#courtesy of my hairdresser

[moonchildreads]

the funniest part is that that specific hair colour is considered blonde lmaoooo

it's a dark blonde but still within the blonde family with an ash undertone (it does not turn reddish in the sun, it turns more blonde 🤭) i was a dark blonde baby with no eyebrows and no eyelashes and then it got darker as i grew up. do with that info as you will ahem blond baby eddie headcanons ahem

ok i need to settle this for myself once and for all

kindly reblog for a larger sample size, i want to know the official Fandom Consensus on this tyty

[divinekangaroo]

I'm just really glad I grew out my 2005, 2009, 2010 and 2022 zero-fade undercuts well before PB trending hit barbers and salons

[greenorangevioletgrass]

shorn the sheep (a.d. x t.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x tashi donaldson

Summary: the origin story of Art's shorn sheep haircut.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: just family fluff really, art is a puppy but whats new, pre-canon (or in between canon timelines ig)

Notes: my first arttashi fic! Life is crazy but I was inspired enough to write this in two sittings sooooo enjoy! please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Art Donaldson likes routines.

He eats the same breakfast every morning –eight eggs and a bowl of oatmeal. Takes the same shower stall in the locker room and does the same pre-match routine down to which shoe he puts on first. He has had the same team behind him for most of his career, from coaches and physios to his lawyers and publicists. He generally goes to the same guy for his haircut too, but he’s in Tokyo for the Japan Open. And while his outgrown curls are starting to piss him off, flying his barber halfway across the world just seems excessive.

Although… looking in the mirror now, he can’t help but wonder if he should’ve done that instead.

Maybe it’s the language barrier (which is more of Art’s fault for his general lack of knowledge in hair-related terms, because the hairdresser speaks English just fine), but what he asked for was definitely not what he got. Then again, maybe he wasn’t being super clear on what he means by ‘tidying it up a little.’

So with a polite straight-lined smile, Art nods and pays and ducks out into the busy Tokyo street. Out of courtesy (or so he convinces himself), he waits until he turns the corner to put his hoodie up over his head.

Ever the drama queen, he only takes it off when he enters the hotel suite, finding his wife sitting on the dining table.

“They fucked up my hair.”

Tashi looks up from her laptop, and the first thing she notices isn’t even the hair. It’s the same pout, same tone she normally sees in Lily at bedtime, which only makes her chortle.

“Goddammit…” Art groans. Is it even worse than he thinks? He pulls the hood back up and tugs at the string until the fabric scrunches around his face.

He turns around towards the bedroom, but Tashi stops him, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. She loosens the tight strings on the hood, so she can see his new hair properly. Her French manicured nails cards through the short locks, scratching his scalp the way she knows he likes. Her eyebrows furrow in focus as she scrutinizes the length and texture in relation to his face.

“It looks fine to me,” she eventually decides, pushing the top part to the side towards his natural part.

“No it’s not. It’s too fucking short.” Art huffs, resting his forehead on her shoulder. 

Tashi hums, feeling the buzzed ends on the nape of his neck. She’s never felt it this short on him—she’s been there through it all; the mop when he was younger, the swoopy Prince Charming look he had just before this, and even that one year where he grew his hair out past his shoulders. She can definitely say that she doesn’t hate this one.  “It’s just shorter, is all.”

“Makes my ears look even bigger than they already are,” he murmurs into the skin of her shoulder, his annoyance dissipating into sulking petulance in the comfort of her scent and general embrace. 

“Maybe it’ll make you more aerodynamic, Dumbo.” Tashi fiddles his earlobe playfully.

He bites at her shoulder in gentle warning, earning a little laugh from her. “That’s not funny.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She grins and shrugs. “Art—”

“Come on, this is serious.”

Tashi laughs incredulously. “What is?”

“I’m playing in my Uniqlo gear for the first time tomorrow, and the only thing people are gonna talk about is my hair.”

“I sure fucking hope they’re gonna talk about your game more than your new hair or clothes.”

There’s always a very subtle shift whenever Tashi is talking in coach mode. It doesn’t happen often, but it ticks her off whenever his attention strays off of what’s important. But Art pulls his head up and shoots her an unamused, almost defiant glare. He’s not having it.

He’s been trying not to stress out about it, but his new endorsement deal with Uniqlo is so well-covered (and for good reason—he signed a ten-year deal worth $30 million.) and wearing the brand for the first time on their home ground is a big deal. She knows that.

Art will gladly say it as often as he needs to (and he feels like he doesn’t say it often enough), but he loves Tashi. Her beauty is a no-brainer, but above all, he loves her tenacity and efficiency in her work. It’s why he listens to her, and it’s why he’s been playing better than ever since she joined his side.

Tashi sighs a little, realizing that maybe he doesn’t need a coach right now. “And look, it fits into the clean-cut, preppy aesthetics you got. I don’t see how this can be bad press for Uniqlo, either.”

She does so much for him —eats, lives, and breathes him— and sometimes he feels bad for asking. But he eats, lives, and breathes her just as much as she does, and he craves her constantly. Her firm chides, her sharp wit, her soft side, her fury… Most of the time, he needs a combination of at least two of them, even though he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Can we like… not make this about work?”

He doesn’t need to. She knows. 

Tashi softens, rubbing his arms up and down as he pulls her closer. “Baby… it looks good on you.”

Art rolls his eyes skeptically. He can’t help but feel like she needs to say that now.

“It really does! What do you want me to say?” She chuckles, nuzzling his face with her nose. “Hey. You know I’ll be the first one to tell you if it looks stupid, right?”

