#i'm. going to bang my head on the fucking wall

[emcapi]

I know this absolutely doesn't solve the wider systemic issue, but I highly recommend learning to cut your own and your friends' hair. It's easier than you think!

All you really need to get started:

Shears (necessary even for very short/buzzcut hair, you may end up with a few straggler hairs especially around the ears or patches that need manual evening out)

Thinning shears (VERY important - these let you do layering and texture super easily, make cuts look professional by softening blunt/choppy edges, and they can also salvage a lot of mistakes by blending them into the rest of the hair)

Electric clippers if you're doing buzzcuts or undercuts (If you can afford it, get the ones a step up from the most basic model, because the cheap ones suck and you'll end up going over the same spot 5 million times trying to get it even; I have a Wahl Elite Pro which is about $70, includes a pair of shears, and has paid for itself many times over)

Fine-toothed comb

Spray bottle (keep hair damp while cutting to make it easier to manage)

Set of hair clips (critical for bangs, undercuts, or different length sections)

Large hand mirror (Use together with wall/bathroom mirror to see the back of your head. It works best to have your back to the big mirror, hold the hand mirror in front of you, and adjust to get the right angle.)

I've been exclusively cutting my own hair for 8 years now, almost entirely self-taught, with both long and short styles. I won't lie, it's kind of scary at first! But if you fuck up, you can fix it yourself, and it'll grow out again, or you always have a professional stylist as a last resort. Most people won't notice the difference between a passably well-done DIY cut and a professional one (and if you do somehow fuck up beyond repair, you can always lie and say you went to a place that botched it).

And once you have the hang of it, the advantages are huge. No more dealing with hairstylists misunderstanding (intentionally or otherwise) what you want. No more spending money on haircuts, or dealing with executive function barriers to making or keeping appointments. And once you've found a style that Works for you, you can get really good at recreating it!

Again, this is not the same thing as fixing the systemic issue. But I for one absolutely love having full autonomy over my hair, and I'm here to tell you that if you've ever considered cutting your own hair, give it a try. It's absolutely worth it.

the thing about having long hair especially if you are a girl/perceived as one is people act like they will be personally offended if you cut it. INCLUDING! hair stylists who you are paying to cut it. double it if you have blonde/red/ginger/curly/etc hair. like the lack of autonomy ive been allowed to feel about my hair, even when its subtle still has me afraid to go to the stylist and ask for the haircut im paying to get.

[unhonest-iago]

Earworm

Denki was constantly annoyed at his soulmate. Their connection was through music; he could hear every song that stuck in their head and vice versa. Unfortunately for Denki, anytime they discovered a new band, they'd listen to it for weeks to months on end. And then when the new one replaced the old, they started to remember some of the instrumentals again.

An incorrect snippet of the lyrics. Which then fills his brain on repeat to the point he's randomly humming it himself but has nothing to go on. It was never a song he knew, unable to help. Not that he could, he didn't even know who his soulmate was or if they even went to U.A.

'Buh ba-buh ba-buh,' Reader drums their fingers along their desk to the melody flowing through their mind. Sitting next to Hitoshi in class 1-B who had learned long ago how to tune them out. He had discovered that using his quirk just prolonged the torture for their soulmate. Only amplifying the noise level, forcing Reader to non-verbally process their thoughts.

'I'm with you, always,' trying to figure out the lyrics as he jotted down notes, unaware of the blond in class 1-A who wanted to electrocute himself. 'My love is on your side. I’m with you always.’

'What's wrong with dunce face?' Katsuki asks Eijirou when Denki flat out ignores him. Overstimulated by his soulmate, who is a few doors away. 'His soulmate is having another earworm,' laughing at his friend's misery. 'Denki, you could just hum another song to drown them out.' The internal aspect implied. 'Ugh, last time I did that, their brain made a stupid mash up,' groaning, Denki drops his head onto his arms. Cushioning it from hitting the hard wood of the desk.

‘Just look up the fucking song,’ if he could retaliate, he would’ve chosen the part from Kesha’s your love is my drug; banging my head against the wall. It was annoying that the one means of communication they had was bloody song lyrics. Luckily for Denki, the bell for lunch rang.

