the waves in his hair

I just love it when Harry raises his arms and dances…

Like when he just does it to the sound of music.

Or the rhythm of the song.

The times when he swings his waist.

And when he waves his hair in the wind.

Or his hair and entire body.

Let’s not forget the moves he does while looking weird as fuck.

Weird and drunk too.

Or when it looks like he is dancing with someone in his imagination.

When he is a banana.

Or a fucking ballerina.

We all know that Styles, we all know that…

Check out my previous masterposts here: http://rockingmyworld.tumblr.com/tagged/masterpost

If you’re having a bad day just imagine toddler age Scorpius and Albus playing with Harry’s invisibility cloak

Albus hysterically crying when Scorpius crawls under it and disappears and rushing to get his dad and try to explain to him that he’d somehow lost his best friend

Harry shaking his head in intense bemusement and whisking the cloak off a shell shocked Scorpius who immediately begins crying and waving his little arms, his blonde hair sticking up on end

Albus wrapping himself around his bedraggled friend and cuddling him fiercely, glaring at the invisibility cloak and crying when Harry attempts to get it near him again

‘My Scorpius! No! NO!’

Albus and Scorpius spending the rest of the day cuddled up together, Albus not ever going more than a few feet away from Scorpius and always returning to pet his little friend’s hair and give him reassurance

Draco picking Scorpius up later that day and seeing his son practically smothered by Albus, his face smeared with paint and his hair being put in bunches by the giggling Potter

Draco turning to Harry with the driest and most exasperated of expressions

'I left him here for five hours and he’s already married your son- I can see it in his eyes. Merlin help us…’

Harry shrugging and grinning widely, full of only love for his son and his new found friend

'I call dibs on being the cool father-in-law’

When sleepy JK facetimes you

*you hear your phone vibrating on your nightstand next to you*

Y/N: *slides phone screen to accept the call*

JK: Hai Y/N~

Y/N: Kookie~ 

Y/N: You look so tired, did you have a rough day?

JK: I’m fine, we were just practicing the choreography and I’m taking a break right now

JK: *notices that you did your hair in soft waves*

JK: *can barely keep his eyes open* Wah your hair looks really nice today, if only I can touch…

Y/N: *blushes* You should get some rest!! You can call me after you take a nap

JK: I don’t want to *pouts* I need to see you so I can regain my strength and I won’t be meeting you until *counts in head* 2 to 3 weeks later

Y/N: *giggles* you’re always so hardworking whether its dancing or even our relationship

JK: Hehe, because of you it’s possible to do anything

Y/N: *embarrassed* Look at you being all smooth, I’ll wait for your return okay?

JK: Okay *smiles* love you buttercup 


More Imagines Here 💕

2

james potter & lily evans aesthetic ► for #jilyshipweek at @hpshipweeks 

There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad.

Prompt from anon. Bughead in assembly and they’re sitting in the back. Betty keeps reading Jughead’s writing over his shoulder until he gets really pissed.

don’t bug me

“Psst!”

He doesn’t even turn around, just shakes his head as his pen flies over the notebook spread on his lap.

Betty rolls her eyes and nudges the back of his seat with her knee. “Psst!”

Jughead’s pen stops scratching and he finally looks over his shoulder, his jet black hair falling in a wave over his forehead from under his beanie.

“What?” He hisses, a little too loudly, and he gives a dirty look when someone shushes him from the row in front of him.

“Whatcha writing?” She’s playing dumb because she knows full well what he’s writing but he gets this cute little crease between his eyebrows when they are furrowed in annoyance.

“Leave me alone,” he says without heat before turning back around. She waits until she can see his pen moving furiously over the paper before she taps him on the shoulder.

“Juggie…lemme see,” she whispers, her whole body leaning forward so he’s the only one that can hear her. Everyone else is focused on Mr. Weatherbee’s speech about proper lunchroom etiquette. Betty couldn’t care less and obviously Jughead doesn’t either since she hasn’t seen him look up at the principal once since he’s been on stage. “Juggie…”

“Not a chance,” he mumbles and she rolls her eyes.

“I know it’s your book,” she says, her neck arching to try to catch a peek. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone what you say, I promise.”