Art sighs. Tashi has never been very generous with compliments, and he actually likes that about her. She knows how to really make it count. “I know, but—”

“But it doesn’t. You actually look really good. And I… I like that I can see you better this way.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have hair flopping over your eyes like a sheepdog anymore.”

Art gives her a playful smack in the butt, but at least he’s smiling now. And despite pushing him physically and mentally for a living, Tashi likes making him smile.

“But you like it?”

Her hand returns to his head, getting the hang of caressing it. “Baby, it’s your hair.” 

Art relaxes into her touch. He’s gone beyond seeking validation, and has fully entered clingy territory at this time. “Yeah, but you’re gonna be looking at it all the time,” he pouts dramatically. “I don’t want you to hate it.”

“I already told you. I like it.” Tashi cups his face, her thumb drawing faint circles on his cheek. The hair is cropped short enough that it doesn’t even curl anymore on the crown. But the patch of brown in his blue eyes is out in plain sight. The line of his nose is knife-sharp, and she can’t help but remember how it parts her thighs right open. “I like looking at your face like this.”

Art’s mouth quirks to the right. He likes coaxing sweet nothings out of her like no other. “So you just like my face?”

Tashi bites the inside of her left cheek. “I do. I like your face.”

Art pulls her into a sweet kiss, and Tashi happily meets him halfway. He wonders if the butterflies would ever cease one day, but until then, he’s gonna relish in it entirely. Wholeheartedly. Selfishly.

Until…

“Daddy, you’re back!” the unmistakable squeal of their 2-year-old cuts through the quiet, followed by the pitter-patter of her little feet.

Art reluctantly lets go of his wife in exchange for their daughter, throwing the former a fond, knowing look. “Hey, Lilybug!” He scoops her tiny frame up into his arms and peppers kisses all over her cute face.

Lily giggles, arms flailing and pushing him around until Art lets up. It’s only then that the little girl manages a good look at him. She gasps. “Daddy, your hair!”

Art’s heart stops. He never thought a toddler’s opinion would mean so much to him, but he plasters a faux-oblivious look for her. “What about my hair, baby?”

“It’s so… little!”

Tashi chuckles. And so does Art, although he does so in surprise. Of all the adjectives in the English language (that they’ve taught Lily anyway), he didn’t expect it to be little. But in a way, he’s glad. It takes the edge off a little.

“Do you like it, though?” Art turns his head side-to-side and lets Lily assess him, and his heart stutters a little.

Lily has a habit of picking up Tashi’s brutal honesty. Truth be told, she is the spitting image of her mother. She tilts her head the same way, sports the same thoughtful pout too. He may have been off the hook with Tashi, but it would be stupid to have his confidence crushed by the miniature version of her.

Eventually, though, Lily grins and nods. Art breathes out a sigh of relief, while Tashi looks at him like, see?

Lily puts her tiny hands on Art’s cheeks the same way her mother does, fingers flicking on her father’s earlobes. She giggles again. “Daddy looks like my sippy cup.”

Tashi laughs out loud this time. Art is not amused.

But he’ll take it. He scowls playfully and makes a face, pretending to be the sippy cup in question, eliciting more laughter from his girls.

[steddiebbang]

I was a teenage dirtbag  |  Mature  |  75k

Author: @hellfireloserclub

Artist: @academic-clown

Beta Reader: @kaypie91

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington , Erica Sinclair, Dustim Henderson, Nancy Wheeler. 

Tags: Slowburn, Future Fic, Year 2000, Post-season Four, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Eddie, Comedy /angst, Long distance friendship to lovers, Radio Host Eddie, Hairdresser Steve, Wedding fic.

Trigger Warnings: Sex, Alcohol, and Recreational drugs

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.  

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going. 

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense. 

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question. 

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it. When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.  

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?”  Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention. 

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group.  You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned. 

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek. “But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console. 

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?” 

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it. “If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.”  Dustin snapped his mouth shut. “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back. He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos. Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

[dontbelasagnax]

Honestly this was so hard to chose but I would LOVE to hear about the hair trimming fic please?? <3

Thank you for asking, Mia!!!

The really exciting thing about this fic is that it's a collaboration with @shortcuts-make-long-delays, @aquaticflames, @foreverchangingfandomsao3, @happybean17 @anaclastic-azurite, and @smoosey!!!! (Love you guys)

The other day I was telling some friends my clone hair headcanons and a fic idea that stemmed from it and they really liked it. We all wanted to see a fic so we decided to work together and each write one section to patchwork together a 6 (yes, six) +1 fic!!!

I've only really written 100 words in the doc so instead of a snippet you get what I shared in discord that activated our collective codywan braincell:

I admittedly have a shit ton of clone hair headcanons. Like for clones hair is a deeply personal thing that everyone learns how to individualize (or not- their prerogative) by trial, error, and community. Basically everyone learns how to hairdress in some fashion since they either do it for themself or help brothers out. Short haircuts are popular and so are lots of shaved designs. But there's a wealth of culture in hair that is long enough to be braided. They come up with their own styles. In my head, hair is seen as a treasured part of clone culture where everyone helps out- be that with braiding or doing their best to get a cut right or bleaching stripes. I have a fic idea that's like "This is why Obi-Wan lost his mullet in the war and also I'm a little bonkers and made it a Whole Thing" in which an encounter with Ventress leaves Obi-Wan with singed uneven hair and it will be a while till Obi-Wan can go back to Coruscant and see his usual hairdresser so Cody takes him aside once they're back on The Negotiator and gives him the classic TCW/RotS cut. So, naturally, Obi-Wan keeps having Cody do his hair. (Because it's a love language. I'm. Mentally unwell.)