Both class 1-A and class 1-B now walking down to the cafeteria. Reader had finally remembered a bit of the chorus, ‘there’s a darkness at the heart of my soul, runs cold, runs deep.’ Reader’s packing up their stuff while Hitoshi walked ahead. Denki walking past the classroom, heard them humming. Stopping dead in his tracks, confusing Eijirou and Bakugou. He bursts through the door, ‘You!!’ Pointing at them. ‘You’re the reason why that song has been playing through my head on loop!’

‘Oh, shit. That’s right, the soulmates thing,’ they had completely forgotten about that. Some of their friends had already found their soulmates. Reader had thought that it would be wise to not fret over it when entering U.A. Not wanting it to get in the way of their hero training. ‘What do you mean the soulmates thing?’

‘Wait, the gummy bear song! That was you?’ Remembering how the song had gotten stuck in their head, but couldn’t recall where they had heard it from. ‘Was trying to get back at you. It didn’t work.’

‘But seriously, you didn’t know?’ Denki’s so confused. He’s glad to finally know who has been controlling the stereo inside his head. Finding out that they did in fact go to U.A. and seemed to be a quirk users. He was still a little pissed. But the main feeling was confusion, thinking they had never heard about soulmates. Which couldn’t be the case. ‘Oh, no, I know about soulmates. Simply thought I’d run into mine eventually. Didn’t want it to distract from all the hero stuff.’

Denki decides ‘fuck it,’ and pushed his conflicting emotions to the wayside. Now wanting to know more about them. ‘Well, we’ve met. Hi, I’m Denki and we’re hanging out for lunch,’ quickly grabbing Reader by the hand and directing them towards the cafeteria. ‘Name’s y/n. In case you wanted to know, mr kidnapper.’

[nyxofdemons]

i'm sorry but stolas bound and powerless and tortured to tears still pushing himself off the ground snarling threats at the man who would dare even mention his daughter. the breathless all-consuming fury that striker would dare to speak a word about her. stolas knows striker is going to kill him and could make it painful beyond imagination and the only thing he cares about in this moment is octavia's safety why the fuck aren't we talking about this scene more

[glitchinginthegarden]

happy monday

[my85volvo]

Having fun with this one! IDK if I reblogged this correctly but it was getting long so 🤷🏽. Thanks @renmackree!

Stiles sat on the floor, eyes bleary from sleep, completely dumbfounded. He distinctly remembered NOT drinking last night, but he did fall off his bed this morning, so maybe he hit his head without noticing. It seems much more likely that he dreamed and/or hallucinated the breathtakingly hot naked man waking him up and then disappearing into thin air, as opposed to actually witnessing the divine rebirth of...what did he call himself? Wolf of the Wool? Was that some sort of 'wolf in sheep's clothing' reference?

It was too ridiculous to fathom. He was either bat-shit crazy or had suddenly become very skilled at lucid dreaming. When he stood, he looked around suspiciously, as if the mystery wolf guy was hiding somewhere in the 10' by 8' dorm room. He checked his door: still locked. He checked his window: still closed, and locked, and 4 stories off the ground. Everything seemed normal, but his heart wouldn't stop threatening to beat out of his chest.

This was WAY too elaborate to be a prank. Probably. Stiles needed an outside perspective before he melted into a puddle of anxiety. It was nearly 11 on a Sunday morning, so maybe Scott was still asleep. Perfect. Without much forethought, Stiles scrambled to his door, grabbed his keys from the wall hook, and took off bare-footed wearing nothing but boxers and an old batman t-shirt. He nearly fell flat on his face trying to avoid the other students littering the residence hall, but made it down one flight of stairs and through a maze of hallways to reach Scott's room in the east sophomore dorm.

Stiles knocked on the door while simultaneously calling for Scott to answer it.

"Scott, hey Scotty, you there? Mayday, man. BIG fucking mayday. Dude, open the door, come on."

Stiles emphasized the importance of his visit by escalating to a loud, continuous banging. He vaguely heard someone cursing him from the next room.

Finally, after waiting an agonizing 13 seconds, Scott answered the door looking hungover and deeply annoyed. He left it open and then quickly turned around to shuffle-flop back on his bed before listening to anything Stiles had to say.

"Scott, we have an emergency," Stiles began, rushing in to close the door and step inside. "I think it's like...level C fucked up. I'm freaking out."

Scott sat up, instantly sober and alert. He took a moment to study Stiles, who was pacing the tiny dorm room while biting his nails. After Scott was satisfied that Stiles seemed relatively uninjured, he responded as calmly as he could.

"Do we need to go to the hospital?" Scott asked, his eyes betraying a deep concern for his friend.

