin Common Room, perplexed by this gruff treatment.  No one speaks to her this way, not even her father when he is at his most cross.

She is greeted by a scowling, pinched face with an almost comically hooked nose.  He gives off the impression of a scrawny bird with puffed-up pin feathers. The boy is a year or two older than she is, she realizes.  He was sitting near the end of the Slytherin table after she was Sorted, but she’s never really crossed paths with him much. She’s been at Hogwarts long enough to know that he mostly keeps to himself.

“Er…and your name?” she asks dumbly.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about introductions,” he sneers, saying the word pretty as though it’s an insulting word, “just get out of my way.”

She moves to the side and he pushes his way through. She belatedly notices the stacks of books under both of his arms and then the soft thud of a single book as it escapes and hits the floor.  He continues moving quickly, as though trying to get out of the Common Room before anyone else can see him. By the time she’s picked the book up, he is gone.

“Hmm,” she murmurs, her lipstick forgotten on the mantle, “that’s odd…my heart is…”  

She places her hand over her chest, feeling her heart thud against her fingers. 

Odd. Shouldn’t she be unhappy about having been insulted?

Eri searches for the boy, telling herself that she just wants to return the book to him (though it sounds more and more like a lie the more she thinks the words), but it proves difficult. Sure, she knows she could just bring it back to the library, but something tells her that she wants to give it back to him, specifically.  She checks the card on the inside of the front cover and reads the name written on the most recent entry.

“S. Snape,” she says slowly, tracing her finger over the curve of the first letter. “I wonder what it stands for.”

They don’t have any classes together, which makes tracking him down far more difficult than she’d thought.  After their initial encounter, he seems to change his routine enough to get up earlier than she normally does, which is irritating, as Eri is not a morning person, goddess blood be damned.

Still, she forces herself to rise earlier, finding that it’s quite a lot easier to get out of the Common Room when the others are not yet about, asking her for tips on their hairstyles or their make up.  Eri has a weakness for lipsticks in different colors, but she rarely needs any other makeup, and finds reapplying it tiresome.

It takes her a week, but she catches him just as he steps out into the dungeon hall.

“Uh…Snape? Wait!” she shouts, because she doesn’t know his first name, and because there’s a weird sense of discomfort rising in her chest.  None of the other boys inspire this feeling in her and they write her poetry and fall at her feet and ask her on dates nearly every day.

Snape turns his head ever so slightly to the side and then continues down the hall even more quickly than before. Eri has to sprint to catch up with him, especially when he picks up his pace to the point that he’s nearly jogging, and he has surprisingly long legs under his shabby-looking robes.  It’s only the books that slow him down enough that Eri finally catches up to him, panting, with the book clasped against her chest.

“I…wanted…to….re…return…this….” she pants, handing the book out with one hand and looking up, smiling weakly.

He stares at her for a long moment as though expecting her to trick him, and she feels her cheeks growing hot.

“What are you?” he snarls. 

“What?” She’s taken aback by his question, which is more accusation than anything.

“You have a weird smell,” he replies bluntly, “Do you have Veela blood or something?”

Eri snatches the book back and glares at him. “Are you aware that it’s very rude to tell someone that they smell weird?”

“It’s the truth,” he replies slowly, his eyes more on the book than her.

For some reason, this both irritates and relieves Eri.  He wants the book. Not her.

“It’s still rude!” she manages to say, feeling foolish for repeating herself.

“That’s mine,” he says, jutting his chin out to indicate the book.

“Yeah, that’s what I was-” she’s feeling flustered again. She watches his eyes glitter as he regards the book with an almost covetous expression.

She wants to be looked at like that and know it’s not her mother’s magic making him do it.  It’s such a specific, stupid wish that she nearly smirks at how impossible it is.

“Here, then,” she replies, holding the book out again.

He grabs it quickly, but his fingers slide over hers momentarily and she is struck by how graceful and long they are. They’re soft and slightly cool, like silk, and she desperately wants to touch them again.

She realizes belatedly that she is staring intently at him and that he is frowning at her.  Her blush deepens and she can barely stop herself from rushing forward and grasping his hand.