Our tentative summary, courtesy of Aqua, is "six times Cody trimmed Obi-Wan's hair and one time that Obi-Wan trimmed Cody's"

Feeling quite unhinged about it as I'm thinking about it again 😂

[inkybloom-luv]

Words Unsaid 4, housing arrangements suck

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Hello hello everyone who's been reading this series!! Part 4 is here! I hope you enjoy the series as much as I do!

Characters may be a bit ooc in this but this also includes some personal headcanons about Kalim and some stuff that'll be resolved in the next chapters

Some more spoilers from ch.4 so be aware

Again, can be read as x reader but I have been mentioning my prefect's name more in this chapter so be aware of that.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tw: injuries, absolutely abysmal and disgusting living situation, Crowley being a bad headmage

1.6+k words

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Have I ever told you your hair looked pretty the way you wear it? The way you tie that beaten up black bandana around your dark hair that only barely differs in colour enough to differentiate? The blue in it makes it easier perhaps, but it's a recent change, from what I'd seen. Has the headmage decided to pay for a visit to the local hairdresser? I can't help but think you look nice, though your messy hair from before had its charm.

I digress. Your hair is not why I'm writing this, though I could go on about yours. I wanted to apologize to you. I want you to know that I regret nothing more than treating you the way I did. I took advantage of the way it seemed you could look only me in the eyes when speaking to someone. I betrayed Kalim. But that didn't hurt me as much as it did to betray you.

I found one of them, your letters. I wonder how many more there are. I wonder if any of them describe how much I'd hurt you. When I read it my heart ached and cracked and broke. It bled. I wish I'd known sooner. I wish I'd known about the incident with Azul. I wish I hadn't turned your dream, your desert mirage into a walking nightmare.

No, that wouldn't do. It didn't feel right. It felt.. Jamil didn't know what it felt like. He crumpled this paper too, throwing it way towards a trash can. He'd set up in his room, ducking away from prying eyes. But no matter how many papers he wrote, nothing felt right, felt good. It just wouldn't compare to the words she'd written about him. For once in his life he was at a loss. He had no plan, he didn't know what to do.

To make matters worse a knock sounded. Kalim. He was asking for tea once Jamil was free, but really, Jamil needed a break. He sighed a frustrated sigh and opened the door. He told Kalim he'd make him the tea, not noticing he'd kicked a ball of paper into the hallway. The most recent letter he'd thrown away. Kalim noticed it only after Jamil had left it. Picked it up and read it too. Kalim was a lot of things, though he acted carefree, dense and yes, kind of stupid, he was observant. He knew people. He knew Jamil. And he knew who this letter was addressed to. Even if it has been weeks since then, almost a month even. Sure, Jamil had thrown this letter out, but it was something Jamil had been doing for those weeks. Shutting himself in his room for at least an hour and especially at night the light from there would keep burning. And Kalim had had enough. He decided to help.

And that he did. He took the letter and headed straight for Ramshackle. It was pouring rain on campus. Ramshackle wasn't much better, seeing as it was an old building. Heck, he'd met the prefect a while back and they looked exhausted and slightly injured.

Kalim knew the dorm needed renovations but.. when he got there it was worse than he expected. Sure some areas were fixed up but the stairs had holes and the roof leaked, judging by the bowls and buckets all over the floor. The old couch was a bit uncomfortable but it was better than the creaky floor. It was cold too, so much so that the prefect wore a jacket. But with a broken window, courtesy of some Savanaclaw students who had been ostracized and punished well enough by Leona according to the prefect, everyone would be cold. The prefect wrapped a blanket around kalim, seemingly the only nice one. The one from their room which they'd struggled to move down the stairs that were obviously breaking more and more under anyone's step, no matter how light.

The prefect, or, as he knew her better, Inky, had gotten injured fighting Jamil. A bandage around their arm indicated that. Their shirt had a sleeve lifted to accommodate. One of the snakes in Jamil's hair had bitten her there, ripping out a bit of skin. But that was the only injury she'd really gotten. The other bandages and bandaids were from the poor condition of their living quarters. She twisted her ankle going up stairs as one of the boards gave way, the floorboards made her trip and bruise, the large shards of the broken window had cut her hands. And still Crowley was running this girl dry. He'd talk to Crowley afterwards. He finished drying his hair off with one of the few nice towels the prefect did have. he'd gotten it before the blanket.

No more time should be wasted. He spoke. "Jamil is upset. Stressed. He shuts himself in his room for an hour at least almost every day. His light burns into the night. I wanted to know what he's doing. I found this in the hallway and it's.. addressed to you as far as I know. I don't think he wanted you to see this. But if he keeps this up he'll never say what he wants." Kalim was worried. More than. The prefect skimmed the letter. She sighed, her lips pressing together. She should tell Kalim.. and she did. Because her letters couldn't stay hidden anymore. Jamil mentioned them in his writing.

"I write letters to Jamil about my encounters or thoughts of him. I didn't think he knew. But I must've dropped the one I was writing at the time in Scarabia.", she explained, her gaze pointed at the letter in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes now as she continued, her voice breaking as she spoke as steady as she could,

"I miss him. I thought he hated me. I'm.. I'm not good at reading people. I can't look people in the eyes but it was so easy with him. I'm scared to try again. But- But I want to. I've just been.. far too busy. The storm that's been plaguing the island has been causing trouble. The other students have been causing trouble. Everything is loud all the time and I can't take it..! I want to see Jamil. But I can't. I have too much to do. This dorm is falling apart. Someone needs to fix it and Crowley sure as hell isn't doing it. I can't leave here right now."