"I don't know, maybe not. I mean, probably not...yet?" Stiles stopped his pacing and looked at Scott as if he held all the answers.

"Just tell me what happened," Scott sighed.

Stiles sat next to him on the bed, then stood, then sat at his desk, then stood again, and continued pacing. Scott waited patiently.

"A naked man woke me up, claimed to be a god, told me I'm the chosen one, then disappeared into thin air."

"Did you hook up with someone last night?"

"No! I stayed in my room all night like a loser so I wouldn't have to run into Matt at that stupid keg hunt thing and see his stupid face and listen to his stupid excuses for his stupid creepy jokes." Stiles flailed his arms for emphasis. "Which is your fault, by the way. I swear to god I'm--"

"Never letting me set you up again, I know dude, I know."

"There's just shit you don't say on a first date. It should be basic fucking common sense 101. When I say, 'hey man, I'm not into fooling around in the woods, I just met you and there are bugs everywhere,' the correct response is not 'well no one would find your body out here.' Who does that?"

"Douchebags." Scott rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, some of his hangover fatigue creeping back into his frame.

"Correct, Scotty. Douchebags. Douchebags do that. We're getting off track here," Stiles shook out his head and tried his very best to focus. "Scott, you need to tell me if I was hallucinating."

"So some naked guy wandered into your room? Maybe he was on drugs," Scott shrugged.

"No, a naked guy appeared in my room. The door and window were locked. This guy was weird, dude. He said he was, like, a reincarnated wolf god, and I was his priest or something, and he wanted to bless me, and then he said he would kill the security guards on an alter of blood if I called them for help."

Scott started looking less worried and more skeptical.

"And he came to you while you were sleeping?"

"He woke me up, rudely, I might add. Pay attention."

"Stiles, I think you were just dreaming."

"It felt real, Scott. Even now--" Stiles' felt his skin shiver when he conjured an image of the man in his head. "Even now, it feels like he'll pop back any minute."

"Is he like...trying to hurt you? Is he after you, Stiles?" Scott asked with genuine concern.

Stiles thought a moment, and while he was terrified at the implications that this man was very capable of violence, he didn't necessarily feel like he was a target. More like...the man was just fixated on him.

"No, I don't think so. But he could definitely beat me to a pulp."

"All right, name every Blockbuster Batman Movie in Chronological order."

"What?"

"Just do it, Stiles."

Stiles sighed and racked his brain for a moment before flawlessly belting out the entire lineup in a single breath.

"Batman, Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Batman and Robin, Batman Begins, Dark Knight, Dark Knight Rises, Batman vs. Superman, Lego Batman, Justice League, and the good one."

Scott nodded in approval.

"You're not paranoid, and your memory is fine. Hallucinations weren't one of her symptoms. This isn't that. It's not a level C."

Stiles let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His shoulders sagged as he plopped down next to Scott on the bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and brought his head down to rest in his hands. It was terrifying thinking that the illness that took his mother might take him, too. But Scott was right, it couldn't be that.

"It felt so real. I was scared I was losing it. Losing myself."

"Hey man, you're under a lot of pressure right now. Finals are coming up, and both your upper division courses have you studying until 2am most nights. You're just tired and stressed. It happens."

Stiles nodded, and let another deep breath escape.

"Tell you what. Let's go to Judy's for lunch and order a curly fry mountain, then come back here and marathon Star Wars. You need a break. Sound good?"

Stiles looked at his best friend and smiled.

"Thanks man."

"That's what I'm here for, dude. Now fuck off for 2 hours and let me sleep some more."

Stiles chuckled and punched him in the shoulder, standing with a stretch before walking towards the door. He felt lighter already.

"Night night, Scotty," Stiles called behind him.

Scott replied with a grunt, already half asleep.

Once Stiles was back in his room again, his thoughts returned to the naked man (in a totally innocent way and not in a horney jail way). There was one thing the man said that kept nagging at him. He asked, 'What do you need to build your faith?'

It kept turning around in his head. If, for some reason, this guy existed, then what would prove he was actually a god? The man could clearly teleport, so maybe he could grab him some hot cheetos in the blink on an eye? No, too easy. He needed to find something so obscure, so far away, that holding it in his hands would be irrefutable proof that this guy was the real deal. Theoretically, of course. Because this guy was definitely, totally, not real. How could someone that attractive even exist?