His eyebrows rise on his forehead for a moment and then a strange, shrewd look rises in his eyes.

“Interesting,” he says, letting out a singular barking laugh. 

Eri is confused for a moment until she realizes it.

He knows.

His eyes are dark and glittering with the knowledge of her crush on him as he turns and continues on his way. She stands in the middle of the hallway watching him go, her heart hammering in her chest with a singular, burning question.

What is he going to do next?

skarpetkamroku  asked:

"I’ve wanted this for so long" Oh please please please! I dont know how to make clapping emoticon but i would if i knew because, damn this prompt is beautiful.

She sits on his bed. Hair quickly tucked back behind ears, not lacking in evidence of sleep. Her knees loosely pulled to her chest, one hand draped lazily around them. The other reaches out, touches the shafts of light that pour in through the cracks in his roof. She breathes out contentedly at the warmth on her skin, turns her hand so she may cup the sun in her palm. A strand of hair falls free, brushes against her cheek. He can count the ridges of her spine from here, and his fingers follow a trail of freckles, a pattern whose mystery he has only begun to solve. She turns her head to look at him, smiles over her shoulder.

He’s been drowning for so long. A willing death – afraid to breach the surface, loath to breathe the air he believed poison. Everything reflected through a sheen of water, unable to touch the sun that flickered through blue. Now here he lies, hand upon a sun of a different sort. He sits up, leans against her, his head upon her shoulder. He breathes in the scent of lavender, the soft lingering smell of sex, of his body pressed against hers.

Her hand touches his hair, light against the tips of his ear. Her body twists and she stretches herself out above him, weight falling gently upon him, lips upon lips as his head leans back into the pillow. Her elbows sink into the mattress as she brushes away the strands of white which cross against his forehead. She kisses him thrice in the space she has cleared, one for each lyrium dot which crowns his brow. She breathes life into his lungs, lips against lips, his hands travelling the length of her back.

Black hair mixes with white, a dark shroud which veils around them. He cannot stop holding her, touching her, willing her body to meld into his. He wants her ever closer and closer still, melding skin against skin, bone shifting into bone, too close to ever be parted again. He thinks he can keep her safe inside his chest, beside lung and throat, nestled within the branches of his heart.

“Fenris.” She fills him with the sound of her, and he closes his eyes as he touches against her cheek. He holds her face in his hands, tilts his own upwards for another kiss. “Fenris,” she says again, low against his mouth, “I love you.” An arm slips around her waist, holds her tight as he turns them, so that it is he looking down at she, black crown replaced with white. He holds this wild thing in his arms, this bird of prey, made of fire and flesh and claims it his.

“Hawke,” he murmurs, “I am yours.” Arms around his neck, hands thread through his hair. Sunlight flickers against his back, a warmth that cannot match hers. He lingers in her ocean, by her side, and aches to tell her how long he’s wanted this. Instead he holds her closer and does not let go.

slytherinconservative  asked:

Hey Rosy, you know how Bellamy's jacket is kinda a sign of how open/closed he is? I was looking at gifsets and noticed that Octavia might be the same way with her hair, symbolically. When her hair is down and free (like s1), she is fairly open and carefree. But as the seasons progressed her hair gradually was tucked up and away in various stages of braids--and now it's completely up and back. Thoughts? Might I be right?

Yeah, something like that. She puts on a persona with her hair. She’s becoming something. The loose hair when she was first on earth. The braids when she was with Lincoln, more when she was a warrior. The death twists when he died. I mean her hair was down, but it was twisted into ropes, like wearing ashes in the hair, I think. And then as the assassin, with it up in that constrained pony. 

Yeah. I think Octavia’s hair helps us understand her story and character. 

Coming out of that water, her hair was back loose again. A mess, but loose. I wonder if it’s a metaphor for Octavia coming full circle, going back to herself a bit, no longer hiding?