Kalim nodded his white haired head. He sighed. This was harder than he thought. So Jamil wants to apologize but cannot bring himself to do it in person in fear of Inky being.. scared of him. And Inky.. is way too busy to do much of anything and the storm outside is destroying the old dorm she lives in. No wonder she's hardly been seen, she's constantly repairing her home here. And she could barely keep up much of anything. Everything costs way too much for the little amount of money she gets.

That was an hour ago. Kalim was sitting in the common room, drying off and being oddly quiet. He was thinking. He should.. oh.. he doesn't know what he should do. He should tell Jamil though. Tell Jamil the prefect wants to see him again, but is struggling to make time for anything. When he passed Kalim, the latter called out to him.

"Jamil..! I visited Inky..! Apparently she's really busy.. and she looked hurt all over! I'm worried about her..!" He said in a slightly overdramatic tone. Jamil's face held a look of concern, genuine worry even for only a split second.

"What's happened to the prefect? Why were you visiting her in this storm anyway?", the long haired desert dweller asked.

"Well..! We haven't heard from her at all and I got worried..! You won't believe the condition she's living in, it's terrible Jamil..! She's freezing because of broken windows and the creaky floor is made of tripping hazards..! She almost fell so many times..! And the stairs too, they're so old they have holes and they almost break when anything with any weight lands on it..! The roof is leaking too! It's terrible Jamil!" Kalim had to take a short breather after that. There was no way he could keep talking out of breath. Even all that was enough to send dread to the pit of Jamil's stomach. Was it really that terrible in ramshackle?

"Their roof is leaking too! They can barely keep up with replacing the buckets and bowls and her ankle twisted funny the other day..! She looked so tired.. I want to cheer her up.. but I don't know what to do..! Even I can tell how unsafe it is in there..!"

Now that had Jamil actually shocked. The prefect had been living in that the whole time? How could anyone even- he couldn't believe it. His mouth spoke before his head could react. "Put her up in Scarabia. Get her to stay here-"

And that was what Kalim was hoping for. He may not be good in school or anything like that and rely on Jamil a lot. But. He could think for himself. He could make his own plan. And he did. And it worked.

"You know what Jamil? That's a great idea! I should have my parents donate some money to renovate Ramshackle.. can you tell the principal to tell the prefect?"

Who would've thought Kalim would manipulate someone, and so well too. Not that it was big. But it went very well. Jamil didn't protest. He left. He went to go see the headmage to tell him what happened. What would happen. And while he did that Kalim called his parents. He told them the same thing. Told them about the living condition of the prefect. Ramshackle would most definitely get renovated, even if it would take quite some time. Funds were no issue after all.

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

@leonistic

@cy-inky

@azulashengrottospiano

@dove-da-birb

@krenenbaker

If anyone else wants to be tagged, send me an ask!

[ficklecat]

whilst you all enjoy my lil omgv excursion

I've got another tasty lil hairdresser!Gai AU fic coming up. Courtesy once again of my horny goblin friend. You all better thank her for the good food.

[miesozernacma]

Dad told me a story this morning (Men's Hairdresser)

So me and my dad go to this one men's hairdresser in town right. And i started going there because i just wanted buzz cuts for a while and the place is pretty cheap.

And so.... well, its a hairdresser where the clients are only men right? cuz they do men's hairstyles – and yet my girl-passing ass has Been going there BUT i'm always dressed in some dark baggy clothes when I'm there so i guess.....

like. during thee First Time i got a proper haircut there, there was this sweet old lady doing my hair, she went "So how long have you been growing out this hair, boy?" (that's the best way i can translate this from polish. she used male pronouns for me without question)

And me. I was surprised.

But she? She was sure the entire time she's just been cutting some uniquely feminine-in-the-face boy's hair this entire time into a mullet, and she's didn't think twice about it BECAUSE ITS A MEN'S HAIRDRESSER! RIGHT!?

But to move on to what my dad told me, he was at this hairdresser this morning, and there was this woman working – a younger brunette, and she's done my hair maybe thrice now – he asks about if they're packed with clients today because he "wants to take His Daughter for a trim." (great job dad you could've had the courtesy to just talk about me like i actually was a boy because that's what i prefer anyway and i go to this MENS HAIRDRESSER but okay)

And then the hairdresser replied "Oh no no, we only do men's cuts only men's!" and they had a back and forth about how she's "already done his daughter's hair before", then he finally corrected himself to "you've been doing *His hair for a while" . Which resulted in that woman going :O because as it turns out she had no idea???!!!?? im actually a GHOUEUURLLL (girl) ?!?!?!?! because its a fucking mens hairdresser??!?? and I'm probably going There for a reason with you? like i see myself more as manly ? and im not very specific about my hair most the time?? and i was pretty sure you were aware of that? and ive asked you to use a masculine name with me and to use he/him and I Know it's safer to just pretend im a girl in most situations, like at the doctor or whatever – but this is a men's. hairdresser. they already expected me to be a guy and you kind of ruined it now, honestly.

All this to say, I'm just disappointed he had to slip up and reveal his child attending this hairdresser "wasn't AKSHUALLY a boy all this time !!!!" (i roll my eyes back 360 degrees from the pure hatred that statement makes me feel like go die actually you could have kept this entire thing a FUN LITTLE secret but you HAD to stick that "daughter" to my person because that's what you remember when we still had somewhat of a relationship or something. goD i fucking hate the prominence of cisnormativity )

[andrasjokuti]

[hair]

Two women in pantsuits

Checkered on their thin figures

Enter the elevator giggling,

In a good mood, apparently.