Stiles kept telling himself that looking up rare orchids in the Amazon was purely an academic exercise and not a back-up plan in case his delusion made another visit. By the time Scott came to fetch him for their lunch plans, Stiles had a short list memorized of what he might ask Mr. Hot Guy to prove to him.

After stuffing himself with curly fries and starting a 4th Star Wars film, Stiles was finally starting to feel like the events of the morning were just a far-off memory. He passed out on Scott's floor by midnight atop a pile of blankets and pillows.

The next time Stiles opened his eyes, the light slipping in from the window was a muted gray. It was the kind of light that illuminates the sky just enough to announce that the sun hadn't quite risen yet. He saw a pair of polished black Oxfords in front of his face, which his brain automatically filed as Scott digging out his shoes from prom, for some reason.

"Good, you're awake." A voice said from above his head.

Stiles furrowed his brow and looked up to see the so-called Wolf of the Wool standing over him, wearing a perfectly tailored, dark slate 3-piect suit with a black button-down and deep maroon tie.

"I see you've found another follower for me. Excellent work, young priest," The man smiled down at him.

Stiles screamed.

Derek is the old god of the forest, forgotten and unworshiped for centuries. Towns were built around his forests and the alter where once offerings were laid has been overgrown. Derek believes himself to be lost and resigns to an endless slumber.

That is until a college kid stumbles on his alter and offers the large stone wolf a piece of his sandwich.

Now, awake and once more worshiped, the god must protect his new high priest Stiles at all cost. Which means blending into a world he knows nothing about. And going to college.

[vamp1re-bait]

sitting in my car at nearly 6 in the morning watching the sun come up and trying very very hard not to cry or vomit

[snoos-tattoos]

You have got to be kidding me

[hailsatanacab]

Wip Wednesday babeeyy

eyy I've finally remembered that wip wednesday exists!! here's some proof that i'm working on something, and that something is the follower milestone gift i said i was going to do and i promise i'm doing it! i'm doing it it's happening i promise! so here's a little taster!!!! and here's Part One if you want a refresher!

And then the kid just vanishes.

In the blink of an eye, in the time it takes for him to look down, screw his face up because this is all confusing as fuck, and look back up, he’s just gone. There’s nowhere to hide, there’s nowhere to go, Jason can see everywhere around him—but he can’t see Danny.

“Well… shit."

“What, what happened?” Dickybird hisses in his ear, the unsaid, exasperated “now” very clear in his voice. 

As much as he loathes to admit it, Jason is feeling very much the same way right now. What was meant to be a simple case of “investigate the potential child abuse and put an end to it” has instead become something… less simple. When is it ever simple in his life?

Still. If working with supers, metas, vigilantes, whatever, has taught Jason anything, it’s that just because you can’t see someone doesn’t mean they’re not there.

“Hey, kid… Danny. Listen, I’m not here to hurt you and if you’re still here, if you can still hear me, then, I don’t know, do you want to get a bite to eat or something? I just want to talk. I just want to figure out what’s happening.”

Jason doesn’t hold his breath. 

Okay, no, that’s a lie. Jason holds his breath, but he swears he’s holding it so he can more accurately hear if Danny is still around. That’s all it is, he’s not attached to this kid already. He’s not.

When no answer comes—not even a whisper of a breath or the scuff of a sneaker on the pavement—he suppresses a frustrated growl and opts instead to breathe deeply and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“So…” Tim begins, drawing out the word.

The urge to growl—hell, the urge to pull out his comms and smash them on the floor—grows.

“The kid’s a meta, then. Potential powers including but not limited to: invisibility or teleportation. You think he’s still there?” There’s no reason for the kid to still be around, not at all. If it was Jason, he’d have scattered as soon as he realised the stranger impersonating his dad wasn’t the guy he thought was impersonating his dad, and honestly, wasn’t that extra fucked up? That someone impersonates people in this town often enough that it’s not a surprise? The way Danny spoke about him… What was his name?

Amorpho. Amorphous. Without shape. 

A shapeshifter?

Whatever. It’s a mystery for another time, because there’s still a more pressing mystery in front of him.

Or,. rather, not in front of him.

Yes, there’s no reason for Danny to still be here, but…

Jason sighs. 

“I’m going to Bat—Nasty Burger. Really? Is that the best burger joint here? Nasty Burger? Whatever, I’m going to get some fucking fries.”