“Bets,” he sighs and turns around, his face right in front of hers because she didn’t have time to sit back. His eyes dart down her face and back up again, just once quickly, before they settle onto her own. “No one is reading this until it’s finished.”

“Why?” she whines. “It’s not like I’m in it so why can’t I read a little?”

She watches in curiosity as Jughead’s cheeks darken, a blush creeping over his face as he squirms a little in his seat.

“Juggie, am I in your book?”

He tries to shrug noncommittally but she knows she’s caught him. “Maybe, I dunno. Does it matter?” He’s getting defensive and it’s one thing to rile Jughead up. It’s a whole other ballgame to actually make him angry.

“Sorry, Jughead,” she says when she sees that he’s actually getting upset. “I’ll drop it.”

After the assembly is over, she makes her way to her locker to drop her books before her next class. When she opens her locker door a folded piece of lined paper floats down and lands at her feet.

She’s grinning as she reads his small slanted handwriting on the page.

And even though the girl next door could be pushy and a little annoying, he knew that one day she’d break through his stubborn walls to find the man underneath. In a dark town full of secrets and deceit she was an honest breath of fresh air. A shock of sunshine against a pallor moon. Bright and unyielding gold to counter his somber blue.

Her teeth are digging into her bottom lip by the time she finishes reading. She folds the paper carefully, clutches it to her chest for just a second and tucks it into her history book before closing and locking the door.

Later on at Pop’s, when she slides into the booth next to Jughead and across from Archie and Veronica, she’s wearing a smile so wide she’s afraid she might break her face.

“What’s got you so happy?” Veronica asks with a smirk and Betty reddens when the entire table looks her way.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, her eyes darting over to Jughead. “Just happy, I guess.”

Jughead grins as he pops a fry in his mouth. “Always the little ray of sunshine.”

Archie and Veronica both laugh before going back to their conversation but Betty doesn’t miss the little smile that crosses Jughead’s lips before he digs into his food.

She’s smiling herself as she takes a sip from the milkshake that was waiting for her when she sat down and she knows he was the one to order it. She might be the gold to counter his blue but she doesn’t need to break down his walls to find the man underneath.

Because she can already see him.

4

“Yeah, we’re very proud of the album we’ve made. So it’s amazing, anytime you’ve put something of yourself into something and then putting it out there.. it’s always an exciting and nervous time. “

anonymous asked:

dan's finally embracing his natural state by wearing his curly hair constantly now

dan used to be so anal-retentive about straightening his hair and its just such a weird thing to think about because people used to obsess over the slightest wave in his hair and now we’ve grown so accustomed to seeing his hair in its natural state that its his straightened hair that actually looks different to us. i was even watching older gaming videos earlier today and his hair looked so fucking weird and abnormal, can you believe this is what we used to be forced to live with:

Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2 – Forget Me Not

Broch Mordha, 15 years ago

Hearing a soft knock, Claire opened the door of the small cottage that was her temporary residence in the village, property of the clinic - kindly lent to her for the duration of her internship.

“You look very smart, Jamie.” She smiled, noticing his impeccably ironed blue shirt, which made the colour of his eyes even more striking. He had tried to tame the cowlicks and waves of his hair and was perfectly shaven – the grooming being slightly impaired by the giant bruise on his cheek, extending like an oil leak to his lower eyelid, and the redness and swelling on his lip – as if he had been bitten and forcefully kissed. “Even if you slightly resemble an oversized Dalmatian.”

He shrugged and smirked.

“Ye look lovely, Sassenach.” His eyes quickly travelled across the span of her body, clad in a long floral dress, the lightness of the fabric enhancing her curves. Jamie blushed a little, realizing she had noticed his overt attentions, but defiantly met her eyes. “I brought ye a wee gift – I’ll still get ye some popcorn, though.”

With the suspense and skill of a magician, Jamie produced a small vase in which a couple of small blue flowers nestled together.

“They are Myosotis, aren’t they?” Claire exclaimed, delighted, taking the delicate vase on her hands. “I’ve never seen them quite so blue. Where did you get these?”

“From my home’s garden – Lallybroch, that is. I did the plant seedlings myself.” He seemed content with her reaction and somewhat proud. “I thought ye’d like something that ye could keep and watch growing day by day, more than a bouquet that would dwindle and waste away.”