It shows that they are having

A good time, and enjoy

Each other's company -

But above all, the situation

Of being here, living life,

Owning their good fortune,

Their comfort, status, and

Just privilege in general.

They speak an accented English

And skip from one topic

To another, like gazelles,

During that short ride

I am sharing with them.

Then something occurs

To one of them, a good story -

No, not a story, rather

Something she wants to pop

To her friend or co-worker,

Or amiable rival, even -

A sign of wit, a spark of cunning,

A little lash of levity,

But the forbidden kind,

That you know you could regret

The moment you say it

Yet you still cannot resist,

And instead, you're proud of,

For the very sake of it being

Incandescently indecent.

"My hairdresser has cancer"

She starts, with a grin

That shows only vestiges of mercy

But no real (or faked) compassion.

"And I don't want to think like -

who's gonna do my hair...? but..."

She lets it hang there,

With a sharp cackle,

Then the doors open,

And both of them exit.

She shoots a quick glance back

To see if I am scandalized

Or entertained, or maybe both,

But does not have time to assess

Before the cabin is closed again.

So she does not want to think

Like that. She does not.

Or does she? And think like what

Exactly? It surely crossed her mind!

Moreover, she jokes about it!

Does she mean that she does not want to

Think like that, but she cannot

Help it? Is this an admittance of remorse?

The accompanying laughter

Is just a nervous side effect of

Guilt and repentance?

Or it is much more of a confession

Of jaded cynicism, with a translucent

Veil of hardly-courtesy,

Effectively saying that she does think

That way, and it comes with

The job, the wealth, the pep of it all?

Essentially, she buried the woman

Already – or is it a man?

A twinkling gay boy with scissors,

Who showed interest in her

Gossip and life events?

The life of whom is waning,

But served the only purpose of

Straightening those auburn locks?

Or a middle-aged matron,

Who is solid and stolid,

Talks little and does her job impeccably well?

It does not matter.

Their fate is sealed.

Death ensues, there’s no escape.

No medical innovation

Or trustworthy treatment

Can revive them now,

And the proliferation of cells,

No matter if they are in the breast

Or the pancreas, will not be stopped.

There is a void, an unfillable.

Because who is going to do

The hair? Her hair.

Even if she genuinely does not

Wish ill to anyone,

Once it’s done, it’s done.

She washes her hands,

But can’t wash her hair!

Through her prism,

It is the utility that counts.

What is it, then?

What is this whole story about?

It might as well be the most

Self-reflective statement ever made,

A realization of how little we mean

To each other, and the more

Remote someone is from you,

The less you care about

What becomes of them,

Keeping only what they give

To you. Or is it a coping mechanism,

To avoid grief and suffering,

A tool to remain sane

And not go mad with all the terror

That we know about

But we are not involved in

Directly - so she diminishes the

Anticipated death, to lower

The emotional investment of

Truly considering it?

I don’t know. And I don’t

Even want to pretend that

I was judging her very harsh.

After all, morality is about the acts,

Not the words, and she was

Enjoying being a bitch!

Others enjoyed it too.

She entertained her companion,

And for some reason,

I could not suppress either

My smile, even when they left,

That lingered – not at the joke,

But at all of the above,

That this is so human,

And so inhuman, so bitter

And so intriguing. I hope she

Sends a card to the hospital,

Where the hair person convalesces,

And that the maintenance guy

On minus one will never know

What made me smirk

When the lift doors re-opened.

[unhingedwomandiaries]

My dead aunt's been popping up in my dreams like she's auditioning for a starring role in The Sixth Sense or something. Night after bloody night, there she is in that same ancient cardigan she practically lived in, beckoning me over like she's got the winning lottery numbers to share. Proper creepy, but like a Netflix series you can't stop watching even though it's doing your head in.

Wake up every time absolutely drenched, my bed looking like I've gone swimming in my jim-jams. And even though these dreams leave me proper spooked, I can't help but wonder if my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Because here's the thing – it all links back to this mad situation at my wedding, of all the blooming places.

My aunt suddenly starts banging on about being Italian. Italian! I mean, our family tree's about as Mediterranean as a chip butty in Newcastle. We're talking proper Northern European mongrels here – bit of Dutch, splash of Irish, generous helping of German, dash of Austrian, even some Ashkenazi Jewish courtesy of my grandad. And my nan? Pure English rose, the type who thought pasta was exotic. So this spontaneous Italian heritage announcement was about as believable as Boris Johnson's hairdresser.

The whole thing properly got under my skin, right? So I did one of those ancestry DNA test things – you know, spit in a tube, wait six weeks, discover you're 0.01% Viking. Except what came back wasn't just surprising, it was proper jaw-dropping, call-Jeremy-Kyle mental: turns out my "aunt" was only half the relative I thought she was!

And my nan? Turns out she wasn't just making tea and cucumber sandwiches back in the day. No, she was out there living her best life, having the kind of adventures that would make Jackie Collins blush. My "aunt" was basically the souvenir from one of those adventures, hanging off our family tree like a Christmas bauble that doesn't quite match the others.

Mental, innit? Finding out your nan was basically running her own dating agency on the side. But here's the thing – and maybe this is what my aunt's trying to tell me in these dreams – truth's always better than lies, even when it's proper uncomfortable. Like finding out your pants are see-through, but on a family-sized scale. Because at the end of the day, all any of us want is to know where we actually come from, not some fairy story cooked up over Sunday roast. Now that all this is out in the open, I can finally start building my own story. Though I might need therapy first. And maybe a bottle of wine.