Hey, they did the same thing with Clarke. I mean her hair was red, but when Roan dunked her, she came back to Clarke, being blonde. Still a mess and a bit different of a journey… and then she got stuck in Polis where they tortured her hair into various death hairstyles everyday to fit her Wanheda role. And her hair also slowly returned to her normal hair as she spent time with her people.

Clarke and Octavia are the only two who really have dramatic changes in their hair. 

Holmes stories in six words

Bad stepdad nailed bed, trained snake

Treasure lost. Wife gained. Holmes sad.

They hired her for her hair.

Holmes dying. Watson crying. Holmes lying.

Binder full of women. Acidic response.

Six Napoleons? Oh, there it is.

Framed the nanny with a rock.

There’s always a catch, Dr Trevelyan.

The king’s a dick. She’s smarter.

Marry a Lord. Already married? Whoops.

Copy out this encyclopedia, ginger nut.

Egad! Her fiancé’s her disguised stepdad!

Secret daughter welcomed into woke family.

Seriously, who spins a whole carpet?

That burglary was fishy. Oranges everywhere!

Australians are all escaped murderers, probably.

Murder plus lion equals karma, sadly.

Watson, go tromp around the moors.

Idiot stalker fails at addressing mail.

“David” was a reference, you heathen.

Dog didn’t bark; horse needed washing.

Don’t accuse your son on circumstance.

Waterfalls make the best body dumps.

Surprise! Not dead. Are you ok?

My eyes’re dim, I cannot flee.

Golden Boy was the cheat, obviously.

He’s not homeless, he begs recreationally!

Harpooning pigs brings sailors to justice.

She’s foreign, not a bloody vampire.

Apparently dying wives trump rugby matches.

Poison is not a toy, Holmes!

It’s English, just drawn in hieroglyphics.

Blackmailer meets nothing left to lose.

Tracking is all about the tracks.

It was never about the sundial.

Telling geese apart is really hard.

She was under the old lady.

He’s fine, it’s ichthyosis. Stand down.

Act your age, professor. You’re creepy.

A lovely swim interrupted. Jellyfish dunnit!

Fuller’s earth my arse, Nine Fingers.

Everyone wants to marry Miss Smith.

Maybe don’t take the iffy job.


@aradia-week day seven: Free day

Late as always but at least I did it! 

For the last day of this week I decided to finally draw some of my Aradia’s headcanons. Since I’ve always been uncertain on how to draw her hair, I jwent for this option; kinda wavy before, straight in her dead forms and really messy once she comes back to life! I don’t know why I have this need to make her hair different based on her emotions and mental state, I just…need it. 

Ruth, drawn in PS. I had a free minute to fix this—the earlier background wasn’t doing it for me. <3

[Caption: A realistic digital painting of Ruth Negga. Portrait is from the waist up. Ruth is wearing a short sleeve gown covered in sparkling silver sequins. Her dark hair is short and wavy, and she’s gazing to the left with a subtle smile. The background is bright peach with a yellow rose as a halo around her.]


hp quotes // “James’ free hand immediately jumped to his hair.
It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes - Harry’s eyes.
Harry’s mother.
‘All right, Evans?’ said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.” 


so let’s make a analogy between Alex’s hair and her inner gay

season one alex

straight hair, and so was everyone in that goddanm show, inner gay repressed

alex on a date with max lorde

her curly hair kinda fells like a sing that her inner gay is saying “im here but i dont approve”

alex back story

well well well, isn’t the curly hair again, and she was kinda lost, like she doesn’t belong (i can fell her inner gay trying to reach out but being pushed back down)

season two alex

right after she met alex her hair gets curly again

and remains like this till…

she gets rejected by maggie and tries to convince herself that it was all a ilusion, and that she wasn’t gay, pushing again down the little gay that lives inside of her, that for a moment had finally gotten free.

but I belive, that now that kara knows the true, i belive she will help her sister, and stop the suppressing of her inner gay

bonus: you know who else doesn’t have straight hair

James did not ask Lily to be his girlfriend. Nor did she ask him to be her boyfriend.

