two strand knots


How to change colours without weaving - this video is the only reason I decided to take part in the temperature scarf project this year. Basically, it’s a no weave knot and it’s now pretty much all I use when joining two strands of yarn.


PHOTO by: austinjwillis
MODEL: ahippiesoul1

By: ahippiesoul1

My personal go to protective style is the quick and easy Bantu knots. BANTU KNOTS for me is not just another “PROTECTIVE STYLE” but a style for me that expresses My complete FREEDOM and unapologetic willingness to be comfortable with who I am. Completely exposed face without the ability to hide behind chemically stretched hair or that imported Brazilian body wave… Not that there is anything wrong with those go to styles but for me it was more so expressing myself Through the curves of my nose, cheeks, and lips and feeling confident with what was always intended for me to LOVE without the help of hair. Meanwhile my natural coils are being protected simultaneous, that’s is FREEDOM.

~Depending on how defined you want your curls to appear depends on how many knots your willing to form on your head. In this picture I have 8 knots. This go to method is perfect because it protects the fragile coils that exist at the end of our coily strands, and promotes hair growth. For the best results leave Bantu knots installed overnight.

~On WASHED CONDITIONED light WET hair add (MOISTURIZER of choice) in this case I used T-tree Leave-in conditioner.
~Determine the amount of knots desired.
~Finger comb each section and add your (STYLER of choice) in this case I used Pantene defining curls styling custard.
~On each section separate down the middle so you now have hair sectioned in half and two strand the twist until you get to the very end of your coils. When you reach the end of your coils add (Oil of choice) in this case I used Jamaican Black Castor Oil (JBCO) and JOJOBA oil. Twist two-strand twist into mini knots seal ends and tuck!

I was powerless to resist this au (it’s actually two in one), send help

If Killian Jones knows one thing about the quiet little cul-de-sac he lives at the edge of, it’s that it becomes anything but around the holidays. He’s only lived here for the better part of four months, but in that time he’s learned quite a bit about the cozy, family-filled neighborhood, the glaring top of that list being that these people are bloody competitive when it comes to holiday decorations. 

He hadn’t been ready for Halloween in the slightest, his humble jack o'lantern and the false cobwebs strung up around his doorframe striking a lonely picture to the professional-grade haunted house two doors down. Only a few children stopped by for candy, even when he’d sprung for the big chocolate bars. The ones that actually knocked on his door had been polite enough, at least, complimenting his Jack Sparrow costume with the special brand of rushed sincerity that only children eager for sweets can ever exhibit. To be fair, his sleepy little corner of Kenmare had never gone much above a smattering of tasteful autumn decor when they’d prepared for the season, and he was still getting used to life in the States when the holiday hit. 

Killian spent the rest of that evening slowly nursing a bottle of Oktoberfest lager and staring through the window, passively admiring the projected graveyard that lit the siding of the house across the street, their fog machines puffing clouds of ghoulish green to the tune of wild shrieks and rattling moans. 

Thanksgiving was easier, but only marginally. One of the young families living next door ended up taking it upon themselves to invite him to their  block party, insisting he learn the traditions of the strictly American holiday. The pixie-haired woman and her husband wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he spent the better part of that week desperately sifting Google for a recipe that wouldn’t look like he was trying too hard and ended up bringing a warm bowl of colcannon instead, gently shoving it behind four other potato dishes on their dining table so it could go unnoticed. 

Dinner hadn’t even happened around a table. The unorganized passing of dishes and loud, disjointed conversation occurred around kitchen countertops and sofa sectionals, even spilling out onto the stairs back deck when a few brave souls tried their luck around the fire pit. He got used to it quickly, glad to be included at all, and vowed to try a little harder when Christmas came around.

So now, with two tubs of decorations blocking the way to his front door, arms covered in twinkly lights he plans to line along the gutters and the front windows, he’s become one of them. This time he’s gathered his materials carefully, he’s plotted out his design and he’s even doing it at night, just so he can witness the surprised reactions of his neighbors in the morning. 

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