[qnewsau]

Drama on MAFS after gay groom flirts with crew member

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/drama-on-mafs-after-gay-groom-flirts-with-crew-member/

Drama on MAFS after gay groom flirts with crew member

Things aren’t looking good for Married At First Sight Australia’s gay grooms Michael and Stephen after a big blow-up on Monday night’s MAFS episode.

Michael Felix and Stephen Stewart met at the altar mid-season a few weeks ago. But last night, their “marriage” was in chaos after Michael caught Stephen flirting with another man.

“Today was meant to be a fun day,” Michael explained to the camera.

“We had a publicity shoot and Stephen was getting his hair done, and I could see my husband flirting with the hairdresser.

“On the car ride home, I saw Stephen was smiling and laughing at his phone. I asked, ‘Who are you texting?’

“He was talking to the hairdresser. Stephen told me he felt a spark with this hairdresser that he’s never felt with me.”

Stephen felt ‘sexual spark’ with hairdresser

Discussing it together, Stephen, who works as a hairdresser himself, told Michael he didn’t intend to hurt him but felt “really confused”.

“I had a 30-second conversation with someone and I felt it was so much easier to get flirty with them than I did with you after two and a half weeks,” Stephen admitted.

“Absolutely, we had a spark there. It was playful and a little bit flirty, 150 per cent. I know that’s a s__t thing to hear, which is why I feel so guilty.

“I feel s__t, but feeling that instant attraction to someone made me realise what we’re missing.”

Stephen later adds, “I would be lying to you and everyone if I said I could go forward in this to build a sexual relationship with you.”

Michael takes his wedding ring off, slams it down and storms out.

“After that, I don’t know if I care to salvage it,” he says.

But even after all that, the two men still choose to go on the ~Couples Retreat~ to Byron Bay.

Michael and Stephen join the rest of the cast by the campfire but the pair’s “rough week” gets even worse.

Hilarious and distracting detail during MAFS fight

MAFS viewers discussed all they’d just witnessed between Michael and Stephen, including one accidentally hilarious detail during the couple’s fight: Michael’s shirt.

The front of Michael’s shirt featured the legendary meme of screaming Real Housewives of Beverly Hills star Camille Grammar edited together with a white cat sitting at a table.

Image: Nine

I don’t even care what’s going on between Michael and Stephen.

WHERE DID MICHAEL GET THAT SHIRT#mafs #mafsau

— Nathan Mulholland (@natetha68) March 4, 2024

Get Michael and Sara onto a real housewives franchise STAT #MAFS #MAFSAU pic.twitter.com/iLwkeGtcxK

— kiki 🧚🏻‍♀️ (@violettfemmes) March 4, 2024

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE SHIRT MICHAEL WAS WEARING DURING THIS INCIDENT IM SCREAMING #mafs #mafsau pic.twitter.com/Y3njDmE25K

— jack’s terrible veneers (@beggywilliamz) March 4, 2024

MAFS viewers also mostly agreed Stephen didn’t come out of the whole thing looking all that great.

“Fair enough Stephen developing a connection with someone else. But he needs to own it and leave the experiment,” one person wrote.

“You can’t deny a spark you feel for someone else, but surely it’s common courtesy to wait until the experiment is finished before you go off sparking with a hairdresser you just met,” somebody else wrote.

“Stephen was crying not too long ago about his father cheating on his mother only to emotionally cheat on his husband in his face?” another wondered.

“If you don’t feel it you don’t feel it but these experts are useless at putting people together,” one person wrote.

If Stephen isn’t attracted to Michael and doesn’t see it working that’s fine but to get someone’s phone number and text in front of him to rub the “instant attraction” into his face is pretty gross and unfair. #MAFSAU #MAFS

— Stacey❤💙🏆 (@_Stacey1987) March 4, 2024

Stephen, no one is blaming you for your lack of attraction to Michael. But you actively flirting with the hairdresser, getting the guy’s number and texting him while still in the experiment with Micheal is very disrespectful! It’s also cheating. #MAFS #MAFSAU #mafsaunz

— Darmendran Kumar (@DarmendranKuma1) March 4, 2024

Stephen not liking Michael because he’s not masc enough while being a hairdresser and having a sexual spark with another hairdresser. Make it make sense #MAFS #MAFSAU

— T V (@TV16424731) March 4, 2024

Stephen at home watching his instagram numbers go down when everyone’s turned on him #mafs #mafsau pic.twitter.com/s0pC1mNI57

— jack’s terrible veneers (@beggywilliamz) March 4, 2024

Stephen! #mafs #MAFSAU pic.twitter.com/QJbbpLGIMI

— Y a s m i n🧡🥭 (@mango_heaux) March 4, 2024

Married At First Sight Australia continues on Nine.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[bylightofdawn]

I did not end up going to watch D&D mainly because it was so rainy and so cold that has sucked up all my energy, I legit did not trust myself not to fall asleep in the theater. Ended up getting veggie tempura from my local Japanese place and came home and started to lay down for a 45 minute snap nap which turned in more like an hour and a half nap courtesy of the fact my cat decided to lay on top of me and turned into a 16 pound purring and warm weighted blanket that spans across my entire torso.

So whoops. Hopefully, I didn't fuck my sleep schedule into the ground. Though no joke, I can barely keep my eyes open so I'm hopeful I can make it to like 11 and just try and crash.