They just melded together that way in Seventh Year. They grew together over late nights and free periods. Found themselves together at Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade weekends. Smiled and laughed and debated and touched hands and hair and faces. When they walked from Herbology back to the castle, his arm hung lazily around her shoulders. When she laughed at his joke at breakfast she buried her face into his side.

They first kissed one night in late November, and the world continued spinning. There was no revelation of feelings, no wows, no this-could-work-couldnt-it? It was just what was meant to happen for them. Effortless, inevitable, beyond their control.

They could not pinpoint a beginning. The transition from friends to more was seamless and natural. There were no proposals, no “maybe we could"s or "would you be"s. It was as if they were meant to be with each other, and they finally let fate tie them together.

okay no one really talks about modern day fantine headcanons so here we go

  • fantine having 3 jobs and Makes time to take little cosette to her karate and dance lessons 
  • fantine snorts when she laughs (cosette also snorts when she laughs)
  • fantine dresses like a cool librarian 
  • when her hair gets too long, she gets it cut and donates the hair to charity 
  • fantine being the Best single mother and had cosette when she was young 

feel free to add some??


- the kids at camp half-blood ask the satyrs to play focusing songs for them while they read or something else that requires concentration

- percy constantly fiddles with pen!Riptide, spinning it across his fingers, tossing and catching it, twisting the cap around. sometimes he almost forgets not to uncap it.

- annabeth twists her fingers in her hair as well as twirls it as a stim, which makes knots and tangles sometimes. she keeps it up in a ponytail to avoid this along with the already stated reasons.

- percy and annabeth don’t pick their wedding rings at the jewelry store but get them forged at camp. the rings are spinner rings and made of celestial bronze.

feel free to add more!

Witch Siblings: Gemma living in London just trying to live a normal life in her studio flat using her magic for stirring tea hands-free or changing her hair color (she’ll be damned if her roots show). When her ostentatious younger brother who has completely embraced his magic comes to live with her. If he’s not leaving lavender and chamomile with wolfs-bane everywhere he’s leaving glitter from his boots or one of his 13 hats lying around. Oh brother. 


You RUINED me!“ Her voice came off shrill, screaming at him.

"How?” He asked, calmly.

But that was it. She started breaking down. “Because I loved you so much. I love you so much and at every chance you had, you just hurt me.”

“It was easy,” he said. “You kept coming back. You kept giving me second chances over and over again.”

She gritted her teeth. “I hate you.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “No. That’s the thing. You’ll never hate me no matter how hard you try.”

—  D.N. // excerpt from a book i’ll never write #176
fem!Haikyuu headcanons
  • Tsukishima on her period is a demon
  • Suga hoards all the chocolate when she’s on her period
  • Hinata is the flattest flat to ever flat but Kags thinks she’s still incredibly beautiful
  • Kuroo’s hair is even longer and even messier and gets into her eyes so much that one day Yaku yelled at her to fucking do something about it and she agreed to let Kenma braid her fringe
  • Iwaizumi likes wearing tank tops, halter necks and other sleeveless shirts and it drives Oikawa crazy because those gorgeous arms are on full display
  • Y’all thought regular Bokuto was emotional? Wait ‘til you’ve seen Bokuto on her period
  • Asahi is hairier than most of the other girls on the team and is insecure about it but Noya constantly reassures her that she’s absolutely beautiful
  • Tanaka actually has the biggest boobs in the Karasuno team
  • Enno had long hair originally, then during the period of time in which she stayed away from practice, she decided to get it cut short on a whim

feel free to add on!

Madam C. J. Walker (1867-1919) is remembered today as one of the first and most successful female entrepreneurs, one of the wealthiest African American women of the century, and the first female self-made millionaire in the USA. Her fortune was the result of her highly popular business venture, the Madame C.J. Walker Manufacturing Company, which sold beauty and hair products for black women.

She was the first in her family to be born free, after the Emancipation Proclamation. She began by selling hair care products door-to-door, and eventually opened a beauty parlour that grew into a steady, multi-million-dollar business. At its height, the company employed 20,000 women, and spread across the Americas. She became a patron of the arts and a philanthropist devoted to helping the black community around her.