“Well, you were right.” She inhaled the sweet and lively scent, the unique perfume of nature’s creation. “They have another name, don’t they? I think I recall Uncle Lamb calling them something else.”

“Aye.” Jamie’s cat-like eyes smiled in time with his lips, his voice husky. “Forget-me-nots.”

“Were you afraid that I’d forget you, Jamie?” Claire asked softly, placing her precious gift on the kitchen table and grabbing her purse to leave with him.

“I ken I’d have a hard time forgetting ye, Sassenach.” He gave her a lopsided smile and the tip of his fingertips brushed against her hand, a caress so heartbreakingly gentle that her heart fluttered like a trapped moth against an unshielded light. “But it couldna hurt to make sure, aye?”

****

“Are you watching the movie at all?” Claire asked, biting a crunchy popcorn, saltiness and sweetness flooding the back of her tongue. She had been following the intricate plot of the movie, an acclaimed musical candidate to win several coveted awards – they were about to enter the part where the star crossed lovers realized that their love could never be – but the feeling of being observed had made her look through the corner of her eye, only to realize Jamie had been absorbed in contemplating her instead of the screen.

“Aye.” He grinned in the half light, his eyes never leaving the outline of her face. “The lad doesna sing sae bad, but he isn’t much of a writer. It will end badly for them both.”

Claire raised her brows, impressed by his accurate remarks. Nonetheless, being so closely inspected was making her uncomfortable and very self-aware.

“Is there something weird on my face?” She asked tentatively. Jamie leaned closer to her, his blue eyes intent.

“I was wondering how ye’d look with yer hair down.” He whispered softly, close to her ear. Claire had decided to trap her wild curls on an elegant braid for their date – and having met her at the clinic, when she was wearing her working bun, he hadn’t yet seen her with her hair loose.  

“You can thank your guardian angel that you haven’t seen me that way.” She snorted. The small and cosy cinema room was almost empty, but a couple of young girls threw them looks of reproach for disturbing the gut-wrenching atmosphere. “It might just attack you when you’re not looking.” She finished in a lower voice.

“Hm.” He casually reached for a handful of popcorn, only to allow his hand to get closer to hers. “Ye are so different from all the lassies I knew all my life, Claire.”

“Uppity?” She suggested with apprehension. His fingers were making circular movements on the back of her hand, until they eventually entwined, like scattered pieces of a forgotten puzzle coming together. “Strange?”

“Strong.” He said, his face serious. His eyes fixed on her lips and she couldn’t avoid to subtly lick them, the mere suggestion of his touch enough to make her thirsty. “Beautiful.”

“You don’t know that much about me yet.” Claire whispered. The smell of him, so close, was inebriating in the darkness, like all her senses were sharper, more in tune with him. “You could be wrong.”

“I may not know yer birthday or yer favourite drink. Which books made ye cry and what position ye sleep in – but I already know that I would do almost anything to have the chance to find out.” Their foreheads were almost touching, as he came even closer to her. “I already ken how ye make me feel, Sassenach.”

Their lips met – not needing any type of compass in the darkness - the soundtrack of the love story on screen playing just for them. And as Jamie’s hands found her curls, untangling her hair until it fell over her shoulders, they could be the only two people in love in the entire universe.

****

Edinburgh, Present day

Don’t cry. Breathe.

Claire mechanically reached for his hand and started to unfold the bandages in silence. Jamie winced and hunched his shoulders, as if he was surprised – and his eyes were filled with true wonder.

“Ye are real.” He whispered, his eyes following the steady and calculated movements of her gloved hands. “I…wasn’t sure that ye were.”

“How are you feeling, Mister Fraser?” She asked in a monotonous tone, like a cold but professional stewardess on a long and tiresome flight. His eyes widened, the lines of his face a mirror of pain, as if she had just slapped him without further warning.

“When did I become Mister Fraser?” He said between teeth. “How long have ye been working here, Sassenach?”