I will attempt to write but I am not holding out much hope. I legit had to turn my lights on in my bedroom just to curb the urge to fall back asleep.

I also came suuuuuuper close to just lobbing all my hair off today. I have had a pixie for like the past 10+ years but during the pandemic since obviously things like regular visits to the hairdresser wasn't a thing, I like so many people started to grow my hair out. I chopped it back to shoulder length back in October or something and it's now a few inches past my shoulders and I keep telling myself it's to a length I can do stuff with it. But do I actually do things like braid my hair or style it?

Fuck no.

I bought a 'nicer' hair straightener like 2 months ago and have never even used it. I think it's time to just bite the bullet and go back to my pixie haircut again. Or maybe do some kind of edgy undercut and live out all my androgynous gender-neutral fantasies once more.

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

WIP TITLE GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @apollosgiftofprophecy

thank you alderrrr and @hazardous-lightdas12 for tagging me in this

Cheating a little because most of these WIPs aren't even in my folder, super self explanatory or being named on the fly :p

The WIPs:

Canibalism

Ballet!Meg (Meg & Nero)

Ballet!Will (Trans Will :D)

World's Okayest Hairdresser

Walk to Hades/ Melting Point

POLLDONUKE???????? Ukepolldona???!

Makan-makan uwu

Meg Apollo video call

My love mine all mine

Knowledge and wisdom awkward hug

Cabin 7

Awkward car ride

Living to serve...

Cursed goodbye 😜(name courtesy of fsinger asdashdjgahs)

Unravel

Eyes that bleed gold (i feel like this title is stolen but im not sure. may have to change)

Apollo & the graces au

@newobsessioneveryweek @tsarinatorment (get double tagged :p) @heresronnie21

WIP TITLE GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @soleil-in-retrograde!

*digs up my piles of WIPs* let's see here...

From the RRverse

Bloody Memories

Sun-Kissed

The Art of War

A Radiant Light

A Titan's Demise

Marsyas

Orion v Apollo

Naomi again

From Dusk to Dawn

Triumvirate V Koios

Phoebe

Dream

Helios TBM

Koios ToA

Artemis one shot

Apollo n Muses

Swarms and Swears

Drunk Twins

The Sun's Rise

Revolution

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Leto n Asteria

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare

AUs

ToA Hunger Games AU

Comfortember 2023

Day 12 - When Everything's Wrong, You Make It Right

Day 18 - I'm Just (Not) Like You

Day 19 - Reaching For The Light (Of Day)

[freaky-flawless]

“You trust me?”

Toralei glanced up at the ghoul before her. Clawdeen Wolf had placed her hands on the werecat’s shoulders, and was staring very intensely into her eyes. Her expression was serious, but her golden eyes shimmered with unrestrained glee. That both delighted, and terrified Toralei.

She’d expressed to her ghoulfriend not too long ago about wanting to cut her hair. It had grown out considerably in the last few months, to the point where it started to graze her shoulders. It had been fun for a while to experiment with different styles, and finally being able to put it all up into a ponytail was interesting, but now she was over it. She typically cut it herself, much to her adoptive mother’s dismay, but upon hearing Toralei’s desire for a new hairdo, Clawdeen insisted upon cutting it for her. Unable to find a justified reason to decline, Toralei hesitantly agreed.

And so there they were, in Toralei’s bedroom, a small tarp laid out on the floor, courtesy of Mr. Stripe, and Toralei in her desk chair in the middle of it. Clawdeen stood before her, the gold hairdressing clippers in her hand looking particularly menacing as they glinted in the sunlight streaming through her window.

Forcing a smile, Toralei answered her with a less than confident, “Yes?”

Clawdeen threw her head back and laughed. “You should! As if I’d be caught alive dating someone with a busted head of hair anyway!”

            “You have been for the last few months,” Toralei quipped back. Then bit her tongue upon realizing she'd just roasted herself. Clawdeen erupted into laughter once more.

            “You said it, not me,” she agreed. She ran her fingers through Toralei’s red-orange locks. They had already washed and conditioned it, leaving it damp. The werecat’s scalp tingled at her touch, and she let out a low purr. Clawdeen smiled at the sound of it. “Your hair is super uneven. The left side is choppy, and it’s a lot longer in the back than on top. You could probably rock a killer mullet if you wanted.”

            Toralei scoffed. “And be called a Holt Hyde wannabe? No thank you.” She paused. “…Well maybe after graduation.”

            “That’s not my vision for you anyway,” Clawdeen announced, that determined expression returning to her face.

            “What is your vision?” Toralei asked warily.

            “It’s a surprise. You ready?”

Toralei did not like surprises. Cats rarely reacted well to be surprised. But she liked Clawdeen, and the feeling of her clawed fingers running through her hair. So, uneasy as she may have felt, she forced a smirk and nodded. “Ready!”

[arent-i-the-fairest]

𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩

you’re hanging out with epel when you decide to cut your bangs with grim’s assistance. spoiler alert: the results were not good. second spoiler alert: vil and rook saw it before you could run and get them fixed by a professional.

author’s note : courtesy of me messing up my own hair. this is really stupid btw

“scissors, scissors…” you mumbled to yourself as you placed your comb on the coffee table. “do we have any scissors around here?”

“i think ace left a pair for us on top of the fireplace!” grim replied through huffs as he hauled a mirror much larger than himself. epel took a seat, watching as you rummaged around. he had a pretty bad feeling about this.

“prefect, do you really know what you’re doing?” he asked nervously, sinking back into the old sofa.