Jason feels fucking stupid talking the air like this. He must look fucking stupid, too, but the thing is… There’s a prickling on the back of his neck, a rolling taste of green on his tongue when he glances through his peripheral, the vague weight of an unseen eyes on him. 

Call it wishful thinking, call it a hunch, call it something else, but Danny’s still here.

“There’ll be a burger waiting for you, too, if you want it. My treat.” Jason turns in a full circle, examining everything in his surroundings. Nothing seems out of place, nothing screams wrong to him. “I just want to talk.”

He waits for a full minute with no success, which makes Jason feel even more stupid, before clicking his tongue and making his way to the, hopefully ironically named, Nasty Burger.

[tinyevilgremlin]

wait. wait wait WAIT

Link Click theory : Lu Guang is actually the one who died in the original timeline

[m0e-ru]

I think for me the allure in base releases in persona games is how it feels cloudy and there's still mystery involved regarding how one should go about the concepts and characters introduced in the story. as inconvenient as it is, it's fun to scour different media release after, or even before, that release, to see how they tried to present these concepts and characters, how they actually came out to be, and how they decide to shape them henceforth, adding on to what was already introduced and simply building on it, or topping on details that probably weren't obvious in the initial release, or something they wanted to be more prominent to evoke a more specific image of those ideas.

it's fun to look at famitsu magazines and decipher what those game teasers were all about. it's exciting to read through novels or listen to drama tracks to look a new perspectives of the same story, or even look beyond it. the art book gets released and youre looking through creator comments and concept art and deciding whether to agree to these ideas and decisions or not

but when the re-releases came, golden and royal for me, the whole charm of the game was wiped away and just became too... saturated. the eerieness of bright eye searing yellow wasn't eerie anymore, it just look more mellow and hopeful. from fog and static, theres sub and glitter. which is I guess what they were pretty much going for, when they decided to try out a new technique to draw an audience in. the red and white and black gave a monochrome outlook to the player's worldview, and the flashy and chaotic elements of the ui and other game design made it feel like you were breaking out of the off camera elements that felt too limiting, too controlling and tame, yet dark. now, the flashiness felt like too much sugar in a dessert meant to be a bit more bittersweet. there's a new meaning of rebellion vs control considering how yal's prominence in the plot was completely overshadowed with what az had going on.

I guess what in trying to say in the end is that both the base releases and re-releases have their own charm and can be enjoyed in different ways and through different perspectives. it just makes me a little sad to see how these concepts and characters shrouded with mystery and aching to be uncovered, which is what intrigued me in the first place, were just... stripped naked entirely. you look under the sheets torn off by the people that wanted more people to look at these creations and you see that it wasn't even the same thing underneath. it feels like they stuffed all the things people could like than retaining what these things had that people already like, it's just that they didn't realize they liked it in the first place. their insides were mangled and now their outsides were prettied up as well. all this mystery and intrigue I once found were just blank spaces filled in by someone else rather than the audience themselves

yosuke's closeted nature, kanji's relationship with his own orientation, naoto's own identity and representation. even chie's tomboyism and teddie's malleable inhuman body. and even outside of that, there's adachi, another label slapped on him and exaggerated only the traits that would make him more marketable to an active market that wants to be spoonfed to fill their egos and say they're right. and I sit here looking over all that had happened to realize these writers are not as sincere as they could seem. it's a big project after all, and there's too many people looking over your shoulder.

and the nature of fandom itself, I suppose. if there's mystery and intrigue pressured by audience reaction profit, then then fog shrouding them would dissipate and theres no fun looking through the unknown anymore

[timothyslucy]

the way i have to constantly remind myself not to commit suicide because there's more chenford content to come, and i can't die before they get back together..... 😔💔

[glasswingowl]

in the woods somewhere

[shima-draws]

Currently in my banging my head against the wall phase. Hope you all are well 🥰

[dandelionjack]

STOP RETCONNING. STOP IT. CEASE. I BEG. big confused screaming rant in tags

[qcomicsy]

y'all always see me complaining about those guys but y'all don't understand I have drafts from 2021 this ISN'T HEALTHY

[rainybraindays]

The fact that Genevieve and Ethan Carter can't even be together in death rips my fucking heart out. And its because he wanted to save her!! These two kept dooming themselves to save the other, and now they're apart forever!! Genevieves left wandering and depressed, while hes rotting in that fucking moat and I'm so fucking sad about it. They deserve better