“Don’t call me that!” She demanded in a strong voice, exhaling. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I’ve been a surgeon here for almost three months now.” Claire said. “Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

“Claire…” He began, his blue eyes imploring. “There are things I should tell ye…”

“No.” She replied, firmly. “You are a patient here and I’m bound by my oath to treat you to the best of my abilities. But we have nothing to say to each other – apart from you answering my questions and I informing you with truthfulness about your condition.” Anger filled her chest, like something sticky and dark, making her breathing more laboured.

“I can’t move them just now.” He said, after a while, in a hoarse voice. The removing of the dressings revealed the terrible sight of a compromised hand – only his thumb seemed unaffected, while his middle and ring fingers were crushed into unnatural positions, the joints shattered. His index finger was broken in at least two places, even if it still maintained an air of normalcy by comparison. Blood still oozed from deep cuts on his palm and from the place where the bone had ruptured the skin, like a gruesome and bloody flower springing from the inside out. “Can ye save it?”

“I’ll certainly try.” She nodded, the lump in her throat approaching the size of an ostrich egg. Even the best surgeon in the world wouldn’t be able to rebuild a perfect hand from such wreckage – the best possible outcome was to save all his fingers and to obtain a range of function that would allow him to carry ordinary movements with his hand. His hand had been so tender in the darkness of the cinema. “I need to assess your belly. Is it sore?”

“A wee bit.” Jamie admitted, avoiding her eyes as she pushed up his shirt, covered in soot and blood, in order to expose him to her cold hands. Claire touched his flank with light movements, going deeper in critical places – once she palpated his upper left quadrant he hissed like a resentful cat and his abdomen went rigid.

“You might have a ruptured spleen.” She bit her bottom lip, still glancing at his belly. There, that small spot – she had bit him there, once. She could still hear his throaty groan, half moaning half laughing. “We will do an ultrasound, but it’s likely you’ll need surgery today.”

“Will ye do it?” He asked. Jamie was gritting his teeth – he was on basic painkillers and Claire was sure he was experiencing some excruciating pain from his damaged hand, acute abdomen and several first degree burns on his body.

“I’m not sure that is wise.” She said slowly. “I’ll ask Joe to do it – he is a very gifted surgeon.”

“Will you be there, Claire?” He pleaded in a low voice, hesitant.

“I will.” Claire hawked. “It’s my team – it’s my duty to oversee it.” He seemed discouraged and battered, looking at the white ceiling.  

“Are my men alright?” Jamie asked, while she began to clear some debris from the wound. “Are they safe?”

“They are being taken care of. You should focus on getting stronger now.” She replied more softly and then, raising her eyes to meet his – so he could see the emptiness there – added in a neutral tone. “Your hand is swelling. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cut your wedding ring out.”

4

He stopped on a picture of his parents’ wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad.

More Ninjago headcannons

* Nya gets so frustrated sometimes, that she causes huge tidal waves by accident.

* Wu braids his beard.

* Lloyd lets his hair grow out because he’s too lazy to get it cut.

* Because of this, there were multiple instances of Kai almost lighting Lloyd’s hair on fire.

* Morro doesn’t brush his hair. eVER. He hisses like a cat whenever someone tries to touch his hair as well.

* Jay loves making the ninja do the human pyramid simply because he’s always at the top. (he’s pret light)

* Kai doesn’t remember how he got his own scar. Thus, it forever is a mystery. All he knows for sure that it involved one bad decision and a sword.

* Lloyd doesn’t know how to ride a bike. He still uses training wheels.

* Zane is the best gambler in Ninjago. It’s because no one can ever read his facial expressions.

* Zane is just the best card player in general.

* Cole can’t tie shoe laces for shit. So he always cuts them off any of his shoes.

* Lloyd wears socks with his sandles. So does Wu, Garmadon, and Kai.

* Jay wears makeup more often than Nya does.

* Nya also sweats way more than the rest of the ninja.

* Ronin stays up for new years. Not for celebrating, but for the free booze at bars.

It’s You

Summary: AU where Y/N is the speedster and Barry Allen is the first person you save.

Pairings: Barry Allen x reader

Word count: 3150

A/N: Hi! So, this is something I wrote for a friend and I liked how it turned out so she let me post it here :) I hope you all like it too! (It’s also the longest thing I’ve ever written lol).

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