“you’re worrying over nothing. of course i know what i’m doing! besides, if i mess up, i can have grim fix it!” oh no. “anyways, we have everything we need. we’re all set now!” you announced, skipping over to sit beside him.

“oh, great—” epel choked when he saw the scissors—bright and colorful, and the last time he saw them was probably in 2nd grade. “wavy craft scissors?! your bangs are gonna come out looking weird, you know?!”

you huffed as you grabbed the comb and began brushing a small section of hair in front of your forehead. “it’s the only thing i have. i don’t feel like going and buying proper ones from sam, and it’d be a hassle to go all the way to another dorm to borrow a pair.” you grabbed the spray bottle and wetted your hair. “besides, i can make it work. probably.”

“hard to believe it when ya sound so unsure.” epel sighed. well, whatever. he won’t try and talk you out of it. he’d just sit there and hope things go alright.

(… he was foolish for having a shred of hope.)

you positioned the scissors at the middle of your forehead. “how’s here?”

“that’s perfect!” / “that’s too short!” grim and epel shouted at the same time. you started cutting anyways, but stopped once the words registered. now one side of your face had squiggly bangs and the other was left untouched.

“what do you mean too short?!”

“vil’s talked to me about this before! ‘said people usually cut their bangs a little lower! anything shorter than that can look tacky!”

“you should have said something!” you wailed, gripping the half-cut side of your bangs.

“i did—! ah, whatever..” epel groaned, slapping his hand against his forehead. “well, don’t just leave half of it cut. go all the way! commit!”

“grim, you do it! i don’t have the confidence to!” you sniff, holding the scissors out.

“leave it to me!” the cat-monster smirked, looping the scissors around his tiny paws as epel sprang out of his seat.

“hey, don’t—!!”

… so here the three of you were now. you had some fucked up bangs. epel and grim were wondering what to do.

“mmh.. let’s go and get them fixed by a pro?” epel suggested.

“yeah,” you simply replied before going upstairs to change. the two were waiting for you downstairs, then they heard a knock at the door.

“i’ll get it!” epel shouted. he froze as soon as he opened it. vil and rook, in the flesh.

“ooh, epel! what a lovely surprise!” rook cooed.

“a lovely surprise, alright. hahah.” epel forced a smile. “so, uh, what brings you here?”

“delivering a package for the prefect.” vil held up a fancy-looking purple box. “inside of it is skincare— my brand, of course. they’ve been dying to get their hands on it. now, if you could move over for us, we’ll—”

“epel! who’s at the door— ah.”

upon seeing your new haircut, rook let out a surprised ‘oh!’ as he covered his mouth with his hand and vil’s eye twitched.

vil schoenheit

he’s no hairdresser, but he knows a thing or two, and he will fix your hair. it’s a bit difficult for him to find a way to salvage it at first, but he decides he’ll turn it into a stylish choppy look. (maybe a bit similar to how che’nya’s looks. you and him can twin, how cute!)

“honestly, you couldn’t have just gotten it done professionally? how did you even manage to get it to this point?” vil muttered.

“look, me and grim were looking for a way to save madol. we gotta eat, y’know? the headmaster’s not paying me for saving people’s lives, unfortunately.” you pout. “by the way, you’re not making me pay for this, are you?”

rook hunt

he’s still able to find things to compliment about your bangs, and he’s doing it all throughout the time vil is fixing it. kudos to him for seeing the bright side of things! though it’s hard to tell if he’s actually a fan of the look or just trying to make you feel better.

“ooh la la~! such an innovative hairstyle you’ve come up with, trickster! i’ve never seen anything quite like it! it’s… different! it compliments your face so nicely, and—”

“rook, they’re exhausted enough, i don’t think you’re helping.” vil sighed as he carefully snipped at your hair.

[zowiesblog]

Can u perhaps give us an image of what Dalya looks like I am courious I mean we know what everyone else looks like cause we watched the movie like and actress or an inspi picture or just a pin from tumblr or pintrist

sure! i do have a mood board but I can’t really give you an exact picture of what she looks like to me bc I can’t draw and she only exists in my head lol!

her and Spider are fraternal twins so she won’t be identical to him but they still share 50% of their DNA so they look pretty similar.

but if she had to look like someone I’d say she’d be similar to Lily-Rose Depp in terms of facial structure and I could actually see some resemblances to Spider!

I don’t picture HER specifically when I write but it’s just to give you some inspo to imagine your own Dalya!

Dalya when she’s around 12-13 (as kids the twins had very light blonde hair that darkened as they age, like Spider in the movie.)

this pic of young Dakota Fanning also gave me Dalya vibes, don’t ask me why lol.

Dalya, grown up. Except her eyes are green/hazel and her hair is much thicker, longer and all over the place.

the colour is spot on tho. and idk about you but imo she does look like she could be related to Spider in these pics!

Dalya’s hair in terms of texture and length.(when she doesn’t have braids or her hair up in a ponytail)

I like to think it’s THAT long bc nobody at hell’s gate is a hairdresser and Anya just liked her hair too much to cut it!

the different kinds of braiding style she has, courtesy of Mo’at!

(I’m aware that it could be considered as cultural appropriation, as the twins are white and probably latinx from their mother’s side; but given that Spider has dreadlocks in the movie, it makes sense to me that Dalya would have braids as it’s literally a fictional world in a fictional future so yeah I don’t condone white ppl appropriating hairstyles that don’t belong to them but this is fictional.😉)

this was fun, thanks for asking! maybe i’ll do another one for Dalya in her avatar form 👀